Distance: 37.6km (709.3km), time spent: 11:30.
Waymarking: Good, a short section after Biel that was difficult.
Weather: Dark, then very bright.
A 'brutal', but very rewarding day. I had in Sos decided to split up the walk to Murillo de Gállego in two and spend the night at Pozo Pígalo, today the walk to Murillo de Gállego was then standing in front of me. Which ended up being a small ordeal for my legs. In the morning, it was still the night sleep in the tent that mostly kept my mind occupied, I had slept better than earlier on my hike, but it was still not enough, this worries me. I cannot get to the bottom of what it is that makes me not sleep as good in my tent as I usually does.
Dark clouds pours over the ridge after having climbed up from the ponds of Pozo Pígalo.
The Swedes at least sleeps well in their tent by the look (sound) of it, it is all quiet from there when I leave in the morning. From the ponds of Pozo Pígalo the trail enters the mountains above, before it descends to Biel on the other side. When I arrive at the side of the ridge, the nice weather has left and I like it. Clouds spread over the landscape like a dark blanket; they come pouring over the ridge. Puy Moné disappears into them and any excuse to go to the top for the views vanish at the same time. The wind howls stronger when I walk alongside the ridge beneath the dark clouds.
View back from the ridge below Puy Moné, light are however still released through the clouds furthest away in the horizon.
From the pass where the trail ventures down again, there is another route that is proclaimed to be more scenic, but due to the time (I know that I have a long way to go) and the clouds encapsulating the mountains, I decides against that alternative. Instead, I continue a little bit further along the ridge and climb up on top of some small knolls. The dark dramatic clouds emits a more blue colour than grey, where the blue light adds a melancholic mood to the landscape. Here and there it is still small illuminated spots to see in the horizon. If it were up to me (it sort of is), I would like to stay longer up here, but the distance is calling and I head down towards Biel.
Biel with its Norman tower. The tower is a part of the castle in Biel and is integrated into the church.
Dominating Biel is a large tower that becomes a natural eyecatcher when you are approaching the small town, and which joins the line of watchtowers and castles along the route. You cannot help but feel a little bit watched over on this walk, something that is quite ironic given how solitary you are. In Biel however, there are a lot of people. In the bar and restaurant, El Caserio, a herd of bikers has made the trip at the same time as I.
Inside the restaurant El Caserio in Biel. The place reminded me some of Meson Cueva del Coble in Brañosera.
Large parts of the subsequent walk to Fuencalderas feels like a mental quagmire, path gives way for scrubs and ditches, I am progressing very slowly. That it then exists an unannounced bar in the little village feels good then. I do not think that this is a bar that gets much visits from foreigners. Some few villagers are sitting outside, children and grownups, barman turns half-interested towards the television again having served me an agua con cas. Village life.
From a viewing point near Fuencalderas. In the horizon, you can discern the outlines of the infamous Mallos-cliffs at Agüero.
In the horizon there are however exciting things that are about to happen, the silhouettes of the infamous rock formation (mallos) around Agüero, Murillo de Gállego and Riglos has suddenly appeared. The GR1 does a deep dive down into a valley. Which is that kind of remarkable valley where you are almost vanished from the world when you are walking in it. After a long climb up again, San Miguel de Liso awaits. A Roman chapel with defence works and all. A relaxed place where there is also a place to sit for lunch where there is not so much cow dung.
San Miguel de Liso.
Down from the chapel after having maneuvered past the cattle, the path is terribly painful to walk on, as well as locating at the start. If that is the direct cause of why I feel a very unwelcome pain in the upper left of my leg, I do not know. I see the end of the line again, sooner than expected, even walking slow is uncomfortable. Little else to do, I am still some distance away from a larger place, even though the tiny village of San Felices is just around the corner. Where they are having a merrier time than I do at the moment; from one of the houses, I can hear loud voices and music. One of the houses in the village also has a large conical chimney, which is a part of a traditional oven from Aragón.
San Felices, a tiny village somewhat hidden up amongst the hills. Notice the conical chimney, which is a part of a typical Aragón oven. There also existed a building that looked like a sort of albergue for pilgrims here, yellow arrows were also visible on the trail.
When Agüero makes its appearance, I have swallowed the pain; the sight of the impressing rocks that the village is situated beneath makes me forget the pain entirely. The magnificent cliffs with its pointy tops, Mallos de Agüero, looks like they have pushed themselves up through the earth. I walk with my nose in the air and does not keep much watch on the gravel road I walk on. Above me, the red cliff walls are towering. Around the cliffs, black vultures are circling. From Agüero, there is still some distance left to walk, I have to take a necessary break in the bar of the campsite. Has decided to make an effort, the leg feels better.
Mallos de Agüero with Agüero. Vultures circles around the fantastic cliffs with the village below.
On the last stretch to Murillo de Gállego, I am tired, something the sky is not. It literally sparkles with energy. The evening sun baths the majestic cliffs in red light, now it is Mallos de Riglos that towers in the horizon. In addition, I can see the contours of the Torre de Marcuello and the chapel next to it. If I get this weather tomorrow, I will become a very happy man, provided I am able to continue. A lovely end of an otherwise hard and great day, although my leg is now worrying me.
Evening sun illuminating Mallos de Riglos with the village of the same name below.
At the room I have got in La Casona de la Reina Berta, there is a painting by Ida Elisabeth hanging on the wall, of all things. She is a painter that once lived in the village I come from in Norway, Nærsnes. The place is nice and the dinner is good, I eat a dish where I have to mix an egg together with something that resembles bread mass (primero), then some bird of a kind (secundo), and fruit for dessert. Tired, does not spend much time looking at Murillo de Gállego in the evening. I finish the day at a small and very local bar with some cold beers, there are some other (young) guests here. Barcelona is playing at the tv screen. Ter Steigen makes a mistake for the history books.
Riglos by night.
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