Up at 06:00 (my body clock seems to have adjusted itself) and another fine breakfast.
After various groups and bodies had set off on their particular paths I found myself with the group of four I'd passed yesterday, plus Alain who I'd chatted to the night before. Fortunately these were fellow walkers who walk in daylight and NOT in the pitch black with a headlamp.
We set off from beside the church around 08:00 - you can see how busy everyone was! The way out of town was clearly marked (I was to see that they have recently repainted the marking for this stage) and we made steady progress.
Although it was light when we left, the sun didn't fully rise until a little while later when, conveniently, I happened to be into our first climb:
The walk before me came only gradually into view (probably a very good thing!):
What I hadn't really understood but what had quickly become clear was that the GR10 is the footpath that crosses the Pyrénées from Hendaye on the Atlantic coast to Perpignan on the Mediterranean. And the route today (I had studied the various guides and descriptions that the others had) took us up over 1000 metres (a total combined ascent of 1205 metres), and we walked along the crests of successive cols. I risk running out of superlatives if I tried to describe what it felt like to see such sights. But it wasn't merely the views. It was also the challenge in getting up there and making progress along what were sometimes very thin paths (but stable) set right on the very side of many of the climbs. Being in the company of experienced mountain walkers certainly helped. It would be absolutely true to say that in a couple of places I felt genuinely nervous walking so close to an 800 metre drop - naturally there are no fences or barriers - this is untamed country where one is entirely responsible for one's safety.
But of course no harm came, and I felt that I'd understood something else about myself in terms of physical and mental limits.
For anyone who might be interested, all of the peaks have names etc. but for now, I'm just going to post photos of the views as we climbed successive cols. We got higher each time. The photos with me in them (yes, at last! One of the advantages of not walking solo I suppose) are at 843m, 1050m and 1203m respectively.
Things started out reasonably:
Here are some of the others coming up behind me:
This has completed the first ridge. This is looking back towards St Etienne
In this photo the rock formation is actually discoloured from the eagles that roost there - a bit hard to see at this size, but I'm not a wildlife photographer:
The path passed quite close to the edges of the crest at times. We actually walked right over the one shown here
Climbing again:
Good job someone knows where we're going. Yep - that little track over there...
Just keep following the person in front. More ridges to climb!
This is a view looking west. We didn't walk that way, it was just a nice view...
Oh look - it's yours truly :0)
A bit more to go - haven't had quite enough of walking on the edge yet!
A view looking back. We just walked that. I almost impressed myself!
It was great having company on the walk. I've already discovered that experienced walkers have this way of allowing a group to flex - to expand or contract depending on the pace. One falls into conversation with another which may last five minutes or an hour. As each climbs or descends at different rates there is the freedom to walk as one pleases. But overall I was glad to be with others. Despite the stunning beauty of the place where once again we were up with the eagles, I don't think I'd have gained the confidence I did on some of the more difficult sections had I not seen others stride confidently along. One other advantage is that I finally get to have someone to take pictures of yours truly - just to show that I do in fact carry my pack with me ;0)
At one point we stopped on the path to observe an outcrop not so far ahead. The white staining told us this was roosting territory and sure enough, just as we watched, an eagle landed to feed another bird. Much as I would liked to have been photographing or videoing this rare sight I realised I was concentrating much more on not being blown off balance on the narrow ledge on which we were standing than I would be on producing a nature documentary on the nesting habits of eagles ;0)
Talking of wildlife there were also pointed out to me the horses up here. To me they just looked like ponies (and they are) but they're a breed of wild horse local to the mountains and are called "Pottok". They were kind enough to put on a bit of a show for us (I may upload the videos when I have more bandwidth. Maybe when I get back home. Otherwise I may overload someone's network, and that will spoil it for others)
A couple more ascents (bearing in mind we were already at 1000m so this wasn't too far extra) and here I am - right on the very top. We even had Alain doing the "back a bit... just a bit more" - oh how we all laughed:
There was an unfortunate undertone to the day however. Among the group that I had joined was an older gentleman. I had him pegged at late sixties but it turns out he was 78! 78 years old and still hacking around the tops of mountains. I'll take that, thank you very much! Anyway, I spoke with him briefly during the day and not only was he in his late 70s but he also pointed out that he had an artificial knee, an opposite artificial hip along with some other part of his body that he'd had redone. As if all that weren't enough, he'd also been having heart troubles since a heart attack some while ago. But here he was, taking his time but making it up and down with the rest of us.
Further into the day - shortly after lunch - we were resting when he fell ill. I won't go into details but the vomiting and his subsequent reactions led to the consensus among the group (some of whom knew him well) that he'd suffered another minor attack. Undeterred, he rested awhile and carried on, but by late in the afternoon it became clear that he was finding it really difficult to carry his pack. The group moved one save one who waited with him, but I led off, eager to get down off the mountain and secure myself a bed for the night. I later heard that he had made it down safely and was resting in the hotel before taking the train home the next day. There was a feeling that while it was good to know he made it, it was also taking on too much to have attempted such a strenuous day in the mountains. There remains a responsibility toward the rest of the group one is with.
Anyway, it was time to head down. A rapid descent that was a bit technical and therefore taxing on tired muscles:
My first view of Bidarray:
About 30 minutes later I was safely installed in another spacious, clean gite right by the footpath in Bidarray, having showered and changed. This always seems to feel like the most important thing to do when one arrives.
We'd covered 16km in eight hours but more than that, I felt I'd done something I've never done before - which was to walk along 1000 metre ridges carrying a 15kg pack. The majesty and wildness of the place is second to none and I settled in for the night feeling a sense of achievement, happy with my day.
In the gite that evening were André - who had been at St Etienne the night before - and Eugène, who lives just outside Albi! He hadn't walked here as I had, he was actually finishing off the final stages to complete his walk across the GR10. Impressive for a guy of 70. Everyone here seems so active into their later years and it's certainly something I feel should be taken as a good example.
Anyway, there ended up being much sharing of food and supplies that night. Having already been shopping myself and prepared to make a form of bean stew with sausages (good for walking), and having then asked Eugène if he wanted to share, since there would be a lot of stew, we actually ended up having freshly made Spaghetti Carbonara from André who, once sharing had been mentioned, seemed very happy to cook for all. We spent the night chatting about various things including walking. He's heading to Santiago too - also by the northern route, but he's already walked forty days from Mulhouse and plans to be in Santiago in something like 25 days!
Having already posted all the shots of the ascent and the climb, I thought I'd also just include (since this could be a one-off event) some of the panoramic images I've assembled of the same thing. Again, the rough ordering is in order of ascent. Views were stunning!
Just time to see the church. Recognise the style of the portico anyone?
All in all this day will stay with me forever. If you look at this photo, you can see that we walked everything you can see:
Such amazing, inspiring sights. And these days I find that I'm "en forme" as they say here, and thus the body recovers completely overnight. Good food and good rest means one is up and bouncing about early in the morning.
After various groups and bodies had set off on their particular paths I found myself with the group of four I'd passed yesterday, plus Alain who I'd chatted to the night before. Fortunately these were fellow walkers who walk in daylight and NOT in the pitch black with a headlamp.
We set off from beside the church around 08:00 - you can see how busy everyone was! The way out of town was clearly marked (I was to see that they have recently repainted the marking for this stage) and we made steady progress.
Although it was light when we left, the sun didn't fully rise until a little while later when, conveniently, I happened to be into our first climb:
The walk before me came only gradually into view (probably a very good thing!):
What I hadn't really understood but what had quickly become clear was that the GR10 is the footpath that crosses the Pyrénées from Hendaye on the Atlantic coast to Perpignan on the Mediterranean. And the route today (I had studied the various guides and descriptions that the others had) took us up over 1000 metres (a total combined ascent of 1205 metres), and we walked along the crests of successive cols. I risk running out of superlatives if I tried to describe what it felt like to see such sights. But it wasn't merely the views. It was also the challenge in getting up there and making progress along what were sometimes very thin paths (but stable) set right on the very side of many of the climbs. Being in the company of experienced mountain walkers certainly helped. It would be absolutely true to say that in a couple of places I felt genuinely nervous walking so close to an 800 metre drop - naturally there are no fences or barriers - this is untamed country where one is entirely responsible for one's safety.
But of course no harm came, and I felt that I'd understood something else about myself in terms of physical and mental limits.
For anyone who might be interested, all of the peaks have names etc. but for now, I'm just going to post photos of the views as we climbed successive cols. We got higher each time. The photos with me in them (yes, at last! One of the advantages of not walking solo I suppose) are at 843m, 1050m and 1203m respectively.
Things started out reasonably:
This has completed the first ridge. This is looking back towards St Etienne
In this photo the rock formation is actually discoloured from the eagles that roost there - a bit hard to see at this size, but I'm not a wildlife photographer:
The path passed quite close to the edges of the crest at times. We actually walked right over the one shown here
Good job someone knows where we're going. Yep - that little track over there...
Just keep following the person in front. More ridges to climb!
This is a view looking west. We didn't walk that way, it was just a nice view...
Oh look - it's yours truly :0)
A bit more to go - haven't had quite enough of walking on the edge yet!
A view looking back. We just walked that. I almost impressed myself!
It was great having company on the walk. I've already discovered that experienced walkers have this way of allowing a group to flex - to expand or contract depending on the pace. One falls into conversation with another which may last five minutes or an hour. As each climbs or descends at different rates there is the freedom to walk as one pleases. But overall I was glad to be with others. Despite the stunning beauty of the place where once again we were up with the eagles, I don't think I'd have gained the confidence I did on some of the more difficult sections had I not seen others stride confidently along. One other advantage is that I finally get to have someone to take pictures of yours truly - just to show that I do in fact carry my pack with me ;0)
At one point we stopped on the path to observe an outcrop not so far ahead. The white staining told us this was roosting territory and sure enough, just as we watched, an eagle landed to feed another bird. Much as I would liked to have been photographing or videoing this rare sight I realised I was concentrating much more on not being blown off balance on the narrow ledge on which we were standing than I would be on producing a nature documentary on the nesting habits of eagles ;0)
Talking of wildlife there were also pointed out to me the horses up here. To me they just looked like ponies (and they are) but they're a breed of wild horse local to the mountains and are called "Pottok". They were kind enough to put on a bit of a show for us (I may upload the videos when I have more bandwidth. Maybe when I get back home. Otherwise I may overload someone's network, and that will spoil it for others)
A couple more ascents (bearing in mind we were already at 1000m so this wasn't too far extra) and here I am - right on the very top. We even had Alain doing the "back a bit... just a bit more" - oh how we all laughed:
There was an unfortunate undertone to the day however. Among the group that I had joined was an older gentleman. I had him pegged at late sixties but it turns out he was 78! 78 years old and still hacking around the tops of mountains. I'll take that, thank you very much! Anyway, I spoke with him briefly during the day and not only was he in his late 70s but he also pointed out that he had an artificial knee, an opposite artificial hip along with some other part of his body that he'd had redone. As if all that weren't enough, he'd also been having heart troubles since a heart attack some while ago. But here he was, taking his time but making it up and down with the rest of us.
Further into the day - shortly after lunch - we were resting when he fell ill. I won't go into details but the vomiting and his subsequent reactions led to the consensus among the group (some of whom knew him well) that he'd suffered another minor attack. Undeterred, he rested awhile and carried on, but by late in the afternoon it became clear that he was finding it really difficult to carry his pack. The group moved one save one who waited with him, but I led off, eager to get down off the mountain and secure myself a bed for the night. I later heard that he had made it down safely and was resting in the hotel before taking the train home the next day. There was a feeling that while it was good to know he made it, it was also taking on too much to have attempted such a strenuous day in the mountains. There remains a responsibility toward the rest of the group one is with.
Anyway, it was time to head down. A rapid descent that was a bit technical and therefore taxing on tired muscles:
My first view of Bidarray:
About 30 minutes later I was safely installed in another spacious, clean gite right by the footpath in Bidarray, having showered and changed. This always seems to feel like the most important thing to do when one arrives.
We'd covered 16km in eight hours but more than that, I felt I'd done something I've never done before - which was to walk along 1000 metre ridges carrying a 15kg pack. The majesty and wildness of the place is second to none and I settled in for the night feeling a sense of achievement, happy with my day.
In the gite that evening were André - who had been at St Etienne the night before - and Eugène, who lives just outside Albi! He hadn't walked here as I had, he was actually finishing off the final stages to complete his walk across the GR10. Impressive for a guy of 70. Everyone here seems so active into their later years and it's certainly something I feel should be taken as a good example.
Anyway, there ended up being much sharing of food and supplies that night. Having already been shopping myself and prepared to make a form of bean stew with sausages (good for walking), and having then asked Eugène if he wanted to share, since there would be a lot of stew, we actually ended up having freshly made Spaghetti Carbonara from André who, once sharing had been mentioned, seemed very happy to cook for all. We spent the night chatting about various things including walking. He's heading to Santiago too - also by the northern route, but he's already walked forty days from Mulhouse and plans to be in Santiago in something like 25 days!
Having already posted all the shots of the ascent and the climb, I thought I'd also just include (since this could be a one-off event) some of the panoramic images I've assembled of the same thing. Again, the rough ordering is in order of ascent. Views were stunning!
Just time to see the church. Recognise the style of the portico anyone?
All in all this day will stay with me forever. If you look at this photo, you can see that we walked everything you can see:
Such amazing, inspiring sights. And these days I find that I'm "en forme" as they say here, and thus the body recovers completely overnight. Good food and good rest means one is up and bouncing about early in the morning.
I'd say 11th century 'restored' in the 19th...
ReplyDeleteI'd say 12th century restored in the 17th. And I say that simply because if you look at the photo of the church at St Jean Le Vieux, which shares this exact same design of portico with the one here and the church at Ordiarp, the one at St Jean carries a date of 1630. If I then think about the fact that every other church I've seen in this area has a similar design of doorway arch with columns and capitals, and yet every other still has some form of typanum in the arch, and yet the church at St Jean has had the typanum removed and replaced with stone blocks and a date, I assumed (and perhaps wrongly) that something happened in this area of France in the first third of the 17th century that caused all the churches to be 'redone' in a less embellished manner.
ReplyDeleteIn fact I hadn't realised (and I read this somewhere else along my journey - it may have been in the cathedral at Oloron or it may have been in the church at Lescar) that there was a papal order in the early 19th century that all their churches should be stripped of any ornament that was deemed superficial or that detracted from the original design.
When I get home I'm going to look up a lot of this stuff. I won't be surprised to find some form of revolution or disobedience. I know that the French were at war with the Spanish until the late 18th century. I saw in Hendaye that it belonged to Spain until around 1760.