Wednesday May 17
Returned to the field of dances early on Wednesday morning. The forest trail continues just beyond a memorial stone to a “perpetual mountaineer”. Wonder if he’d died doing the Aquilianos route.
Ran through more dense pine plantations until the track rose slightly and the rocky crags that form the backdrop to Ferradillo come into view. This is the tail end of the Aquilianos range which I can see peeking out from behind Monte Pajariel each time I look through my kitchen window. A quick descent down a narrow, dusty path will take me to the entrance of the village, now almost completely consumed by abundant vegetation. I’d miscalculated the distance. Had expected 8 km of forest trail but I’d been going only 15 minutes so I’d say it was little over 3. Decided to make inroads into the next stage but as I approached I noticed that the cows of Ferradillo were in residence. In fact nowadays the only regular inhabitants of the village are the cows and I’ve met this herd before. They’re guarded dutifully by a vicious sheepdog with a spiky collar and razor sharp teeth. He’s a mean bastard, semi-wild, bred to fight off wolves or for that matter any odd looking Englishman who may be daring or stupid enough to approach the herd, the calves in particular. And there were calves everywhere.
Now I must come clean. At no point did I actually see the beast of Ferradillo. But I’ve seen it before (close up. Luckily I was on a bicycle at the time) and I knew it was there today. Somewhere. I could feel it watching me.
There was no sign of farmer Palmer either. I almost fear the farmer as much as the dog.
To be honest I could have easily taken a different route around and by-passed Ferradillo from above but that would have meant cheating. Decided to do the sensible thing and turn back. Call me a namby pamby wannabe plastic fell runner if you like but some funny things have happened in these hills recently. Who shot the bear of Burbia for example? Last weekend 200 kg of brown bear, one of an indigenous population of 40 or so (the last sustainable one in Western Europe) was found by a couple of walkers not far from here (in the Ancares region of Bierzo, to be exact). Some trigger happy halfwit with a hunting rifle had shot the poor animal and had left it to die, a newsworthy item indeed, but strangely it was only reported locally. Anyway, the tragic case of the bear of Bubia has nothing to do with the mad dog of Ferradillo but I’d rather avoid any possibility of “Farmer Palmer breakfasts on Englishman” cropping up alongside the bear headlines this week. I can picture the scene through bizarre Viz- tainted specs,
“Ee wuz wurryin moy vacas,” purrs a wild-eyed, gun wielding farmer Palmer playing it up to the local press, “so oi set moy dog on ‘im…muy bien Gromit.”
Occasionally my imagination gets the better of me.
Stage 6.2
Approx. distance; 3 kms (all runnable).
Time taken; 15 minutes.
Total ascent; hardly any.
Total descent; 200m.
Ferradillo incidently was once nicknamed “the little Moscow.” More of that to follow.
Only two stages left, nearly all downhill. I might try to do them together. Not this weekend though as Aquilianos re-enactment activities will be temporarily suspended by a rare race on Sunday. It’s the
Truchillas-Vizcodillo mountain race which I mentioned whilst keeping a regular diary last year. It’ll be a good test for what’s to come.
Travesía Integral de los Montes Aquiianos
