The Moncayo Massif, located between Zaragoza and Soria, contains the highest peak in the Iberian System of mountains. Whenever we drive from Madrid to Zaragoza, my partner points it out to me if it is visible. From afar, it looks quite domineering despite its modest height of 2,314 m or 7,592 ft.
Whenever my partner points it out, I ask when we can hike it. Especially since it was featured in a Spanish TV program called Ministerio del Tiempo (Ministry of Time), where I learned that the nearby village of Trasmoz was excommunicated, cursed, and supposedly a hotbed of witchcraft, which curiously, had nothing to do with the excommunication. You can read about its interesting history in this article from the Guardian.
Whenever I ask my partner when we will hike it, he usually replies that it is only worth doing in the winter. Well, finally, it was winter, there was snow on the mountain, and we had a free day in Zaragoza. So, we set out early driving to the mountain. While it’s possible to hike from the base, it’s long and there’s a road that goes up much of the mountain, so it doesn’t seem worth adding the distance especially in the winter. We took the road until the second-to-last parking lot along the paved part of the road. Shortly after, it becomes a dirt road and, on this morning, snowy and icy.
From where we parked, Fuente del Sacristán, the trail heads gently up through a beech forest. We didn’t have much snow in the earlier parts of the trail, so it was easy walking. Before long, however, it started to become patchy with ice and snow. At this point, we regretted not bringing the microspikes, but with the crampons and piolet and ice tools, I guess we were trying to save weight.
We progressed slowly up the portion of the trail from the beech forest to the pine forest until we reached the Sanctuary. This is a large building with a church in the center that is nestled into the rock wall behind it. According to the Sanctuary’s website, it was most likely built due to the appearance of the Virgin of our Lady of Moncayo in that location. Now, in modern times, the Sanctuary also has a restaurant and is a refuge. It’s also where the road ends. It seems strange to have a restaurant mostly up a mountain, but I suppose it is useful if you are very hungry mid-hike.
After the Sanctuary, the route became snowier, but more or less feasible to walk on without crampons. Once we reached the tree line, we put on crampons and noted how strong the wind was. From the tree line, we could see the final approach to the summit. Looking ahead though, it was slightly hidden on the right of the mountain’s large bowl. The normal route climbs the left side of the bowl and circles around it on the top to reach the summit. Our route would take us straight into the bowl and to the right to head up between large towers of rock—los Gendarmes.
The walk into the bowl toward the gully we would be climbing was miserable. The wind was strong and frigid. Plus (or minus, really), we were walking on a field of rocks with snow at inconsistent depths as is often found in such terrain.
At one point, we started up a slope with larger rocks, subsequently larger pits of soft snow, and even stronger wind baring down on my face, I yelled, “Why can’t we ever just take a nice relaxing hike!”
My question, which was really more of a statement of exasperation went unanswered as we approached the start of the gully and sheltered next to the first of the dramatic rock pillars rising out of the snow.
After some tea, a snack, and a nice break from the relentless wind, I detached my second ice tool from my pack and started flying up the gully. Okay, not literally flying of course, but moving super fast, falling into a rhythm with my movements—kick, kick, shunk, shunk—as I placed my crampons and ice tools into the heavy snow, pockmarked with the path of others. This is just what I do. When I am nervous or scared, I put my head down, lock-in my focus, and note what is happening around me—the height, the steepness, the snow conditions, where others are—but I don’t feel it. I am completely outside myself and inside myself at the same time.
I passed two people doing some skill or technique practice toward the top of the gully. I assume one was new to this type of activity. He asked his partner, “¿Sin cuerda?” His partner responded, “Sí.” Yes indeed, sir, no rope.
Before long, the grade started to even out as I exited this part of the route onto the shoulder of the final approach to the summit. I paused on this gentler slope, waiting for my partner and taking in the fascinating icy feather-like shapes made by the wind blowing the moisture on top of the snow.
Once my partner arrived, we continued up. Now, the mountain always seemed to keep curving away up into the distance. I saw a shape above us to the left that looked like a summit marker. However, as we approached it, I could see the curve of the mountain off to our right. The “summit marker” was a lone tree completely engulfed by spikey ice flags.
“Just a little bit more,” I thought as we left the tree, continuing to our right as the grade flattened and we were on the broad summit heading towards two pillars covered with ice flags: The first—the Virgin of Pilar; the second—the summit marker on its plinth.
We stopped for some more tea just near the summit pillar, sheltering behind a short, circular wall usually constructed to block the wind in a wild camping area. After our tea, we set out across the broad summit along the normal route, circling the bowl below us where we had been earlier.
The top of the Moncayo Massif is very large and consists of a few subpeaks, so it’s easy to wander off across the massive surface and lose your way. As we walked down from the main summit and up the next subpeak, keeping the bowl on our left, we started looking for the way down. Just on top of the subpeak, we spotted a giant cairn and the trail turning sharply down to the left.
The trail down was in poor condition, a combination of hard snow that was easy to walk on and exposed rocks that were very uncomfortable to walk on in the crampons. We switchbacked our way down, down, down, pausing every now and then to look across the bowl at our route to the summit, which now looked much steeper than it felt on the way up.
I was happy when we finally reached the end of this portion of the trail just at the tree line—my ankles were tired from turning this way and that on the intermittently rocky trail. We stopped again to take off some of our wind layers since the wind-free temperature was quite nice.
We returned via the same trail from earlier in the day. We went past the Sanctuary, now full of kids sliding down a patch of ice on the final portion of the road. We descended from consistent snow to patchy snow, from pine forest to beech forest, and finally to the end of the snow. We passed the road a few times, making it back to the car, as usual, just before sunset.
Stats
Distance: 8.1 mi / 13 km
Elevation gain: 3,500 ft / 1,066 m
Time: 6:42, including stops
