Day 4: Torla
We both woke exhausted and full of aches and pains. It didn't take long to decide that this would be a rest day. We would explore Torla and check out the connections for the Ordessa bus the next morning.
Torla is a fine place to stroll around. The street patterns are unchanged since medieval times and although most of the main buildings are now tourist related the atmosphere of the village remains. Wooden and stone buildings cling to the side of steep streets. Washing flies from high windows. The hotels and restaurants are not obtrusive. Traditional craft shops add welcome colour to the street scene. A smart Tourist Office - with internet access — is well staffed by young people who speak excellent English. There are a couple of good looking hostels to compliment the hotels and campsites.
We spent a couple of hours leisurely exploring the village and then, in all honesty, we'd seen most of it. There was nothing else to be done but to think about lunch, not least because Torla is well and truly run on Mediterranean time with everything closing down between twelve and four in the afternoon. However, while everything closes, lunch doesn't begin until 14.00!
Images of Torla
We sat and drank a few beers on the terrace of the main bar that is conveniently sited next to the gear shop. An English family strolled in looking absolutely wrecked. They had spent the night at the Refugio at Goriz where they had intended to cross into France via the Breche du Roland, but the Guardians at Goriz were strongly dissuading anyone without ice axes and crampons from crossing through. They described an over-crowded refuge and camping ground, and weather that included snow and freezing rain. Looking at the mountains I was convinced that the snow was melting fast but on hearing this news decided not to take either of my options for crossing back into France, the Breche or the crossing from Parzan to Barroude. I figured it would probably be more straightforward to backtrack to Bujareulo, crossing to Gavarnie along the old trading route. But we'd leave it for a few days. The campsite was good and we had time to explore the Ordessa Canyon more thoroughly than we would if we were simply passing through on the GR11.
Eventually lunchtime came and we decided to take advantage of our holiday spirit and to treat ourselves. After considering a few good looking places we strolled into the restaurant El Duende. What a find this was! El Duende bore out that old maxim about Michelin guides — if you're looking for really great value forget about stars, look for the knife and fork awards. The food was lovely, modern yet reasonably priced. My main course of stuffed pig's trotter was absolutely divine, but there's a lot on this menu that is less frightening. If you find yourself in Torla give El Duende a try.
As the afternoon rolled on we returned to the campsite bar. I joined a small group of men watching the Tour de France which was passing through the Pyrenees. A Spanish rider was up in the front group. There was great excitement all round. He didn't win but the signs were good for the future mountain stages. The Spanish rider was Carlos Sastre. They told me he was very good.
We settled back for a lazy afternoon and evening. The Bushbuddy gained even more admirers and the bar proved a nice place to hang out in the cool of the evening. Looking at the mountains I was sure the snows were melting quickly. Storm clouds gathered around the Le Taillon mountain at the head of the Ordessa Canyon. There was lightening and thunder. The wind picked up but — as ever on the Spanish side — the rains didn't come.
