Across the Pyrenees

/ danielliu22

Hello, all!

I realize it’s been quite some time since I’ve posted anything on this blog.  The main reason for that is because I am not traveling quite as prolifically as before.  However, as some of you may know, I did just return from a month and a half trip to France which, predictably, involved some mountain backpacking, so even though this update is coming to you from Seattle, you will hopefully be able to enjoy some new stories of my most recent escapade.

I suppose the concept for this trip really began back in November or December, when I realized that with a little discipline, I would not only be able to make my financial goals, I would also be able to continue traveling and still come back to the States with more than $20 in my pocket.  So, I decided that this summer would be an opportune time to travel again.

For this trip, I was less ambitious than I had been on some of my other trips.  I was more interested in doing a classic hike, something that would involve a minimum of logistics and that would be relatively easy, avoiding things like navigational challenges, deep snow, etc.  Many Europeans had recommended that I check out the Pyrenees, a mountain range on the border of France and Spain.  While there are several backpacking routes that follow these mountains, I settled on the GR 10, a classic hike of roughly 600 miles that runs the length of the Pyrenees beginning on the Atlantic Ocean and terminating on the Mediterranean Sea and staying almost exclusively on the French side of the border.

The Pyrenees are somewhat like the Cascades in that snow can be in issue in some areas as late as July, so I left in mid-July, arriving in Paris and staying in that city for about a week.  I won’t bother recapping that particular trip as I very much followed tour guides to explore Paris–Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower, etc., etc.  Suffice it to say, I had a great time, met some great people, some some cool places, and then moved on to the Pyrenees.

The French Pyrenees are convenient in that they can be categorized into four distinct areas–Basque country, the High Pyrenees, the Ariege, and the Meditteranean.  Since this is my only post for the entire trip and is therefore quite long, I have divided the remainder of this post into these sections and have accompanied each section with photos for your convenience.

Basque Country

This area of the Pyrenees is very much typified by rolling green hills and pastureland, and is generally wetter than the eastern part the range.  I arrived at the western terminus, the sea resort town of Hendaye, late at night and slept on the beach.  The following morning was a frustrating search for a ground cloth, the one piece of equipment I still lacked.  I hadn’t bothered to pick one up in Seattle because I figured it would be easy to find a sheet of plastic in France.  As it turned out, finding that piece of plastic turned into a 3-hour search that finally ended at a local hardware store.

At last, I walked out of Hendaye and began a very hot trek into the hills along country roads and the occasional trail.  I was grateful to find that the waymarks on the trail were plentiful and clear, a convenience that I would enjoy for the entire trek.  As many of you may be aware, Europe at that time was in the middle of a very intense heat wave which, in addition to the typical fatigue that always accompanies the beginning of a thru-hike, made the walk very difficult.  In fact, those first two days may have been the hottest, most humid days I have ever been on trail, and I found myself wilting, sometimes wanting to throw up.  Fortunately, Day 3 saw some very heavy rain which in all other circumstances would be a complaint but in this case, was a welcome respite.  The cold weather was a comfort, and the heavy winds also drove away the swarms of insects that had been my constant companions.

The Basque area is truly unique, and I was able to experience a number of local delicacies including Gateau Basque, a delicious cake filled with cream that quickly became my new favorite dessert.  The red-shuttered houses and Pelota courts (Pelota is a Basque sport) passed by easily, as did the exotic town names that were always posted in both French and Basque.  One day, as I came down into a village, I met two men who conversing in and greeted me in the Basque language.  As a linguist, I cannot tell you how ridiculously happy this made me.  Basque is a language unique in the world, as it is a very ancient language that has no known relatives yet has managed to survive.  It is also one of the world’s few examples of ergative-absolutive language, a fact which I found to be absolutely fascinating.  Basque heritage and pride was also evident in the ETA posters and banners that I saw throughout this section.

I was annoyed at myself because on my first day of camping, I left a tent pole behind, rendering my tent unusable.  Fortunately, two days later, I was able to buy a walking stick that fulfilled the same function at St. Jean Pied-de-Port, a hiking center for pilgrims on the much more famous Camino de Santiago.  This turned out to be a double advantage as my orthotics were not supporting my feet correctly and causing pain that was sometimes severe, particularly on many descents, but this walking stick helped mitigate much of the pain.  This made it the first time I had ever used a walking stick.

After one particularly long day, I was enjoying a beer at a gite d’etape, a form of mountain accommodation, when I met a very outgoing man and his wife, on vacation from Paris.  In spite of the fact that he spoke virtually no English and I speak absolutely no French, we hit it off well and he ended up inviting me back to his place for dinner.  We spent a very nice evening eating and drinking before I finally left to set up camp at around midnight.  This was one of the few times I encountered some trail magic on the GR 10, and it made for a very special memory.  A few days later, I began seeing limestone, and I knew that I was getting close to the High Pyrenees who peaks grew ever closer.

 

 

High Pyrenees

After nearly a week in the Basque country, the landscape suddenly and dramatically began to change.  The transition was rapid, and went from hills to mountains in a single day.  This area of the Pyrenees has long been a staple of backpacking in Europe, and both tourists and the facilities that usually accompany them were plentiful.  Resupply was virtually effortless, the trails were in excellent condition, and the abnormally hot summer had melted the snow from every pass.

This section, in spite of its beauty, started off with a little bit of a disappointment.  One of the first stages was supposed to give stunning views of the Pic du Midi d’Ossau, one of the most famous peaks in the mountain range.  Unfortunately, on that day, I had a deep, pervasive fog that forbid any views of the mountains I was walking through.  In spite of this, the following day, the weather cleared, and I had excellent weather for the remainder of this section.

This section became very routine as the paths are well-established and clearly marked, and my life quickly entered that welcome space of waking up, walking, eating, and ending the day sipping a beer on a terrace with stunning mountain views.  Tourists in this area were primarily with groups and not much given to conversation with a dirty, smelly stranger, so I met few people and had few adventures.  The mountains soon brought me views of the majestic Vignemale peak, and this was followed by a succession of high passes, alpine lakes, and gorgeous summits.  At length, I found myself at the halfway point, enjoying a large salad and local produce before beginning the third and longest section, the Ariege.

 

 

The Ariege

The Ariege is technically the name of a region in France which also corresponds to this section of the Pyrenees.  It lies just north of Andorra, and here, the mountains become relatively low-lying, but still steep and well worth the effort it takes to hike them.  In spite of its natural beauty, this area does not attract anywhere close to the number of tourists that the High Pyrenees does, and as a result, it is relatively remote, especially for European-style backpacking.  Again, the transition from high limestone to lower-lying forested slopes was fast, within a day.

The section began with a climb up to the base of another famous mountain, Mount Valier, an alpine region that proved to be absolutely gorgeous.  The weather through here was not enjoyable–it changed often from a dead heat to rain and fog, and neither was ever fun.  However, the small towns were often quaint and people friendly in spite of their being virtually no economy in many of these areas.  People were often curious to know why an American was over here–as one woman told me, “Not even French people have heard of this place, so how did you end up here?”

One day, after a particularly demanding walk, I ended up paying for a bunk at a very nice gite.  The campground was nearly as expensive, so this way, I got a shower, a kitchen, and a very friendly host instead of the bug-infested campground and grumpy manager.  The next day also proved to be a big day, and I pushed myself quite hard to finish up the last stage I was on.  Exhausted, I discovered that the hotel and gite were already closed, and there was no campground in that particular town.  No problem for me, I thought, I’ve slept under bridges many times, and I found I nicely secluded area that was also covered.  I quickly made myself comfortable, laying out my few possessions, and went to unroll my sleeping bag…only, it wasn’t there.  In slow disbelief, I  realized that somehow, I had left it that morning, and unfortunately, I had already crossed several mountain passes that made returning for it very difficult.  Besides that, it was already so late that there was not much I could do.  I snuggled up as best I could beneath my jackets and spare clothes and spent a long, cold evening trying to be warm.

The following day, I walked to the next stage knowing that it was close to a relatively large town, and was able to get there by midday.  I was willing to sacrifice my sleeping bag if I could find an alternative, but even in town, I could not even find a blanket, and in the end, I was forced to take the long hitch back to where I had left it.

It had been a while since I had done any real hitchhiking, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that getting rides was not as difficult as I had anticipated.  It took me several hours, but I was extremely lucky in meeting a very generous and open individual from a tourist office who drove me the final section to pick up my bag, then drove me back.  We had a very pleasant conversation, as his English was excellent, and I learned quite a bit about local history, linguistics, and rural French lifestyles.

When we returned to his town, I met some people at a restaurant who had given me a ride, and they invited me to dine with them.  We enjoyed drinks and food together, and as they were also camping, I went with them to set up my tent.  We ended up in some field by a river with a guitar and took turns singing songs late into the evening when we finally went to bed.  The next day, I was even luckier than I had been on the way over–I got a hitch fairly early on that took me all the way to the town I had first left, so in the end, I was able to spend a day meeting some beautiful and generous people who were willing to help me out–not a bad misadventure.

From here, I enjoyed some intense climbs, the rock underfoot becoming trickier to navigate as the mountain trails crossed rough granite and ridge lines.  For the next few days, I struggled with rain and fog, but ended in a very nice hostel where I enjoyed the pleasant conversation of some fellow backpackers and a very good meal before starting the final push through the Eastern Pyrenees.

 

 

Mediterranean Pyrenees

This section is, predictably, the driest part of the GR 10, and after some great mountain views, it quickly drops down to lower elevations.  Here the flora and fauna changed rapidly from lush green ferns and verdant forests to low-lying shrubs and cork trees, and the quaint French farmhouses gave way to the red-tiled roofs and tan walls of the Mediterranean.  The trail now passed through areas that have historically been part of Catalonia, and this unique heritage began to present itself.

After the rain and fog and heat of the Ariege, my first day took me back into some high country as well as beautiful weather, but already, the land had changed to a dry, pastoral climate and long, relatively flat walks instead of steep climbs.  Unfortunately, I also discovered that this area was extremely buggy, and I found myself fighting biting, flying pests often.

Like the previous sections, this section also moved quickly to a famous peak known as Pic du Canigou.  While this peak is much lower in elevation than some of the other peaks on the trail, it is also very distinct.  Here, there was an alternative trail option to hike over the peak rather than follow the trail up and down several forested drainages.  While I do not usually take alternatives, I could see no justification for not climbing this peak.  The ascent and distance were about the same, but whereas the alternate route went directly into beautiful alpine territory, the official trail stayed basically in the forest.  I took the alternative, and it ended up being one of the best decisions I made on the trail.  This alternate is on par with other classic alternates such as walking the rim of Crater Lake on the PCT or going into the Cirque of Towers on the CDT–it is simply so much more spectacular than the official route that you would have to be crazy not to take it, and I sincerely hope that future GR 10 hikers also take this alternative, I cannot recommend it enough.

After Canigou, the trail became increasingly boring as I had left the alpine zone for the last time.  At this point, I got what we call on the Appalachian Trail “Katahdin Fever.”  Mt. Katahdin is the end point for most AT thru-hikers, and when you get close to that final destination, some people becomes really obsessed with finishing, hence, Katahdin Fever.  I now started caring less about the trail, which began deteriorating into some rather questionable walks, and more about finishing the trail.  Finally, there came a day when the sea came into view and as I dropped down to Banyuls-sur-Mer, my final destination, I met an American couple who had just finished the Houte Route Pyrenees, a high-elevation trail that parallels the GR 10.  Together, we walked into Banyuls victorious and celebrated with drinks and snacks.

Since I was in Catalonia, I figured it was impossible not to visit Barcelona, and so I finished my time in Europe with tapas and paella in that stunning city, surrounded by its own unique art and architecture.

For those who like to know, here are the final stats (all numbers taken from Brian Johnson’s guide, “Trekking the GR 10 Trail):

Days on trail:  25

Total ascent:  53000 meters (173885 feet)

= 2120 meters/day (6955 feet/day)

Total distance:  954 kilometers (593 miles)

= 38 km/day (23 miles/day)

For those of you who have been following this blog for some time, these stats will probably seem a little low to you.  I definitely took more time to relax on this trail than I have in the past.  I was also not quite as fit and dealing with poor orthotics, both of which also played a role in these low numbers.  On the other hand, the trail is typically divided into roughly 55 stages meaning that most hikers usually budget two months to finish while Brian Johnson writes that a strong hiker should be able to finish in 45 days, so perhaps these numbers aren’t so bad after all!

Before I sign off, I also wanted to give a special thank you to Gail Benning who very kindly and generously gave me a digital camera so that I could record this trip.  Thanks, Gail!  Here are the results!

As always, thanks for readiing!

Daniel “Cloudwalker” Liu

 

 

 

4 thoughts on “Across the Pyrenees”

Leave a comment