Have observed that the RC diarists are partial to the occasional jelly baby, especially on long runs. So, on my last visit to the UK I purchased a king sized box in Morrisons (Bertie Bassett’s finest are not yet available in Spain) and have been tentatively experimenting with them ever since. Not sure if they make me run faster but they’re damned tasty.
Last Sunday morning’s route was to be a long one and it was whilst packing my rucksack on Saturday night that I received a phone call from Wild Oscar who announced his intention to accompany me. I was more than a little relieved to have company on the high peaks and I doubled the dose of jelly babies.
The route involved a summit, a long, slatey path, a couple more summits thrown in for good measure and a long, final descent, runnable in places and excellent training for the Aquilianos.
We set out at dawn from the monastery of Montes and ran inversely along the first section of the Tebaida Berciana to Peñalba where the Mare’s Seat rises into a murky sky. This climb never fails to terrify me. There are no technical difficulties, just a relentless trudge upwards to the antenna at 2100m. There are few distractions or redeeming features. We filled our water bottles at the village fountain and ate our jelly babies. Wild Oscar has never had a jelly baby before.
The ascent was as expected, tough and joyless. At about 1800m we came up through the mist. Snapped a photo of my companion near an accumulation of snow. Somewhere out there fell the lone mountain runner a mere 2 months ago, a story of obsession leading to tragic errors of judgement and one which will be told another day or never.
At the top it was blowing a gale as per usual. I decided to avoid a chill and wrap up warm, putting on gloves and an extra layer. Wild Oscar didn’t bother. After the previous two hours of slow progress the next few kms invited intermittent if not exactly comfortable running. Underfoot the way is full of stones and portruding roots and I was glad good old Ron Hill protected my legs from the thorny gorse. Wild Oscar suffered silently in his shorts.
Alto Berdiainas and Pico Tuerto (the old one eye) followed, a line of gentle peaks culminating in a longer pull up to La Guiana. This is perhaps the tamest summit on the Aquilianos range, easily accessible for a 4 by 4 or even a sturdy car. Some bloke was fixing a radio mast at the top. It was the first person we’d seen in 4 hours.
There ended the middle section of the Aquilianos. The route continues along faster forest trails to Ferradillo but we descended back to Montes along the inevitable firebreaks, almost vertically in places.
Sometimes I think that the machine-mangled debris of these firebreaks is the very worst of surfaces. The sharp stones are bigger than natural scree which you slide down and smaller than rocks and boulders which you can hop across. It’s bone shudderingly, knee jarringly uncomfortable but it’s also terrain where the mountain runner can gain ground while those less familiar with the surface and gradient, will descend eyes a-bulging and arms a-flailing and cursing the mother of whoever designed the course.
At the end of the firebreaks we reached the calm oasis of green meadow that rests beneath a curious rock formation nicknamed “the 12 apostles”. Here we stopped to drink and make a phone call in one of the few places where the mobile phone isn’t out of range.... we’ll be home soon.
We had company, briefly, of a couple of white arsed roe deer and of one hairy arsed motorcyclist. He took a photo of us in front of La Guiana. Then unknowingly he took another one as we descended the last stretch of track back down to Montes, posted it on a biker’s forum and sent me the link. It’s a great shot, 2 little specks dwarfed by the landscape and with the church tower of the monastery in the background, the beginning and end of our journey.
About 2000m total ascent. I’m unsure of the distance but it must have been at least 20k.
