The flat, unexciting plains of Spain began to shift and rise into patchy-green mountains as we crossed the border into Andorra. The capital was subdued, compared to its winter ski buzz, with only the occasional crackle of a supercar that accelerated through the streets. The late-August sun lowered itself behind the ridge of a mountain, casting a jagged shadow on the capital. As we checked into our hotel, we left our bags and began navigating the streets, perusing the seasonally out of place lodge-style restaurants and bars as they limped through the slower months, serving locals and smattering of tourists. We chose a lodge and ordered a light serving of tapas, including padron peppers and a questionable take on patatas bravas, as well as a stein of beer as our chosen fuel the evening before the journey began. As darkness fell on the Andorra La Vella, we enjoyed our last night of relative comfort for the next five days, getting an early night.

The sun reappeared above the ridge, forcing its way through the curtains. We packed our bags and slung them onto our backs, wondering how they had gained so much weight. The three litres of water and trail mix contributed to this. We set off, making our way to the tourist office, which was the start-point of the Coronallacs trail. The city unfurled, growing in both size and bustle, coming to a crescendo on the main street where the tourist information building sat. We were welcomed in by a limp “bon dias” from the unenthused attendant, who then proceeded to hand over our maps and a limited scattering of information before sending us on our way. “Adéu.” 

We munched our way through a nutritious breakfast of coffee and croissants as we scanned over the map. The Coronallacs trail is 92 kilometers over the course of five days, with 6,449 metres of elevation gain and loss. The first day is the shortest distance, but 12.6km purely uphill to Refugi de l'Illa through Madriu-Perafita-Claror Valley. Day two is just shy of 20 kilometers with a climb to Pessons pass at 2,810 meters, down into the Les Bordes d'Envalira, before rising to the Port Dret pass and then Refugi de Juclà. Day three is 17 kilometers that takes you from the eastern to northern slopes through Meners pass, concluding in Sorteny Valley Natural Park at Refugi de Sorteny. Day four is 21.9 kilometers, where you descend to the villages of El Serrat and Llorts with then a steep, sustained ascent to the Clot del Cavall, into Valls del Comapedrosa Natural Park and to Refugi del Comapedrosa. Day five is 21.4 kilometers, with a short climb to Portella de Sanfons before heading down through forests and farmland to the village of Sispony and then onto Andorra La Vella. 

We made our way out of the city, finding ourselves on the main road before quickly turning off, dodging the cyclists, and onto the path that we would trudge for the next five days. Having done very little research, I was expecting the landscape to be the monotonous rocky mountains that I picture in the Spanish outback, but we were met by leafy canopies, trickling streams, and verdant surroundings. As we pumped our legs, carrying our weighty packs, we passed casual hikers, families, alongside a group who brought their two cats tucked into their shirts. As the groups of people thinned out, we made our way past a couple of rustic small holdings tucked into the valley with horses in the fields batting away flies with their swooshing tails. A bit further on, we saw a sea of tarpaulin and heard the ringing of gentle hammering over the noise of rushing streams. It looked to be an archeological dig, but for what, we did not know.

The incline kindly broke off for a moment, where we waded through a meadow of grasshoppers springing from butter-yellow grass. The soft mountain breeze offered a moment of respite from before we began to weave our way through the towering pine and fir trees. Clusters of cows lazily mooed in the mid-day heat as the bells around their necks clanged, ringing out across the valley. “Andorra is the 16th smallest country in the world.” Greg revealed he had put together a list of fun facts about Andorra that we would be graced with throughout the trek. Despite several hours of steep ascent, the range still towered above us to either side, rising out of a blanket of green. Damp with sweat, we trudged on, continuing upwards before a dark grey-clad building that sat on a bed of grey stone appeared. The path snaked for an eternity before taking us to the refuge. Upon arrival, we unclipped our packs and removed our boots for the first time this trek, becoming the start of a blissful ritual of freedom.

We were directed to our room of eight, where we slung our bags onto an available bed and then made our way to get a drink. We drank the sweet nectar of Fanta, followed by a couple of beers, before deciding it was time to have a shower. Fortunately for us, the batteries had recently malfunctioned, so the refuge was reliant on the solar panels that lined the roof. As the sun had only just set, we were pointed in the direction of a lake that perched itself in the valley above the building. Speedos on, the walk was short but slow after the long day's hike and the process of getting in the lake, an even slower one. To say the lake has been sitting in the direct sun for the summer, you would have expected warmth, but being 2,500 meters saw those precious few degrees away. Our voices hit a few octaves higher than usual as we splashed around before getting out and warming on a rock like a basking lizard. The food was simple but reenergising and the carafe of wine, relaxing. The sky turned a dusty yellow before fading off into cobalt as it was time to sleep.