This splendid gorge, which, as a specimen of the grandeur of mountain solitudes must be one of the most characteristic in Europe, is called El Barranco.[33] When one stands alone in such a scene--far removed from all familiar associations--it is almost impossible to describe in any language that would not be deemed extravagant, the sensation by which he is overpowered. From the summit of the Puig, the magnificence of the prospect will repay a good walker for the trouble of the ascent. Raised high above a region of mountain peaks, black stupendous gorges, and a wild chaos of riven rocks, shot up from the bowels of the globe in some primeval convulsion, soars the massive summit. While we were standing on it we watched the afternoon sun slow wheeling down to the westward seas. Immediately beneath, fantastic clouds and long weird streaks of vapour curled and eddied like strange aërial phantoms amongst the solemn recesses of the lonely mountains, sinking into the darkness of the vast depths below. Over the wide plains of the island stretched like a giant's chart at our feet, green savannahs, broad dusky tracts of olive, and expanses of yellow sand, sparkling here and there in all directions, were exhibited to our delighted gaze. Towns surrounded by glittering white walls, and scattered hamlets peeping from out the deep recesses of spreading woods and groves of orange, greeted the wondering eye; while away towards the horizon, encircling the magnificent prospect, was the sea, flecked in all directions with tiny sunlit sails. After scrambling down the great mountain walls, when the shades of night began to gather around us, we descended to the Convent of Lluch, which we reached, thanks to our wary guide, in safety. The wild tracks and narrow paths, sometimes skirting precipices of enormous depth, naturally suggested thoughts of danger. In some formidable gaps of the mountain there was nothing but the dull twilight and the deep sapphire of the skies to light us on our narrow way; and, had it not been for the implicit reliance we placed in our practised guide, the heart of the bravest might well have quailed. We two Englishmen, plodding on at night in the steps of a wild mountaineer, guided only by the occasional gleam of his cigarette, among the lonely crags of the Majorcan hills, were conscious of a certain romantic pleasure which we experienced in contemplating the novelty and danger of our position.