Day 18-21
Martijn visited for a few days. We spent a night in Bagnères-de-Luchon and then hiked up to the Portillon refuge, staying at another refuge on the way. This was actually just at the base of the highest pass of the Haute Route at 2981 meters (9,778 feet.). The Haute Route runs along the ridge but we hiked all the way up from the valley around 5,000 feet below. I looked at it and thought, “…that looks steep and full of scree.” I decided to do the GR-11 variant through the next section, which goes a little lower, because (1. The weather forecast wasn’t awesome 2) I’m hiking alone and 3) my shoes are REALLY, really done now. They are tearing across the toebox on both sides and I’m slipping a lot more than I used to in them. It was great to spend time with Martijn in the mountains.
Day 22
Martijn dropped me off back at Parzàn at about 8:00 am. I started the long uphill hike on a dirt road, following the GR-11 trail. There were lots of angry clouds and finally a storm opened on top of me, driving rain and thunder. I hiked through it and it passed, and I got to the mountain pass which was the high point for the day and it was quite cold-I put my down coat and hat on underneath my rain jacket. I’ve been surprised at the number of times on this trail that it has made sense to hike with ALL my clothes on. A word of warning to the wise who might read this and hike this thing. I hiked until the early evening and got to the Refuge de Viados-they had a bunk available and I decided to just stay there. There was a Belgian family with their kids staying in my bunk room and it was nice to hear all the Dutch through the evening. I also chatted with an older French gentleman who was hiking a big piece of the GR-11. I’ve noticed on this trail that I’ve always felt happier the next day after social interaction, even if in the moment it felt just kind of normal or polite. There are a LOT. Of people on these trails, almost exclusively from Europe-Spain, France, maybe Netherlands/Belgium, occasionally something like Italy or Croatia. I don’t ever feel annoyed by the people though-it is always possible to camp alone if you want solitude, and people need the wilderness-it produces and grows sanity, and is a place humans have always been-until modern times.
Day 23
I started hiking about 7:30 from the refuge. I went over one big pass and then descended to the town of Benasque, which involved 3 kilometers of road walking, not the best, but this town has a LAUNDROMAT. Thank my stars. I wandered into town and was kind of surprised to find a traditional Spanish village….surrounded by a retail strip-outdoor stores, restaurants, hotels, that heaven-blessed laundromat. I checked into Hotel Araguells, which looked like a modern American hotel. The front desk was incredibly friendly and helpful, I really got the impression she loves hiking herself. I put my laundry in and bought a few things from the grocery store for the next couple of days-a little dense nut cake and some corn snacks. No Clif bars to be found here, but if you’re looking for about eight different varieties of sardines, you’re in the right spot. Or canned octopus, also an option. I’m not going to lie-I loved Benasque. It wasn’t the most authentic Spanish village but it was COMFORTABLE. When I had Internet I looked at the Facebook group for the HRP, and there was another guy who was exactly where I would have been if I had taken the High Route over Col Inferiour instead of the GR-11 variant-he warned that the cold moist weather had deposited a thick layer of ice at the pass and he had had to “kick ladder steps into the ice with my trail runners.” Yah….no thanks. Looks like I made the right call.
Day 24
I caught the early bus from Benasque back to the trail (there is a bus to the trail!) at 7:15. I just kind of felt like shit the whole day for no good reason. Well, else than the trail gained 4,500 feet on a looooong ascent in the sun. In the evening I finally got up into the alpine zone and ran into an American guy going the other direction, who is from North Carolina, just left Seattle, and is now living in the Spanish border town of Puigcerdá. Crazy. We talked for maybe half an hour and it really lifted my mood. It’s funny how one little simple interaction can do that. I descended to a lake and decided to eat dinner and keep hiking. The sun set behind the mountains, the lake one flat, calm sheet of silver-I stopped, and stopped again, looking back at it. And I thought how these places stay with you, and they beckon you later-nothing special, just this silver alpine lake surrounded by grey jagged peaks-utter silence-and you just-have to go back. And I don’t know what that is, what invisible force draws, what voice whispers, what love surrounds and calms.
I hiked until dark, all the way back down those 4500 feet, and I found a little forest with a thick soft bed of leaves. And the last light left and I closed my eyes and slept like the dead for ten hours. A small creek bubbled close by and the forest held me as I slept.
Day 25
I got moving at 8:30 today, a little later because I tried again to sew my shoes with dental floss-the tear on the left side is huge. Only a few days till my new shoes are (hopefully) waiting for me in L’Hospitalet pres Andorre. For some reason I felt super energized today-maybe because the big climb was only 2400 feet. In the guidebook Tom Martins warns that the route goes extremely steeply down a pass and then there are huge boulders all the way around the lake at the base of this pass “which takes a really long time to navigate.” I found the descent to be completely fine, and there was a boot track above the boulders the entire length of the lake that he just….didn’t want to use…? It’s funny how he sometimes describes sections (like yesterday) as”no big deal” or “a lovely walk” that I end up really sweating through, but then other days that he warns about are really NBD. And folks….there is trail on all of the HRP up to this point, except I would say about 2%. Some of it is boot track /use trails but it’s still trail. An important footnote is that I have taken some of the easier variants. I picked my way down the last pass and got to Refugi de Restanca (everything’s in Catalan now!). Decided to stay. It’s a beautiful view from the refuge and I’m in no hurry to get to Salardú tomorrow since I just had a town day in Benasque.
Day 26
I slept poorly in the refuge and wished I had had the ability to sleep outside in my tent (the trail immediately goes up 1500 feet after the refuge which I didn’t feel like doing at the end of the day.). I had some granola and coffee and climbed out of the valley again, went over a couple of passes, then walked for hours on a dirt road gently down into Salardú, the end of the second to last section of this trail. Salardú is a small thousand year old Spanish village whose main season is the winter, for ski traffic heading to the numerous ski resorts in the Valle d’Aran. I stayed at the hostel in town, which was cheap, and with a private room.
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