This week the last few bits of kit I needed have arrived, including the rucksack (a 70 litre Osprey Aether - sweet), so I thought it was time to get out into the hills with something equivalent to the full load I'll be lugging across 800 miles, and see if this is in anyway feasible or if I need to find a donkey.
My plan was to head up to El Escorial at the foot of the Sierra around 5-ish on Friday afternoon and walk for a couple hours before finding a campsite for the night. Camping out would allow me to test not only the new rucksack but also the the new tent (a Nemo GoGo), sleeping bag and various other bits and bobs.
Directly behind El Escorial the Sierra rises up in a mighty granite escarpment culminating in the peak of Abantos and I'd selected this summit as being a potential spot for camping, thinking the views of the sunset from 800 metres above El Escorial, with the Madrid plains stretching out to the horizon behind, would be excellent.
Of course plans, no matter how well laid do indeed go wrong, and at 5 pm I was still in the office. I finally caught the train up to El Escorial at 8.30 pm. El Escorial is at the foot of the Sierra de Guadarrama, about an hour North-West of Madrid, meaning I arrived at something like 9.40 pm, having watched a spectacular sunset, with the sun consumed in a ball of fire as it slid behind the Sierra, from the windows of the train. Still, as I wandered through the town to the open hills behind there remained a little gentle light emanating from the west, highlighting the black specks of the swallows as they darted through the fragrant evening air.
A network of paths and a road crisscross the glorious pine forests that line the face of Abantos, and I headed out on the footpath I remembered as being one which should take me directly up to the summit. As the light completely failed and I had a run-in with a particularly viciously thorny rose bush (with the rose bush being declared undisputed winner, my legs and arms the losers) I abandoned the path at the first opportunity and picked up the road, which, although less direct, rising in long zig-zags, at least guaranteed a somewhat less treacherous means of ascent.
Even so the road wasn't entirely free of dangers, as at around 11.30 a troop of cyclists swarmed past. The Spaniards do love the night, and not without reason when it's 40 degrees during the day...
I continued to climb. The stars above blazed, and the Milky Way was a brilliant shining road through the heavens. Somewhat more brilliant than the 10 feet of actual road I could make out in front of me with the light of my headtorch, however I eventually reached a car park where I knew a wide forest track turned off that would take me roughly to the summit.
After various decisions to give up walking for the night and just camp where I found myself (attempts that were usually thwarted by the fact that not only was the ground baked rock hard, but was also covered with dead brushwood that was impossible to clear a space in) I suddenly realised I was almost on the summit. What a view; the dark bold massif of the Sierra spreading out on both sides behind me, directly below my feet glittering El Escorial, the geometric regularity of the monastery a blaze of white floodlights, and stretching out to the Southern horizon the white lights of the heavens were mirrored in the near infinite orange lights of the towns camped out across the plains, and there in the vastness near the horizon the bright glow of untiring Madrid shone out.
After admiring the view I found a decent spot in the trees next to where the escarpment falls away to the plains, and set the tent up, ejected as many of the beetles that had managed to enter the tent while I set it up as I could, had a mild panic over the trees above me falling on top of the tent as I slept and before I knew it it was 6.20 in the morning and time to get up.
Walking through the night, fighting rose bushes, sleeping a few hours... it can all be worth it when you look out at where you are...
Dawn on a perfect Spanish Sierra Summer's day. Once I'd had my fill of the beauty unfolding in the East, I packed up my humble campsite and headed off into the wilds of the Sierra, to test the legs over 15 miles or so.
Today is Sunday and I can report that although my joints are somewhat stiff today I'm hopeful of not requiring a donkey.
1 comment:
jnr, that's a beautiful description; some would almost say lyrical. being your sister i probably won't go that far, but nonetheless it was very inspiring and i wanted to say how much i'm looking forward to getting involved in the walk! Lovely photo too. Put more up! Err, what do you meeean you've got better things to do with your time??
sx
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