Pyrenees Traverse 2018: Western Foothills

Prologue

Walking the Pyrenean Haute Route from the Atlantic.

There’s 506 miles to the Mediterranean, I’ve got a full bottle of meths, half a kilo of peanut butter, it’s hot and I’m wearing a raincoat. Hit it

3rd October: Day 1

Today: 21 miles – 5,977ft ascent

I camp with a German trainee dentist, who seems to have learnt her English accent from posh people in Miss Marple. The accent is convincing, but it is disconcerting to be told about dental training by a member of the English upper class, who is actually German, while eating mash potato from a bag in the dark.

She is thru-hiking in the other direction so is just finishing. She seems impressed that I am heading off into the mountains at this late stage in the season, with snow coming in and all the huts along the route shut. Of course, the truth is, I don’t really know what I’m doing.

I’ll only meet one other thru-hiker this trip.

Leaving the Atlantic

Looking back on Hendaye

4th October: Day 2

Today: 23 miles – 6,300ft ascent; Cumulative: 44 miles – 12,227ft ascent

I run out of water for about 4 hours.

I spend some time considering climbing a fence and using the animal trough in the field at the back of a farmhouse.

I spend less time considering knocking on the door and asking – that would be embarrassing at the best of times, and now I’d have to go through embarrassing myself in 3 languages. That seems to play into the hands of the French lady on the train who didn’t believe I could survive with only rudimentary English behind me.

I end up at the side of a lane a few miles later, using a leaf to fill my bottles from a drip. It takes maybe half an hour, and occasionally a 4×4 full of hunters drives past and I stare nonchalantly into the middle distance as if to say: don’t worry guys this is all part of the plan.

(The guidebook lists loads of water sources – the problem is there’s been a whole summer of record breaking heatwave/drought and they’ve all dried up. Luckily, in a couple of days I’ll have more water than I know what to do with…)

5th October: Day 3

Today: 20 miles – 4,400ft ascent; Cumulative: 64 miles – 16,627ft ascent

The Reverse Camino
 
My day 3 overlaps with day 1 of a route of the Camino de Santiago..  Great hordes of Americans hove into view, coming up the hill that I’m going down.
 
I’m feeling very superior, mine is the greater adventure, I’m thinking: mine is 500 miles east through the mountains, their 500 miles south into Spain only crosses the mountains once (now). I’m ready to bask in their admiration and maybe impart a little mountain wisdom on them.
 
An American lady peels off from the crowd. For some reason she is also looking very superior, and slightly pitying. I’m confused.
 
Her: are you going home?
Me: no, I’m. I mean. Not yet. I.. (have some mountain wisdom for you..?)
Her: are you injured? Can I help you?
Me: no.. (can I help *you*? With my mountain wisdom and stuff?)
Her: was today a bit much for you? You’re going back to the start?
 
Oh. I see. She thinks I’m doing the Camino and have given up 10 miles in. As will everyone else who I pass and have the same conversation with over the next 2 hours. So begins the Reverse Camino Pity Party.

6th October: Day 4

Today: 18 miles – 5,961ft ascent; Cumulative: 82 miles – 22,588ft ascent

I read the guidebook in the morning. It describes the ridge today as the first properly ‘difficult’ section of the route – which is its euphemism for terrifying.

It turns out to be a knife edge ridge with a sheer drop into a mist covered abyss either side, with a strong crosswind.
I’m definitely terrified, but then elated to survive – I can do this, maybe it’s all going to be fine…

I look at the guidebook again in the evening, and realise I’d misread it. The ridge of certain death is tomorrow, not today – this ridge today didn’t even register as something worth mentioning to a real hiker. Embarrassing. 

7th October: Day 5

Today: 11 miles – 4,209ft ascent; Cumulative: 93 miles – 26,797ft ascent

Snowden’s secret

It’s been raining most of the day. I’m cold, and hungry, and getting higher and colder.

Why am I so cold? I shouldn’t be this cold.

I unzip my coat to reveal the secret, the hidden wound underneath my flak jacket. My clothes are soaked through – my raincoat has failed. This will be a problem.

I stop at 3pm and listen smugly to the rain thundering against my tent for the next 15 hours. I’ll be less smug tomorrow morning when I have to put all my wet clothes back on.

8th October: Day 6

Today: 22 miles – 4,701ft ascent; Cumulative: 115 miles – 31,498ft ascent

Start the day in wet clothes.
 
Luckily Lescun promises a bed and a bakery.
 
But Lescun has lied to me – neither of those thing are on offer there.

It’s dark and I’m walking through farm land trying to find somewhere to camp.
 
It’s another 3 miles to the start of wilderness to camp. I need to get past this farm first.

A large Alsatian dog comes out into the lane to discuss some concerns he has with me.

I explain that there is nothing suspicious about a man walking around his farm in the dark with a torch and a big bag, and I’m happy with him barking and drooling where he is, if he lets me walk slowly past him.

He politely explains that his view is that men with torches and bags are exactly the sort of people he is supposed to brutally tear apart. If I’m willing to be brutally torn apart, that’s a service he’s happy to provide.

As a compromise, I suggest that I run away, and camp on the verge next to the farm entrance. He grudgingly accepts this – in the happy knowledge that the farmer will be driving a tractor in and out of that entrance from 3am onwards.
 
Next up: the High Pyrenees

Lescun, a local village – there is nothing for me there.

Photo taken the next morning after a night spent wondering whether it’s worse to be attacked by a dog or run over by a tractor.