Day 59 – at Maraña

The village of Maraña is another little gem. I raved about Pitoes in Portugal a few weeks ago, but here there are more outdoor opportunities, a greater range of hikes and MTB routes, as well as the climbing, for which the place is renowned.

I’ve no doubt it will get plenty of visitors in the summer, but there aren’t many places to stay, so the majority will be for the day only. The main place to stay is where I am at, the albuerge, which offers full board in basic rooms, as well as it’s campervan places, and it’s bar, which will have few rivals in its views from the terrace.

I had a spectacular mountain day, though the distance travelled wasn’t far. It was a steady climb through the meadows to what I would call a cwm, or a corrie. In French it is a cirque, and I believe, though quite prepared to be corrected, that in Spanish it is a ‘hoyo’, or less used, a ‘circo’.

Just as we got above the pasture a herd of deer, about thirty, passed close to us, at first, stopping to look at Roja, who as ever, was far ahead of me, then, gracefully ascending the ridge into the next hoyo. It’s possible to just about see them on the photograph below.

Roja and I got up to just over 1650 metres at which stage the rock was loose on the scree slope, which Roja never likes, but he also didn’t take to the echo of my voice from the amphitheatre of rock that surrounded us. Far below, he could see a small lake, and it was for that we headed, much to his pleasure.

Lagunas are great places for lunch, and this was no exception. Above it, and on our return, is a refuge which is in a tremendous situation for overnighting, though inside it needs some attention. It’s in the foreground in the picture below.

The six miles or so we were out for took four hours, at no rush whatsoever, but above the meadows, it was slow going, up and down.

Here’s some views of the village, looking quite splendid in its setting.

Later in the afternoon I finished a book in the pleasant sunshine, about as warm as I would want it, and in the early evening we headed across for a beer. They actually have a really good dark beer, a tostada, on keg. I got chatting to a woman who was here for some hiking from Valencia, a petrol pump attendant who was camping in a field just out of the village. She had asked the boss about routes, but incredibly, the boss could not advise, so I did… just offering where we had been earlier today.