This incident over, we commenced the climb. The rock-stack rose vertically above us, but we diverged to the right as affording an easier route. On reaching the desired level, however, I found it impossible to make good that interval on our left--a smooth rock-face devoid of handhold, and too upright to traverse, forbade all lateral movement. Up we went another twenty yards, then another; but always to find that slithery rock-face mocking our efforts to outflank it. We were now well above the rock-stack overlooking the eyries, and I could see two griffons brooding, another feeding a poult close by. But between us was a great gulf fixed, and that gulf stopped us. The obvious alternative was to descend and try again from a fresh point. But here a new difficulty faced us: we could not descend. We had come up by following a series of vertical fissures, or "chimnies," none too easy, since every crevice sheltered some vicious vegetation, each more spikey and thorny than the last. Still from _below_ one can always select a handhold somewhere, and then defy the thorn; whereas on looking _backwards_, nothing is visible but a vanishing outline of rock and gorse, porcupine broom, or palmetto--beyond is vacant space, and a sheer drop at that. In a word, we could neither descend nor move laterally. It was humiliating--even more so than the antecedent incident with a _COW_! One resource remained--to climb on to the top; and even in that direction a single bad rock might cut off escape. No such crowning catastrophe befell, but it was tooth-and-claw work, every yard of it, and the vertical height could not have been less than 1000 feet. While thus "clawing up" I recollect passing a perfect glory in orchids--great twin purple blooms, golden-tipped and quite amorphous in outline. They grew just beyond my reach. Curious recumbent ferns clung to the rocks; anemones and violet-like bouquets peered from each cranny. Meanwhile L., approaching from the other side, had examined the rock-stacks and succeeded in attaining one main objective--the nest of the eagle-owl. This was in a rock-cavern, close by that of '83, easy of access--indeed the great owl flew out in his face as he passed below. The cave (four feet high by two wide) was at the foot of a vertical limestone cliff, its floor level with a goat-track that skirted the crag, and fully exposed to view; there was no nest nor any debris. Two young owls in white down, with one egg actually "chipping," lay on the bare earth. * * * * * One of the griffon's nests still contained (on April 8) a fresh egg, which is now in the writer's collection as a memorial of that day. We had secured all we had expected in the Puerta de Palomas--and something more besides. CHAPTER XXXVII A SPANISH SYSTEM OF FOWLING THE "CABRESTO" OR STALKING-HORSE