The End of the Road

Despite the best efforts of the storms, the snow, a bear and a load of mountains, I arrived back at sea-level yesterday at 16:20, just over 7 weeks after leaving Hendaye. The journey (which was roughly 800km with 40,000m of climbing) took 50 days, 20 hours and 50 minutes in total, including 6 rest days.

In keeping with the theme of the trip, the weather threw one last curve-ball, and I spent the morning in gloves and a wooly hat. Despite being only hours from the Mediteranean, the bitterly cold northerly wind made it feel like winter. I set off in sun feeling reasonably warm but soon arrived in cloud, and after an hour or two my hands were so numb I was having trouble turning on the GPS! I was also regularly blown off the path, sometimes by three or four steps, so it wasn’t quite the easy stroll to the sea I’d hoped for!

Canigou Baby, Yeah!

When I left Estany Bleu, my home on Friday night, I climbed back onto the ridge I’d been following from the top of the Vallée d’Eyne, and carried on heading east. The guidebook suggested dropping down to Refuge Ull de Terr but I’d been advised to stick to the ridge, so I bagged a few more summits, including Bastiments at 2,881m, with some magnificent views.

I began feeling a bit low as I came along the ridge – partly because I wasn’t following the book and so had no way of guaging progress, and partly because I was worried about where to get water and where to camp that night.

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 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.

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.

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?

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.

This is more like it...

After days of miserable weather in the rolling foothills of the Pyrenees, the last couple of days have finally provided some proper mountains and some fantastic views. You’ll have to take my word for it I’m afraid as the phone charge situation is still bad, but I’ll upload some photos when I get to a PC that can read my camera’s memory card.

Tuesday began with an amazing climb of Pic d’Orhy from Iraty. The weather began warm and clear, but there were clouds building near the mountain and by the time I started climbing I was back in familiar surroundings - thick fog. After about 30 minutes climbing up a steep slope wearing hat and gloves, I suddenly found myself staring over the edge of a huge cliff, with unlimited visibility. Behind me there was a wall of fog and visibility of under 30m, but in front there were mountains and valleys stretching to the horizon.

Still Alive

I haven’t passed anywhere with Internet for a few days and the phone is getting very low, but I thought I’d better just reassure anyone who thought the bears might have got me already.

The weather has gradually got clearer over the last three days and today the sun finally appeared for the first time. There’s been a bitter northerly wind though, so I spent yesterday in fleece, goretex, hat and gloves - it was more like spring in Scotland than summer in France! The wind kept things pretty cool again today but, after a week of dark clouds and fog it was a huge relief not to have to worry about rain. To celebrate I washed some clothes and hung them off the back of my bag to dry.

A break in the rain

To speak to people in this part of the world you need to know Basque, French and Spanish. My French is passable, and I can say hello, thankyou and goodbye in Spanish, but it was a great relief when the lady who ran the taverna last night spoke a few words of English. She explained this morning that it’s rained for the last 10 days, and said “this year is very strange”! She then read something from the local paper, telling me it had rained a huge amount on the local mountain yesterday. Having been there at the time, this didn’t come as a huge surprise, but she was making an effort so I thanked her anyway.

Dark Days

It’s probably a good thing I couldn’t post anything last night, as it wouldn’t have been very positive. I had a wet and windy night on Tuesday, on a hill about 2 hours outside Hendaye, and the rain carried on all through Wednesday. I arrived at what should have been the end of day 1 completely soaked and demoralised, and stayed in a hostel to try and dry some kit out.