I lie in bed and stare up at the skylight trying to work out what the blurry film covering it is. All of a sudden I’m hit by a wave of panic and excitement, it’s snow! I'm panicking because there is the matter of getting off the mountain, but it’s exciting because right now we’re sheltered 2000 m up, I have my paints and I can’t wait to see the wintry transformation outside.I go down the ladder and enter a world in monochrome. The black weeping rock face fades in and out as the mute clouds blow through. Each time I see a different part of the mountain appear in a different form as if this solid barrier of rock is now as viscous as the mist that obscures it. Distant sunlight breaks through the valleys and whole sides of the mountain glisten in silver strands as light catches the veins of icy limestone.
I sketch the cliffs and gorge and also focus on a drawing of snow finches passing a memorial to lost mountaineers. Once I finish, we wave goodbye and step precariously on to the crunchy snow. After a while the clouds lift a little and we find it's not too bad underfoot. Nevertheless I breathe a sigh of relief when we make it down from the cliff path and back onto the Vega de Liordes.
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We had stopped to take in the beautiful transformation of the peaks around the Vega, when a male rebeco canters into the col just below us. He is clearly agitated as he shakes his body, making the bristly hair on his nape and rump stand up. He trots on a few paces and stops to raise his head and let out a straining bellow, his blue tongue visibly resonating in the ‘O’ shaped cavity of his trumpeting mouth. I notice his magnificent black and lemon yellow pelage as he tenses his stocky neck, stiffens his tail and faces us with another bellow (like a red deer only higher in pitch). Thinking better of it, he trots on and proceeds to perform an elaborate dressage that takes him far away across the vega before he begins back in our direction.
Apparently fearless, he now stops within metres of us and bellows again. It seems he is interested in one of us, I remark turning to Shenaz, after all it is rutting season. That little wise crack becomes less hilarious as he advances towards us. Genuinely concerned now, I am startled by a sneezing bark coming from behind. We turn in the direction of the noise to see a gentle caravan of around 30 female and juvenile rebecos appearing from below the cliff at our backs.
Obviously more interested in them, the male flanks us and clatters up the scree towards the harem. He approaches the female whose call seemed to invite his advances. However, it is her who comes too close causing the strutting macho to recoil in surprise. After this the male rebeco rampages through the herd, shaking and bellowing, he seems deranged, though I believe his method is to try and segregate a potential mate from the group just as a predator would single out a potential meal. Eventually we lose sight of the mayhem as the chase takes to the high cliffs.
From Vega de Liordes the route home was straightforward, we pass the mines pausing to look at off cuts of crystal, then follow the zigzag of doom to below the snowline and back to Espinama.
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