Day Thirteen

Thursday 17th July

Andorra: Pal

We awoke to cloudy skies today  but they were looking very wispy and dramatic as they shrouded the tops of the mountains. We’d decided to head on out in Priscilla for a walk in the lakes. The previous day I had asked the campsite owner, a husky Spanish matriarch with a permanent cigarette in her hand, to recommend me a walk. She stopped in a moment of contemplation, wiping out a map to show me how to visit the mountain lakes, her serious demeanour breaking as she spoke fondly of how beautiful the lakes are.

The drive took us through more stunning mountain scenery, passing streams that poured off the mountains, splashing onto the roads as they journeyed to the sea. We climbed higher into the mountains, as an eyrie stillness settled over the landscape. We passed closed ski resorts imaging the buzz that would bring the ski resort to life in the winter months. Pricilla hurled us on up the mountain tracks no problem, her turbo charger purring as we finally reached the end of the paved road in Vallnord sector Arcalis. Johnathon wanted us to bound on up the shale track in Priscilla, but still wary of our last mountain track experience, I refrained.

Full of anticipation Johnathon through open Priscilla’s door, only to be hit by a wall of cold air and a gasp of surprise, 1,900 meter’s above sea level, we clearly needed every bit of warm clothing we could muster.

Suitably geared up, we headed to the ski lift, a total lack of people and tourist information left us in a quandary but the only working ski lift, whisking empty chairs off into the clouds, was too tempting an adventure not explore. So I attempted my broken Spanish with the ski lift ticket lady, asking her if it was possible to take the ski lift to the lakes and walk back down. She indicated we could and the walk back was 45 minutes, so with some in trepidation we bought single tickets and were soon floating up the mountain into the clouds.

The ski lift experience was surreal, in virtual silence and visibility down to one ski chair we where whisked up the mountain, through the clouds. We reached the top with no idea of what to do or where to go and no return ticket! There were no marked walking tracks and visibility was terrible, I had visions of being trapped on the mountain. Undeterred we followed something that resembled a path twisting up through the crags to what felt like the top of the mountain. We stopped for a photo of the two of us in the clouds, resting the camera on a granite extrusion, when a sudden change in the weather saw the clouds parting in front of our eyes revealing an incredible lunar like landscape. The view, punctuated with the beautiful cobalt blue of lakes was simply awesome.

It wasn’t long before the visibility closed in on us again, the clouds shrouding the sun as the temperatures dropped back. We had decided that a walk down the mountain was a possible death ticket and so confidently jumped back on the ski lift flashing our single tickets at the ski lift man who, in true Spanish style, took absolutely no notice allowing us to glide off back down the mountain with a sigh of relief.

As we heading back down the mountain in Priscilla, a herd of mountain horses stopped our path, a superb photo opportunity. We stopped via a stunning waterfall and a duty free shop (Andorra is full of them) to stock up on Liquor for my Father and provisions for us. I was stunned at being able to pick up a litre bottle of Pastis for 2 euros! We rounded the day off with drinks and a meal, as was becoming common practise.