Rabbit

October 2025 - Ordesa National Park, Spanish Pyrenees

Twenty-five years ago Mrs P went on a short group hiking expedition in the Ordesa National Park in the Spanish Pyrenees. Every time we are even remotely near the area I hear about this trip and how she thinks it might be nice to visit again one day. So, here we are.

There are a few odd things about this though. First, she remembers very little about the trip itself. Beyond the fact that their bags were delayed for 24 hours and when they did turn up they were soaking wet. Detail is scant.

“There was a big canyon.”

and…

“Did I mention that our bags were delayed and were all wet?”

…is all I ever get.

Secondly, allegedly this all took place 25 years ago. From what she (clearly unreliably) tells me she is only 35 years old. Did her parents know their 10 year old daughter had run away from home?

Mrs P ponders the passage of time.

Anyway, we found a nice circular hike that climbs high above the Ordesa canyon and then loops back to the car park. The Senda de los Cazadores (‘Senda’ means ‘Track’)

Almost immediately out of the car park began the first climb. 2,142 feet (653m) of steep zigzags up through the trees to a wide balcony that runs perhaps unsurprisingly, 2,142 feet above the valley floor. To give an idea how steep it was the horizontal distance between the car park and the top of that first climb is less than a mile, or about 1km in new money.

Mrs P: “Is this a zig or a zag?”

This was a Saturday on a very popular hiking trail, so we certainly didn’t expect to be alone. But hiking folk are of a similar mindset, so the peace and tranquility, apart from the odd ‘buenas dias’ were pretty much guaranteed.

Or so we thought.

Looking back down at the car park after just over an hour.

We first encountered them on the zigzags up through the trees. Two lovely young girls who, we were later to discover, were from the Netherlands. Obviously best mates and from the constant chatter, equally obviously they hadn’t seen each other for some considerable time. There was definitely a lot of (loud) catching up to do.

Not to worry though, each to his own and as we wandered past them we were sure that would be the last we saw of them. Or would it?

A brief coffee break at the top of the climb. But hark, what is that I hear in the distance?

They caught us up at the top of the climb where there was a view point. We were leaving as they started to do that youthful ‘schmedia’ thing (you heard it here first folks - Social Media: Schmedia) of pouting at the camera. We wouldn’t be seeing them anytime soon.

Or…?

Finally out of the trees

The balcony the zigzags delivered us to was wide. Angling upwards for a couple of hundred metres to sheer cliff walls the path stayed relatively close to but never too close to the occasionally overhanging cliff edge.

Our continued meandering along the trail provided us with spectacular views across the canyon. We stopped to photograph the high point of the mountains opposite. This is the border of France and gave a great view of the Breche de Roland (read: bloomin’ great gap in the rock) which, according to legend, was caused by Count Roland attempting to destroy his sword ‘Durendal’ after his defeat at the Battle of Roncesvalles in 778. They make a big thing of it on the French side, where the Breche (breach) is easily accessible from a car park. Here in Spain it is just thought of as a hole in the neighbours fence.

The Breche de Roland (centre horizon)

This view was accompanied by the approaching sound of chatter. They had caught us up. We lingered to let them go by and the sound of receding chit-chat diminished to nothing. Ah, peace. ‘We won’t be seeing them again.”

Me, checking the way ahead for chatter

We found a nice spot for lunch remarkably close to the edge of the cliff. An idyllic spot. We sat down, got the lunch out and… the chattering reappeared. “How did we pass them!?” Not to worry, they will be gone soon. But, wait! What’s this? They sit down about 20 metres away and get their lunch out. Never a break in the jibber jabbering.

We were saved by two huge bocadillos (Spanish sandwiches). They were thankfully well brought up enough to not speak with their mouths full and our lunch continued in relative peace.

Mrs P fails entirely to recognise Monte Perdido (3,335m) after 25 years

We only saw the two girls once more. We even stopped to chat. They were, as previously stated, lovely. Their attitude to the mountains and their friendship was excellent. We left them to their little break (from walking not talking). I found a short cut down to the valley floor that ensured we really wouldn’t be seeing them again.

Mrs P heroically strides across the valley floor

All that remained was a 2 hour hike back down the valley and a return to Gandalf for the now traditional tea and medals.

A highly recommended hike despite the crowds. Maybe doing it during the week would’ve been better.

Our next hike (and my next blog) was quite different. In 10 hours we saw only 5 people.

I bet you can’t wait.