Day 119: In the Snow
After a good night of sleep, we take a look outside. The snow has left a thin white carpet on the wet grass. The trail looks like Christmas, with no sign of the Indian summer that seems to have decided to ignore us this year.
A few moments after we start walking, the same growls as yesterday echo through the forest. Damn, it really sounds like we are on a bear’s territory. We start clacking our trekking poles again to announce our presence, but suddenly Alex realises they are not bear growls. They are deer calls.
For those who do not know what I mean, at the beginning of every autumn, deer gather in the big forests of France to mate. In other words, it is the season of love. To attract females and scare off rivals, the males “roar” and their cries echo through the whole forest. That is where our imaginary bear sounds came from. Problem solved, we can move on in peace.
After passing a little ghost village called Noarre, we continue toward Estany de Gallina, an alpine lake in Spain. Because yes, we are in Spain now. In my mind, I had always associated Spain with blazing sun and heat. Let’s just say it contrasts with the nonstop snowfall.
After a good climb, we reach Refuge Mont Roig, which makes me think of a refuge built for astronomers on a mission. The refuge is elevated to protect people sheltering there in case of avalanche. Frozen from the cold, we decide to eat breakfast inside. The refuge can host up to twelve people and has twelve mattresses and blankets. For a free, unstaffed shelter, that is pretty amazing.
We leave shortly after, moving through fairy tale landscapes. We pass Estany de Gallina, which will remain one of the most beautiful places of my crossing of France. I do not know if it is the snow adding extra magic, but I am completely dazzled by what is in front of my eyes. Alex tells me that so far, this is his most beautiful day on the trail.
Next we tackle Col de Calberante, which gives us a panoramic view of the surrounding lakes. With the wind and snow, we do not stay long at the top, and we begin a long descent toward the staffed refuge of Alos d’Isil.
I had pictured the Pyrenees as a rocky, barren place, and I am amazed by the diversity. Sometimes we are on boulder fields, sometimes walking through a green valley with wild horses, sometimes skirting a lake of pure blue. The scenery keeps changing and surprises us at every turn.
After a long, steady day, we finally reach the refuge. We are the only hikers there, which means a twenty bed dorm just for the two of us. Not bad.
For the past few days, I had been in contact with the owner to make sure the refuge would be open when we arrived, and to confirm if resupply was possible. He had mentioned cheese, cured sausage, and plenty of other items. But on site, there is only an already opened box of semolina, no thanks, some packaged bread rolls, and low calorie snack bars sold at one euro each, when you could buy ten for the same price in a shop. It is disappointing because we planned our food around this resupply. But we have to deal with it.
So we buy dinner and breakfast to avoid using the little rations we have left. We eat a strange meal made of gazpacho, probably straight from a can, a weird mix of assorted meats, I prefer not to know where the floating fatty bits come from, and canned peaches. Eighteen euros for the lot. Ouch. I wonder what breakfast will look like tomorrow. Good night.
Day 120: 2400 Metres of Elevation Gain
The next day starts with the best breakfast of my life, sarcasm again. For ten euros, we get filter coffee, two pieces of bread and butter. Oh yes, and a small biscuit. What a feast.
We set off quickly, aiming for twenty kilometres. It sounds short, but the main challenge is the 2000 metres of elevation gain on top of the distance. Like every time we leave a village or town, the trail begins with a big climb to get back into higher mountains. Under a nice sun, we swallow the first kilometres. Considering that breakfast, we have to swallow something.
Just before returning to a more trail like path, we are walking on a main road when we suddenly hear dogs barking. We quickly spot the source. Three huge patous run toward us, looking threatening. As I learned from the Écrins park ranger, we do not move and we wait for them to come. It feels counterintuitive to stay still, but it is the right behaviour, because running or backing off can make them defensive and possibly attack. They charge in, but after sniffing us and realising we are not wolves, they calm down.
Very quickly they turn affectionate. One asks to be petted, and the moment I stop, he looks at me with pleading eyes. It never ends. After a good twenty minutes, we continue, saying goodbye to my new friend.
Around noon, we reach a first magnificent unstaffed refuge, Refuge Gracia Airoto. Six Spaniards are there, having spent the night. After their breakfast, they leave with their packs, except they leave one person behind. We do not understand until we hear a rescue helicopter arriving. We talk with the young hiker and she tells us she injured her knee. Not severe, but she cannot get back to town on her own. A team of five rescuers comes to pick her up. Watching the helicopter land and lift off in the middle of that field is impressive. When it takes off, we step back because the downwash is powerful.
After lunch, we continue on a trail that is no longer really a trail. We are in a section called Airoto, the invisible trail. No markings at all, we rely one hundred percent on the track on our phone. Luckily, it is not too technical, except for a long stretch of boulder fields.
We pass the little alpine lake of Muntanyó, then begin the climb to Col de l’Estany. The ascent is short but extremely steep. You cannot walk straight up, you have to go sideways. The day is already well advanced, and we are slower than planned because several parts are technical. After the descent, we link up a series of alpine lakes.
In the lake area, our pace cannot be more than two kilometres per hour. The trail is not even a rough path anymore, it is just an endless field of big rocks where you have to pick your way through without rolling an ankle. It is exhausting because it requires constant focus.
Even though it is getting late, we take a well deserved pause on a small beach by a lake. We are alone in the world, taking in the landscape spread out in front of us. We snack heavily and try to regain strength.
Not long after leaving, we hit another climb on unmarked boulder fields. Honestly, I am glad I am not alone on this terrain. Feeling isolated out there would have added a lot of stress, while with Alex, we can rely on each other if anything goes wrong and enjoy the crossing to the fullest.
Around 6.00 pm, we cross a busy road that marks the entrance to Aigüestortes National Park. In this area, bivouacking is strictly forbidden, so we have to plan our days from refuge to refuge. It is late, everything hurts, and we have only done nineteen kilometres. We have to keep going. Since there are brown bears in this park, we want to arrive before dark. There are still six kilometres left with more than 800 metres of elevation. We need to push, because the sun sets around 8.00 pm. Challenge accepted. Music blasting, we go for the last effort of the day.
The scenery shift is drastic and beautiful. Sadly, we cannot stop much for photos, darkness is coming fast.
After two hours and thirty minutes of sweat, we arrive at the refuge at the start of nightfall, completely exhausted. We just did over 2400 metres of elevation gain on twenty five kilometres, a climbing record in a single day for both of us. We hug and congratulate each other. Dinner is going to taste incredible tonight. In the refuge, we meet Dani, another hiker planning to climb the peaks of Saboredo and Gerber tomorrow morning. We chat a bit, but given how late it is, we head to sleep. We set our alarm early to catch sunrise over the mountains.
Day 121: A Sprained Ankle
The next morning, we leave with our new companion toward Col de l’Estany Gelat. Yesterday clearly took a toll, we struggle to find a pace that does not hurt too much. Thankfully, the landscapes live up to the Pyrenees’ reputation. From the top, we get a full 360 degree view over the whole range. But we do not linger, because today is busy too. We want to reach Refuge Ventosa i Calvell, twenty one kilometres away. That distance might sound easy compared to what we have done before, but it includes several kilometres of boulder fields. Friends who passed here a few days earlier took five hours just to cross that boulder chaos. We have to move fast. The alternative is a twelve kilometre day to Refuge d’Estany Long. We would have liked something in between, but since bivouacking is forbidden, those are our only two options.
After the climb, we say goodbye to Dani, who continues toward other summits nearby. For us, it is time to descend toward Refuge de l’Amitges. Five minutes into the descent, I am already furious at the trail, because it is nothing but endless big rocks. Climbing boulder fields is fine. Descending them, I hate it. I am already slow on a normal descent, so on boulders it is hell. And I am with Mr Acrobat, Alex, who moves so fast in this terrain that I swear he floats above the rocks.
In the end, after many well timed curses, we reach Refuge de l’Amitges at noon. We just took four hours to do five kilometres. Oops. We need to change plans, no way we reach the second refuge before dark. So it will be a small twelve kilometre day. That is life.
With this new plan, we can take our time and enjoy the area. Only seven kilometres left. We order a sandwich at the refuge. For six euros, we get a giant baguette stuffed with tomatoes and calabrese. Wow, we needed that. The rationing of the past days has made me truly hungry. After the big meal, we leave calmly.
Only a small climb remains, but I feel lazy and wiped out, a rough combination. To fix it, I put both earbuds in and play the playlist I used when I competed in swimming. It works, motivation comes back. Alex does the same and follows up the climb, a different rhythm in his ears.
At the top, it feels like an orchestra is playing for me. I sing at full volume, I dance, the good mood is back. I start descending toward Refuge d’Estany Long, with Alex not far behind.
Lost in my musical “performance,” I do not hear Alex yelling my name. It takes a good fifteen minutes before I realise the gap between us has grown a lot. I backtrack, and Alex tells me he badly twisted his ankle. Damn, damn, damn. Luckily, less than two kilometres remain to the refuge. He pushes through the pain and keeps walking. We will assess once we arrive.
Once there, the manager kindly gives us ice, another hiker gives a strong anti inflammatory, and a man hands over a topical cream. I am always touched by the camaraderie and small acts of kindness between hikers. Alex’s ankle is not swelling, which is a good sign, but he says the pain is worse than when he broke his foot. He thinks his adventure might be over. It breaks my heart for him. He worked hard for two months to come back and hike all October, and he might have to leave after only seven days. I am really sad at the thought of losing my friend for the rest of the Pyrenees. Still, we try to stay optimistic and hope that tomorrow, some little miracle happens.
Days 122 to 124: Going to Rest in Vielha
Unfortunately, the next morning, it is worse and the pain is stronger than the day before. Continuing on the main trail is impossible, and that trail has a special feature, ten kilometres in a row of dizzying boulder fields. Not exactly ideal for someone who can barely stand on one foot.
Luckily, we have an exit. By walking four kilometres on relatively flat terrain, we can leave the national park we are currently in. From that exit, a shuttle taxi runs back and forth to the nearest village. Then we can try hitchhiking to reach Vielha, a Spanish town on the HRP route. That would give Alex access to better medical gear, allow us to resupply and rest, while skipping only about twenty kilometres of the main trail.
Since I am exhausted too, a couple of days in town will do me good before heading back out. I truly hope Alex can continue after this rest. So we walk the short four kilometres slowly. After taking the shuttle, the real part begins. Vielha is not close. There is no bus, and it is a two hour car ride. Alright, luck, keep following me.
A first car picks us up and takes us to a slightly larger village. We only moved a few kilometres, but you have to start somewhere.
I go back to the roadside, thumb out. The first car slows down and keeps going. Do we look that wrecked? Then the magic happens. We see the same car coming back in the opposite direction, and it stops beside us. The driver asks where we are going and I say Vielha. He smiles and says that is exactly where he and his wife are headed. Charlotte is so lucky, as Hugo would say.
Thrilled, we ride with this lovely couple. Two hours later, they drop us in the beautiful town of Vielha. Since we are stuck here anyway, we make the most of it. Restaurants, hotel buffet, rest.
One big question remains. In two days, will Alex’s ankle be healed enough to head back out?
To be continued in the next episode, suspense added, even though you probably already guess the answer, and I am two months behind in my writing.