Day 9
I got up and had the hostel breakfast, toast with jam, yogurt, muesli, coffee. I headed to the grocery store when it opened and immediately ran into Jukebox and Flora. They had gotten in an hour before me and stayed at the campsite. I bought about a week of food and loaded it into my backpack and started heading up the hill. It was hot and sunny, but not as hot as it had been at the beginning of the trail. I climbed all the way up to the Pass and had lunch with Jukebox and Flora. There were a lot of people around. There are generally a lot of people around- these are well-used paths in this section. It was an incredibly beautiful walk to the first refuge, which I got to about 5 pm. There were a TON of people around at the refuge and the nearby lake, which I didn’t swim in-it looked pretty fouled with sheep and cow crap. There are grazing animals absolutely everywhere. I set up my tent in the “bivouac area” with the other hikers. An extremely kind Basque couple had made popcorn in their camping stove, a brilliant move, and gave us some.
Day 10
I woke to rain on the tent, which stopped at about 7, but a thick wet mist sat on the meadow where we were camped. Everything was wet. Packed up and got moving at 8:30. There was pretty much zero visibility all day, just walking in the mountains and woods in the rain. A mentally challenging day. I got down to the village of Candanchú at about 4, headed to the hostel-noticed it was getting colder, now about 10 degrees C. Jukebox and Flora were already there trying to decide what to do-me showing up pretty much made the decision to stay. The weather will be pretty variable for about the next week, so we talked about the route- it isn’t a good idea to commit to high mountain routes above tree line if there will be lightning. I plotted out an idea to get to the next town, but we’ll have to assess each day what a good plan is. My trail shoes are already tearing across the toe box-frustrating, but I guess predictable. I hiked the Sierra High Route Section last September in them as well as the Hayduke piece, maybe 500 tough miles-so I guess they’re just shot. I borrowed a needle from the exceptionally friendly hostel owner (Hostel Valle de Aragon, highly recommended) and sewed up the holes with dental floss. I ordered replacement approach shoes (the La Sportiva TX4’s) and had them send General Delivery (“Post Restante”) to the next town, Gavarnie, which I’ll get to in about 6 days. Hopefully these will last that long-generally when shoes go, they go, and it can be a real sufferfest until you hike to your new pair.
Day 11
The weather improved today. I hiked from Candanchú to the Refuge Pombie, over 2 big mountain passes, 3500 feet gain, getting in at about 4. This is the full day for the guidebook, and normally I would hike until evening, but there are thunderstorms predicted for tomorrow all day, and I made a reservation at one of the high mountain refuges only 6 trail miles (but 3000 feet gain) from Pombie. This trail gains and loses 3-4 thousand feet of elevation per day, (1000-1100 meters), so if you hike more than Tom’s recommended day you end up gaining more like 6000 feet in a day. Some days this is fine, but I’m also really enjoying not rushing so much and only hiking around 8 hours per day. I also have been paying about zero attention to my mileage, because I’m on track, it’s hard enough with all the elevation change, and it just doesn’t matter. A big change from how I usually hike. I saw the English couple I had met the first day-they were getting off trail as they only had about 11 hiking days. Jukebox and Flora had hiked on-I know they were concerned about the storms up high. For my part though, I was satisfied to stop early and enjoy the evening at the refuge on its lake with its incredible views. I’ll get an early start tomorrow and try to beat the storms.
Day 12
Today I woke up early at about 5:45, moving by 7-with the plan to try and beat the predicted thunderstorms and get to Refuge d’Arremoulit early. The day dawned with just a few clouds over the mountains. I walked pretty quickly down the mountain from Refuge Pombie in about 2 hours and then started to make my way back up the other side. A cloud settled on the mountain, making visibility about zero-but still no thunder or lightning. I decided to do the Passage d’Ortieg instead of the low route. There was a group of about five French people just ahead of me who were also doing the Passage. The Passage d’Ortieg is just a short section of the route that is rock scrambling with a very steep drop off on one side. It has cables installed in the rock to hold onto. The guidebook warns that some people with ‘vertigo’ will have trouble because of the exposure, and to take the low route in bad weather. I decided since it wasn’t actively raining and there was no thunder that it would probably be fine. And there were some OLD French ladies doing this thing, in their hiking boots-slowly but they were doing it. It made me very happy, because it’s such a good reminder that the mountains are for everyone-not just beautiful, tight young people at their physical prime. I got off the Passage, the clouds lifted, and I was treated to an INCREDIBLE view. 2 blue high mountain lakes twinkled in the momentary sun, with soaring stone peaks on all sides and the clouds moving in and out. I descended to the refuge and talked with a few people-there was a German man with a French woman hiking the HRP the other direction. It was useful to hear about the route ahead. I took a nap in the tiny stone bunk room, listening to constant French chatter and with the smell of dinner cooking. There can be nothing cozier.
Day 13
I slept really well in the refuge. I had the refuge breakfast-toast, butter, and jam with coffee-with some nice French folks. I started hiking at about 7:30. It was an incredibly beautiful morning, and the terrain really reminded me of the High Sierra. I hiked all day until the afternoon when I made my way up to the pass Col de la Fache. I arrived at 3:45 and took most of the gear out of my backpack, stashed it behind a rock, and began the ascent of the Grande Fache mountain. It starts out as a steep trail but quickly turns into scrambling up steep rock with pretty significant exposure. The mountain is marvelous-when you are standing at its base, it soars over you, and the proportions seem all off, like a Picasso painting. I loved it and feared it. At 2800 meters (9100 feet), about halfway up, the exposure was beyond my comfort level for a solo climb and I descended. At that height you could see other hikers way, way below ascending the trail to the col, like little ants. And the mountains spread out in every direction. I started the final piece of trail for the day at 5 pm and immediately met a Croatian hiker named Mislav (sp?) who was just starting a 10 day section of the Haute Route. We chatted all the way down to Refuge Wallon and then he hiked on. I chatted with a Spaniard at the refuge over dinner who grew up hiking the Pyrenees. He let me know I could have rented the ice axe and crampons at the refuges for the climbs. Oh, well.
Day 14
I got moving just before 8 am after a beautiful sunrise in the valley. I moved pretty fast all morning, up 2500 feet to a couple of passes, and then felt kind of tanked so made my way slowly down to the valley at the base of the North face of the Vignemale. This was a truly incredible site-an absolutely massive grey stone massif with its huge glacier, pouring onto a completely flat floodplain with a pleasant green meadow. There was a refuge facing the mountain-I thought how cool it would be to spend a summer working that refuge,looking at that mountain every day. At 3pm I made the final push up another 2000 feet to the Refuge Bayallesance, at the base of the summit route of the Vignemale and France’s highest mountain refuge at 2650 meters. I ordered a “picnique” for tomorrow’s lunch-am pretty excited about that. My food is back down to the bare bones. There are a TON of people around. A thing which very normal fit every 25 year old working these refuges which I find cool is that they all are bilingual, speaking at a minimum Spanish and French. A little different from America.
Day 15
I got moving a little before 7 just as the sun was rising to summit The Vignemale. I packed a day pack and started to hike the approach trail towards the glacier. There were about 30 or so other people close to me. I got to the base of the glacier and started to ascend with my ice axe, sometimes transitioning to rock for awhile. The Vignemale is a pretty straight forward glacier climb as they go and would be a really lovely first experience for someone. I got up onto the mountain’s big flat main part of the glacier and climbed to the top of it, towards the summit block-from about 1000 feet away I could see a literal line of people winding up the rock scramble to the summit and hear people yelling “rock! Rock!” In Spanish and French as clumsy climbers kicked rocks down towards the climbers below. No, thanks. Not worth a concussion or worse. I ate my little “pique-nique” sitting on some rocks and just soaked in the view. Being on a living glacier like this, you can hear water running on all sides as it changes and moves-it’s a powerful feeling. I made my way back down to my tent and packed up, then started down towards Gavarnie. In the late afternoon an hour and a half or so outside of town another hiker appeared seemingly out of nowhere-I thought “well this guy is fast.” I glanced at his gear-all ultralight style stuff. I said hi and he said “hey” back in English. Turned out he was also doing the HRP and had hiked the PCT last year! His named is Sander (trailname Colonel Sanders!) and he is Belgian. We chatted about trail stuff all the way to Gavarnie. The town was absolutely inundated with tourists. A shocking number of people. The hostel was full so we headed to the campsite, which had a “full” sign up but Sander talked to her and French and she let us set up our tents. We threw our clothes in the washer and had dinner, then chatted till around 10 pm, well past hiker midnight.
Day 16
We got up around 8 and had some overpriced touristy breakfast that was still just toast, pastry, and coffee. I had figured out that Sander probably hiked about the same pace as Jukebox and Flora and I suggested he try and contact them, so he put a comment in the HRP Facebook group, turned out they were in town! We all needed the post office (it was Monday morning.). I had sent a replacement pair of shoes “Poste Restante” to Gavarnie. When I got there the postmaster let me know they hadn’t arrived, and no she couldn’t forward them, and no I couldn’t call in a couple days and forward them. Crap. Luckily Flora (who is from Québec) helped me a LOT with tranlation and the postmaster finally relented a little and let me pay in advance to forward the package to L’Hospitalet-près-l’Andorre. Without my French speaking friends, I’d be pretty screwed. I resupplied with what I could find at the small touristy grocery store which included an entire bag of French Cocoa Crispies. Just as we were about to head out, we met ANOTHER HRP hiker from the Netherlands named Robert. We hiked out in the heat of the day, up and over a crest of mountains, and down to a small village called Heàs. I started up the next mountain around 7 pm and got to a beautiful stream in a meadow where everyone was camped. We had lots of fun talking and laughing till almost 10:30 pm. It is so sweet, the moments on trail that you’re with friends.
Day 17
I heard Jukebox deflate her air mattress at 5:20 am…..and promptly went back to sleep till 7:05. Got moving at 8 and started on the climb up to Hourquette du Heàs, the first pass. It was a beautiful day and I found myself feeling just incredibly happy, joyful, and full of energy as I climbed. The trail went over another pass and then curved around a massive stone wall before dropping into the valley below. The trail diverted onto a pretty busy paved road, A-138, for 5 kilometers-pretty lame, as it wasn’t a very safe road to walk along. I found the whole crew sitting outside of a liquor store with their resupplies in the village of Parzán. Hiker trash really is the same the world over. We hung out for awhile and then they headed back towards the trail up the road to camp-I’m getting off here for a few days to spend time with Martijn who is coming down from Utrecht. Maybe I’ll see them down the trail, or maybe this is it-you never can tell , which is part of what makes these friendships so sweet and in the moment-it could be two days, or the rest of your trail together. I walked further down the A-138 to the village of Bielsa and checked into a hostel there. Back to civilization for a few days.
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