Wow. I had ridiculously high expectations for my short trip to
We took a short taxi ride to a small coastal fishing town called Cudillero, where we were met with the smell of sea salt and the sight of a very colorful and quaint village. The whole town is situated on a hill, and its houses painted a variety of bright pastels. After enjoying the crashing waves for a while, we set off on a hike around the small town, watching old ladies come out to buy their daily bread and men arranging fresh fish on ice. We hiked a number of miles outside of town, passing grazing pastures for sheep and cows, as well as a beautiful old church and trees that would have been more at home in the Amazon. Taking a left through an even smaller town up the road, we passed an elderly couple out for their morning walk, and stopped for a chat, as they were a bit surprised to see people such as ourselves passing though that area. They were incredibly friendly, and as we went our separate ways, we were told that there was a beautiful surprise waiting for us just around the turn at the bottom of the hill.
Sure enough, Bailey and I were greeted by a truly glorious view that looked exactly like I imagined
The excitement and fresh air that morning had brilliantly kept us awake that morning, but the bus ride was a new opportunity for some much needed rest, although it was difficult with the increasingly mountainous, fertile terrain passing by each minute. A few transfers later, and the only people left on the coach bus, we found ourselves in the remote town of
Deciding we had better make sure we could find some place to stay that night, we looked into a small bed and breakfast just down the road, which was excellent for the low price, included breakfast, and was run by a very kind lady in her 70s. We looked to be possibly the only tourists staying in the town that night, and were definitely the only ones in our bed and breakfast. The restaurant was even closed because there was just no one around, so we settled on sandwiches at the local bar, where I felt strangely like I was in the Homer Hickim's coal mining town in October Sky (originally named after the book, Rocket Boys, one of my favorites). This despite the fact there are no coal mines in
Ten hours later, at 7:30 am that morning, we awoke to the rude sound of my alarm, but it had been one of the best sleeps of my life. I don’t think I moved an inch the entire time, wrapped in my heavy cocoon. After a shower and breakfast downstairs, Bailey and I set off up the road that would take us to the Lakes of Covadonga. It was a brilliantly sunny day, and although the air was at first quite chilly, the combination of the strong sun, our loaded backpacks, and the uphill climb quickly had me down to shorts and a t-shirt. The first car to pass us by that morning stopped and asked if we wanted a ride up the mountains to the lakes, but we had decided to do that first 12 km stage on foot. Everything was beautifully green, and the mountains continued to grow to more impressive sizes as our altitude increased. Every so often, we caught a glimpse of Covadonga far below. Occasionally, a car or truck would pass by with people looking at us with wide-eyes, thinking we must have been a bit crazy, but that just added to the fun. Our progress was only delayed by our frequent stops to enjoy the view.
As we passed a 10km marker on the side of the road, our anticipation for the lakes grew, and later, as I climbed a hill to examine a large stone monument, I was shocked to see a beautiful glistening lake before the snowy mountains in the distance. I yelled happily to Bailey below, who came charging up the hill after me. A biting wind was blowing down at us from the mountain, immediately dropping the temperature at least 30 degrees, but it felt refreshing after the long, sweaty, first stage of our hike. We goggled at the view for a while, enjoyed a granola bar and orange for a snack, and continued our hike on the second lake, where we saw all of the people that had passed us on the road that morning. The view was truly spectacular, and reminded me of a scene from the Sound of Music. We spent several hours there before deciding to continue our trek through stage we had really been looking forward to, away from any roads and other people. We were on our way to the Refugio de Vegaredonda, another 3 hours off the beaten path, and little did we know that we would actually be heading up the those snowy mountains we had been admiring from far below….
The hike started off relatively flat as we walked along a small dirt road though an open field, but as we came upon a sign that read “Danger, high mountain area” that showed images of about a dozen different ways one could die, we knew we were in for a true adventure. The “trail” was marked by yellow and white markers painted on the occasional rock, spread just far enough apart where you were never sure exactly if you were still on the path until you found the next. We climbed and we climbed over the rocky and grassy ground, zigzagging our way up until we reached a beautiful open valley between two mountain peaks that we followed past the occasional wildflower and mountain deer, and the increasingly frequent patches of snow. We would momentarily lose the trail at times, but stayed on course fairly easily while still enjoying the immensely beautiful surroundings. The snowy peaks continued to grow larger in the distance, and before long we realized that that was exactly where we were headed. Along the way, we also found a spotting of stone huts that could have been built anytime in the last hundred years or so. It was just impossible to tell exactly when, and they were all completely abandoned.
We continued to climb as we were likely reaching the 20 km point in our hike, the fatigue and thinning air making each step a bit more trying. After a particularly steep and rocky hill, we sprawled out on the ground, exhausted and wondering just how much higher we could really go before a refuge would be impossible to find on the mountain peaks. Gathering our strength, we set off again, and within seconds saw the refuge in the distance, behind a more distinct path of jagged stones. Upon entering the area, we found what looked to be a couple, the woman playing with a small dog. They looked at us a bit oddly without saying anything as we drew closer, and after saying hello and waiting though the uncomfortable silence, I extended my hand to the rugged looking man, who, a bit unhappily extended his as well. All he said was his name, and the lady looked at us with an odd smile. The silence was almost unbearable for only a few seconds, before I finally asked them if they were staying at the refuge, living there, or why the hell they were silently sitting on the top of a mountain, seemingly unable to socialize like normal humans. All we really got out of them was that they lived there and ran the refuge, and that they had forgotten that they were to have guests that night. We were some of the first people they had seen up on the mountain that spring. Finally having a little something to break the ice, and the “Mountain Man” as we would call him still seemingly glaring at us, we were shown inside by the lady. Downstairs was a small kitchen, big metal lockers to store backpacks, a dining room, and upstairs, a dozen bunk beds, all of which were empty. The setting sun and our drying sweat had made the top of the mountain positively freezing cold, and unsuccessfully trying to get warm under a mountain of heavy blankets, I decided I would be better off just layering on the clothes and getting my blood moving again, although lying down felt amazing after the strenuous day we had just completed.
Leaving Bailey behind to sleep a bit more, I headed outside for a look around the camp, from which there was a stunning view of the valley and mountain creek below, as well as the surrounding mountain range. Finding possibly the most peaceful, tranquil place I had ever been during my 20 years on this earth, I sat on a giant boulder in silence other than the icy wind that occasionally tickled my ear. It was so incredibly remote and such a far cry from
With darkness beginning to fall, I headed back to the refuge and found that Bailey too had found a bit of time for exploring. We saw two more grizzly looking men descending into the camp just as darkness was to consume the mountain, and as we were heading into the dining room to eat the dinner that our growling stomachs were awaiting. I honestly think we would have both eaten just about anything at that point, and the egg drop soup that was brought to us warmed us up fantastically. A lentil soup came next, which on a normal day I would imagine wouldn’t have been anything to write home about, but on that night was simply indescribable. Our stomachs just barely satisfied, we both prayed that there would be another course, and sure enough, slices of pork and potato chips were brought to us. These would have been even less appetizing on a normal day, but the salty meat was just what we were craving. Bailey and I joked that we were most likely eating the remains of the last people to visit the refuge, those who had been killed by the creepy
Mountain Man even came over to talk to us for a few minutes after we asked him a question from across the room. He explained that a helicopter had delivered the raw materials for the refuge to the top of the mountain twenty years ago, and he had built it all by himself, having opened the place as a refuge ten years ago. All food and supplies were brought up on his back, sometimes by horse for the first portion of the climb before it became impassable. That made us appreciate the meal even more, and after we realized that was about all the talking we were going to get out of Mountain Man, we headed sleepily up to bed around nine o’clock. We layered on the heavy wool blankets over our sleeping bags, and settled into bed, although for some reason we both had trouble sleeping that night. Most likely a result of the 10 very heavy hours of sleep we had had the night before. Our attempts to sleep were interrupted only by the murderous looking silhouette cast by Mountain Man as he entered the upstairs to go to sleep…
Despite the slightly disrupted night, we managed to stay surprisingly warm as the icy air blew hard against the refuge all night. Waking up the next morning we were stunned to see that we were literally in the middle of a thick cloud, and could hardly see out the window. We packed our things to go, but the mountain offered us terrible visibility as even the hardened mountain climbers that had come the night before were waiting for the weather to clear up before setting off, granted they were going up to the peak while we were heading down the mountain. It started to rain, and the visibility only grew worse, but as our nine o’clock departure time came and went, we decided we had to set off if we were to make it back in time to catch the bus back to the airport that evening. We immediately grew a bit leery of our decision after getting momentarily lost just finding our way completely out of the camp. It did not bode well for the rest our journey, when at that point there was literally no more than 10-15 feet of visibility. While I had looked a bit foolish the day before with my heavy backpack prepared for just about any weather condition, it proved valuable that morning as the mountain did it’s best to make us surrender back to the refuge. It rained constantly, creating small rivers though the valley. Later, we were caught in various hailstorms that rained down on us with increasing intensity as the wind whipped at us ferociously. I really wish the pictures and videos I took could remotely capture what it was like, but they just don’t come close. It was a true battle against Mother Nature, and I loved every minute of it. The seriousness of the situation came with the thunder that felt like it was rumbling all around us (as we were literally in the storm clouds) and the lightning that had to be being produced somewhere. This, I can assure you, made us pick up the pace as we found ourselves exposed out in the valley. We made very quick time down the mountain, due to our rested legs, slippery but downhill hike, and slight anxiety about being zapped in the middle of nowhere. We slowly broke out of the storm clouds and rejoiced in our domination of the mountain that lay behind us.
Deciding we had had enough hiking the last few days, and enough adventure that morning, and realizing we could possibly catch an earlier bus from Covadonga, Bailey and I set off down the second stage of the hike with thumbs out, ready to save ourselves another three hours down a slippery road. A few cars passed guiltily by, but finally, an older couple stopped to ask where we were headed, and before long we were cruising slowly down the steep, curvy road that we had climbed the day before. And let me tell you, it seemed like a very long way… As they were heading to the exact place we needed to go, we arrived with 10 minutes to spare in time for the earlier bus to
