My seven weeks of globetrotting are nearly over. I've just finished breakfast in the Commodore Club of the ferry between Bilbao, in northern Spain, and Portsmouth, in England's south, with 10 hours more passage to go.
Taking this new ferry, named Santona, is a leisurely way to end my two weeks in Spain. Run by brittany-ferries.co.uk, it's a 27-hour sail, and our tickets include carriage for my friend Phil's Mini Cooper, a four-berth cabin with ensuite bathroom - the shower is surprisingly powerful - and access to this lounge.
The Commodore Club is like good airline lounges used to be. It has comfortable seating, good fresh food, a range of drinks and the bonus of views from the front of the ship of the open ocean. We've seen dolphins skipping through the swell ahead, tiny by comparison with this behemoth of a ship, and as we pass the western tip of France, are looking out for whales.
Over the last week, Phil and I have been trekking in the spectacular Picos mountains, rising abruptly between Spain's green northern coast and the drier lands to the south. Comprised of three limestone massifs, the Picos soar in places, the highest peaks reaching skyward like serrated blades. They appear all the more dramatic due to their sheer slopes, still coated in snow in late May, falling away into deep ravines and rocky gorges.
The Spanish love the Picos with typical passion and flood here in the summer, between June to September. They come to escape the heat further south, explore a vivid green landscape, for me redolent of Scotland and the Welsh hills, and to savour the mountain cuisine, including bean stews, home-cured meats, artisan cheeses and locally produced cider, from the Asturias region.
At the start of our visit, the weather forecast did not bode well for our UTracks.com trek, with rain predicted throughout our six days of walking. There's a reason why it is so green! Undaunted, we made early starts from bases in the small town of Arenas de Cabrales and the mountain village of Sotres, enabling us to finish most hikes by early afternoon, and were rewarded with only a sprinkling of rain.
The treks were planned to perfection, beginning with a gentle circular walk from our accommodation, the excellent Hotel Picos de Europa, in Arenas and gradually introducing more challenging climbs and terrain. We used a nifty App called "ActiveNav" throughout, that showed our route on an interactive map (even when there was no phone coverage), provided precise directions at regular intervals and even included an alarm if we strayed off the trail. This was useful when hiking in limited visibility above the cloud line and in swirling mist.
While those conditions did mask the big vistas - which we got to see on our three final days - they also leant to these theatrical ranges an ethereal air, wispy cloud flowing up the mountain scree toward us and sometimes enveloping us in moist fog. For most of our hikes we saw very few other walkers, but became accustomed to the ghostly tinkle of cow bells on hillsides, the occasional sighting of raptors, including Egyptian vultures, and of doughty chamois, a goat-antelope, grazing on the highest slopes.
T
he highlight of our trip was our penultimate day's trek up to a mountain refuge directly below Urriellu Peak, a 2519-metre mountain that juts up like a colossal molar tooth. Beginning at our family-run hotel in Sotres, this was a continuous climb of 1100 metres, entailing 5.5 hours trudging uphill through scenery that grew increasingly dramatic, with jagged limestone karsts and boulders rising through the mist, above plunging ravines.
We got into the refuge, which can sleep 100, just as it started hailing, then had a convivial night with six other hikers, including an English couple who arrived, having waded through waist-deep snow and used ropes to traverse a chasm, huddling around a heater and sharing warming food and tall trekking tales.
The next morning we woke to sunshine and a clearer view of what we'd climbed through. Even a typical Daniel Scott mishap - a tumble down a muddy, stone-strewn footpath resulting in a sprained ankle - 2kilometres from the end of the long, tiring descent to the beautiful village of Bulnes, did nothing to tarnish this exciting adventure in one of Europe most scenic mountain ranges.
