Mr Bear Is Hungry

Yesterday morning began with an hour and a quarter climbing up a steep scree on the western face of Pic Carlit – the highest mountain in the Eastern Pyrenees at 2,921m, and the last time the HRP goes that high. The descent wasn’t generally as steep, but there were sections where it required scrambling using hands, so I was impressed by the number of tourists heading up.

This slowly turned to dismay as I walked down to Barrage de Bouillouse (second photo, taken from the summit of Carlit) – it was one of the most beautiful areas I’ve seen on the whole trail, but as I neared the dam the number of people rose exponentially.

Going Solo

The highest point in the UK is Ben Nevis, at 1,344m. Since I left Lescun on 26th June (over a month ago), I hadn’t been below that level until yesterday, when Klaas and I hitched down to Ax-les-Thermes to find some decent shops.

We had a pretty successful trip, finding fuel for the stoves, maps for the final section, food supplies and, of course, Magnums. Ax had a market going on, so we got some great dried fruit there – rather than just carrying peanuts and cashews, I’ve now got them mixed with raisins, cranberries, goji berries, banana pieces and papaya – it’s delicious!

End of the Journey Together

Since the 4th of July, 23 days now, I’ve been dragged through these Pyreneen mountains by Jon…

Here, in Hospitalet pres de l’ Andorre, we have decided to go our own way for the last 10 stages, which in a way I surely regret!!

In the past weeks with many hard days Jon has proven to be a true friend on which a man can build; we had a lot of support of each other.

Section Four Complete

The weather has been a constant source of concern now for the forty-three days since I began walking at the Atlantic (I may have already mentioned it once or twice) but one thing we haven’t had to deal with too much so far is extreme temperatures. The last few days though have been grey, windy and unbelievably cold – we’ve been walking in fleeces, hats and gloves, and sleeping wearing socks and hats.

The Third Place

After 37 days going back and forth across the border between France and Spain, we reached our third country on Thursday: Andorra. I’ve never been here before and don’t know a great deal about it, but I learnt the other day that the official language is Catalan. They learn that together with French and Spanish at school, and most of the people we’ve met seem to speak English too.

Speaking of Catalan, we met some kids from Catalunya at the campsite in Arties. They seemed as keen as the Basque people to be independent from Spain – they’d been supporting Holland against Spain in the world cup final, so were commiserating with Klaas.

The Perfect Storm

During the first ten days I got used to walking in the rain, but I never had to pack up and set off in the rain, partly due to luck and partly because I stayed in refuges so much. For some reason walking in the rain is OK, but setting off is a different matter.

After we left the refuge and pitched our tents on Wednesday night the rain returned, and carried on through till Thursday morning. Neither of us had the courage to pack up until there was a gap in the rain, so we didn’t get moving until 09:30. Even then we were warily watching the clouds, trying to predict when we’d get soaked.

Birthday Calories

Although section 4 of the HRP only has one staffed refuge, Klaas and I decided when we were making our plan in Arties that we’d take maximum advantage, to reduce the weight of food we had to carry. As it happened, the refuge fitted perfectly with my birthday, so yesterday at about 14:00 we arrived at Refugi de Certascan and started eating.

After a lunch of salad, lentil casserole, canneloni and cake, we spent the afternoon chatting, then had soup, pasta and a rather bizarre course of sausages and crisps, before finishing off with a chocolate dessert. This morning we had a decent breakfast and left with an excellent picnic lunch, so altogether saved ourselves the weight of four meals.

There's always a bigger fish

I used to work with a wise man called Mr Tipler, who had a phrase for every occasion. My favourite (apart from “beware the dangerous floater”) is “there’s always a bigger fish”, a saying that has proved itself time and again.

Leaving Hendaye, the HRP felt pretty special, but over the last five weeks it’s become obvious that we’re very much entry-level HRP’ers. The people I met in Lescun were all on similar timetables and doing the walk in a similar way, but I met a French chap at Refuge d’Arlet who was doing it in 41 days, without any rest days. At the time I was quite impressed.

So...about those bears then...

When we were in Gavarnie a few weeks ago trying to decide which route to take, we read a section of the guidebook that said “the choice of the HRP is a choice for challenge!” This has become a bit of catchphrase, and is now wheeled out whenever things get a bit tough.

As far as the route goes, today’s challenge was the largest boulder-field Klaas or I had ever seen, full of the largest boulders either of us had ever seen (1st photo - it’s worth looking at the full version as Klaas is actually visible in the middle of some enormous rocks). At one point Klaas dislodged one that he described as “about the size of a refridgerator.” The boulder-field was only about 1.5km across, but it took about an hour and a half to cross. The GPS showed that we’d only actually been moving for 34 minutes though - the rest of the time was spent balancing on a rock trying to work out a way through.

If Carlsberg made campsites

For the last three days we’ve been in the Vall d’Aran. We saw three villages there, and a remarkable proportion of each one looked new - very tastefully done so that it fitted in with the old buildings, but quite obviously new. It turns out that there are two reasons for this: the first was a tunnel that connected the once-isolated valley to the rest of Spain, and the second was the ski resort at the end of the valley, Baquiera-Beret. The locals seem very proud of the resort: they’ve told us that it’s the most important in Spain, and that it’s where the king skis.

Into the wilderness

Although today is Friday, there’s an undeniably Sunday-eveningish feel to it at the moment. After three days feeling pretty relaxed, it’s back to work tomorrow. We’ve managed a few hours by the pool today, but the time has come to start getting stuff ready for the next 10 days.

Most of the preparations have gone well, but there’s been the odd minor irritation. For example, I wouldn’t say €1.65 is a lot of money, but it’s a frustrating amount to have to pay for four fragranced pink toilet rolls, when you’d be quite happy with a single unfragranced white roll. Once again, I can’t help thinking these villages could cater better for walkers.

Things to do, people to see...

Although rest days give you a rest from walking, there’s a lot to do. Yesterday involved a bit of exploring the village, some shopping, kit-maintenance and an afternoon by the pool, while today we’ve had a trip into Vielha for some more serious shopping.

While the four of us were by the pool yesterday, Klaas and I went through the next section and worked out which route we’re going to take, primarily so we could calculate how much food to buy. We’ve adapted some days from my book to end in slightly different places and used the route from Klaas’s book towards the end of the section, which saves us a day. Unfortunately the only places we can get food are a single refuge and a restaurant near the end of one of the days, so we’re going to be carrying way more food than before.

Section Three - Complete

After his easier day yesterday, Klaas was back on top form for the final stage of section three, while Lucy, Ross and I were all nursing our injuries from yesterday’s beautiful but damaging walk along the lakeside. None of the injuries were serious enough to slow us down much though, so we made pretty good time apart from an unsheduled Compeed realignment stop.

There was only 600m of ascent in today’s route, which is comparatively little. We climbed up from Refugi de la Restanca past more amazing lakes and over three cols, then began the descent towards the stage end at Salardu. The first 400m or so were pretty tough, with some steep sections and some huge boulder fields to cross, but eventually we made it down to Refugi de Colomers, beside yet another beautiful lake. The guide said that our brief visit to the Parc Nacional d’Augüestortes would inspire us to return and it’s right - it’s an absolutely stunning place.

The Famous Four

Today was the first day of the walk that there’s been four of us - after a couple of days of trying, Ross and Lucy finally joined Klaas and me as we set off on a section of the GR11 from Hospital de Vielha, hoping for a drier day than yesterday. Some of the kit had dried out overnight, but my rucksack was still pretty wet so it was a relief to set off with a blue sky.

Half Way Storm

Today was a momentous day, for a couple of reasons. Firstly, I’ve now completed 23 stages and have 22 to go, so I’m counting down the days to Banyuls. Secondly, it was the fourth and final of the extreme grade days, so from here on things should be a little bit easier. Unfortunately, just as I was beginning to celebrate, nature stepped in and threw the biggest storm yet at us.

The High Point

Today began with a short sharp climb from the refuge up to Col Inférior des Literoles which, at 2,983m, is the highest that the HRP goes. We had a great climb up, both feeling pretty strong after our two half-days.

Reaching the high-point of the route felt great, but obviously we couldn’t leave it at that, so we climbed on up the remaining 17m and took a few photos at 3,000m.

Beaucoup de Vent

Two things happened after I wrote yesterday’s post. The first was that I did actually manage to swim (a single stroke) in our icy lake. The second was that the sun disappeared and we experienced the biggest storm we’ve seen so far. So don’t believe anything you read on this blog.

The storm had been forecast, and was one of the reasons we decided not to tackle the Col des Gourgs-Blancs - the guidebook says it’s dangerous in bad weather. Actually, if I’m being perfectly honest, we’d decided to have the two half-days before we found out about the weather, but the storm seems like a better excuse than being tired, so we’ll just pretend, ok?

Chilling at the Lac des Isclots

Mountain lakes can be a little chilly at times. Klaas and I are currently paused by one called Lac des Isclots, which is fed by a glacier and a large number of snowfields. When we decided to camp here we’d wondered about being able to wash or swim in the lake, but I’d only walked out far enough to cover my knees before my feet were so painfully cold that I had to go back to the shore. I tried swimming in a similar lake once and took one stroke away from the shore before realising I might just freeze solid and die - I’m not making that mistake again.

Goodbye waymarks...hello HRP

One of the most impressive things we’ve seen so far is the destruction caused by avalanches. Every now and again we’ve been walking along the side of a hill and have come to a stripe down the mountain where all the trees are broken off at the stumps, while down at the bottom of the slope there’s a big pile of rocks and trees and sometimes still some snow. It’s hard to imagine seeing it happen - watching a band of trees, sometimes several hundred metres wide, being wiped out in a matter of seconds.

Decision Day Looms

In the next 36 hours, Klaas and I need decide whether we’re going to tackle the toughest 3 days of the HRP or take a diversion onto the GR11, on the grounds that the current snow levels make the HRP too dangerous. I mentioned yesterday that I was trying to convince Klaas to join me on the HRP but, after I’d written that last night, we read his guidebook. Whereas mine says the route may be dangerous in bad weather, the Véron guide suggests a rope might come in handy and isn’t very positive about the chances of survival even then.

The Klaas and Jonny Show

After a couple of nights partying in Gavarnie, it was back to work today. The gang split up, with The Felice and Ryan Show heading south in search of the Odessa National Park, while the newly formed Anglo-Dutch partnership headed east.

It was quite sad last night saying goodbye to the other guys. From here on we reckon we’re less likely to meet again, though they’re hoping to end around the same time as me, so we may see each other in Banyuls.

The boys (and girl) are back in town

At the end of the first stage I arrived in Lescun and the first people I met were the American couple, Ryan and Felice, looking for an internet outside the post office. Yesterday I popped into the Office de Tourisme in Gavarnie to find somewhere to stay, and they’d finally found the internet, courtesy of Gavarnie’s single networked PC. They immediately accused me of being Klaas’s friend and told me he was waiting for me at the campsite, which made me feel a bit bad as I’d already decided to stay in a hostel, due to the weather forecast.

Section Two - Complete

The second section of the HRP came to an end today, with a great climb from Refuge des Oulettes de Gaube, followed by a dull descent into Gavarnie.

I left the refuge at 07:40 for the climb up to Hourquette d’Ossoue (2,734m) with a few early morning clouds clearing, but the weather didn’t seem to be able to make up its mind and the clouds came back as I progressed. The route from the refuge was on the GR10 all the way to Gavarnie, so was easy to follow until the snow, but even then there were some footprints. Remembering Mark’s advice, I ignored the crampons and made as much use as I could of the islands of rock, but as these ran out I put the crampons on and headed over the col (photo), meeting a couple of people coming the other direction. The snow went all the way down the other side to Refuge de Baysellance, which I reached shortly before 10:00.

A month's extra snow

Because there’s a lot more snow around than usual, there’s also a lot more water in the stream and rivers. The path I was following came to a crossing after about 30 minutes this morning, but the water was way too high to cross. Someone had kindly placed some big metal pipes every couple of feet and piled rocks between them to try and create some stepping-stones, but the entire construction was under water.