Luz-Saint-Sauveur to Bareges
Only a short day today of 12.1 km with an ascent of 832m and 312 descent according to the English guidebook. The trouble was the English book diverged substantially from the French guide. Since we had found the time estimates of the French guide more reliable than the English, we decided to follow the French Connection: Aller les Bleus!
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| Just leaving Luz |
In point of fact, we made our own route up. When we left Luz, we climbed up to the challet above the village and crossed the road to the village of Esterre only to find we were climbing steeply "off piste" up the side of the hill. We finally came to a road that seemed to lead down to the highway, which we crossed and finally made our way up steeply to resume the French route at Viey. The trail then contoured up to Sers and then continued on to a small shrine to St Justin at the top of a sharp arete that overlooked the valley floor below.
We decided to have our lunch on nice little bench in the gully by the stream before the final climb to St Justin but nearly froze as the stream was probably ice-melt coming of the peak above. Nice lunch though.
When we got to the top we found a small creperie with a very jolley "crepier" who served us a nice hot espresso.
The rest of the walk decended gently in to Bareges where we find "un catastrophe" the previous year had completely wiped the camp ground off the map (it is probably somewhere near Toulouse by now). Fortunately we were booked in to Le Hotel Alphee where, after a bit of haggling over the room (the room we were shown initially had builders tools on the bed and hadn't been cleaned since "le catastrophe") we spend a cosy night with a menu which included the by-now-ubiquitous confit de canard.
They even had a nice spot to sit out in the fog and mist to have a smoke:
Bareges to Chalet d'Oredon (campsite)
Woke early to find Bareges shrouded in mist and low cloud. The day was going to be a long one if we were to complete the recommendation by the guidebook: 22.7k, 1309m of ascent and 728m of descent. It was also recommended to do this day in good weather as the views from the top of the col were spectacular.
We decided to set out in the fog, in the hope that the cloud might lift however this did not prove to be the case. Most of the day was spent walking through mist with an occasional glimpse of our surroundings as the cloud briefly lifted. Having said that, we were able to see the Pyrenees in another of its more wondrous moods.
We climbed out of Bareges, following the road initially as the GR10 trail had been interrupted in places by the catastrophe the previous year. This was interesting in itself as we were on the ascent to the Col de Tourmalet of Tour de France fame. Indeed, a number of cyclists passed as obviously experiencing the rigours of this awesome climb.
After a brief stop on the Pont de la Gaubie, where some goats tried (rather insistently to my mind) to share our breakfast, we started up the valley first to our south and then east climbing through a world of rock and sparse forest culminating in a climb to a caban/shelter, where we made a cup of tea and had a well-earned lunch of baguette and cheese washed down with a glass of Bordeaux's finest (thank you again Sister Helen).
We descended steeply for the next hour or so to come down to beautiful lake with "no camping" signs picketed on every suitable campsite that we came across.
We understood that camping was only to be found near the refuge (to call it a "chalet" is overstating the case somewhat) a little further down next to an industrial site where construction appeared to be proceeding on the dam wall. Again we found the "no camping" signs where we were expecting the bivouac area and finally gave up and planted our tent on piece of ground that we could at least argue did not have an "interdit" sign: "They were AT LEAST 10 metres away Sir".
We finally crawled in to our tent for a rather chilly "picnic" and were asleep by about 9.00pm. It had been a wonderful day's walking through some beautiful terrain (even if we didn't quite see it all).
Chalet d'Oredon to Campsite 400m above Vielle-Aure
We awoke to views of the saw-tooth range of 3000+m peaks that surrounded the lake.
The morning was crystal clear but icy. Our tent was crusted in frost and it took me the best part of an hour to de-frost my hands (with a little help from the gas stove once it had spluttered in to life) after I got out of the tent.
Packing the tent and getting under way in the frosty morning proved, if not difficult, at least challenging. We finally got moving and were soon getting warm as we regained the trail, stopping first at our "false col" where we had something to eat, then traversing high above the lakes below which are part of a complex network of hydro dams that supply electricity to the surrounding region.
As we descended to Lac de l'oule we came across a group of very fit young men bounding up the side of the mountain. We decided they must have been a rugby side with the ageing fitness coach leading the way up the hill at brisk trot. Mind you, if they were playing the following day, I wish them luck as their legs would have been a bit shaky.
We arrived at the lake some 400m below about midday and spent a leisurely half hour collecting ourselves before cirumnavigating the waters edge before commencing our climb for the afternoon. Stopped for lunch and spread all our wet tents, sleeping bags and thermarests in the sun to dry. Can you believe that after nearly 3 hours walking the tent still had ice on it!
Climbing again steeply and debating the French term "bifurcation" with equal vigour, we soon came across a junction of 2 trails (ah, that is what a bifurcation is!), we took a sharp right turn and found ourselves traversing high above the lake that we had been walking alongside only an hour or so before.
After leaving the lake view behind, we continued along a path that lead through a high, dished plateau that had all the impedimenta of a ski field: chair lifts, pommel traces, apre ski cafes (sadly closed at this time of year) etc. Not very attractive without the snow!
We crossed yet another col and and commenced a gentle, long descent down a series of ridge lines and through paddocks.
Stopping every now and then to "acclimatise" :)
At one point we encountered a large mob of sheep swarming along the trail and were brought to an abupt halt by a loud and prolonged stream of invective, delivered at great volume by a shepherdess with a pork pie hat and a very threatening shepherds crook. The abuse came to a halt after we sat down to let the sheep pass, apologising in our highly Antipodean inflected French pateau. "Paaah, EEngleeesh" was the last thing we heard her mutter as she stomped by.
After another couple of hours of decending, we decided we didn't have the time or the energy to complete the descent in to Vielle-Aure, so we set up the tent on the only 2 square metres of moderately flat ground that we could find. The last 400 metres could wait till the morrow.
Campsite 400m above Vielle-Aure to Loudenvielle
We decended in to Vielle-Aure by 11.00 and soon found the Carefour supermarket. After a couple of days on "short-commons" we went berserk: 2 litres of gaspacho, orange juice, a whole chicken, melon, nectarines, 2 baguettes, butter (ah the French butter!), cheese. Our friend, Bernie came past with his packet of lettuce and pre-made croutons (such is the life of an Hibernian vegetarian in France) and could not believe we were going to carry this load of food. "Pah" said Rachael (she had been taking lessons from our Shepherdess friend) "this is just to eat NOW".
After our sumptuous repast, we waddled on our way up the hill through a number of villages then on the long relatively gentle climb, dodging cow-pats to the col overlooking Loudenville. We encountered a French couple who lived near the Mediteranean end of the GR10 and were doing the full-traverse, who were coming the other way. We assumed they were father and daughter. An American couple and their daughter, we met a day or so later, had also been speculting about the nature of their relationship - having debated the possibilities for the 2 days before we met them. The couple, Peter and Pam, were sure they were a "secret liasion". Such is the nature of discussions which consume the hours of Intrepid Travellers wandering in outlandish places! Alas the mystery must remain unresolved.
After a slow and testing descent to Loudenvielle, a fashionalble non-village, with elaborate campsites and lay-bys for the Grey Pilgrims of Europe (but no hotels) we finally found our way to a delightful Chambre d'hotes on the edge of the village.
Dinner was had in the only restaurant in town and consisted of a huge bowl of meat and vegetables which included large portions of pork belly, confit d'canard and root veges in a traditional dish that was half way between a soup and a caserole. When I pushed my plate away with the affirmation that I was finished, the waitress looked at me with a deriding look and dismissive "non". I was obliged to finish the final 2 litres of soup and kilo of potatoes remaining in the cauldron before I could have my pudding. Rachael, accomplished trencherman that she is, did not have this problem.
Loudenvielle to Lac d'Oo
We were up and away early the following morning as we had a long day to get to the lake. As we had not completed the final climb to the village of Germ (see the French DO have a sense of humour) we had a further 1½ hour climb of over 400m to complete in addition to the recommended 15.7km, 1176m ascent and 1011m descent that was required to get to Lac d'Oo.
Rach couldn't resist the apples hanging just within reach on the outskirts of Germ.
Filling one's bladder takes on a whole new meaning at the local water fountain:
The first part of the day consisted of a steep climb to a pass at 2131m. We were passed by a group of 4 very serious looking hunters who looked as though they may have been wildlife wardens (who else wears orange reflective vests?) They deployed at intervals of about 200 vertical metres across the hillside we were climbing. We had heard some discussion the previous night about 2 stags that had been competing for a herd of deer, causing problems for a number of people and wondered if this may have been the purpose of their activities.
Rach was again on good form and was climbing very stongly to the top of the pass. I, on the other hand, found the final ascent to the pass very testing. My pack had not felt so heavy for a long time and I was reduced to low-low range, breathing and counting ever step to the top.
We had a great lunch of cheese, wine and chicken baguettes (left over from our lunch the previous day) and then made a rapid descent to the valley floor where preparations were in-train for a mountain bike race the following day. The beer at the bar on the valley floor was particularly welcome.
The final part of the day consisted of a 400m climb up to the Lac d'Oo where we were greeted by Peter, one of the American trio referred to earlier, who had been told by the gite owner, Jerone that they were having a "Wild birthday party" that evening. Sonja, Jerone's partner, confirmed that Jerome's teammates from the local rugby club would be arriving soon so we might like to get into showers.
Preparing to brave the worst (they were a rugby club after all) we took a room and were delighted to be shown to a 2-bed room, somewhat away from the main dorm and upstairs from the scene of Jerome's potential demise. In the event, we had a fun night, eating with 2 men and a boy who were staying in the Electricity Commission chalet nearby and a rather drunk French guy and his girlfriend from Toulouse who warned me, most earnestly, about the perils of drinking vin rouge AFTER desert.
Lac d'Oo to Bagneres-de-Luchon
Woke early to find the lock forward propping up the bar, beer-in-hand attended by one of the ladies-of-the-club, cigarette in hand and batting her sumptuous eyelashes. Cute!
Had a bit of a problem with brekkie as Sonja, the hostess needed some prodding to get organised, but all in all were ready for a good day's walk, pretty much on-time.
I was a bit concerned to see what I assumed must have been the American trio already halfway up the rather daunting hillside, proceeding by headlamp. We were soon following however and the climb up from the lake was stunning. We passed a group of French guys with bright green hats coming down the hill. They had had a buck's night the previous night on the lake above and all looked remarkably tidy. I had to drag Rach away from the Richard Gere/Pretty Woman look-alike who was paying far too much attention to Ma Fem!!!! The guys looked remarkably tidy after a bucks night by a mountain lake. Even the prospective Bridegroom scrubbed up pretty well despite being dressed as a horse.
Came up to the saddle in good time. We were walking strongly and really enjoying ourselves. The very steep dismount off the other side of the pass gave us a few moments pause for thought but this was soon over. We then went up and down for the next couple of hours passing up and down between 2150m no less than nine times.
It was certainly our day for encountering well-presented Frenchmen. We came across a tour group of about 10 people led by an Arnie Schwarzenager look-alike, who was most helpful in providing tips on how to proceed.
For the next hour or two we descended slowly across the side of the mountain, coming finally to a place called Superbagneres where we had the option of taking a cable-car down the 1200m descent. Intrepid as ever, and not a little put off by the sight of this ugly manifestation of snowfield infrastructure, we started down the side of the mountain with the firm resolve of getting to Luchon by 7.00pm.
We had been chatting about how nice it would be to sit down at a picnic table to eat our lunch, when lo and behold, just around the bend was a small gazebo shaped shelter with a picnic table beside it. After emptying our packs of anything surplus: cheese and sausage we ate, wine we drank and water we used to wash our utensils, we proceeded down.
We had been dreading this final part of the day but it proved remarkably pleasant. We a walked beneath a beautiful forest canopy that varied depending on height and aspect and was graded in a series of switchbacks that appeared to be used by mountain bikes. It began to rain and while we arrived at our chambre d'hotes rather soggy, it was not unpleasant in the dense forest.
We arrived in Luchon at 6.30 and after some rather confusing directions which, in the end led us through the beautiful main street of the town to our accommodation. We were greeted by the delightful Nicole and her husband Daniel, who showed us to the most delightful room on the first floor overlooking the swans and ducks in the lake opposite.
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