It was a long drive from Navafria up through Aragon and into the Pyrenees. The towns lost much of the old-world charm that we had experienced near Madrid, and became much more industrial as we moved north. The mountains started coming into view as we passed through Huesca. We placed a quick call to the rural hotel we'd reserved in Torla to let them know we'd be there soon, but as we drove further into the mountains the road shrank and soon we were winding along cliffside roads at no more than 30km/hr. We finally pulled into Torla at about 7, much later than we had estimated. Hopefully our room was still waiting for us!

Torla is the last village on the entrance route into Ordessa National Park, and as such enjoys a steady volume of tourists. The town is tiny, just a couple of streets on a hillside, lined with quaint stone buildings (such as the one we were staying in, the Casa Borruel). Everyone parks in Torla and takes the bus into the park. (There are no personal vehicles allowed in the main valley, which cuts down tremendously on noise and pollution.) The streets are incredibly narrow and quite the driving experience - thank goodness we have a very compact car! We found parking near the tourist office and had our first proper full dinner in Spain in a nice old stone restaurant. The pollo asado al horno was quite tasty. We had good intentions of waking up early the next morning, but our enjoyment of the best [affordable] Spanish wine we had found yet with dinner (Protos, which we also found in the market and enjoyed again the next evening) dictated otherwise...

So we finally made it on the bus and into Ordessa National Park at around 11:00 the next morning. I was initially concerned about crowds, but a busload of people quickly scatters into the trees and it turns out to be pretty sparse. We started walking along a loop trail that was considered the "classic" day hike in Ordessa, as recommended by the tourist office: the Circo de Soaso. It looked to be a pretty long day - 17km round trip. We were walking east from the bus stop, upstream along the left side of a small river at the bottom of a grand valley. The trail led past numerous beautiful pools and waterfalls, and was moderately strenuous. As the river curved left, the valley opened up in a wide glacial "U" shape and we could see that we were headed for the far end, from whence the glaciers that carved it had begun. It was an enormous valley with a nice little waterfall at the very head.

Lots of people were turning around and heading back downstream along the same path. Wasn't this a loop trail? Where was the loop? As we munched on our snacks, Daph noticed some folks walking along a barely-discernable rocky path on the opposite valley wall, heading high up above the river. Maybe that was the loop? No way - it was too steep for a trail of any real distance. But we had to check it out, so we trudged forward (pretty tired at this point). Sure enough, the trail did loop onto this much smaller path on the other side of the river. I guess most of the day-trippers were just turning around to follow the nice gentle trail back to the bus. We pushed forward and came upon a sign that read: "Very dangerous trail. Do not attempt after 3pm." We looked at our watch: 3pm. What the hell...

So off we went on this unexpected gem of a hike. This part of the trail (called the Senda de los Cazadores - "hunter's path") hugged the treeline on the steep edge of the valley wall (sometimes right on the edge of a sheer vertical drop!) all the way back down the other side of the glacier's path. It was fantastic! And also much less traveled, for obvious reasons. The views were spectacular, and it was very exhilirating. At each turn the valley floor dropped further below us, and the overlooks were more and more dramatic. After a few hours we were still at the treeline, but the valley floor was now some 300m below us. When were we going to start descending back towards the bus stop?

I soon had my answer. We arrived at a lookout point directly above the bus stop, which we could see far below. Suddenly the trail turned and began to plunge straight down the steep tree-covered slope. I guess those who built the trail failed to find a good descent route, and finally just decided to force the issue. Via an extreme series of switchbacks (walk 10m carefully down the steep slope at about a 45-degree angle, turn 90 degrees, repeat) we descended the entire valley back down to the river. Needless to say, it was very hard on the knees. My feet were burning as we scrambled down and down. My walking shoes had reached the end of their usefulness. Daph said she felt like a mountain goat. I felt like an aged mountain goat. But we finally made it and rejoiced with cold water from the vending machine. It was about 6:00 pm when the bus picked us up to head back to Torla. We stopped at the market and picked up some fresh bread, paté, and tuna (oh, and the wine of course), sat on a stone benched, and munched. When we finally limped back to the hotel I tossed my spent walking shoes into the rubbish. A hot shower never felt so good, and blessed sleep...