Having at last managed to find the path that marked the start of the expedition, the 'Bandits', as we were so passionately known, set off towards the River Dobra and its crystal clear waters.
We followed the river as it twisted round the valley, but soon started the steep climb to the side, where spectacular views of the Dobra were momentarily interrupted by the occasional nose-blow from our awe-inspiring and intrepid team member, Jon.
A few hours later, having separated from the other teams, the Bandits trudged on with breath-taking audacity until faced head on with what could only be described as an extremely large pig. Yes, lunch had finally arrived, and Jon had just begun to take off his rucsac when, from out of the undergrowth came ten sweet little piglets.
Undeterred by these ferocious animals, we continued our route as it took us up through the valley, and into a wood riddled with wild animals not excluding very large cows, where, temporarily geographically confused, we proceeded to cross the river at a place Jon will vividly remember, and the rest of us never forget.
Making good pace and gaining height, we continued through the thick wood in short bursts of sunshine followed by frequent downpours of rain. Soon Vega Vaño lay before us, and the easy first day had so far proven to be no real challenge.
As we emerged from our final ascent from the valley, Fred appeared dubiously from the bushes with a welcoming smile - the Bandits had arrived at Vega Vaño. However, the route was not yet finished, and as we set off for an 8 km loop down to the village of Soto de Sajambre it began to rain.
With a planned 22km walk for the day, we (the Barons) got up at the crack of dawn to start the journey. However, the weather had taken a turn for the worse, with us and the mountain we had to climb being blanketed in cloud, reducing visibility severely. So taking the helpful advice from the staff, we decided to re-route ourselves and head up the mountain before the weather got any worse. Yet despite this, the misty cloud managed to disorientate us and pretty soon we found out we were way off track when we walked into a building which we shouldn't have been anywhere near. After consultation with the map, the conclusion was that we were about 300m too far west, so no problem we thought ,as we began to make our way back to the path only, to find a steep scree slope to climb before we could get to it. It would turn out that this climb would become useful practice for what was to come.
Anyhow, after that fun climb we were back on track. By this time we were on the western side of a small mountain range with the path turning into a trail of the occasional yellow paint marks and small piles of marker stones which were supposed to lead to a mountain pass to the north side of those mountains. It was at this time we heard the unmistakable sound of rockfall somewhere ahead of us. We called out to whoever might be there but received no response and so pressed on. It was not long after, that for the first time ever in the history of Highgate expeditions, somebody used the emergency whistle everyone is supposed to have! Being natural heroes the Barons shouted out to the aid of those lost travellers, and pretty soon we saw the Muppets climbing up from below us relieved that their salvation were the mighty Barons, for they thought that we actually knew where we were and where we were supposed to be going, as they sure as hell didn't have a clue (but then again it turned out neither did we).
Together the Barons and the Muppets continued walking along the side of the mountain, along what we thought was the only obvious path. What followed was a group of eight wondering aimlessly on the side of a mountain with no idea of where to go. The weather had turned cold, with the mist soaking through most of the boots. This was compounded by the fact the path we took was narrow with steep drops and also involved several dangerous scree crossings without knowing if we were even headed in the right direction, and so by this time pretty much everyone reached the low point of their Picos trip.
In the end it turned out that we had already left the trail by the time we met the Muppets, and after retracing our steps we found the blessed Small Dog Valley', the trail leading to the north out of the mountains. When we found it, it was like magic, with the clouds rolling back and the sun beating down on our backs, and from that vantage point in the mountains we could virtually see our designated camp less than an hour away.
Out of danger and happy again, the two groups split, with the eager Barons burning on ahead. Almost there and the air was suddenly filled with a most foul smell. Naturally the accusations and denials of each other's flatulence echoed across the land. It was only rounding the corner that the source of the stench was located, and it was in fact a cow lying on its side legs sticking out straight, dead and rotting, attracting hoards of flies and maggots. However not even this vial sight could depress us. Instead we continued relentlessly towards our goal.
On the final stretch to home we realised that the Bandits would have reached there much earlier, having not spent two hours lost in the mountains, and also realised that we'd get a lot of flak from them doing so. Thus it was decided that whoever said "what took you so long" would be bundled there and then. It was to our surprise then that we found the only people at camp were the teachers, with no sign of the seemingly flawless navigation of the Bandits.
With nothing else to do we all set up camp and waited for the Bandits to arrive, and waited, and waited, and waited
Not until the teachers were about to set off to look for them, did they finally pop over the horizon, about as happy as we were when we were lost in the mountains. It turned out they got lost before they reached the mountains.
And so the second day of the expedition was over. Many probably found this their hardest day, but it didn't keep us down, and by evening, after supper, everyone was happy again and preparing for the penultimate day of the expedition.
Kai Fung
The higher we walked the warmer it became and the cloud soon cleared. When we reached the top of the wooded part of the mountain we feasted on biscuits, bread and cheese and meat and as we were smacking our lips on the last juicy chunks of meat, the Barons emerged sweating in near collapse up the forest path. Instead of waiting for the Barons to dine and setting off as a group of eight, we set off alone as the cloud had rolled in again and visibility was only about ten metres.
Our packs gradually became more and more oppressive, our feet more and more lead-like and our strong resolve that we weren't heading in the wrong direction was beginning to wane. When the scree slope emerged before us, we weren't in the least daunted by the fact that no path led across this vast expanse of frost- shattered rock.
We marched on, Dominic with his busted leg and Mike (Kipper Muppet) with a variety of ills. Luckily Gonzo (James G.) was on hand with his Jewish alms and cures which we fed to the fatigued Mike. Still we trudged on, thing's looking bleak with no path no visibility, no sign of life and a giant scree slope of loose rock to cross. Then over the crest of a hill two wild horses raised their proud heads, looking at us curiously as we rummaged for our cameras, and then were gone. But now, with our spirits lifted, we were off, remembering that we were invincible, only to get hideously lost. After much frantic whistle blowing and manic shouting we heard the welcome voices of the Barons drift over to us, and a near vertical climb led us to the pleasant path which they had been following while we had just spent 2 hours traversing murderous scree. Bastards.
However, upon meeting up we all just got miserably lost again, but at least this time it was in a group of eight, so it was even more fun. Who says the Muppets are bad luck?
Marc
After waking about an hour after we had planned to, eating the morning fare and striking camp, all three groups set off together from Vega Huerta, on the instruction of Fred, who had told us "The first section might be a little tricky". The task was to go round the Torre Santa de Castilla (the mountain that we climbed on Saturday) to get to the place where we had bivouacked on Friday night, near the Collada del Jou Santu, for lunch. The straight line distance between the two points was 2 km - it took us 4 hours! There was some very tricky terrain, lots of height loss and gain to be made and more than one section of treacherous vertical climbing. Our detour took us a distance of 4½ km round varied terrain of grassy path, scree and those big rocks that you have to hop over.
After several breaks for navigation and a bit of getting lost, and for filling up our water bottles with snow, we arrived exhausted at the lunch spot. We met Fred, George, Martin and Andy, and saw them ascend a peak during the time we were there.
After a lunch break and water filling stop of nearly an hour there was to be an easy but monotonous slog to the campsite, at Vega de Eñol. It was going to be very easy for us because we had, at various times, done nearly all of the route during our acclimatisation. We left the lunch spot in our separate groups again, the Muppets leading the way, followed by the others. The Muppets made it all the way to the Refugio de Vegarredonda with one stop, where we had a break and a drink. Then we continued on our journey to Vega de Eñol, our campsite for the night. This was unlike any of the other campsites, because it was on a road. It attracted not just walkers but tourists with cars and camper vans as well.
The day was finished for the Barons and the Bandits. However James (Gonzo) and I (the two Muppets being assessed) had one last leg to complete that day. We were to do a circuit on the main road and a path down in a nearby valley, before walking back to the camp. This was easy going, but the road- walking became tedious, and tiring on the feet. Meanwhile Michael and Mark had a swim, and then joined the other two groups at the refugio for a drink.
The day's exertions were over now; it was around 6.30, but there were no signs of Fred, George, Martin and Andy. We pitched tents and cooked dinner in our respective groups, and by the time that had been done there was still no sign of them. Several of us began to get worried at this time, and Jackson and James G went to see if anything could be done at the refugio. It turned out that there were no phones, and not much could be done.
Finally, at 11p.m., Martin turned up in a car (having hitched a lift) and told us that they had taken longer than they expected and had eaten at the Refugio Entrelagos, which is 2½ km from our camp. He then disappeared again, and left us much happier for the knowledge. We settled down to sleep soon after, glad of flat and relatively even land for once, hoping for a good night's sleep. We were sadly mistaken.
Dominic
Having realised the error, we retraced our steps and plodded up some fierce scree into an idyllic corrie complete with a dinky nivation patch. The col lay at the top of the corrie's backwall, the ascent of which involved some scrambling up very loose rock. Happily at the top, we peered over the other side of the ridge down a long, concave snow patch to our lunch spot on the edge of Jou Santu. A safe and technically appropriate descent of such steep and icy terrain would have involved the use of ropes, secure belaying points and certainly crampons and ice axes. So we decided to slide down the snow patch on our bums. After much merriment and with thoroughly sodden behinds, we reached the lunch spot/rendezvous point and spent an extremely pleasant two hours waiting in the sun for the boys and Fred to arrive from the east.
George
We had decided, in a fit of bravado, to take the scenic route back to Lago de Eñol, via a trio of jagged peaks and an apparently simple ridge. The peaks had proved to be less jagged than they appeared from below and we scrambled from one to the next enjoying the view. By way of retribution, the ridge was proving to be anything but simple.
Earlier we had left the three expeditionary parties devouring chorizo and stale bread at the col. This was definitely the best lunch spot of the week, cradled by spectacular mountains, with huge stone slabs warmed by the sun and a spring with perfect, ice cold water. We had scrambled off up the smooth side of the mountain, waving periodically, confident that we would reach the lakes in time for an afternoon swim.
Now, it appeared that our scenic route involved retracing our steps and finding another ridge further to the east. On the plus side, this meant walking straight towards the central massif, a meringue of Disney-like mountains separated from us by the great gash of the Cares gorge. The bad news was that these were in the opposite direction to that which we wanted to go.
We reached the lakes just before nightfall. The last two hours of the walk involved walking over bizarre, featureless terrain, during which we progressively abandoned any pretence of 'not being tired' as well as any semblance of conversation. The three groups had, of course, reached the lakes hours ago. We were sufficiently late that they had actually begun to worry about us! Although I was tired, I was pleased by the symmetry of that.
Andy
All three groups met up at the foot of the last climb and proceeded up to the camp. After a good three or four hours of sleeping, the old men of the mountain showed up, looking a little worse for wear. Without paying any attention to the freshened up and raring to go mountain gorillas, they proceeded straight to the bar trying to form the words "quattro cohones por favor". After a few tankards of the life juices they had requested, we bounced and ran up to the "Witch's Eye" for an amazing view of the valley below, and shortly returned to the cooking of the lard from hell. Tasted good, looked worse and the smell after was horrific. All that was left to do was drink large amounts of overpriced beer, replenish the water bottles from the so called spring and then bed to rise in the morning for the trek through the gorge.
Matt J
Go to the next page for the post-expedition report