We all woke up at 7 to get ready to go to Escaoin, a place in the Pyrenees known for its Lammergeiers. On the drive over, then up to, Escaoin, I finished my book: The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest, the last Millennium book written by Steig Larsson. I was lost! What am I going to do without the badassness of Lisbeth Salander and the greatness of Mikael Blomkvist, along with all of thee other inspiring characters?
We finally got to Escaoin, and it looked like a ghost town. Already ready to eat, we went to a short wall by a fence and looked at the old, dilapidated stone houses built in the 12th century. We were in a 12th century town! Some houses were in use, with beautiful plants and watering cans outside, or clotheslines and well-kept fences, while some were crumbling or being repaired.
The cats. About 20 of them came and begged for food. So we gave them chips and jamon from our sandwiches and bits of bread. It was really sad, but I was still glad to see animals, you know?
We hiked on the best trail ever. Rocky (smooth, manmade stone) and mossy or dirt-filled paths, views of jaw-dropping, huge cliffs perfect for wallcreepers, and we got to an amazing overlook within 5 minutes of walking. We scanned, and scanned, and. . .scanned. Nothing. We got great views of people across the gorge who were hiking on a cliff face like us, and of Griffon Vultures soaring above or below us. Within the 3-4 hours we scanned two cliff face areas, we didn't see a wallcreeper. This is exactly why it's so hard to see them: there was probably one pair foraging for food on their enormous cliff--two tiny gray bodies with shots of red when they fly. Anyway, during the last 20 minutes or so of our search, it got cloudier and cloudier, and rumbles of thunder slowly crept in. Our parents went to hike a bit. Still nothing. Vanessa and I were admiring the Griffon Vultures as the sky became darker and darker. One was passing by kind of close, and as we both lifted up our binoculars to view it, I realized it wasn't a Griffon Vulture--it's silhouette wasn't right. V realized it too, and we both looked at the Lammergeier in awe. We saw the beard of the so-called "Bearded Vulture," the coloration, and the long tail. Our parents came right after we saw it, excited because they had seen it too. Then we started packing up in a frenzy as a particularly ominous boom of thunder was heard. Then, of course, without any freaking warning (ok I guess the sky and thunder was a warning but still), it started pouring. There was a huge flash of lightning VERY CLOSE BY, and a loud crack of thunder immediately following it. Hmmm...in the movies when a family is on top of a mountain with cliffs and storms and really scary, close lightning, they end up dying of electrocution or falling off the cliff. Heck no, we were not ready for that. So we ran, me yelling repeatedly "We have to find a rock!" so that we could huddle under it and not be so exposed in the tree-less trail, and then it started hailing, and Vanessa and I were both yelling about how getting under a tree would be bad because the roots would have lightning running through them too, and then we finally got to a copse of trees right before the town, and ran to a wood pile covered by a safe roof. As the storm reached a quiet spot, we started to run for the car. As we reached the road that would lead us to the car if we ran for 30 more seconds, the hailing and storming and lightning began in earnest again. I ran to a cinder block structure and crouched under it, my mom and sister close behind. My dad rushed to get to the car, and the three of us stared in wonder at the blackberry-sized hail popping on the ground and making music on the tin roofs of the old houses. A house across from us had smoke coming from the chimney.
We drove the looong way down the mountain again, hungry. We drove all the way back to Biescas to find a bar to eat at. After the second time driving around the town, looking for a place that was open during siesta time, we asked a troupe of old women walking to the bus stop. One of them was awesome and told us of a restaurant that is "super rico y super económico" (really good and affordable). So we went. It was full of old people when we first walked in, but it soon cleared out because the important soccer match had just ended. My dad and I got the fries with grilled chicken dish, my sister calamare, and my mom a goat cheese salad. Everything was, of course, delicious. We went home happy with our slightly harrowing day, full and prepared to chill until going to bed.
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| Arriving in Escaoin |
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| The view from Orós Bajos |
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| A waterfall in Orós Bajos |
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| The rock faces of Escaoin |
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