July 20 not Ager to Vilanova de Meia

Everything was patas arriba (upside down) today.  Dudu, el taxista, did not know where I was staying in Ager, nor did he know where to take me to start the walk even though I had given Cristina explicit instructions.  Where the lack of communication came in, I do not know, but I was driven miles from where I needed to be.  Now, just to interject, may I say that I was going to take an alternate route anyway because of descriptions such as this, "Above Rubies, is a huge cliff with two distinct gashes.  The one on the left is Portella Blanca.  The GR1 l leaves Rubies on its northern side and takes a faint path directly up the cliff face.  The path is steep. difficult to follow and local goatherds have created a number of alternative routes.  Persist, and after the initial gullied scree the 'path,' which seemed to be heading for the wrong gash becomes evident...."  And that is just the beginning.  I was planning on taking the "you can walk directly to your accommodation" path.

Anyway, after much conversation with Dudu, I gave up hopes of returning to my alternate route as the time was ticking away and there was not going to be any shade.  Instead, at his suggestion, I ended up doing a four hour walk, a weak imitation of yesterday's—hardly shabby, though—after which Dudu drove me on to Vilanova de Meia, with a stop at a grocery store on the way.  Gracias, Dudu.  Al final, ¡todo salió bien!

Wow!



Which shots to keep and which to delete!




Transitioning:




River views:




River view, farther on, with flowers:

See that skinny little bridge?

Here it is up close.  It also shimmied and shook like the bridge of yesterday.

My entire Catalan vocabulary:

Keeping lox cold until you are ready to eat it.  Turns, out, though, that the bidet was leaking all over the floor.

July 19 Puente de Montañana to Ager

Today's magnificent walk through the Noguera Ribagorçana Gorge, compensated for the frustration and disappointment of yesterday's debacle.  José Ramón could not pick me up at 5:45, so his wife Yohana did, at 4:40, actually, and off we drove to Puente de la Montañana.  "You know we are going 7 km past Punete de la Montañana, ¿verdad?"  "Sí"  Arriving at the town, Yohana waited for me to get out.  "No, we have to go to the parking 7 km. from here.  You take Calle Arrabal."  She shrugged  and I waited.  Finally she called José Ramón, who directed her, and we went.  Only not all the way because there were huge cement barriers blocking the road. But at least I got 5km. shaved off a 27+ km day, which, may I point out, would not be a big deal were it not for the heat.  

Reason for the barriers:

Near the beginning of the adventure—honestly, the book made it sound as if you were going to ascend El Capitán—was this bridge that shook and swayed as you crossed:

The walk was dramatic and fantastic, well signed, and thoughtfully designed.  There were metal cords to hold onto for many segments; it is mighty deep down to the bottom of that there gorge:

On the other side of the gorge, a series of wooden steps has been built into the side of the rock.  To get there, you have to take a boat!  That would be really fun, but must be saved for another time or never.  Since I started the gorge walk at about 7:00, no one was out doing the steps or doing anything, for that matter.  I had the whole canyon to myself!

A view:

Another view because I could not decide which one to delete:

Looking back:

After finishing this part of the walk at about 10:30, I reached another parking area where people can come to start the walk in the other direction.  There was an old man looking at bulletin boards there.  "Hola," I called, "Buenos días," and waved to him, and then started along the road to Corça, a dot on the map a good half hour walk away.  After about ten minutes, old man came roaring up the road in his jeep.  I flagged him down.  "Are you going to Corça?" knowing full well he had to be since there was nowhere else he could be going.  And I think I accepted the lift before it was even offered!  There were still several hours of walking in unshaded open areas and it was getting hot, so thirty minutes saved would be very helpful.  So, Estaban, 84 years old and quite hard of hearing, took me not only to Corça but all the way to Áger!  I did not ask him to, but I did not object when he said he was going there.  I told him that I was originally from Montreal; he told me about his trip to Canada with his señora.  Maybe that is why he drove me to Áger or maybe he was just nice!!

Tonight's digs, a double decker in a hostel, $16.00.  You get to put the sheet on your bed, and for $1.50 each you can get towels.  I can hardly wait to schlep my suitcase down two flights of steps tomorrow morning at 5:40 when Dudu the taxi driver will come to drive me a few kilometres down the road before I tackle the route and he goes on with my suitcase to the next accommodation.

July 18, Lascuarre to Puente de Montañana

Advisement:  A pictureless post

Puente de la Montañana is where the walk was supposed to go, but sadly, it did not.  There were two routes: the shorter one, which I opted for, was over 16 miles, (think 19+), so, since most the first few miles were on the road, I decided to have a taxi take me just past that part.  And he did.  However, not only were the instructions in the book particularly deficient and vague for this stage, the route was impossible and/or impassible. I could not find the way to go.  Signage was virtually absent, the thorns and thistles were cutting me to shreds—OK, that is a bit of hyperbole, but I was getting pretty scratched—honestly, it was impossible to figure out where a path was supposed to be.  After six hours, I had covered just a few miles.  Just when I thought it was going to get better because for twenty paces there was a REAL path, it turned out that that real path was for other people, "my path" ascended a huge, and I mean huge pile of loose dirt,—picture an ant hill the size of a stadium—and for about the fourth or fifth time, the book did admit that "the going i difficult here." It was noon by now.  I had been struggling since 6:15 a.m.  It was hot and shadeless, too.  So I looked at that huge pile of reddish brown dirt, and I looked at ViewRanger, saw that I could get to a road where cars can go, called the taxi driver who was supposed to pick me up in Puente de Montañana, and Q U I T!!  Then I trotted off to the new pick-up spot where two particularly ugly, barking dogs awaited.  What beauteous sights I missed, I will never know, though I had been excited about the bridge at Puente de Montañana, which, apparently, is quite spectacular.

Later, after investigating on-line, and speaking to the taxi driver, who has a compañero who knows the area, I learned that that etapa (stage) is notoriously difficult to get through.  The on-line info was from a guy who walked this route a few years ago and he admitted that the only way he managed was because someone helped him, and his description of the climb up that huge dirt hill you don't want to know.  The compañero said you need a guide.  I do feel validated.

Now I just have to worry about tomorrow's walk, which is supposed to be well signed, but a little bit scary, going down into a deep gorge and stuff.

July 16+17 Graus and Graus to Lascuarre

I was excited to get to Graus, because it has supermarkets, and lucky for me, they were at the section of town where I entered, so, arriving just before 2:00—closing time—I was able buy some fruit and bread.  Next day, being a rest day, I could concern myself with my dwindling nut and raisin supplies.

Graus also has a post office, hardware store, a flower shop, and evidence of people living there, like human beings on the street.  The hotel was quite nice:  frig in the room, excellent bed, but hot water that never got hot and cold water that never got cold.  The wi fi worked the first day but not the second and there was no cellular connection.  It was a blackout zone .  So, what to do?  Go to a bar where they let you use the wi fi.  That is what you do.

A street in Graus:

Sometimes communication is difficult. Day two at hotel, “I would like pay the bill today.”  “Oh, don't worry, you can pay the day you leave.”  “But I have to pay today because I will be leaving tomorrow at 6:00 a.m.”  "You can pay tomorrow because if you pay today, it will look as if you are only staying one night.”  “But I will be leaving before anyone is at reception (that being 8:00 a.m.)”  “Maybe my colleague who comes later will know how to do this.” “If it is easier, I can pay in cash.”  “No, let me see if I can figure out how to do this.”  After quite some time, and much huffing and groaning, she did.  

Sunrise through the trees:

A bridge not crossed:

The artistic impulse cannot be suppressed:

That rock, which has probably been there for millennia, looks as if it is going to fall ANY MINUTE:

Another example—to add to yesterday's— of amazingly nice.  Today, arriving in Lascuarre—quite worn out, may I say, since the 13.3 mile day turned out to be almost 18 miles; the navigation problems were horrific, a nightmare, really—anyway, 2 minutes before 1:30, the time until which the panadería was supposed to be open, I arrived to find it really closed at 1:00.  So, OK, I would figure something out.  But across the square a very little old lady, littler and older que yo, was sitting and watching.  She got up, tottered over, and told me that she would ask her daughter-in-law (who runs or owns the panadería) and lives across the square) to open it for me.  And she did!!  A loaf of bread and a box of ice cream thingees to give to the señora of the B and B, which happened to be two steps away, and our business was concluded!

July 14+15 Tierratona to Salinas de Trillo-Graus

Today's walk, about 13 miles, was not all that beautiful:

But this slate roof was:

Oh, Doggums! You win the prize for best photo of an animal on the GR1:

There is yesterday's destination, Salinas de Trillo, and there is also Trillo about 2+ kilometres down the road. Now I will tell you how nice the people were at the B and B.  A) I was invited to have lunch with the husband: Jose Manuel, wife: Maria Jesus, and the single named sister-in-law: Marisol.  The food was outstanding, but of course, dining with three other people meant trying to have a conversation in Spanish.  Anyway, the walk the next day was  a supposed 16.5 miles and I was worried about the heat, so B) Jose Manuel drove me at 5:45 a.m. to Trillo just so that I could shave off about 1/2 hour to 45 minutes of walking in the heat of the day.  I could not believe that someone would do that.  It was a really fortunate thing he did, though, or I would not have noticed the turn off from road to path at Trillo since the instructions in the book were WRONG!  DEAD WRONG! and it was still darkish out.  However, even with the abbreviation, and not getting lost, the stage turned out to be 17.5 miles, which, you may note, was a mile longer than the full stage was claimed to be. 

Today's walk wins no prize for beauty either, though some of the views were good, not here, though.  "Here" went on for a long long long long time:

There certainly are a lot of abandoned, but not forgotten, villages:  

Was someone planning on coming back to continue the repair?

Trying to decide if this specimen merits inclusion in the outdoor museum:

July 13 Liguerre de Cinca to Tierratona

Yesterday's walk was long and it was hot.  Today's was longer but less hot.  We are comparing 97 degrees to 90...towards the end, not the whole thing!!  A major section near the beginning this morning was utterly spectacular.  Fortunately there were metal cords to hold onto where the ledge was narrow and metal steps with metal handles fitted into the rocks where there was no ledge.




Do you think that tree is in the way:




Yes, one really does have to go through that tunnel.  The flashlight app on the phone worked perfectly:



When I got to the end point, Tierratona, the panaderia was closed.  So much for that.  But I have discovered that at any bar you can ask for a bocadillo with cheese to go, and there you are with bread and cheese in a sandwich the size of a subway.  It can be part of your dinner, breakfast, or mid, morning pick me up on the road the next day.  At the bar in Tierratona, I was cursing myself for having been so stupid as to make a reservation at a place another half hour walk up a hill rather than staying in a room over the bar.  But when I got to Mur de Alujan, I was not sorry any longer.  The house is a castle or at the very least in the style of a castle, built in the 15th century by the family Perez, and has been inhabited by a member of that family ever since.  The stairs could scare you to death.  They are those little windy type that castles have, and I am on the third floor.  The owners have added to the original structure:  electricity, toilets, etc., but have preserved most of the original wood and stonework and such. Anyway, staying here is one of those once in a life time experiences.

I asked Rafael, the guy, if I could buy some fruit from him.  He said, "Sí."  Then he came back and asked if I would like a salad and a beef steak!  (They do not serve food here.)  I declined the steak but accepted the salad and asked for two eggs in lieu of the steak.  So there I was, on this little terrace, the eaves of which were lined with birds nests, overlooking a courtyard, eating a lovely little lunch.

It was hot. Even the dogs needed a rest from barking:

Very old wine casks, maybe even dating to the original Perez:

A window:

Walk up 45 of these steps to get to my room:

July 12 Nocito to Liguerre

Couldn’t have started earlier (5:45), couldn’t have walked faster, made only one mistake, though that cost a good 20 minutes, and there were many paces where it would have been easy to miss a turnoff, and still it took seven hours to walk 16 miles.  Granted it was hot.  It was well into the 90’s when I finished, and was I ever glad to finish and be able to order “Una tónica y un Magnum, por favor,”  I am staying in a bungalow, a pretty basic bungalow—oh, a fan would be so nice—which has a little frig. With a freezer compartment.  A previous guest left a bottle of water in the freezer, so I have been enjoying, I cannot tell you how much I have been enjoying, ice cold water all afternoon.  To get wi-fi, you have to take your device and walk down the road.  

What can I say about today’s walk?  I can say that it is hard to walk in the heat—we're talking in the 90's—with a backpack, and, within the last hour or so, when you see that asphalt road that is a hill that you have to go up, it takes a lot of effort.  Today, for the first time ever, I left my rain gear in the suitcase, but replaced the weight, more or less, by taking an extra litre of water.  Turns out I didn’t really need it, but came close.

These grapes do not belong to today's walk, but anyone who has worked with Blogspot will tell you what a pain it is to insert photos, and does it really matter?  Here are some grapes I saw!  The hombres—good hombres, not bad hombres— working on the vines told me that this is going to be a good year.

Not your everyday sort of landscape:

  

11 de julio Not the walk

Today  I did not do the scheduled 18+ mile walk, which would be 25+ miles if you also walked the final 8+ miles on asphalt to the B and B. Other issues: there is the stream the bridge across which has washed away (which may or may not be a big deal), several places where the waymarking is poor or absent, another place where you might have to take a detour (no instructions on exactly how to detour), a big climb several hours in, overgrown paths, temperature in the 90's, and so on.  

Clearly, I needed a substitute walk.  I chose a route to a town, the name of which I do not remember, but it started with a V, which was too far away for a round trip. The plan was to do three to three hours and fifteen minutes out then turn back, which would allow enough time to get una tonica con hiello (tonic with ice) un Magnum, change my shoes and be ready for el taxista.  The walk was gorgeous.  Breathtaking, really.  After a while, it went into the woods—well, it didn’t, really, but the path looked like it was headed that way.  After some time in the woods, the path was not looking good, so I decided to turn back, but when I turned around, I could not see anything remotely like a path. "How the heck did I get here?"  The whole area was pretty dense scrub and rocks and a big river way below with cliffs from which I did not want to fall.  I had a terrible time for over half an hour.  This was the closest I have come to using the satellite GO which may not have been able to pick up a signal anyway because of the density of the trees and brush and all.  Should I go up or should I try to go down to find a way to the path?  Por fin, at last I found the way out. It turns out that  I had missed a subtle turn that was almost invisible from the direction I had been walking, so I don’t feel so bad about that.  But the experience was frightening.  It is so easy to be close to where you need to be but not know how to get there at the same time.

A view, including the river into which I did not want to fall:

Other people have problems, too:

Ahhh, perfect!!

July 10 Arguis to Nocito

I never knew 13.5 miles could be so tough, even Wikiloc, the site for all walks, classifies the stretch from Arguis to Nocito as difficult.  To be sure, the scenery was impressive, spectacular, in fact, but at the end you felt as if you had walked 20 miles.  What a relief to arrive at a pleasant Casa Rural at the end.

This is not the place I am staying:

Nor, gracias a Diós. is this:

You will never guess the name of this river:

It is the Rio Flumen!!

Mother Nature asserts herself everywhere:

No wonder that horse is looking at me askance and would not move out of the way.  I was not supposed to be in her space:

Mountains everywhere, including the ones you are climbing. This shot was taken from pretty high up, well, high enough for me:

See what I am saying?

That is so sweet:

Outdoor museum.  Note how the curator combined the item on display with other natural objects.  Colour, texture, and proportion obviously taken into consideration, as well: