Running Río Lobos

Back in November, during our caving course, we went to the area around Cañon de Río Lobos (Wolf River Canyon) in Soria and a little bit of Burgos. In addition to exploring Carlista Cavern and learning about other nearby caves, I also discovered that there is a trail running the length of the canyon, from just below the town of Hontoria del Pinar to a few kilometers shy of the town of Ucero. I immediately knew I wanted to run that canyon.

For the first long weekend of May (we have two here in Spain), we headed to the canyon, staying at a campground just beyond the start of the trail. My partner and I both planned to do the trail, but in opposite directions, swapping the key along the way. I drove out to the end of the trail. My partner started in the campground.

I arrived at the trailhead via a rough dirt road beyond the RV parking lot below the town, and it was just me and the car in that rustic little lot nestled among the trees. My partner would later tell me that our car was still the only one when he got there. Maybe people came and went in the six or so hours that passed between when I left and when he arrived, but I don’t think so.

As you might expect, the entire trail runs more or less next to the river, being a canyon and all. After a short descent from the parking area, I passed through an open area of pastureland and turned sharply into more wild-appearing fields before reaching the river. I traversed a short wooden boardwalk along the river, skirting a large boulder jutting out into the water—a wonderful gateway to the forest beyond.

From there until the midpoint, the trail wound and weaved through a cool, fragrant pine forest. Early on, I detoured across the river to view a reconstruction of a hut commonly used by those who harvested sap, which I had also seen in Albarracín.

As I continued through the forest, the well-maintained trail crossed and re-crossed the river several times, usually on stones at least. I only got my feet wet once. It went up and down, undulating along in that way that feels so runnable yet tires you out nonetheless.

Eventually, the true draw of the canyon started appearing—rock walls rising from the forest. At first it was short sections, then longer sections. I finally started feeling like I was running in a canyon and not just along a river. At one point, I crossed a stream rushing out of the base of one of the cliffs. I traversed the rocks between it and the river, hugging the walls so I didn’t fall into the deep pool made by the force of this hidden waterway spilling out. I could hear it rumbling and echoing behind the walls—the only sign of the massive cave systems all around me.

I was enjoying the shady forest so much that it seemed like the road at around the halfway point came upon me so suddenly. One minute I was trotting casually through the forest, and the next moment, the canopy opened up to the road with a vast green river basin and rusty canyon walls beyond.

It was shortly after this that my partner and I expected to cross. Unfortunately, unlike the straightforward trail I had been on, this point was crisscrossed with multiple trails along what must be the widest part of the valley. I followed the signs and blazing for the main trail, which stuck mostly to the forest along one edge of the valley. I kept an eye out for my partner in the open area and on the other side of the valley. I hadn’t seen him by the time the trail left the forest and intersection with another trail.

Unfortunately, that intersection was not well-marked. I could see the cliff walls beyond, so I was fairly sure I knew the right direction. However, I did want to make sure I hadn’t missed a section, and my partner. I saw a man with a large pack and a friendly dog turning off the side trail, so I stopped and asked him if he knew whether this was the correct trail. While he didn’t know the name or number of the trail, he was at least able to confirm that I was correct about the direction I needed to go in.

I continued on only slightly nervous because my partner had texted an hour before that he was at the Templar church, which I would pass in the next section. I figured he had spent some time there and wouldn’t have made it so far yet. However, shortly after talking to the man with the dog, the valley started narrowing, the cliffs got higher and more continuous, and I spotted my partner’s yellow shirt and familiar gait coming around a corner in the distance.

While we sat together off the side of the trail to have a snack and discuss our mornings, the man I spoke to earlier reached us and I excitedly said, “Look, I found my partner!” He seemed graciously happy for me but also maybe a little weirded out by the strange runner speaking broken Spanish at him.

I didn’t want to spend so much time relaxing that my muscles stiffened up, so I soon got up and continued on my way, leaving my partner for his more relaxing snack and hike. At that point, the trail skirted close to the cliff, even going through a little archway jutting out toward the river. It also had some short but steeper climbs and descents and was much busier.

Once the trail pulled away from the cliffs a bit, I passed some alcoves above the trail where I could see an example of the beehives used in the area—stout, hollowed-out sections of logs placed upright and topped with a rock.

The trail then flattened out and the river valley became broader again. Soon, people inundated the trail, and I knew I had arrived at the Templar church before I even saw it. The church, la Ermita de San Bartolomé, sits just up the riverbank with a mass of rock featuring a distinctive arch just beyond it. On the other side of the river from the church is a massive cave mouth.

I briefly went into the cave but could not explore the church as it had closed around midday for a wedding. I also didn’t go up to the lookout in the arch, mostly because I was feeling lazy about adding extra distance and elevation at that point.

Instead, I continued along the busy trail, crossing the river a couple times until I came to a large parking area where most people must walk to the church from. Off to the side, there was a shady picnic area with a fountain. Unfortunately, when I went to pull out my empty soft flasks, I only found one! I remembered I had last drunk at the church and realized I must have dropped it when I pulled out my phone to take a picture afterward. I seriously debated chalking it up as a loss and continuing, but the thought of leaving “trash” out on the trail bothered me. I drank and filled up my remaining bottle and reluctantly turned to re-run and re-run again those crowded two kilometers or so to the church.

Along the way, I did ask several groups of people if they had seen it. No one had. I even asked that same man who I passed yet again and who declared, “Are you running a marathon!” When I explained the situation, he sadly told me that if someone had found it, they would have mostly likely taken it, which is honestly true. Frankly, I’d have preferred that to it just becoming permanent outdoor trash though. Still, I continued back to where I last remembered having it. As expected, I didn’t find it so started my way back yet again.

The day was finally starting to drag on when I arrived back at the fountain and saw that man and his dog, done with their hike, getting into their truck. My next waypoint, however, would be the next picnic and parking area, which is considered the start of the trail.

I don’t remember why, maybe I was looking for a snack, but I needed to get into the pocket where I usually keep my phone. There, right at the top, where I hadn’t felt when searching for my bottle, was, of course, my bottle. Pleased and somewhat amused, I even shared this episode of tontoría (foolishness) with a friendly group of hikers that had been genuinely concerned about my lost bottle when I had asked them about it earlier, the first time I passed them.

Although my legs felt heavy, they kept moving me to the final parking lot, which is also the picnic area where we ate lunch the final day of our caving trip in November. Although this area is the official start of the trail through the canyon, I still had to continue a couple more kilometers to our campground. They felt harder than I wanted them too, especially when I reached the far end of the campground and could see it next to me but behind an impassable chain-link fence. I had to keep going to the main entrance, passing our tent, table, and box full of food. Once in camp though, I ate and pulled out my hammock to relax, wait for my partner to return, and eat some more.

I had been lying down for several hours by the time he got back and he had been driving for 30 to 45 minutes so we decided to walk into the town of Ucero to stretch our legs and explore the castle above town. I enjoyed the walk there but realized I had probably overdone it when I could barely walk faster than a snail-like stroll on the way back. It was a beautiful castle though with an amazing view, and I just can’t regret seeing that. Besides, legs recover, don’t they?