At the top of Monte Perdido

For: Ricardo Coarasa (text and photos)
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"Are yours?», he asked pointing to the flock of sheep grazing in the distance. The question was more than justified. The septuagenarian climbed without a backpack and with the help of a stick, faded jersey as the only shelter, with that agility typical of the shepherds of the Pyrenees. But, it was not the shepherd. climbed, as we, the Lost Mountain. and did it alone, like the thirty or so previous times since that first one -he proudly told us, with recognizable Biscayan accent, while we regained strength next to the Goriz shelter– in which he completed the ascent and return in just over seven hours, a real feat. "Not now, Now it costs me eleven», recognized without a hint of bitterness, which at his age seemed to me an even greater feat.

That day the alarm clock had sounded too soon, at that time when sometimes one has not even gone to bed. Long before I was awake, undressing minutes to shorten the doze. Because it is impossible to sleep peacefully when you have to face 2.000 meters of difference in the same day and up there, a 3.355 meters, wait for a top so dear, and so full of memories, like the Lost one. This time the incentive was not to arrive, but do it together with Bethlehem, facing his first ascent. That's why you had to get up at four in the morning.

That day the alarm clock had sounded too soon, at that time when sometimes one has not even gone to bed

At 5:30 we were already in Torla, where in the summer season the road ends for cars, and it is necessary to go up to the Ordesa meadow by bus. The first leaves at six and there is still time to wait in the car sheltered from the morning frost. We will pay for the mistake. As it is Saturday and they have announced good weather, the influx of mountaineers is greater than other times and the bus (4,50 euros round trip ticket) it fills up, grounding two dozen passengers. To not have to wait until seven, the driver agrees to come down for us as quickly as possible. and it does, but despite everything we left at 6:35 of Torla after half an hour of reproaches silenced by the cold.

When he finally leaves us in the Ordesa meadow at almost seven in the morning, we began to walk as if we were being chased by a tax inspector, entering alone in the always overwhelming beech forest, one of the most magical places in the world, where it's never night or day. Accompanied by the murmur of the river Araz, and after leaving behind the stands of Soaso, the beautiful postcard water staircase, we go out to the circus of Ordesa on which emerge, before us, the stone masses of the The Three Sisters. Hard to assimilate now, one step after another, Let's finally set foot on a top so far away and therein resides, precisely, much of the magnetism of the mountain, where your willpower is put to the test by nature. it goes up, especially, with the head, although the legs are the ones that do the dirty work.

Hard to assimilate now, one step after another, Let's finally set foot on a top so far

No need to reach the Cola de Caballo, plethoric of water, we cross the meanders of the Arazas in the direction of the other wall of the canyon, where the Pelay belt links with the zig-zag that goes up to Góriz. The path then joins the one coming from the pegs (that bridge the gap more directly and save some time) and gradually gains height until it reaches the Góriz refuge (2.195 meters), where most sleep one night before embarking, the next day, the ascent to the Lost. It helps us to fill the canteens (an advantage that allows you to get up to here without an extra weight in the backpack).

There we said goodbye to the veteran mountaineer who seemed like a shepherd, after gathering energy (a key stop, Although we feel strong enough to continue, when the ascent is done on the same day). So far we have climbed at a very good pace (two and a half hours from the prairie after saving 875 vertical meters), but now the hardest sections of the ascent await us (we still have to overcome 1.153 vertical meters) and, especially, you have to dose the forces for the final pedriza, very demanding.

From Goriz the hardest sections of the ascent await us and we have to dose our strength for the final boulder, very demanding

After twenty minutes of rest we continue our way in the direction of the frozen lake, where if all goes well we will make one last stop before facing the final effort. The path runs in these first meters gaining height quickly, with some rocky step in which you have to help yourself with your hands, until entering a sea of ​​large blocks of stones in which you have to be careful not to lose the trail of the signposts. Yet, It is a small respite before the road faces another considerable slope that brings us closer to three thousand meters.

Before we reach a snowfield that must be crossed with the sole precaution of saving the rimaya where, across, joins the rocks. but we decided, as most, go around it at its upper end and save the gap holding on to a chain anchored to the stone that also forces you to be careful not to slip and fall into a crack. I get the impression that the cure is worse than the disease. Belén shows a certain anguish, but in the end he grits his teeth and we save the delicate step. No more complications, except for some stretch of rock where you have to put your hands, we reached at 11:25 the frozen lake (2.989 meters) and we can already see up there the summit of the Lost.

We cross a rocky hill where we have to be careful not to mistake the route

We rest just enough to gobble down an energy bar and hydrate ourselves a bit. The target is very close, but the hardest part remains, the spittoon, a slide of snow and rocks through which more than one mountaineer has lost his life in winter by losing his footing and falling down the slope. Before we cross a rocky hill where you have to be careful not to take the wrong route and not finish, as it happens to us when we open ourselves too much to the left, balancing on the stone in an area that plummets to the spittoon. It's the only time I think about turning around because I know that Bethlehem, who has vertigo, is having a bad time. But she insists on going on and, helping each other, we continue to get out of the rut and get back on the right track.

When we finally meet at the foot of the pedriza, I know that, civil or criminal, we will end up making the top. I have dreamed more than once of this rock slide whose incline is so steep that, sometimes, taking a step does not necessarily mean moving forward. To make matters worse, yesterday it rained a lot and the ground is even more slippery. Whenever I get here I stick to a maxim that helps me win the psychological battle. I force myself not to look up and climb with my eyes fixed on my boots. Only when I think I've climbed high enough do I allow myself to break that rule.

I have dreamed more than once of this rock slide where, sometimes, taking a step does not necessarily mean moving forward

To regain a little self-esteem just look down, where a string of mountaineers hunched over themselves, they grab hold of some large rock to catch their breath and curse loudly as they slowly make their way down the quarry. "This is bullshit", I listen next to me. With five hours on, you have to be in shape so that the muscles of the legs do not make you escrache. The camaraderie of the mountain multiplies in these circumstances and those who are already going down encourage those who are going up and tell us, although you hardly listen to them, the best route to save efforts. For us it is even more complicated because we do not have, as most, canes with which to help us.

Overcome the boulder, now there is only a small slope sprinkled with snow that culminates in the top. Arrived, nevertheless, without rushing the energy reserve after five and a half hours of walking from Ordesa. we hug happily. It doesn't matter if it's my sixth ascent, the joy of seeing you here again is immense, increased now by the pride that Belén has achieved it for the first time. The reward is a virtually cloud-free 360º view. the Pyrenees, at our feet. Someone has put up some Tibetan prayer flags, that it is as if you climbed the mountain Kailash and you will find an image of the Virgen del Pilar. Down there, the frozen lake looks like a furtive tear from the Cylinder of Marboré. Across, another impressive three thousand, the Sum of Ramond, and in front of us the splendor of the Ordesa canyon, majestic even from so high up.

The reward is a virtually cloud-free 360º view. the Pyrenees, at our feet

We only rest ten minutes, just enough to take some pictures, and we start the return. Before starting to go down the pedriza (without poles all the effort rests on the heels, what are your life insurance) we came across the Biscayan "shepherd", about to reach the top for the umpteenth time. "Bad weather is coming", warns us. And even if the sun shines, I conjure myself to go down as soon as possible. An hour later, the clouds have settled over the spittoon. The steps that seemed more complicated on the way up were overcome now without much problem and in an hour and 50 minutes we are back in Góriz. Are 14:20 and we have deserved twenty minutes of rest to eat and rest the satisfaction of the ascent.

From now on the easy part remains., as long as the legs respond. I remember a year when I faced the Lost without prior preparation and, reaching the horse tail, the muscles suddenly seemed to deflate, turning the road to the meadow into an ordeal. Not now. And 45 minutes we are already in the waterfall and, From there, we increase the rhythm in the beech forest, that nevertheless becomes eternal. Shortly before five in the afternoon we walk through the Ordesa meadow waiting for the bus to return us to Torla. It has taken us four hours and twenty minutes to descend the 2.000 meters of height difference from the top. And total, we have been walking for ten hours. in bud, a few mugs of beers are waiting for us, the real mountaineers medals, before heading to Jaca.

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