Random running and remote races.

[Bierzo Baggie]

Sunday May 21.

If I was only able to do one race during the year, this would be it. No doubt about it. Truchillas, “little trout”. Great name for a village.

And it’s not just about the race; it’s about the journey there as well. I can take the long way around, first via the motorway, or I can go straight over the mountain. And this can only mean one thing. The lonely Morredero road (a place to die) which continues ever upwards past the ski station until it becomes the most god-forsaken windswept road known to man.

There’s a section of 3 or 4 km where you follow a crest which extends from the base of the Mare’s Seat until Teleno. Teleno was the sacred mountain of the Asturs (pre-roman Celt-like geezers) and you can amazingly trace the thin lines of ancient roman canals near the summit. All of this takes place at around 2000m which by my reckoning makes it one of the highest true passes in Spain (“true” in the sense that the road doesn’t just stop at an antenna). If it’s windy, as it is today, my little Renault Twingo will be in danger of being launched into a session of in pronto hang-gliding.

The road then zig zags downwards into the lost world of La Cabrera, probably the most isolated parish in the whole province of León. The first village is Corporales where a road sign instructs you to treat the village church …as a roundabout! (see photo) Then, Baillo, Truchas and finally Truchillas follow. All have the feel of semi-abandonment although restored houses intermingle with the tumbledown structures and their primitive thatched roofs (once typical in the north-west). And finally, a field, a stream, loads of parked cars, a starting line and a race. 8 kms out, 8 kms back, 1 km up. As simple as that.