If Carlsberg did valleys...

Waking up in the car park in Benasque was a nice experience, with the river rushing below that had provided some calming white noise through the night. There had been one disturbance of about fifteen minutes when, in the early hours, a car came into the single space between us and the next motorhome. Why they didn't stop in the mass of open space that wasn't marked for parking, no-one will ever know.

What sounded like four people then got out the the car and had a loud but very amicable discussion over a cigarette or two. Unfortunately this isn't compatible with sleep, especially when the fly screen-covered windows were open. As they have insulation over them there's no visibility issues but the voices were clear enough. I had to be persuaded not to go out, an ungainly proposition anyway, emerging from the top half of a Defender rear door half naked. Happily they left with a mañana to each other and the night sounds returned to the white noise from the white water.

For a final day in los Pirineos we again searched out a road that would take us into the heart of the main mountains. Initially we drove south from Benasque on the N260 which then made a turn to the west. Yet again, as has happened so frequently on this trip, the road took us through a knife-slash of a gorge with the road carved from the rock to the side of the river. On and on it went until suddenly we were driving up to a high point and there was an opportunity to stop and gaze, this time at the turbine hall of a small HEP plant.

The road continued west and it almost felt as though we were leaving the mountains but the route then switched to the A135 which headed north and straight to the western side of Monte Perdido (3,355m). There was a fantastic point where it abruptly changed to a narrow road, under cliffs and for a moment we hesitated to check that it really was the correct route. The surface was a mix of concrete and gravel with the road pushing up and up into this narrow valley.

At pretty-much the end of the road, the narrow valley widens out to a large flat area at Bujaruelo, and there is the most peaceful campsite. Surprisingly there were various vehicles including some modest motorhomes (or are they camper vans). The road had been fairly rough in places so they had made a considerable effort to get up. The hostel was heaving with hordes of walkers and valley visitors. They were doing a roaring trade in meals and beers.

There were a lot of day trippers who all left before nightfall. We spent an hour sweating up the side of the valley, just to say we'd been here. It's no good doing this in alpine region though, you have to prepare for a long day which then gives plenty of time to stay up at a high level, without expending too much energy eating-up vertical height without having time to wander and appreciate.

Next time, assuming the weather is with us, we will come back and do some long days. The ultimate of course is to not necessarily descend to the valley overnight and bank the height, staying high in a refugio de montaña.

There was time for one more Spanish omelette and due to popular demand, here is the method.

In the morning we had a taste of mountain temperatures. It was cool (13C) but whilst waiting for the sun to emerge from behind the mountains there was a sudden change in air and breakfast became chilly at 9C.

It was a beautiful end to the trip with a steady drive back to Bilbao planned for the day and a night dockside awaiting the ferry. This is a nice touch by Brittany Ferries who open-up check in from 16:00-19:00 the day before and allow vans to stay. For us this meant a saving of €15-20 campsite and no pressure to drive into the port the next morning.