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.

Lost in the Snow

When I was writing about Port du Lavédan yesterday I didn’t mention a minor injury to my foot, as it didn’t seem important at the time. I’d been standing almost still and my left boot had slipped between 2 rocks, one above the other, so the side of my foot had been squashed between the rocks. I’d sworn at the time and thought how painful it was, then carried on.

The Fear is Here

The guidebook I’m using gives each day a grade to indicate how hard it is. Grade 3 is a short easy walk, grade 2 is a “classic HRP day” with a fair amount of ascending and descending, and grade 1 is “suitable only for experienced, well-trained mountaineers.” The vast majority of days are grade 2, with a few of grades 1 and 3.

There is a fourth grade, E, which stands for extreme. There are 4 of these, and today was the first. I’d been looking forward to it, as it was the first day that involved serious snowfield crossings, but I’m no-longer looking forward to the others!

The Mighty Face Flannel

Ford Prefect almost got it right when he advised Arthur Dent that a towel was the most important thing to take with him, but personally I’d always take a face flannel if space or weight were restricted. The flannel has proved its worth time and again: you can wash with limited water supplies, e.g. using a bucket; if you want to wash in a cold stream it limits the amount of cold water splashed around and you stay warmer; in a shower where you have only 3 pushes, it adds flexibility; and of course, if you wring it out, you can use it as a towel, so Arthur would have ben fine.

There is a risk. Would you like a lift?

Spending a couple of months walking 800km solo across the Pyrenees brings with it the odd risk, but I’ve done what I can to reduce with the risks I know about. The only thing I’m not sure how to deal with is bears, but I read a leaflet last night that said stand up tall and don’t run, so even bears may be covered now.

Today I stopped, as I do from time to time, to consult the guidebook and see where I should be heading. As I was reading, I was warned by a random Spanish walker that the route I was about to take was very risky. When it became obvious that I couldn’t understand anything he said, he called his wife over to translate into French, but it still wasn’t clear exactly what he thought the risk was. He was so concerned about the unspecified risk though, that he suggested I descend a different way and he’d drive me to wherever I wanted to go!

The first orage

When I first arrived in Lescun on Thursday, I met an American couple outside the post office, who told me that England had drawn their third match of the World Cup and been knocked out. I don’t know whether that was an honest mistake or a wind-up, but it wasn’t until Klaas showed me the results in his paper that I discovered the truth. If I was near a bookie’s I’d bet my tent on the Germans beating us on penalties.