June:
[Eds: I can find no reference to me actually doing any
British birding at all and was just in full Uni work mode. Thankfully the
Spanish Pyrenees came to the rescue late in the month.
Middlesex Poly had a Climbing Club which I joined solely to
be able to go on this heavily subsidised week away in the mountains. I seem to remember that technically there
were only two or three people actually interested in climbing and most saw it
as the chance of a booze up on the continent!
I on the other hand saw it as an opportunity to try and see some of my
most wanted mountain birds.]
26th June:
Dad drove me over to Ponders End in the wee small hours,
stopping on the way to see how many
rucksacks we could stuff into the back of a Carlton at Kate’s house to save
them having to walk round with their bags.
Thus on a mild Saturday morning we headed down to Dover for a smooth
crossing over to Calais on the ferry. A female Peregrine followed us out of the
port with many Fulmars and Kittiwakes.
Two Gadwall heading west were a surprise while Swifts and Gannets were
encountered all the way across along with a lone Great Skua.
Soon we were wending our way out of the French port picking
up two Crested Larks, a single Med Gull and a even a male Golden Oriole that
flew alongside the coach. Hours of monotony followed. The French countryside
was very flat and boring [Eds: sorry Priscille if you ever read this!] with
only sporadic patches of trees and the odd hedge and hence little was seen
other than Larks, Corn Buntings, Turtle Doves and Red-legged Partridges [Eds: I
obviously did not think at the time that these would have been my first ‘proper
wild’ birds.]
The traffic through eastern outskirts of Paris was atrocious
but a nice Melodious Warbler was seen in some bushes while we were stationary!
We even saw the Eiffel Tower through the congregation of tower blocks and
cranes jostling for the skyline. Our
first stop was well after leaving Paris behind and I spent the ten minute break
trying to identify and singing Sylvia Warbler that eventually became my first
Orphean. A few Chaffinches and a singing
Wryneck were heard. Raptors started to
be seen and before it got dark I had notched up 16 Buzzard, four Black Kite,
two Red Kite, Honey Buzzard, two Marsh Harrier and a female Montagu’s
Harrier. Kestrels were numerous and in a
stretch of pine forest I saw two Woodlarks chasing a Sparrowhawk.
We made two other short stops in the coach with an unopened agricultural museum whose courtyard was excellent for playing frisbee! A Black Redstart was seen along with a couple of parading Crested Larks. The last stop was in a small village in a river valley and Swifts screamed through the rooftops in the warm air and Grey and White Wagtails fed in the square. Herons of various species moved overhead towards the river and marsh presumably to roost and I counted eight Grey, three Purple, eight Night Herons and three Little Egret along with a male Marsh Harrier.
I eventually dozed off and was woken at some ludicrous hour
to be told that we were lost and did I have a map! The next thing I knew it was
3am and we had arrived at our camp site about a mile from the village of Torla
on the Spanish side of the Pyrenees .
Tired limbs and brains had to be awakened as we still had to put up out
tents in the dark. It was a stunning
night with the whole of the Milky Way strung out overhead , only obscured in
places by the obviously high relief of the surrounding silhouetted landscape. Only morning would reveal more.
 |
| My orange Vango (?) tent. I even took my scope and tripod! |
27th June:
For me this was not far away as I made the mistake of
peering outside at 6.50. I was knocked
back by what I saw – huge stepped cliffs surrounded us, the lower slopes
covered in thick mixed woodland while higher up small green slopes and scattered
pines gave way to precipitous limestone crags and in some places snow.
Initially the only sound was of the Rio Ara gushing below but soon I picked up
Garden Warblers and trilling Serins and wonderful parties of Alpine Swifts that
chittered in a fashion horribly close to the noise I image beings from the
Dungeon Dimensions make – I will have to ask Rincewind [Eds: I was in the
height of my love for Terry Pratchett Discworld books] These agile creatures
were joined by many House Martins and few chunky Crag Martins and several
Choughs whose nest I subsequently found.
A glance up at the sheer rock face opposite provided me with
my first Egyptian Vultures with an adult and immature bird. The sun was just contemplating visiting our
part of the Odesa when across the valley glided a huge adult Lammergeier. All
too soon it disappeared but my scanning produced the first Griffon of the
trip. Three vultures in under an
hour. I was quite pleased with myself.
By now others were stirring and so I had some breakfast
[Eds: no idea at all if we had to make this ourselves. I remember no cooking or
even eating of any sort!] and then
explored a bit further around the campsite finding an aggressive pair of
Red-backed Shrikes and a few Yellowhammers.
There were plenty of butterflies and I identified Spanish Marbled Whites,
two Blues, Grizzled-type Skipper and a rather large Apollo. Common and Catalonian [Eds: as it is now
split to] Wall Lizards were seen around the walls of the toilet block but the
pride of place went to the male Ocellated Lizard at over a foot long. He was bright lime green with blue flank
spots and was a most imposing beast as he watched me from his small dry stone
wall.
We hung around the camp till midday and popped into Torla
where Serins and Black Redstarts sung from the rooftops and Common and Pallid
Swifts screamed through the eaves. We then headed up the valley in the coach to
some waterfalls and pools that we approached after a dodgy scree slop
descent. We intended to go for a swim
but the water was absolutely freezing. I
almost wet in waist deep but I soon lost the feeling in my feet and lower legs
and was somewhat worried about that feeling reaching higher up so I scrambled
out. Some of the more hardy souls – namely the girls, went completely in! the
sun was beating down and the water gurgled – it was perfect and high above
Alpine Choughs danced and Alpine Swifts rocketed between them.
 |
| Pallid Swifts |
A pair of Golden Eagles circled with barely a beat and were
untroubled by the Choughs and another Eagle – a Bonelli’s was a welcome
addition to my life list while Ravens tumbled lower down. Chaffinches, Marsh
and Great Tits sung in the woods around us and Grey Wagtails were on the river.
I tried to identify some of the flora including the
Pyrenean-violet (Ramonda myconi) with its hairy wavy leaves, Columbines,
vivid pink Snapdragons (Antirrhinum majus) and the huge Pyrenean
Saxifrages. From a rosette of long
leaves a large droopy cascade of white flowers projected looking – high on the
cliff walls, like little sheep.
Back at the coach we had to wait around for James and
Stewart to return from untangling their climbing ropes and this gave the chance
to scan around once again. Griffons
circled and I could see some truly crazy climbers dangling of ropes over an
immense drop.
Back at camp I was informed that if I wanted to climb Monte Perdido I should get packing as Phil, H and Jo were leaving for a three day trek in just two hours! This would be my best chance to connect with the alpine specialities I so wanted to see but I had no idea of just how much I had bitten off. After munching some bangers and beans I hastily and rather ineffectively packed my rucksack including my trusty geological hammer just in in case I needed it. It was quite strange having your hand shaken by your friends wishing you luck as if you might just not make it back.
[Eds: Monte Perdido is the third highest peak in the Pyrenees at 3355m
(11,007 feet) and as you will see, we had no right even to be attempting to
summit – fortune, in this instance favoured the foolish but I still wonder how we did not actually come a cropper up there]
We set off at 9pm into the receding light and powered up the
road for nearly 90 minutes and got to the first refuge beyond the little car
park, hearing the woods go to sleep with singing Song Thrushes and Robins but no
hoped for Eagle Owl hoots. A very large
Toad [Eds: which I now know to be Spiny Toad – a split from Common Toad]
crashed through the verge-side vegetation but other than a few Bats there was
no other wildlife on the move.
 |
| Phil, H and Jo making camp |
28th June:
There is strictly no camping in the Ordesa boundaries so Jo
and I decided to bivvy out on the concrete pad around the refuge while Phil and
H put up their tent. On arising at 5.15 I wandered down to the river to get
some water and heard a vehicle approaching.
It was the Rangers and I shouted to the others to turn the light the
torches off! I lurked while the Parc Jeep screeched to a halt and two Rangers
leapt out commando style. After a quick
dressing down they sped off again!
We set off just after 6am and Jo and I got up quite a lead
and only stopped after about an hour of uphill walking. This had taken us through varying habitats
including pine and mixed deciduous woodland with towering beech trees. There
were few birds about but amongst the Tits I was pleased to find several
Cresteds although they were an absolute bugger to see. At our drink stop, Short-toed Treecreeper
were singing and were easily tracked down. A very dark Red Squirrel was less
obliging and Jays were everywhere and were probably the most common bird I saw.
Phil and H caught us up and as they did a raucous call attracted my attention
that for some reason I just knew was Black Woodpecker. I started to scramble up
the slope and suddenly a black shape bounded through the Ash trees but the call
was still coming from straight in front.
A huge hole thirty foot up had a male Black Woodpecker perched outside
complete with red crown, white eyes and ivory bill. A youngster hung half out
of the next and also had a red crown.
The male then departed and attempted to call the young bird out of the
hole but all it did was whimper. Truly a
wonderful bird and even more impressive than I could ever have imagined.
 |
| Black Woodpeckers |
On again and the forest was starting to thin out and by now
the sun was beating down fiercely. Only a few Alpine Swifts and Alpine Choughs
cruised the tops but there were no Vultures . We then made it to the last
stepped waterfalls and from just above them we had our first view of our
imposing goal – Monte Perdido with its summit capped by snow. We were now in
the upper reaches of the Ordesa valley in an alpine region complete with cows
with cow bells. The vegetation changed as the trees disappeared leaving low
grass, Orchids, Saxifrages and a small pink Rhododendron ferrugineum.
Amongst the boulders came the whistling of Alpine Marmots but my stalking only
gave me a few brief views. Black Redstarts and Northern Wheatears were singing
everywhere.
The boggy areas around the streams that entered the river
were home to several pairs of immaculate Water Pipits along with Meadow Pipits
and Grey Wagtails. A small Linnet flock was a surprise but the birds with them
were, in some respects, not. Five
delightful Citril Finches that looked like a mix between a Serin and a
Canary. Three Chamois became my second
new mammal of the day.
We continued up the valley passing more belled Cows before
reaching the Cascada de la Cola de Caballo – the Horse Tail Falls. The path took us up the walls of the Cirque
de Sosa to get to the refuge above. There
were two official routes – the first using a rope and pre-placed pegs was out
of the question with such large rucksacks and the other was up a much longer
tedious winding path up the scree slope. Phil opted to take H and I up the
middle route which would involve climbing two chimneys. It was a lot more
tricky that we thought but in the intense sun we clambered up the first rock
face. Phil went on to scout out the second and came back sheepishly apologising
it not only went up twenty feet but also went down a hundred. Thus we had to
retrace our steps but then cut across to the original path about half was
up. A male Citril Finch sung from a
stunted pine growing right out of the cliff face. Butterworts and Burnt Orchids
grew in the boggy areas.
 |
| Cascada de la Cola de Caballo |
We all made it to the next elevation and quenched our thirst
straight from a gushing streamlet running out over pinky Marble. Jo had taken
the direct approach up the scree slope and we found him exhausted on a large
slab of limestone surrounded by absolutely stunning meadows. The list of Rock
Roses, Legumes, Lilies, Orchids and Saxifrages was amazing. A brew was needed and some time to regain
some energy. Bees, Butterflies and
Beetles milled around us while Alpine Choughs cavorted on the thermals and had
a pop at a passing Peregrine. The Marmots also saw him coming and Raven
kronked higher up. Back down in the valley an Egyptian Vulture passed below us
but Black Redstarts were the only visible passerines at this point although a
singing bird reminded me of Rock Thrush.
 |
| Contemplating the view after scaling the Cascada de la Cola de Caballo |
Some Brits passed us on their way down and so we asked them
what the mountain was like. ‘ No problem’ they said ‘no need for ice-axes or
crampons’. I was pleased as I had
neither. Little did we know. With that we packed up and I put back on my disgustingly
rancid, sweat and tannin Stained (from my belt) t-shirt and off we went. The
last two hours to the refuge were a bit of a blur and ever upwards and quite
tricky at times but I did see my first Alpine Accentor of the climb. As we approached the refuge I dread to think
what the assembled Europeans thought of the four dishevelled British hikers. H
booked us some beds for the night and we set about sorting out our gear. Much
to my horror I had not picked up a spare T-shirt and only a pair of shorts instead!
Thus I was left with a vest for evening wear and my rather interestingly
odoriferous, multi-stained white t-shirt for everything else. To compound
issues I had also failed miserably to bring enough food – five Mars Bars, a tin
of ravioli, four stale rolls, a jar of honey and a rather chewy malt loaf is
not what I would call good eating for three days in the field. We could have
dined in the refuge but at approximately £30 per head for a three course meal,
our meagre funds would not even allow such an idea to be contemplated.
While preparing our own dinner the cloud started to build up
and this forced the circling Griffons to descend. Obviously a storm was
brewing. I went for a short walk and managed to track down some Marmots and
their whistles echoed around the valley. Alpine Choughs were everywhere and
with a much higher vocal range than the Red-bills. For some reason a large white horse was
tethered outside the refuge although how it got up here was somewhat puzzling
while a mangey dog preferred to drink from the holes in the ground that passed
for loos rather than the streams around us. Then the weather broke with a
clatter and a massive hail storm with fantastic fork lightening and
instantaneous thunder that rebounded off each summit.
The accommodation was not quite what I had expected – triple
bunks, mixed and ten mattresses in a row. The natural music outside soon sent
us to sleep with thoughts of reaching the summit the next day.
29th June:
I awoke at 5.50am and we all crept downstairs and repacked
our bags once again for the climb – bare essentials only. I was told not to
bother with the spoil of rope I had carried all the way up from Torla…
We were soon on our way and picking a route along the rough
path from cairn to cairn. The cloud still filled the Ordesa below through which
the distant cow bells could be heard. Within an hour we were at our first major
snowfield – so much for ‘little snow’. Black Redstarts were still singing
around us at about 2400m.
Phil was in front and had only gone a few paces when he fell
through the snow so that the only thing supporting him was his outstretched
arms. With only the mildest sense of urgency he requested an ice axe as he
could see running water someway beneath his feet. Jo inched forward and
promptly joined Phil. H and I beat a hasty retreat to the nearest boulder – a
rope would have been handy.
 | ||
|
Fortunately they both extracted themselves with only a few scratches. Time for crampons – oh hang on, I did not have any and they all did. What on earth had I been thinking! We struggled on with basically no breaks in the snow which was still a bit tricky in places. The only birds at this point were the Alpine Choughs and another of my targets – the chunky Snow Finch. They were ridiculously tame with curious calls and a Chaffinch like gait. The glided around on triangular wings and were finding many small insects scattered over the snowy surface.
 |
| I can almost smell my t-shirt after 30 years |
After crossing the second snow field we got our first real look at the summit up to our right. A semi-frozen aquamarine tarn was situated a little below us and I thought we would cross around this to climb the opposite face and the traverse across to the summit. Nope – the correct route was decidedly more direct and looked terrifying. I was feeling pretty rough at this point and started to lag behind. I actually have quite a small lung capacity and I suspect that being above 10,000 feet may have had something to do with it. [Eds: no kidding!]
It was getting steeper and steeper and I was finding it increasingly difficult to dig toe holds. I was glad of my trusty hammer and the finger holds left my last night’s epic hail storm. Eventually the face became almost vertical and I had to stop. I have never been so scared. All I could do was think about moving upwards but my legs would not co-operate. The view down behind me would, at another time have been quite spectacular but the prospect of sliding all the way down to the lake or more likely if I could not somehow perform a hard right manoeuvre, a plummet over a vertical cliff edge where a prolonged feeling of weightlessness would have ensued.
 |
| Jo and I behind |
 |
| The terrifying view of what was to come |
 |
| Some time later... |
Jo encouraged me to press on but the cloud came in and I started to get cold so I somehow had to take off my rucksack whilst hoping my toe holds held, take out my fleece, put it on and put the rucksack back on without well, dying. Feeling a little warmer and a little less hungry after consuming a frozen Mars, we both continued on. Snow Finches and Alpine Accentors seemed to be following our accent. Phil and H were already out of sight. A final precarious zig-zig traverse saw us on the last ridge and there was Phil gesturing us onwards. ‘Ten metres to go!’ we thought he was having us on but there it was – the top. It was a real summit a mere ten metres across and not a plateau like most of the other local peaks. The feeling was very confusing; a mixture of elation, pure exhaustion and trepidation about the descent.
We had a small pocket of blue sky around us which was cool and through the clouds below we could see the glaciers on the northern, French, side of the mountain. Insects coated the top. Some were still alive and a Small Tortoiseshell fluttered over pursued by a flock of Snow Finches.
 |
| Summit! 11007 feet! I still have my MU vest; that old fleece is now my garden one and my geological rock hammer has just had a 30 year facelift from Barry J! |
As expected, going down was not easy. Phil and H had gone
ahead for safety while Jo and I followed cautiously behind. He lent me his ice
axe as he had crampons. It was a little
quicker going down but equally un-nerving especially where the snow had gone
slushy. On several occasions I had to perform a controlled slide to the extent
of the ice axe reach above me to get me past areas where heal hold were
impossible. It was whilst on one of these tricky spots that a bird fluttered by
and I instantly recognised the silhouette and gibbered ‘WALLCREEPER!’ and tried
to stand up. Stupid boy and thank the
gods for the ice axe.
Shortly after this Jo and I stopped for a drink on a bare
rock outcrop. A male Snow Finch came and joined us and hopped around inches
from our feet while Alpine Choughs danced close by and Alpine Accentors seemed
to be everywhere. I had been too
distracted on the way up to notice them.
Off in front Phil and H had taken a more direct route with Phil losing
one of his crampons in the process which made an even quicker descent. We
stopped to regroup but I was struggling once again with freezing feet due to my
lack of gaiters and the snow had been quite happily filling up my boots and
other areas due to the unfortunate positioning of a rip on my trousers. The group got strung out again and I was
becoming increasingly paranoid about the numbness in my frozen feet while feel
was also feeling pretty ropey at this stage.
I was very glad when we made it out of the last snowfield and another
stop was called. This one included some more chocolate and some cake made by H
and brought with her from home! It was whilst recuperating that I caught a
glimpse of something red out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look, but it was gone but I could
put my finger on it! [Eds: No apologies for the fact I was heavily into Pink
Floyd] a male Wallcreeper in immaculate summer plumage. It scuttled over the
boulders flicking its red, grey, black and white spotted wings. I was in shock, nothing could have prepared
me for seeing such a mythical bird as well as this. I followed it over a house
sized rock and it took flight just a few feet from me in s splash of colour. It
was then joined by a female and what I presume was a begging juvenile. Someone
was watching over me that day. Four
Wallcreepers in one day.
 |
| Alpine Accentor |
 |
| Snow Finch |
 |
| Wallcreeper Chocolate stop |
The weather was closing in once again and a couple of short
sharp hail storms only turned into light rain.
The next snow patch looked inconsequential but jo managed to repeat his
earlier trick of falling through the surface, looking for all the world like
Little Red Riding Hood stuck in a snow drift. Shortly after this I totally
seized up but I knew my way back from here and let the others go on ahead [Eds:
once again – stupid boy]. I was reduced
to walk a couple of steps and stop – the feeling of isolation was immense.
There was not a visible sign of humankind in any direction.
 |
| H with Jo and I dots behind |
I got back to the Regugio de Goriz about ten minutes after
the others and I have never felt so physically exhausted in my life. My poor
old T-shirt was now even more offensive.
I think that I had leached out a lifetime of bodily poisons. I left it outside to air unlike Phil’s socks
which he had the audacity to hang up over the fireplace indoors! Jo gave me a
bag of muesli and a tin of mackerel for dinner – a most sumptuous feast. We
made it through till about 10pm before the day’s deeds finally caught up with
us. Getting to sleep was surprisingly difficult as I was still hyped up but my
body seriously disagreed and eventually won the battle. We had conquered Monte
Perdido…
30th June:
I awoke at 6.15am feeling like I was being cooked alive in a
stinky sauna with 30 other people. The smell was incredible and moisture of
some description was streaming down the windows. I slid out of my sleeping bag and crept
downstairs to repack my rucksack yet again and we were soon all up and on our
way. Breakfast had consisted of another bowl of rehydrated muesli and a cup of
black coffee. It looked like it would be a fine day and we planned a fairly
quick descent. Feeling surprisingly sprightly
and with quickly drying feet and boots, I actually took the lead on the first
section. It looked very different coming
the other way and we even overtook a French group on the zig-zig scree path. I
had more time to observe what was around me and was actually enjoying myself.
With the steepest part of the descent out of the way we stopped for a breather
at the Horse Tail Falls. My T-shirt was not in a healthy state and the red
tannin stain had spread and was now joined by green on the shoulders from the
rucksack, black from the rubber of my Zeiss bins, general sweaty dirt and some
curious pink and yellow areas that I dared not investigate further! I could
stand it no more and peeled it off and dunked it in the ice cold river. It came out wet but the tenacious smell still
remained… oh well. We were now back with the cows once again and I was
surprised to discover a pair of Dunnocks [Eds: technically the first time I had seen the now potentially split Iberian Dunnock!] amongst the rocks with the Black
Redstarts and I even found tree nests of the latter. A bird whizzed across in front of me and I
knew immediately that it was a male Rock Thrush and I found him perched proudly
on top of a boulder. What a bird!
Dippers were along the river with equally bobby Grey Wagtails and Garden
Warblers sang as we reached the tree line.
Jo disappeared off as soon as we hit the main path but we
had already arranged to meet up at the Black Woodpecker spot. A scratched note from Jo told us that he had
actually pressed on again and both Common and Short-toed Treecreepers were in
the area – the latter seemingly always on mossy boulders rather than
trees. The Black Woodpeckers were still
squawking and the Crested Tits showed well again while Red Squirrels bounded
around. Up above in the blue a Golden Eagle soared.
Somehow we got split up again and it was I that actually got
to the car park first as Jo had somehow made a wrong turn somewhere. I made a b-line to the café that was now open
and scoffed two fabulous cornetto style ice-creams. The others arrived and we
all retired to the river where tired and tender feet were soothed. Fortunately I had no blisters. With two miles downhill to go we soon set off
again but the tarmac was not kind to our sore feet and it was by no means a
quick walk but we made it and we strode triumphantly into camp to be met by absolutely
no one. The coach was gone and the site
deserted!
That evening after a wonderfully long hot shower and a tin
of beans for dinner, we retired to the veranda of the bar where we were
discovered when the coach returned.
Tales of daring dos were regaled and it was good to be the centre of attention.
To make it a perfect day the Lammergeier circled around the crags. I do not
remember even going to bed that night.
1st July:
I was up early as usual and went out to check on the
campsite birds. The pair of Red-backed Shrikes were still there and got very
defensive and vocal and both performed a curious circular movement in both
directions with their tales. It was quite hypnotic and distracting. The Ocellated Lizard was still patrolling his
patch of wall and the Alpine Swifts and various Martins were all around. A dispute about where we all went for the day
resulted in much time being wasted before 15 of us headed off I the coach to
Lourdes for the day. For me this was not
about anything vaguely religious but a ‘what can I see from a coach’ opportunity! It took far too long to get there due to a
landslide (five hours!) but it took us through some amazing scenery and many
raptors were seen. With so few people on the coach I was able to move around
and get good views of everything! In total there and back I saw nine Kestrel,
three Red Kite, 25 Black Kite, 33 Buzzard, Honey Buzzard, five Short-toed
Eagles, two Booted Eagles, possible Bonelli’s Eagle, Egyptian Vulture, 16
Griffons and amazingly a huge Black Vulture which I was not expecting at all!
The weather was terrible for most of the journey and at the
French border you could barely see outside.
Corn Buntings, Crested Larks, White Wagtails and even a male Rock
Bunting were all seen. [Eds: I will not
risk offense by replicating what I wrote at the time about what I thought about
Lourdes…] Lourdes, was well, Lourdes and a Black Redstart flycatching from a
very un-amused Virgin Mary statue was my highlight.
Feeling a bit peckish we gave up on ‘First one to a hundred
Nuns’ and ‘Spot the Bishop’ and headed for a traditional French meal. Well, the best we could do was un Big Mac
avec frits s’il vous plait. Feeling
guilty we then engaged in a chocolate crepe from a stall outside. Black Kites
cruised overhead and Crag Martins hawked over the fast flowing river. We got back late but were greeted in Torla by
a pair of Nightjars with the female sat in the middle of the road as we
approached.
2nd July:
It dawned bright and clear but soon clouded over and started to rain but after lunch and drink I headed for a walk up the next valley. The heavens opened again but a good coffee shop at the first campsite was appreciated and after it had let up I explored the verges and collected a handful of Wild Strawberries from amongst the Orchids on the verge. These were later devoured with a fresh baguette and some la vache qui rit cheese triangles!
Singing Firecrest, Chiffchaff and Redstart were all new and my
return route alongside the other side of the river added both Birds Nest and
Butterfly Orchids as well as evidence of Wild Boar snuffling.
That night we all hit the town for a meal in the an eatery
the rest of the party had been using before going to a disco [Eds: Really? I
have no recollection of this but my notes suggest that we showed the Spanish
how to dance and almost had a run in with some squaddies from Birmingham…]
3rd July:
I left the disco at 3.40am and decided to go off and look
for Wild Boar in the first glimmers of dawn which resulted in me nearly falling
off a cliff and into the river. I did
not see an pigs! Back at camp no one was
up yet so I had a cup of Earl Grey with Tom a Dutch chap we had all befriended.
A fine male Rock Bunting with his stripy face perched up in a Birch near the
tents. I took myself off to the river
with the intention of having a swim but it was just too cold and I bottled it.
The Lammergeiers were already soaring about and I saw them on and off all day
and eventually found a nest with two young in a cave on the vertical cliff
face. Both adults were in attendance and a third adult drifted overhead while a
pair of Egyptian Vultures were also found nesting not far from their bigger
cousins. Two Golden Eagles were also
seen and Serins jangled in the trees around me. Spotted Flycatchers and a
singing Nightingale were new trip birds.
 |
| Lammergeier |
The day wore on and it was soon time to pack up the tents
before it got dark and after several hitches we hit the road at 10.30pm. I had
refused to doze off during the day and was asleep within minutes but woke up
with no hearing as my ears had not adjusted to the descent out of the mountains
although a big sneeze at 6am somewhere in the French countryside sorted that
problem out! It was a very tedious journey home from here and a little under 24
hours after leaving Torla we were back in Ponders End where Mum and dad picked
me up. After bidding temporary farewells
I went home, had a shower and got changed and headed back to The Goat for a
drink before closing. A fitting end to an adventure that exceeded my wildest
expectations.
