Stage 5; Sunday May 7, The Mare’s Seat to La Guiana peak.
What goes up must come down. But not yet. The next 10 kms is a roller coaster ride up and down the three other mountainous peaks which form the Aquilianos range after the Silla de la Yegua. They stretch out in a north westerly direction and eventually peter out into a succession of limestone crags. Looking to the left of the crest the gradients seem gentler and give the appearance of giant hills rather than mountains. To the right the ice age monsters of the Würm period have bitten out great hungry chunks and glacially moulded valleys drop down to Peñalba and Montes. Don’t ask me how! Ask a geologist.
But first I have to get to the starting point of this, the fifth stage. This is an odyssey in itself. I drove up the lonely road of Morredero (a place to die) to the mini-ski station which I hadn’t reached on my bike in February. As I took the last hairpin I found myself thinking back to the early autumn of 97 when a much younger Roberto Heras (later Lance Armstrong’s wingman at US Postal) won his first major stage here in the Vuelta. I watched him shoot past at this very point followed by a procession of ashen faced (dope-fuelled?) supermen, eyes fixed ahead like zombies. Heras tested positive last year after winning his fourth Vuelta de España and is now in disgrace. Like so many others.
Park the car and feel a cold wind as I get out. There’s a fine layer of frost on the wooden veranda of the ski clubhouse. I put on gloves and a kagool. Only the presence of wild daffodils where the snow has recently melted reminds you that it’s spring.
From the ski station I trudge up the Silla de la Yegua yet again, this time underneath the solitary teleski, a second hand cast off from the Sierra Nevada station in Granada. And finally, one and a half hours after setting out from home, I’m sitting on the mare’s saddle, the finishing point of stage 4 and I’m ready to gallop.
An ocean of mist is sweeping across ominously from the north and the peaks that I must head for are obscured. No worries. I know this stretch like the back of my hand. Stumble down the steep, slate littered descent following a recently formed but already well trodden little path and then headed back upwards past Pico Berdianas and then in the supposed direction of Pico Tuerto, “the one-eyed peak”. Couldn’t see much though and on glancing behind me at one point I suddenly saw the old one eye squinting at me through a misty shroud. I’d missed him! Turned around and climbed up to the cross which marks the summit. Then hurried on in the direction of La Guiana, the last decent peak of the Aquilianos route before the long and painful descent to Ponferrada.
The visibility gradually got worse but the route is easier to follow than it used to be, it’s well trodden in places and there are still red markers dotted about from last year’s event. Oh, and as I said, I know these mountains like the back of my hand. In fact I know every goddam stone personally. I even know every soddin’ gorse bush! And my navigation skills have improved over the years..GPS! who needs it? Ha! And….hey, those rocks up there don’t seem too familiar, err…”WHERE THE #### AM I !?”
The mist cleared momentarily and a mass of slatey grey rock loomed up in front of me, crowned by a horribly familiar antenna. It dawned on me that I’d somehow turned 180º and gone back the way I’d originally come. Fumbled about for a compass to confirm what I suspected. I’m at the base of the Mare’s Seat where I’d started this stage over an hour ago. Then I checked the back of my hand. Wow! Never realized it was so hairy!
What a lousy navigator I am. Having a long standing appreciation of quality comics I’ve come to the conclusion that each week I try to impersonate a character from Viz. Last week after polishing off a bag of figs half-way up the Mare’s seat I was Johnny Fartpants. Today I’ve converted into Terry Fuckwit. Hope there’s somebody close enough to follow in 4 weeks time. Couldn’t be arsed to climb Pico One Eye again and risk getting lost forever. Will come back next week when hopefully I’ll be able to see where I’m going.
Stage 5.1
Approx. distance; 3 kms
Time taken; 28 minutes.
Total ascent; 225 m
Total descent; 300 m
All that hassle to cover 3 measly kilometres of the Aquilianos route. And did I produce anything that resembled a run? Well, here the dividing line between “run” and “walk” becomes blurred. Who decides? Is there a technical definition stashed away in a manual somewhere? Most of the time it feels more like a brisk walk, with occasional spasms of a certain running inclination on the descents. But a purist wouldn’t call it running and I’m glad nobody was around to see me. I get a bit self conscious you see (“daddy, why’s that strange man running like he’s on fire?”
It wasn’t a complete waste of time though. The total route from where I left the car and back probably topped 12 kms and that’s with about 900m of ascent, so it was all good training even if I didn’t finish the stage as intended.
Travesía Integral de los Montes Aquiianos
