I arrived at the Spanish town of Alos de Isil exhausted and fed up after taking wrong paths, and wading down a rough hillside which was in fact the correct route, which had no path. I asked the first people I saw about a room for the night. They had none. But they took me to this barn – some young boys – gave me a fizzy drink, showed me where I could wash in the river, and provided me with water.

I look at this photograph now very fondly for the story it captures. There’s a story component to mountain photography where you say I was there, I saw this, and it was wonderful. But it’s easier to relate to a picture.


Mountain Walking: The Kindness Of Strangers

Saturday November 10, 2012