Hike to Cerro San Pedro

I hiked in Spain for about three years. Apart from this blog, I never bothered to write up the walks afterwards and I rarely took photographs. I was determined not to be one of those people that experiences everything through a camera lens – but in reality I wish I had taken more.

After passing two horses grazing in a yellow flowered field, we began our hike to Cerro San Pedro, a peak of the Sierra de Guadarrama. My friend and leader of the group had told me the easiest part of the hike was the beginning. He must have offered this encouragement purely to spur me on, as the reality was quite different!

But nothing could put me off today. I was going through a dismal break up and had struggled with being stuck in the city since it had happened. Although I loved Madrid, the pollution elevated my stress levels semi-frequently and I often felt the need to escape into nature by the time the weekend came. Nature had been a tried and tested mental health remedy through difficult times in the past.

We began a long ascent up a very rocky terrain. Having suffered from a few tumbles on recent hikes, I was determined to stay focused. I kept my eyes fixed to the ground, avoiding sharp rocks and pieces of tawny quartz that illumined under the sun. But this downward fixation lead to being hit in the face by large branches a few times, so I think I may need to strike a balance…

As we reached the pinnacle and moved through the forest, I breathed the pine scent in deeply, a salve to cleanse my mind. Like my great-grandmother and my cousin, I suffer from a pitiful sense of smell and it is only when I am deep in the heart of nature that I can enjoy her earthiest aromas.

If I thought the ascent was tricky, the descent was perilous tenfold. In Scotland hiking can be difficult due to slippery mud, but I stumbled just as often when my trail running sneakers gave way to dust and sand. I warbled ‘She’ll be coming down the mountain when she comes’ as I negotiated each step. My friend asked if I could amend the lyrics to include ‘safely and slowly’. Given my recent mishaps, she had a point.

As we finished our descent the spectacle of the gushing Cofio River was a treat well earned. A large Spanish family had erected a picnic banquet nearby, with tables and chairs seating at least thirty people. Smoke from the barbecue rose high into the air and urged us onwards to our final lunching destination.

We crossed a Roman bridge that looked as though it had been crumbling into the water for centuries. On the grassy side, I found an animal femur sinking beneath a bed of purple flowers.  Turning it over in my hands several times, I marvelled at the perfect geometry in decaying marrow.

We settled next to a circle of flat rocks that would serve us well as both a lunch spot and beds for a siesta. I ate a turkey and cheese sandwich followed by the orange my friend had bought for me. Everyone else ate bananas for energy, but alas, I am allergic.

Across the river I spotted an irresistible field blanketed in yellow flowers. But we were way beyond the bridge now and I couldn’t see any natural pathway of stepping stones.

Determined as a hunting cat, I moved to and fro, trying my feet on different rocks. I watched the water as it rushed by tossing all flotsam out of its way. I thought of my ex-partner and how no person can remain static when they crave a forward-moving life. So I leapt – and made it to the other side.

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