Pyrenees Day 3: Clouds are Wet
My first two days of hiking were under an impeccably blue sky, and it was only on the morning of the third day that the first wispy clouds appeared on the horizon. Rather quickly, however, they grew in size and took on a decidedly gray color. Mark had intended on climbing a nearby mountain as a side trip, recommended by the LP guide, but I counseled him against it on account of the weather. I, however, was not wise enough to listen to my own advice, and undertook a detour to some high-altitude lakes, agreeing with Mark I would see him at our designated end-point for the day, which I expected to reach at about 6pm after 8 hours of hiking.
I climbed a steep path up to a plateau and was rewarded by a sight of the most scenic lake yet, surrounded by sheer cloud-covered cliffs, and featuring a green island protruding from its middle. However, I was only able to snap a few photos before it began to rain and the clouds descended down on me. The rain was rather light but steady, like Chinese water torture, and followed me for the rest of the day. I immediately put on my blue rain-jacket and blue backpack rain cover, turning into a blue turtle-like creature, clambering my way through the mist.
At the far end of the lake, the trail markings suddenly headed south, up a moderate incline, rather than west, as my map indicated. However, the cliffs to the west looked virtually impassable, so I ignored my calculations and the compass, and chose the easy alternative. Only after 40 minutes of ascent and encountering an unexpected lake I realized that I was on the wrong track. I retraced my steps and was able to find one small rock pile, then another, following the correct direction. Apparently my map had failed to indicate the other trail, and both trails were marked with identical cairns, so my mistake was completely natural.
Ascent westward from the lake was difficult, and turned into an upper-body workout near the end, as I had to pull myself up from rock to rock. The rocks were wet, but my boots kept a good grip, and I climbed very cautiously, testing each stone before using it for support. Descent from the pass was less steep than the climb, and after another 90 minutes I rejoined the main trail.
My boots, which faithfully kept the rain and wet grass from getting to my feet for the first couple of hours finally gave out, and the rest of my trip was accompanied by an unpleasant slurping sound from inside my shoes. Luckily, due to the high-tech fabric in the boots, my feet stayed very warm, even after they were completely soaked. The rest of my body was warm, so long as I kept moving, so kept my stops to a bare minimum. Finally, after a 2-hour continuous descent towards the valley where the next shelter was located, and only 30 minutes behind schedule, I arrived at the destination, where I found Mark already enjoying a hot shower.
The destination was called the Hospital of Viehla, a hospital in its ancient sense of a place that provides hospitality. Built in 1192, 300 years before Columbus, and supported by various charitable and religious organizations such as the Knights Templar, this refuge now catered to hikers, and other passers-by, since it now stood at one end of a highway tunnel connecting the Aran Valley with the rest of Spain. Hospitality was certainly what we received there, along with accomodations far exceeding those of the night before. I was able to recharge my batteries, both literally and figuratively, and dry my clothes using old newspapers to suck out the moisture quickly.
I climbed a steep path up to a plateau and was rewarded by a sight of the most scenic lake yet, surrounded by sheer cloud-covered cliffs, and featuring a green island protruding from its middle. However, I was only able to snap a few photos before it began to rain and the clouds descended down on me. The rain was rather light but steady, like Chinese water torture, and followed me for the rest of the day. I immediately put on my blue rain-jacket and blue backpack rain cover, turning into a blue turtle-like creature, clambering my way through the mist.
At the far end of the lake, the trail markings suddenly headed south, up a moderate incline, rather than west, as my map indicated. However, the cliffs to the west looked virtually impassable, so I ignored my calculations and the compass, and chose the easy alternative. Only after 40 minutes of ascent and encountering an unexpected lake I realized that I was on the wrong track. I retraced my steps and was able to find one small rock pile, then another, following the correct direction. Apparently my map had failed to indicate the other trail, and both trails were marked with identical cairns, so my mistake was completely natural.
Ascent westward from the lake was difficult, and turned into an upper-body workout near the end, as I had to pull myself up from rock to rock. The rocks were wet, but my boots kept a good grip, and I climbed very cautiously, testing each stone before using it for support. Descent from the pass was less steep than the climb, and after another 90 minutes I rejoined the main trail.
My boots, which faithfully kept the rain and wet grass from getting to my feet for the first couple of hours finally gave out, and the rest of my trip was accompanied by an unpleasant slurping sound from inside my shoes. Luckily, due to the high-tech fabric in the boots, my feet stayed very warm, even after they were completely soaked. The rest of my body was warm, so long as I kept moving, so kept my stops to a bare minimum. Finally, after a 2-hour continuous descent towards the valley where the next shelter was located, and only 30 minutes behind schedule, I arrived at the destination, where I found Mark already enjoying a hot shower.
The destination was called the Hospital of Viehla, a hospital in its ancient sense of a place that provides hospitality. Built in 1192, 300 years before Columbus, and supported by various charitable and religious organizations such as the Knights Templar, this refuge now catered to hikers, and other passers-by, since it now stood at one end of a highway tunnel connecting the Aran Valley with the rest of Spain. Hospitality was certainly what we received there, along with accomodations far exceeding those of the night before. I was able to recharge my batteries, both literally and figuratively, and dry my clothes using old newspapers to suck out the moisture quickly.
posted by Dmitri Evseev at 9:18 PM
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