As we are already settled on the terrace of the refuge preparing our breakfast, an employee pops his head out to offer us coffee: a fine introduction to this day.

We set off under a beautiful blue sky speckled with clouds. As straightforward and easy as the first steps on the grassy path are, orientation quickly becomes a problem when we tackle the rocky section of the trail. Cairns everywhere, no markings, we get lost twice despite our map, thus losing more than an hour.

Arriving at the first refuge of the day, Vegarredonda, we are reassured: many are those who lose their way on this small trail. Lunch is simple: two fried eggs, a pan-fried chorizo, and two slices of dry white bread. On any other occasion this meal would leave me indifferent, to say the least; here it fills me with joy and energy.

As we set off again for a fine six-hundred-meter ascent, we are warned: the second part of the route is as hard to follow as the first, especially in the scree slopes at the heart of the massif. At first nothing complicated, we follow a track in the short grass and reach a first summit quite quickly.

Trouble begins rather after crossing a first ridge and discovering the main course. Immense rocky peaks stand before us, connected by steep scree slopes in which we can barely make out a small chamois path. As we make our way along these trails, a first yellow marker, “V. Huerta”, reassures us about the risk of getting lost.

We follow it through these rocky chaos, which we must sometimes climb, sometimes bypass via a scree slope or a small residual snow patch. Occasionally more imposing walls block our path, and we must steel our courage to cross them, refraining from looking behind.

Finally, after nearly twelve hours of walking, we arrive at the tiny refuge of Vega Huerta, next to which we pitch the tent. The evening is windy; we dine sheltered by a stone wall, laughing about our misadventures of the day. The day was too hard, but it doesn’t matter—tomorrow is the end!