Slipping and Sliding Down Picos de Urbión

The day after running the length of Cañon Río Lobos, we headed north to another park—Picos de Urbión. This mountainous, natural area also lies between the provinces of Soria and Burgos and part of the Iberian System—the same mountain system of Moncayo, outside of Zaragoza. The plan was to climb this region’s peak—Urbión.

The park is quite popular, particularly the picturesque alpine lake called Laguna Negra (Black Lake). At the entrance, we paid the access fee and parked in the large parking lot at Paso de la Serrá. From here, you can access the lake via a shuttle bus or a trail. It reminded me a lot of accessing the trails in Rocky Mountain National Park in the US, well, except for the little restaurant in the parking lot, which are quite common here.

Between my run and walking to the castle above Ucero the day before, I had already put about 20 miles (32 km) on my legs. However, we still decided to take the trail to the lake instead of the shuttle, which was a good decision. The trail is quite short, 2 to 2.5 miles and descends from the parking lot to the stream that comes from Laguna Negra. Our route took us on an undulating path up through the pine forest toward the lake. The trail was muddy from the early spring snowmelt and interspersed with large rocks and tree routes. It felt very homey to me, reminding me a lot of where I grew up in the Adirondack Park in New York.

Despite my enjoyment of my surroundings, my legs felt heavy and depleted from the day before. The last uphill toward the turn-around point of the bus and the final stretch to the lake felt like it took forever. I was seriously debating whether I would be able to successfully climb a mountain. To make matters worse, I mostly packed for running and felt a little unprepared for the snow we might find above since I didn’t bring my hiking boots, only my trail runners. I did bring microspikes for traction, but I was less worried about that than getting wet, cold feet. As an emergency measure, I brought two extra pairs of socks (one in my pack and another in the car) and a couple plastic bags to keep my feet dry if needed.

From the bus turn-around point, the lake is just a quick walk up a well-maintained path. It has a short section of boardwalk that runs from where you reach it to the start of the trails on one of the ends. On the opposite side, there are high cliffs just above the slope down to the lake.

We didn’t spend much time at the lake, mostly because it was so full of people. We stopped for a few photos and quickly made our way to the start of the trails, navigating the crowds on the earlier sections where the trail crosses a stream with a dramatic waterfall just beyond.

Past the waterfall, we started to climb steeply up to a gap in the cliff walls. Here, the trail becomes steeper and quite rocky, but once at the top it turns to follow the edge of the of the cliffs where you have a beautiful view of the lake below. Soon after, it diverts away and towards the flattish alpine plateau. From this point, we saw fewer people as most had come for the lake and the waterfall, and some add in the overlook too.

Once the trail flattened out, we sat to take a break and have a snack. My legs were already feeling spent from what was fortunately going to be the steepest part of the day. After the break, we came to a rushing stream, impossible to cross just at the point where it intersects with the trail. Just slightly upstream however, I found a boulder jutting out into the stream and was able to leap across, but because it was higher than the ground on the opposite side, it wouldn’t serve as well in the opposite direction. Fortunately, we were planning to return a different way, but it did make my backup plan of turning back if I reached too much snow a little more precarious.

Beyond the stream crossing, the route was gradual. The most difficult part was navigating the extremely wet and muddy terrain. In some places, the pools of water were hidden under the low red bushes that covered the plateau. Some were so deep that it looked like you might go in at least knee high, if not deeper. I was thankful for every dry portion of the trail, which were few and far between.

After working our way gradually up through this alpine plateau, we descended slightly to the basin of Laguna Larga (Long Lake), where we started to have more snow and it became impossible to avoid stepping on it. We crossed a snow bridge at one end of the lake and went up to a ridge where we could now see the rest of the route to the peak. Just beyond, we saw two broad snow gullies, one of which looked good enough to pass. The other was much longer, steeper, and looked like it had a substantial cornice above it.

We passed the first gully easy enough. With the soft snow and the boot track, we didn’t even need any traction, though I had gotten out my poles. As we approached the second, we saw an alternate route, marked with cairns (and people going up), that required only an easy scramble up a rocky ridge to the opposite end of the saddle just before the summit.

We stopped before this scramble for a snack, sheltering behind a rock due to the wind that came up once we reached this final ridge. From the base, I couldn’t see the entire rock scramble but could see a boot track near the top that went up a steep section of snow between the rocks and the cornice. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to do that with trail runners, even with microspikes—a trail shoe is just too flexible for that terrain. Even if I had had boots and crampons, I don’t think I would have done it without at least one ice axe.

Luckily, that boot track was just someone’s adventurous choice, as the rocky route continued right to the saddle with no problem. Shockingly, the entire saddle was completely devoid of snow and dry! We continued comfortably across the saddle to the final climb to the summit, which was going to involve a lot more snow.

The final push to the summit passes an enormous metal cross (why? I don’t know) and an arch in the rock along the side of the route. We followed the boot track through the snow, which was packed down in places and a bit slippery. However, since the trail also crossed rocks and bare ground in places, it didn’t make sense to put on microspikes, at least for the way up. We wound our way around the various boulders rising from around us until we reached the final rocky outcrop leading to the summit. From there, it was mostly free of snow and just a quick shimmy up a diagonal, body-size crack in the rock to the summit. Though for the true highest point, we did have to climb up on a boulder. After the obligatory summit photos, we nestled in a wide gap between two boulders to have a snack out of the wind before heading back down.

From the summit, I had seen that it was possible to return to the saddle without stepping on much snow, so we followed that slightly less direct path that brought us to the opposite side of the rock arch.

We had chosen an alternate way down from the saddle to make the hike a loop, or really a lollipop, and to see another alpine lake—Laguna Helada (Frozen Lake). That route took us across the saddle, past where we had climbed up earlier, up a broad subpeak, and down into another saddle. This is where we located the trail down to the lake.

We quickly missed the dry saddle, as this trail was worse than the one we came on. It was basically a river, a broad swatch of snowmelt running through the low vegetation and turned into a swamp when we got to the low part just before the lake. I soon gave up trying to keep my feet dry as it was almost impossible. Although the trail seemed to circle the lake, there was snow covering it and extending out from the shore. It would be impossible to know if we were stepping on actual ground under the snow or about to plunge into the lake. So we opted to follow an embankment above the lake to the opposite end where we would connect to the trail down.

There, we continued down the wet, sloppy trail of alternating snow and mud. It seemed we would never arrive as we slid and slipped our way down. If it had just been snow, it would have been super easy—just put on the microspikes and walk—but it was mostly mud, slick mud. I tried to lean into the slickness by trying to sort of glissade, sort of like skiing on your feet, on the mud but the consistency is not really, well, consistent enough to do that effectively, or gracefully.

Finally, we spotted the trail sign indicating we had arrived back at the spot where we had stopped on the way up. We just had the final steep descent to Laguna Negra and the walk to the parking lot remaining. Again, we stopped for a break here before mustering our energies for the last steep descent.

Back at Laguna Negra, there was nobody. We even got a chance to stop and admire the waterfall. I guess it was the mid-morning rush when we had arrived before. At the bus turnaround, we chose the route of medium effort—we didn’t wait for the bus, but we also didn’t take the trail. Instead, we walked down the road—a welcome change as it was dry, even, and not the least bit slippery.

I asked my partner, “Now that you know what to expect, would you rather take the route we just took down or return the way we went up and have to cross that stream in the opposite direction?” He said, “Definitely, the stream. We would have just found another place to cross upstream or downstream.” I wasn’t so sure. My first instinct was to answer that I just wouldn’t have done the hike, but I stopped myself. Was that really true? My legs were exhausted and my feet hurt, but they were still carrying me along. Most importantly, I did rather enjoy the day despite its slow sloppiness. Instead, I only thought, “I wish they made traction for mud.”