The weather on our final day was much better than forecast. It was the kind of day when you look to the heavens, close your eyes, feel the early sun on your face, breathe in deeply and thank whichever deity you subscribe to. Instead of the low cloud we feared, the sun shone brightly and the mountain air was rich and sweet. After a great hotel breakfast of bread and toast with ham and cheese, a bowl of pineapple and peaches, and a donut or two helped down by plentiful coffee and orange juice (we’d done our time in the refuges…) at about 9am we prepared to leave. Today was to be a relatively gentle stroll of around 5 hours but it was nonetheless to start with nearly 400m of ascent to enjoy the view from the top of a local peak, Valdecoro (1841m). The terrain continued as we had left it yesterday; mostly rocky or earthen tracks through low scrub and thin grass on steep hillsides below sandstone peaks about which wispy cloud still clung. We weren’t joined by vultures as we had left their kingdom, but the comforting sound of bells around the necks of several grazing cows was ever-present until we gained more hight.

After about an hour, just after 10am, we took a snack-break while Rosana briefed us on the vista and the route to Valdecoro.

As we progressed, rather than the vegetation thinning it became more verdant. It was as though the wildflowers relished the fresh high mountain air as much as we did and we traversed hillsides resplendent in colour.

Although reduced in brilliance and frequency we kept the company of wildflowers right to the top of Valdecoro. From here we cast our eyes for the last time over the beauty of the Picos de Europa. Neither the dizzying chasm of the Cares Gorge nor the almost lunar austerity of the highest valleys and peaks, patrolled as they were by vultures and rebecos, would be beaten for grandeur, but the more gentle surroundings of Valdecoro, cloaked in thin low cloud beneath a clear blue sky, were a tonic. In a couple of days we were all to be in another world and these last few minutes at height in the Picos were to be treasured.

With a last glance or two back (taking care of course as the drops either side of the peak were awesome) we headed down to the valleys. As we lost height the terrain became more verdant. Woods of beech and oak could be seen and the range of wildflowers increased. The purple of the iris’s was particularly vivid.

After a final lunch together in a woodland clearing, at about 3pm we approached the end of our journey down a concrete road through woodland.

The road led to Espinama, a small village by the Rio Deva, and our final sleeps at the hotel Nevandi. This lovely little hotel had a lively and shaded courtyard bar from which 60’s rock was played, rather incongruously given the peacefulness of the surroundings, at some volume. But never mind. The San Miguel (no need to pretend it’s a ‘sports drink’ any more) was on tap and super-cold. The little shop across the road, Casa Clara, sold great blue cheese and a range of charcuterie and other local foods perfect as gifts. And the little pool was refreshing and often visited by (I think but don’t quote me) house martins diving down to scoop up water in their beaks.

After a sumptuous dinner which concluded with a few well-chosen words and many thanks to our fantastic guide Rosana, Alastair and I took a final cold beer outside a little bar/grill/heladeria next to Casa Clara, La Tarabilla.

It wasn’t late as we had a 5am alarm the following morning to get back to Bilbao for our early flights home, but the sun had gone down and the music from the hotel bar was turned off. We just sat in peace and clean clothes, and reflected on the week. By shortly after midday the following day we would be back home, me in London and Alastair in Zurich and I leave you with our final view that evening before we turned in.

Thank you for being with me.

PS. My boots survived and will forever rest on Spanish soil.

Friday morning dawned clear. The rain and cold wind of yesterday had moved on and we were blessed with blue sky and dry rock. That was important as the day ahead was all about rock. Lots of it. As we gathered in front of the Refugio we were stunned at how it was dwarfed by Picu Uriellu (Naranjo de Bulnes). The photo above really doesn’t do it justice and it remained in view for much of the day ahead.

With some on long trousers and warm tops due to the early chill in shadows we walked gently uphill from the Refugio. As we crested a pass we were greeted by a vista of rocky towers, spires and rock faces that were carved during the ice age.

Our first objective was to cross the glacial bowl and summit the Torre de los Horcados Rojos (Tower of the Red Gallows) via a saddle. But first there was a scramble over the pass and down into the bowl.

Those waiting were treated to the sight of a few chamois, aka rebeccos locally, watching us with more than a degree of curiosity. They we’re probably amazed at our clumsiness in comparison with their grace on rock.

The scramble was followed by a trek on narrow paths around the perimeter of the bowl. With the Urrieles now having disappeared over our shoulder we remained in shadow while around us the peaks became bathed in bright sunshine. Though seemingly close it took nearly 2 hours to cross the bowl always guided by the rocky face we were to scramble up ahead.

Bye and bye we became bathed in sunshine ourselves and as we approached the scramble unnecessary layers were shed.

Then it was time for the effort to start. No more gentle trekking – it was upwards now and what a joy it was. Hot sunshine and dry rock with new vistas opening at every step.

After over an hour of climbing we reached the Collado Horcados Rojos (2344m) and surveyed the next target, the Torre deco Horcados Rojos upon which other climbers could be seen in miniature.

This was no scramble but a sustained 30 min climb up a rocky track and at about 12:30 we sat on the top, at 2500m, enjoying amazing views.

Looking back the way we had come the huge Naranjo de Bulnes was once more visible.

Lunch was taken at the amazing Refugio Veronica. Perched on the side of a mountain at 2325m this Refugio is built from the gun tower of the US aircraft carrier PALAU which was being dismantled on the coast near by. It can accommodate 6 people and is open from April to November. It keeps a small stock of food and drink supplied occasionally by helicopter and often by backpacking. The nearest water supply is 2 hours away. What a place!

While we ate lunch vultures circled, probably hoping for a morsel or two.

Eventually, and reluctantly, we had to make our way down. The way was stark and barren and the track can just be seen leading us to lower and slightly greener climes in the photo below. But the vultures kept us company, seemingly ushering us out of their kingdom.

Finally, at about 4:30, we reached our refuge for the night and we had an unexpected surprise. Far from being a rough and ready hut the Hotel Refugio de Aliva was a treat with spectacular views, simple but very nice rooms, and restaurant and cafe/bar. Rosana chuckled when we gasped: she had kept this secret well.

There have been a lot of photos in this blog, and not that many words. Much as I like to write, on this occasion I just had to accept my words couldn’t possibly convey the beauty and magnificence of this place. I hope that’s ok with you?

Finally, at the end of this amazing and wonderful day I took the time to thank my poor boots which had begun disintegrating a few days before but had somehow kept going. Just one more day, please, then your job will be done.

Today was all about ascent; over 2000m of it as we head up to the base of El Naranjo de Bulnes, possibly the most famous landmark in the Picos de Europa.

While I won’t go on about it, the name El Naranjo de Bulnes is quite interesting as it is known locally as Picu Urriellu and has been so historically. This is believed to be derived from the term Los Urrieles, which is used to describe the Macizo Central. The first written reference to “Picu Urriellu” as “Naranjo de Bulnes” is credited to a German geologist and engineer, Wilhelm Schulz, who, in 1855, published the first topographic and geological map of the area. It has been suggested that the name can be attributed to the orange hue of the limestone from which the peak is formed, but nobody really knows why Herr Schulz changed its name. The local residents of Bulnes have a saying: “No me llameis Naranjo, pues fruto no puedo dar, llamadme Picu Urriellu que es mi nombre natural”. (Don’t call me Orange tree, because fruit I cannot bear, call me Picu Urriellu which is my natural name).

It has an altitude of 2,529 metres and although it is by no means the highest peak of the Cantabrian mountain range, it can be considered the best-known summit in the world of Spanish mountaineering, especially the 550m high vertical wall of the west face. At its foot lies Vega Urriellu, a glacial valley, and the Los Urielles refuge to which were heading.

Just up the road from our hotel we contemplated the next few hours of steady climb through the Canal del Tejo. Here our guide Rosana delivered the good news. Apparently there was a short break after the first 600m of climb at the top of the funicular railway which takes tourists from the bottom of the gorge near our hotel, to Bulnes.

Climbing relentlessly we made progress on loose rocky paths through the chasm, thin woodland and grassy banks topped by towering rocks which loomed over us.

As promised, after about 600m of climb, wet through from the effort, we arrived at the top of the funicular.

Nobody was going to take a ride back down of course, but it was an interesting opportunity to stop walking uphill and take on board a snack and some water.

Just a few minutes later we arrived at Bulnes, a delightful small hamlet catering to the funicular users and those who preferred to walk there. There is no vehicular access – everything being delivered by the funicular railway, or on the backs of mules or other beasts of burden. Felling somewhat burdened ourselves we took a break over a coffee or lemonade (or similar) at the little cafe by the river. It was actually a little hotel too, El Caleyon.

All too soon it was time to leave this haven of relative flatness and start the next 600m of ascent. It was while waiting to leave Bulnes that I noticed my boots had seen better days. While the sole was still firmly attached to the increasingly shabby but sound upper, the rand (the bit of rubberised plastic around the front) on both boots had started to come away. In fact it had perished and needed very little assistance to come off completely. The rest of each boot was still solid but without the rand there was a breech in the waterproofing. Hmm – not good. They’d been fine before but I guess all things have a lifespan and my favourite Scarpa GTX’s had just reached the end of theirs. Needless to say I didn’t have spares unless I wanted to climb in my Merrell sandals (which I didn’t).

Anyway, moving on, we headed out of Bulnes, once more on paths through woodland at the bottom of the gorge. Soon after the woodland gave way to more openness as the Rio Tejo that we had been walking alongside for some of the morning broke into several tributaries each of which fed the main river from the upper slopes. It was still green all around, topped by grey sandstone, but the clouds were gathering and the spring in our steps, at least that which remained after a morning of non-stop ‘up’, reduced a little. However things looked up when after another 600m of climb we reached an even smaller hamlet than Bulnes. Used by shepherds in the past most of the stone buildings were in ruins or on their to being so. But on had been turned into a Refugio. At a hight of 1300m the Refugio de la Terenosa was well placed to offer beds and simple fare to travellers in these parts and we stopped for lunch and coffee or lemonade (or similar as mentioned previously). My roomy, Alasdair, had thoughtfully termed our preferred refreshment a ‘sports drink’. How thoughtful of their Spanish to have produced a ‘sports drink’ that looked and tasted quite a lot like a light beer. I think it was called San Miguel. Anyway, after 30 mins or so the clouds were still gathering and we had another 600m or so to go and after refilling our water bottles Rosana urged us onwards and upwards.

Above the Refugio de la Terenosa the way became distinctly more rugged. The trees, bushes and other signs of ‘low’ gave way to the signs of ‘high’. The tracks became rougher, the views more expansive (save for the gathering clouds which spoiled the views a bit), and we were jostled of the path by the occasional pack animal bustling stores from ‘low’ to ‘high’ and back again along the narrow paths that traverse the increasingly steep hillsides.

When we were about 30 minutes from our destination the weather finally changed. The mist and low cloud finally colluded and it started to rain. Packs were covered and some of our merry band donned waterproofs. I and a few others didn’t as we were already soaked from perspiration and it wasn’t cold. Not at that time at least. Through the rain we trudged on, trying not to notice that it was getting quite chilly and the rising wind wasn’t helping. As we approached the Refugio Vega de Urriellu the weather turned really quite nasty and we hurried on.

At about 5pm, 8 hours after we had left the Hotel Garganta del Cares back in the valley we reached the Refugio. No photo this time I’m afraid. It was pouring down and all 15 of us (14 walkers plus Rosana) were trying to get into the dry. Boots had to be exchanged for crocs in the small vestibule. There was about enough room for 8 people in this small area but when those people still had their packs on and were in various positions trying to remove boots the capacity reduced to about 4. So several people were just waiting patiently in the rain. Not a happy arrival. Nonetheless in due course everyone passed through, deposited their rucksacks in the appointed space and dried off. In lieu of a photo of misery I have have one of dinner. A completely delicious pasta con carne. I’m not sure what it was actually called but pasta con carne it most definitely was. Washed down with a ‘sports drink’ of course.

What a great day! See you tomorrow!

The next two days will be the most challenging of the week. Today we made a memorably steep descent of nearly 1200 metres and covering over 25 km taking the Shepherd ‘s Way and Canal de Culiembro into the Garganta del Cares.

We awoke to this delightfully rural picture and soundtrack.

The first part of our descent followed an old shepherds’ trail, winding through stony lapies formations, until we reached the hamlet and high pastures of Oston. The weather was wonderful, as demonstrated by Alastair, my roomy.

From here, we started a steep but steady and impressive descent through Culiembro gully, surrounded by the impressive sandstone walls.

The path became more defined as we headed into woods of oak, walnut and beech, before finally arriving in the bed of the Cares Gorge, at the abandoned hamlet of Culiembro.

From Culiembro we turned right. Following the gorge slightly uphill towards the small settlement of Cain (pronounced Cayeen). We gradually made height on narrow tracks hewn from, and clinging to the vertical rock that framed the river.

In places the peaks soared precipitously almost 2000 metres above us and we were amazed to be able to descend on a path cut through the outrageously difficult terrain.

First built in the 1920’s as part of a hydro-electric scheme, this path provides one of the most outstanding walks in the Picos de Europa.

Crossing the river twice on sturdy steel bridges we reached the impressive hydro-electric installation: a massive and powerful jet of post electricity generating river warmer blasting out to the right and a gentle fish ladder on the left.

Arriving at the settlement of Cain, while some were tempted by shopping, others were tempted by some alternatives such as refreshment or lunch. I and a few others were temped by a dip in the river.

After a dip and a quick beer to slake my throat for the next leg we headed out of Cain, back down the canal to Fuente Poncebos and our hotel for the night.

See you tomorrow 😀

Today began with mist and our reluctance to turn out from our hut was palpable. The mood was possibly not helped by the generally poor sleep reported by many and the overall dampness of the place. There had been a fair bit of noise overnight inside the hut and the constant clanging of bells worn by the horses outside hadn’t helped. The fairly lacklustre breakfast might also have been a factor.

Nonetheless at shortly after 9am we headed back down the track which had brought us to the refuge. In mist and with less spring in our step than might have been expected we retraced our steps back to Lago de (Lake) Enol. From here we made our way towards Lago Ercina, en route to visit an old lady who makes cheese nearby and maybe to sample some. But she wasn’t there. Oh dear. Was it going to be that kind of day?

But apparently not. The gloom of a misty cheese-free morning lifted as we had a snack by the fuente (fountain) Las Rebragas and the cloud lifted too. We were once again in spectacular surroundings about to venture onto new ground.

Skirting Lago Ercina we took a gently ascending path through terrain becoming more familiar: rocky paths flanked by verdant grassland with sandstone escarpment ahead. As we climbed the cloud still above us thinned.

Eventually, after a lunch of locally made bread with cheese and various charcuterie cuts the cloud finally lifted and our journey was once more blessed with warmth and great views.

Now climbing more steeply we made our way to a pass from which we were able to see, for the first time, the Macizo Central. Wow. This was more like it!

This was always going to be an odd day. A day of transit if you like. To position us well for what followed and our fist sight of the Macizo Central was thrilling. Buoyed up, we continued across more open terrain in sunshine towards our sleeps for the night.

When we crested a rise the Refuge Marquez de Villaciciosa, curiously also known as Vega de Orio, was a welcome sight. Set in an impressive location this was a more modern building with fresh spring water on tap for everyone to refill their bottles and camelbacks.

After a few snacks a rustic shower and, for some, some deliciously cold beer we left our packs at the refuge and climbed the ridge unladen to get an even better view of the Macizo Central. With low cloud appearing as a sea between us the peaks appeared to be rocky islands.

After a delicious dinner of lentil soup with chorizo and fresh rolls followed by steak with rice and, joy of joys bearing in mind where were were, some cake and pineapple some of us settled down to chat and play cards. As the sun dropped we were blessed with the most beautiful of views. This is where we’re going tomorrow. The relatively uninteresting day, not helped at all by having been shrouded in mist for the most part, had come good. Tomorrow beckoned.

Good morning everyone. It’s now 7:30 Tuesday morning and there wasn’t enough coverage here last night to send a post. This morning I have ‘one bar’ but it’s not enough to upload any photos. So I’m going to try to upload text only. If I get a better signal later I’ll try to get the photos up. So here goes….

It didn’t work…

Hi all. It’s now Tuesday evening and to get coverage I’ve had to climb somewhat higher. I still can’t upload photos but here at least is the story of Monday. I’ll try to add the photos another time. The story of the previous attempts to get this blog out are below:

That didn’t work either

Hi all (yet again). It’s now nearly 11pm and I’m in a darkened room at the night 3 sleeps, Refugio Vega de Ario (also, somewhat oddly, known as the Refugio Marqués de Villaciciosa). Now with a slightly sunburned head and surrounded by the sound of slumber at various pitches, whilst we enjoyed a super dinner and a couple of very cold beers I’ve been unable to track down enough ‘G’ to get the Day 2 blog out. At tomorrow’s sleeps I’ll try again as I should have a good connection from there. In the meantime I’ll put the photos back in the draft. I live in hope.

With increasing frustration, that still didn’t work 🤨

It’s now Day 3 (Wednesday) late afternoon and I’ve sped ahead of the others to try and get through. Now I have some decent coverage I hope very much that you’ve stuck around in the hope of following my traverse of the Picos de Europa. This is my blog from 2 days ago. Phew!!!!

Hi everyone. It’s Monday evening in the Picos de Europa. I’ve just had a great dinner at the Reggio Vegarradondo. A fish paella with pasta rather than rice, pork with tomato and chorizo sauce and a dessert of biscuit in custard with cinnamon sprinkles served in a paper cup. The cook may call it something else (in Spanish) but that’s what is was in English and jolly tasty it was to. A sterling job was done in the tiny kitchen, producing the food while serving thirsty walkers beer, coffee and hot chocolate. We’re not the only group here, hence the orders for coffee and hot chocolate 🤣

But first things first. I have no coverage here so can’t resort to google for research and fact checking so I’m blogging blind and hoping that the signal will return and you will see this soon. Meanwhile I’ll return to the story with only the gentle and oddly reassuring sound of cowbells from the doorway of our hut.

We left the hotel at about 9 this morning. After a hearty breakfast, according to Rosanna the best we’ll have all week, we were minibussed to our starting point, beside Lake Enol. Please forgive me if that’s not the right name but, as mentioned, I have no access to google -I’ll correct it tomorrow. From there we made our way steadily uphill under the watchful eye of beautifully docile caramel coloured cows. There broad horns offering no to threat but serving only to adorn their serene countenances. It is docile creatures such these that are guarding our hut right now.

Steadily gaining height the loosely pebbled path flanked by grassy banks gave way to tracks at a more precipitous angle and we were saddened to see now abandoned homesteads. The mood picked up when following an excited call of ‘bird of prey’ a vulture swooped by. Sadly I have no photo of this spectacle. Continuing upwards on limestone rocky paths we reached our lunch stop. Sadly, until now we had been walking in cloud. The immediate views of caramel coloured cattle and their surrounds sadly didn’t quite live up to expectations but the sun was trying to burn through. We decided to have a bite to eat here then strike for the summit of one of the highest peaks in the park in the hope that we could climb through the cloud to emerge in glorious sunshine. And so it transpired…

After this early lunch of ham and pasta salad, bread and charcuterie and cheese, a nectarine and various snack bars and crackers we made our way up increasingly steep grey limestone paths. At least it was dry and very grippy.

As we approached the summit we were treated to a small herd of chamois, known locally as rebeccors, appearing on the ridgeline ahead of us. These normally timid and secretive little creatures were apparently enjoying watching us, watching them, watching us.

But after a while we needed to resume our climb to the summit as the weather was closing in. The angle increased dramatically and it was clear I wasn’t as fit as I had been the last time I did this kind of thing. But we all made it and bathed in warm sunshine on top of the world. This part of it at least. At 2026m Pico Cotalba might not be that high but bathing in warm sunshine with an extensive cloud inversion below more than made up for that.

The view from the summit was worth every laboured step and drop of sweat. We were on top of a cloud inversion and could see peak after peak swimming in a sea of cloud.

All to soon we had to head back to the refuge to clean up, pack for tomorrow and have some dinner. Sadly the cloud gathered again and the last hour home was in cold and wet mist, but we were pleased to have seen the view from the top. After an hour or so a fairly damp and tired group we to be seen trying to choose which bed to claim. Top bunks were popular until it was realised there were no ladders on which to ascend. It’s now after 11pm and several weary travellers are gently snoring while I write. What fun. I’ll join them as soon as I’ve had a drink of water and put this post in the queue to be sent as soon as I get some ‘g’

See you tomorrow, hopefully for some more sunny tales 😀

Hi everyone. The sun is shining and the group is complete at our little hotel, the delightful Hotel de Balsa in the little village of Soto de Cangas.

We had a good 2.5 hour minibus transfer from the airport speeding along the Route A—8 with splendid views of low mountains to our left and, from time to time, the sea to our right. Lunch of a bacon and cheese roll and a tortilla roll with a glass of beautifully cold coke was taken at a surprisingly good motorway cafe and we were soon at out hotel. small traditional

The small but traditional little hotel offers simple rooms and a good sleep beckoned. I’m on the left

Keen to see the local area a number of us headed to Cangas de Onis, a town about an hour away. On tiny country roads through gloriously green and lush woodland and past rustic farmsteads a group of 8 or so stretched our legs. We came to the town along the Rio Cüeña, a small tributary of the Sella River. The N-625 bridge over the river marks the centre of the town. It being Sunday afternoon I extend the little town to be quiet, but far from it. While traffic was light the town was thronged with families and sightseers like us and the cafes and restaurants were doing a good trade

By the river and next to the road bridge we came upon the Puente Romano. A huge, centuries-bridge spanning the river and open to visitors.

After a snack at one of the restaurants in the town square, in my case some calamares fritas (fried squid) served with a curious grey accompaniment which turned out to be a delicious sauce tartare mixed with squid ink, we headed back to the hotel. At 7 we were to be briefed on the trip by Rosanna, our Spanish/American guide

After the briefing it was out for diner, to the restaurant down the road

What a feast we had. Local cider was followed by bowls of chorizo, cheese croquettes, green salad with some powerfully pungent cheese, more clamares fritas, were devoured with local wine and finished with cheesecake and figs. Hmmm. Very tasty. But all too soon we headed for bed. It was going to be a great week. But before I go I have to sheer with you an advertising hoarding opposite the restaurant advertising some local cheese which made us smile.

Might give that one a miss 🤣🤣🤣

See you tomorrow 😊

Close to Spain’s northern coast, the Picos de Europa is a region of stunning steep-sided valleys, isolated villages and picturesque limestone peaks.

Tomorrow I am going on my first post-Covid trek. I’m really excited to let you know I’m going to traverse the Picos de Europa with KE Adventure Travel.

The Picos de Europa (“Peaks of Europe” so called as they were the first land to be seen by Spanish renaissance-era sailors returning home from the Americas) are a mountain range extending for about 20 km (12 mi). Forming part of the Cantabrian Mountains in northern Spain the highest peak is Torre de Cerredo, at an elevation of 2650 m (8,690 ft).

Spread across 11 villages, Picos de Europa is Spain’s only inhabited nature reserve, offering travellers a unique experience. Rural life and nature have co-existed in this unique environment for centuries. More than half of the vertebrates on the Iberian Peninsula can be found in the Picos. These and other wildlife are found in the mountains, the meadows, lakes, gorges, and forests and include, as a small sample, large mammals like roe deer and chamois sharing territory with grouse, eagles and Egyptian vultures.

A 2.5 hour transfer from Bilbao Airport tomorrow morning will see the group gather in a little hotel close to the small 14th century farming town of Cangas de Onis; our gateway to the western side of the Picos. On the little map above Cangas de Onis is top left (if you click on the map you should get a bigger view). Early Monday morning a minibus will take us to Lago de Enol, near the village of Buferrera, where our trek begins. Over the next 6 days, via peaks, gorges, forests, shepherds’ trails and miners’ tracks, taking in medieval villages and breathtaking views, we will make our way on foot roughly south east to Espinama. Espinama isn’t on the map but is on the road south from Fuente Dé by the Río Nevandi, in Cantabria. After a final evening together we will head back to Bilbao and home. While on the trek, with one exception on Wednesday to freshen up and re-stock from our main bags at a small hotel, we will stay in moutain huts/refuges and will carry what we need on our backs.

With a degree of nervousness, not having written for you for 4 years, I hope to take you with me. I don’t know what phone connectivity I will have between Cangas de Onis and Puente Poncebos where we spend Wednesday night, and Espinama, but if I can send an update I will. Google tells me coverage is incomplete but to expect something in the villages at least. Fingers crossed eh? See you tomorrow!

I hope so 😀

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