Background - Previous visits to the HRP

 The Pyrenees mountain chain forms the border between France and Spain. It starts on the Atlantic coast at Hendaye, south of Biarritz, and runs a little south of west for about 500 miles to the Mediterranean coast at Banyuls. Its highest point is the Pic d'Aneto at 3404m (11,168ft), and there are 129 summits over 3000m (9,843ft - so in other words 3,000m is 10,000ft, give or take. You are on your own with feet from now on, sorry!).

3,000m is a serious climb by any standards, but at least in the summer months, almost all of the Pyrenees is within the reach of a reasonably fit person who has mountain walking and scrambling experience. You don't need specialist equipment or technical climbing skills, though there are lots of climbing areas for those so inclined. The Pyrenees are much less popular than the Alps, and so less crowded. For me they are the perfect mountain range. Stretching but not impossible. Attractive but not crowded and not over-developed. Views to die for:

 The Refuge d'Ayous, a typical Pyrenees refuge, in front of the Lac d'Ayous. It is at 2,300m and had opened for the year only on the day I arrived, 14 June 2010. All supplies were brought in on the backs of donkeys, beer & wine included.

There are lots of footpaths that wend their way through the mountains and mostly you can go where you wish, footpath or not. There are three major routes along the chain: the Grand Randonnee 10, or GR10, which stays on the French side of the range, the GR11, which stays mostly on the Spanish side - and then there is the HRP, the Haute Route Pyreneean. The HRP stays as close to the watershed of the range as it can. That means it is generally high up and out of range of towns, villages and most facilities. There are refuges like the one above, with varying levels of facilities; some have catering, some nothing at all.

After completing the Pennine Way in 2009 I decided I was ready to tackle the Pyrenees and quickly fastened on the HRP as the route to go for. If you are going to do it, do it thoroughly..

A certain amount of planning and preparation took place (though not enough) and I set off, full of optimism and expectation, on 31 May 2010. I got the Eurostar to Paris and an overnight train arriving at Hendaye about 6.30am the next morning, an experience in itself, sharing a sleeping compartment with three farting Spaniards. (This was first class; in second class, you share with five). I set off from Hendaye and for the first three days or so things went well, but then the weather took a turn and the rain set in.. and, it rained. On and off, it rained every single day for the next three weeks. 21 days. This had a number of consequences beyond making me somewhat bedraggled. It meant that you could spend an entire morning climbing some of the higher mountains of Europe, only to find that when you finally reach the top you are in a little grey sphere. No sun, no views, just mist and cloud. It meant that above 2,000m the rains tended to fall as snow and so a number of the higher HRP passes became completely impassable, at least to lone walkers. It also meant that the Whitmarsh spirits sank rather, and stayed low.

The first serious hurdle on the HRP is the Pic d'Orhy around day 7, just over 2,000m but quite an exposed mountain. I got to within about 300m of the summit, but gale force winds and rain meant I had to retreat.. so much for the HRP. After that I followed the GR10, which tended to stay a little lower and had more villages, hostels and similar facilities. After three weeks I reached Cauterets, a rather nice, slightly faded spa town. I stopped to take stock, but I had had enough. It occurred to me that this was supposed to be an enjoyable experience, and so far it hadn't been. So I gave up and returned home. I had walked 257 miles, about half way.

There is a gallery of photos of the 2010 trip to look at if you are keen. Not too many because of the weather!
 

Trying not to look too bedraggled, half way up the Col d'Ilheou, 2242m, passable with care despite the snow. I am wearing all available clothing. June 2010.

























Still, it was a valuable learning experience. I decided to return the next year, and set off a little later, on 22nd June. I had concluded it was not so important to do the whole walk in one go, and basically just set off, with three weeks of time in hand, to see what might happen.

What a difference a year made! The weather was fine, the sun shone. Rather than start again at Hendaye, I got a train to St Jean Pied-de-Port, a lovely, colourful small town used by many strange and wonderful pilgrims as the starting point for the Camino de St Jacques to Santiago de Compostella. From there I walked over the hills to Iraty, setting-off point for the Pic d'Orhy. This time, the weather was fair and I managed the climb, though I found it very hard work. Looking back, I think this was the effect of the sudden exposure to altitude; 2,000m is almost 6,600ft and plenty high enough to cause side effects.

Still I had done it, and I was still on the HRP. To cut a long story short, I walked for three weeks along the HRP and I had a whale of a time. I got as far as the Lac de Barroude, one of the Pyrenees' more imposing features, and about 211 miles from St Jean Pied-de-Port. At the point when I stopped, I don't think I had ever felt so fit or so happy.

There is a gallery of photos of the 2011 trip - far too many of them!

Camping at the Lac and Barrage de Barroude, 2,355m, in 2011



So, that was the second visit. Then I left it a while, and went one more time, in 2013. I left on 18th June, but even before I set off I knew there would be difficulties, because a huge amount of snow had fallen in May and June and most of the higher passes were blocked to walkers. So it proved. I walked as far as Lescun, a lovely village deep in the mountains, but I could get no farther and even getting there was difficult and in hindsight, rather dangerous. I arrived home on 3rd July, having walked about 150 miles from Hendaye to Lescun, in ten days.

There is a gallery of photos of the 2013 trip.

Near the Col d'Anaye. Only 1800m up, but just too much snow already..

Clinging on at the top of Pic d'Orhy, 2017m, in 2013

So there, very briefly, is the story of my three trips to the HRP. One more thing I should add is the nice people I met en route. Although I go on my own, and although you can easily walk for a day and see no-one at all, you do bump into other walkers especially at refuges, mountain huts and so on. On each of these trips I made good friends, some of whom I am still in contact with. I can't list them all, but I must mention Arne, a cheerful Belgian from Ghent (and World Champion snorer), without whom I doubt if I would ever have got to Lescun in 2013. And also Hans & Diny, a Dutch couple that I met and walked a good way with in 2011. Whilst doing so I probably ate more of their food than they did, they were very hospitable. These and others make such a big difference to the walking experience.

This is the last of my background posts.. subsequent posts will deal with the planning and preparations for my next and possibly last visit, later this year. This time, the goal is very simple: to walk the whole way to the Mediterranean. For the first time this is the focus and primary goal of the effort and I intend to complete the trip this time, if I possibly can.

The next post will set out a timetable leading up to departure for France...

 Hans & Diny, on the Hourquette de Heas, 2608m, in 2011. Nice weather that year!

Background - The Pyrenees and me...

I've lived in Kent since getting married 1973, and we noticed early on that France was nearer to us than Basingstoke and far more exotic and interesting. We began with a day trip on the ferry to Boulogne, then spent a weekend in Montreuil, and then moved steadily further and further south, and deep into rural France: Normandy, the Loire, the Lot, the Haute Savoie, the Cote d'Azur, and then my favourite part of the whole magnificent country, the Languedoc.

The Languedoc has everything. It has the Mediterranean, with fine beaches and quaint little ports like Collioure and Banyuls, it has history, such as the Cathar fortresses, it has countryside and vineyards. Spain is just down the road, Andorra is just up it... and it has the Southern tip of the Pyrenees. We drove all over; to Arles, Ax-les-Thermes, Vernet-les-Bains, and into Andorra. Then one memorable day, owing to a misreading of a French Michelin guide, I accidentally drove my company car, an MG Montego, up the Pic du Canigou.

The guide said that you could, at least as far as the refuge at Cortelets, which is 2150m (7054ft) above sea level. What it also said, but I hadn't noticed, was that the road was "vertigineuse," narrow, winding, steep and unpaved. Years later, we drove up it again in a Landrover Discovery, on purpose this time, and we couldn't believe that any ordinary car could have done it. But we did, and it was a magical experience. We stopped by a meadow that was overflowing with butterflies. There were millions of them.. they came and landed on you, in clouds. As we went on up the view became more and more immense. And at Cortelets Chalet, we found that only the French can serve cold beer and such wonderful food, so high up a mountainside.

The peak of Canigou is another 640m or so up, at 2784m (9134ft), and it seemed churlish to get so close to it and not finish the job - so off I went, following a clear track up, and up. As I got higher the landscape gradually changed. The trees were left behind, then the grass and flowers, until near the summit I was clambering over a jumble of boulders. It got windy and a little chilly but I kept going until at last I got to the top. There was a large crucifix, and one or two other people, and the most glorious view I had ever seen. I sat on the rock, gazing out over the Pyrenees. And there were eagles! A dozen or so of them, circling lazily below me, around the mountain top. [Editor's note from years later: I bet they were  actually Griffon Vultures .. I am no ornithologist!]

Summit of the
Pic du Canigou

















It was my first real glimpse of another world. At that moment, sitting in the wind on the jagged rocks atop the Pic du Canigou something settled into me, and I fell hopelessly in love with the Pyrenees.

The Alps are majestic, true, and good looking, no doubt, but for me they are built on slightly too big a scale. You can't get to the top of a serious Alp without special equipment and technical climbing skills. If you do it is cold and snowy. Also the Alps are very popular and can get quite crowded in summer. The Pyrenees however are still largely unspoilt, and you can walk for a whole day and see no-one. And almost all the peaks can be climbed in a day or less by a reasonably fit and agile walker. There is a little snow to make it interesting higher up, but not usually enough to be awkward (but see the next post!). There is lots of interesting wildlife - izard (deer, akin to chamois), mouflon (wild sheep), marmots (my favourite animals, like overgrown guinea pigs), the occasional brown bear - and lots of lovely plants and flowers.

Mountain Gentian, my favourite flower. It
only grows above about 1800-2000m and it has a very beautiful, deep, intense blue colour





























After that we returned several times to the Pyrenees. We had holidays in a tiny village called Miglos, high up in the Ariege, where bears had been seen the year we were there. And in Pragnoles, a hamlet near Gavarnie.

Eventually holidays were enjoyable but they weren't enough. I had to go walking, high in the mountains.. my next post is about my several visits to the HRP, the Haute Route Pyreneenne..

Jerry

Background - walking and me

I've always enjoyed nature and the outdoors. I also love France, and have had many wonderful holidays there.

Near the Cirque de Troumouse, taken on a holiday in 2007 staying in a gite near Gavarnie

So it is perhaps not surprising that after I retired, and sat down one sunny day with a glass of wine and a piece of paper to make a list of things I would like to do with this next phase of my life, one of the items I wrote down was "Walk along the Pyrenees."

I read a magazine article about someone who had walked the GR10, but after a little research I decided the HRP, the Haute Randonnée Pyrénéenne, sounded more interesting. "Fine," I thought. "Let's book a train ticket and get started!" - But then it occurred to me that I had never actually walked more than about 10 miles in one go in my life, or spent a night in a tent; so perhaps a little preparation would be in order?

In October 2007 I bought some equipment, including a trusty Terra Nova Laser tent and a Gossamer Gear rucksack, and looked around for some walks to do. The Greensand Way passes within 100m or so of my house so it seemed a good starting point. I was dropped off at the end of the route, a pleasant village called Hamstreet, south of Ashford, and in two days walked the 45-odd miles back to my house. The only real problem I had was finding somewhere sufficiently secluded to put up a tent for the night, but I managed. Shortly thereafter I went to the other end of the Greensand Way, Haslemere in Surrey, and again walked home, this time in three days.

After that I began to pick up speed. I walked the North Downs Way, then the Wealdway, then the South Downs Way, then the Ridgeway. Finally, in June 2009 I walked the Pennine Way, about 300 miles altogether and quite hilly in places. When I finished I felt good, and decided that I was as ready for the Pyrenees as I would ever be. In May 2010 I walked the Wealdway again, this time from South to North, and on 31 May I set off for the Pyrenees...

My next blog entry will describe how I became so interested in the Pyrenees in the first place..

If I get time I write some notes about the other walks too, at some point.

Jerry

On top of The Schil, high up in the Cheviots and approaching the end of the Pennine Way for the first time, 2009

High Cup Nick, a beautiful glaciated valley near Dufton in Cumbria. I camped here when walking the Pennine Way for the second time, Sept 2014. What a view to wake up to!