4 Days Trekking in the Central Pyrenees, June 2026
We chose Panticosa as our base camp for a reason. At the heart of the Central Pyrenees, it’s perfectly positioned, within a half-hour drive, there’s a staggering array of routes waiting to be tackled. Over four days in June 2026, my wife Kiersten and I explored some of these high mountains, from the quiet mornings at Ibon de Arriel to the stormy decisions that tested both our gear and our judgment. I’m in my early seventies, fit enough for my age, but those first few hills reminded me that mental ambition doesn’t always match physical reality. Through sun-baked climbs, snow-lined lakes, questionable stealth camping choices, and one very conspicuous pink tent, we learned that sometimes knowing when not to proceed is just as valuable as making it to the summit. Here’s what happened.
N.B. You’ll notice the local Aragonese word “ibon” throughout this report. It simply means “lake.” This region is famously known as the “3000 Ibones,” and you’ll see them everywhere.
Wed 3rd: Ascent to Ibon de Arriel Bajo
Looking back, we might have been slightly over-ambitious on our first outing. I’m in my early 70s, fit enough for my age, but hauling a heavy pack up a steep, sun-baked slope on Day One felt like pushing it.
We kicked things off at the delightful trailhead near La Sarra reservoir, just north of Sallent de Gallego. The river here ran wide and fast, fed by waterfalls cascading down the left flank of the valley. The scenery was stunning, a taste of the treats ahead.
For much of the initial climb toward Refugio Respomuso, the track stays under the forest canopy, offering a welcome break from the sun. That changed dramatically once we peeled off the main trail and began the steeper scramble toward our intended bivouac below Ibon de Arriel Bajo.
The path turned rough, zig-zagging up a steep hillside while skirting cliffs until we finally broke out onto open slopes. We even encountered snow bridging some of the streams. Slogging up the exposed hill alongside the water was tough work. It was hot, the trail dusty, and the gradient unforgiving. Despite moving slowly and refilling our bottles constantly from the stream, our legs began to protest.
Eventually, we traversed into a small pass that suddenly unveiled the prize: the beautiful small lake below Ibon de Arriel Bajo, nesting between steep cliffs with a narrow valley and snowfields beyond, hinting at even grander sights to come.
We found a pleasant grassy spot at the northeastern end of the lake, relaxed, and brewed a well-earned coffee. According to National Park rules, wild camping is permitted between 19:00 and 09:00, so we had plenty of daylight left. We wandered up the narrow valley to inspect the mountains forming the border between Spain and France. The snow cover was significant, honestly, a lot of it. We’d heard the refuges either side of the border were recommending skis or snowshoes to cross the pass, and looking at those drifts, I could easily believe it.
Right on the dot at 19:00, we pitched the tent, cooked dinner, and settled in for a peaceful night in our mountain sanctuary. Pure bliss.
The steep open
slopes up from the river
Negotiating the narrow valley leading to the Ibon de Arriel
Bajo
Crossing high angled snow banks alongside the Ibon de Arriel
Bajo
Approaching our camp site close to the tree on the right
Thu 4th: Ibon de Arriel Alto
We woke to cloudy, threatening skies, packed away our tent, and set off toward Ibon de Arriel Alto—just a little higher at 2250m. As the main lake at Ibon de Arriel Bajo came into view, it confirmed our suspicions: high-angled snow lined the banks.
This wasn’t a problem in itself, we both had crampons and the experience needed to traverse such terrain safely. The real issue was the deteriorating weather. With those conditions and the incoming storm, we weren’t going to get much further.
Our original plan had been to cross the border into France to the Lacs d’Arremoulit. But with the prevailing weather and snow conditions, that was no longer possible. There’s an old saying I like to repeat often:
“There are old climbers and bold climbers, but no old, bold climbers.”
It’s very true. I didn’t get where I am today by being brave or reckless… hahaha. We were more than happy to call it a day and retreat. As showers began arriving, we dropped back to our previous night’s campsite.
Herein lies the problem with National Park rules. What do you do when you need afternoon shelter from a storm? I couldn’t find any guidance. Do we play by the rules, or adopt what I call “stealth camping”? In my view, stealth camping means being out of sight, out of mind, and leaving no trace of your passage.
Now, stealth camping sounds simple in theory, but it’s made rather difficult when you’re carrying a bright pink tent! Yes, our Samaya 2 is pink. Green, brown, black, anything but pink, would have worked.
We spent an hour searching for a quiet, well-hidden spot to pitch before the predicted bad weather arrived in the afternoon. We eventually found ours on a flat area deep in the forest, far from the main trails.
To our credit, we didn’t erect the tent until the main rains arrived. By that time we’d eaten and were ready for shelter. Temperatures dropped, and we spent a cold night huddled together, listening to steady rain dripping onto the fabric above us.
Sat at the Ibon de Arriel Alto looking at the, not so welcoming,
route over into France
Descending from the
Ibon de Arriel Alto
Returning
to camp next to the Ibon de Arriel Bajo
The very well (not)
hidden Pink tent!
Fri 5th: Refugio Respomuso & Lakeside Camp
We woke to a beautifully clear day. All the clouds had vanished. We sipped coffee and lingered until the morning sun had dried the tent, then set off. Both of us were feeling “leggy”, that peculiar state of seemingly tired legs. Perhaps those first days’ efforts had been too much, especially considering my age? Mentally, I still think I can do what I used to be able to do; the reality is perhaps somewhat different.
We decided to head for Refugio Respomuso and explore the country beyond. It was a glorious trail, traversing high above the river. And of course, because the refuges weren’t officially open yet, there was nobody else around. Ahead rose the enticing peak of Garmo Negro and the Infiernos range; to the left stood Grand Fache, its pass forming the popular gateway into France.
We took plenty of breaks, mostly because Kiersten would spot an orchid or an interesting flower to photograph, but also just to sit and quietly admire our surroundings. Many hikers, in their haste to achieve their Strava rankings, bypass this very important part of a mountain day. I guess this is one of the benefits of becoming “older and wiser”?
We arrived at Refugio Respomuso and settled onto the grassy banks of the flowing river alongside the building. We watched two tired, elderly gentlemen make their way down the interminable rocky slopes of the mighty Balaitous peak (3144m). They must have started up in the early hours of the morning. I found myself wondering what stories they might have to tell of past adventures.
Moving on from the refuge, we headed into a peninsular area around the lake. Wow. This place was so beautiful we were instantly captivated. Small rocky hills interspersed with trees, dotted with grassy clearings overlooking the water. What a spot to set up camp! Even though it was only lunchtime, we knew we’d found our overnight location. Quiet, secluded, and even our bright pink tent could have some privacy here!
We thoroughly enjoyed exploring our little peninsula before settling on a small headland looking out onto the main expanse of the Embalse de Respomuso. We even had our own tiny stream nearby to refill our bottles. We whiled away the afternoon chatting, taking photos, drinking coffee, and soaking in the ambiance. All we needed was Enid Blyton, the Famous Five, and of course, lashings of ginger beer!
We ate our evening meals, watched the sun slowly dip below the mountain summits, and retired to the tent for a long night’s rest.
Morning sun over
the mountains from camp
Trail to the Refugio
Respomuso
Small
lake near the refuge reflecting the mountains
Our very well camouflaged
tent!
Sat 6th: Descent & Return to Panticosa
As the first light filtered into the tent, I slipped outside. A few metres away lay a small lake. All was still; nearby mountains cast perfect reflections into the mirror-still water.
After coffee, we decided to make our way back down before the Saturday day-hikers started arriving at the refuge. It was a long trail downward, but compared to my uphill performance, I’m still pretty nifty on the way down. After hardly meeting anyone over the previous three days, bumping into groups of hikers heading up for their own adventures was a bit of a sensory overload.
After the long descent, we arrived back at La Sarra. We enjoyed a cold beer at the adjoining refuge before heading back to Panticosa for the real rewards: hotel showers, clean sheets, and pizzas.
Perfect reflections
Looking towards the Grand
Fache
Morning camp
Salut!