• Coast to coast illustrated diary
• Our Kit list and recommended gear

Click the thumbnail images for a large version

Striking off like one of the armies of old (armed with lethal French sticks in our packs), we left town along the cobbled main street under the gaze of the citadel, via the Port d’Espagne. The GR10 is picked up just outside the town; it takes you up the valley to the now decidedly more craggy/mountain like foothills of the High Pyrenees. The rain (in most years a rare occurrence save for afternoon thunderstorms in August) caught us for lunch in Esterencuby, where the locals had kindly roofed their pelote court/picnic area. After lunch we continued up from the valley floor to the excellent Gite d’Etape in Phagalcette. The gite is in the middle of nowhere, just up from a farm. The proprietor is the farmer's wife, a lovely lady who wanders up at six to see who's in, prepares delicious local food at a good price, and chats to you for as long as you like - despite whether you can follow her Basque accent or not. We hardy types (see thrifty) camped outside and drooled by the window, but did make use of the excellent hot showers and toilets (all new and immaculate). Just follow the signs on the GR10 for the Chalet Kangoleta.

Click the thumbnail images for a large version

26/07/02 (8^th day of walking about 33 to go…) Phagalcette à Iraty Cize

The long ascent was rendered rather boring by the mist again today. Things started to improve as we happened across small cheese farms that loomed from the mist (the brebis vache mixture became my favourite), and by the Sommet D’Occabe (1456m) the mist was starting to break up. This gave us glimpses of stone circles, barrows and the beginning of the Beech forest* down through which the GR10 makes its descent. The scene was like something from the 'Lord of the Rings'; majestic trees with long beards and feet slippered in a luxurious mat of green moss. The wet conditions had also sent the mushrooms on the rampage, thrusting through the leaf litter in strange and beautiful shapes and colours all about the path (no doubt to be picked clean by the locals within a couple of hours – I must learn which ones we can eat!). As we descended the sun finished off the remaining mist and bathed us in green filtered shafts of light as we made our way to camp by the river on the valley floor. The valley has a couple of little cafes, a refuge non-gardé (good for a shower even if you don’t stay in it – hot for 50cents) and the flat area by the river is a dedicated camping ground (fires allowed). If you're feeling skillful the river is full of fish! A great little camping spot – apart from THAT dog! The little ****! If there’s one thing to piss me off its losing food that I have dragged up and down mountains and spent time on… We made up some porridge and had left it to soak, with the lid on, inside the fly sheet, and popped to the showers. We came back to a shiny bowl and the dog sitting peacefully under its owner's campervan (the problem with roads). I once met a man on the Yaeyama islands in Southern Japan who told me brown dogs taste good – I was tempted but this one was white.

27/07/02 Day of the View (Ascent 744m, Descent 1137m)

We packed and set off under the pale lamp light of a full moon, and set off out of our chilled valley (our first cold start*). The climb was back up through the beautiful beech arboretum and over to the next little valley that held a mirror like lake (and another permitted camping spot), then up on a rough track past the first little ski resort by the Col d’Irati. This col is home to THE view - a first tentative look across the range of the high Pyrenees; a little taster of what’s to come. The day was hot, with clear blue skies, the cracked skyline promising climbs to the broken crown of Pic d’Anie. The view literally pulled us towards the peaks. So much so, in fact, that we completely forgot our plans to stay high and bundled down to Larrau village (627m) to soak in the afternoon sun and visit the campsite for a welcome shower. This also puts you ready to explore the gorges to the East - something that is missed if you go high, a difficult decision as there is a magnificent view up top. If you have the time, a circular trip around this area would be well worth it, especially if you are into sporting/technical canyoning.

28/07/02 ‘Around and about’ Larrau à A col near the Pic Izeyto (N.E. of Chardetagagna)

We set off to the gorges in the growing light of morning – the flies however were already up (horse fly batting becomes a sport in the low lands - must be the true origin of pelotte)! A caving group were setting up to go down one of the deep crevasses. These gorges were only penetrated in 1933 and not often since. They are so close at the top that at some points it looks possible to jump the gap, but this wouldn’t be wise considering they overhang to a spectacular 180m drop to the stream below.  If you want to cut out some of the double backs and muddy footpaths involved in walking right around the gorges d’Holzarté there is a spectacular footbridge - the Passerelle d’Olhadybia*.

The path runs past some great spots for lunch and passes tempting clear pools where the river enters the top of the gorge. Just before the path climbs back up east away from the gorges it passes though a pristine alpine meadow bursting with every mountain flower; wild chives, devils bit, Spanish broom, meadow Clary (wild sage) and a spread of Pyrenean Eryngo (like a little blue thistle) that gives the whole hillside a blue highlight.

It was a stiff climb up along the track and then up to the highest point where the choice is made to follow the GR10 back down into the valley or to carry on at high level taking a section of HRP to La Pierre de Saint Martin. We chose to bivouac at the col and chatted with the local farmer, a funny old lad who did a good impression of Yoda as we made our camp food, whilst telling us all about his brebis and the fine weather…

Last night turned into a bit of an epic! – The nice old farmer had told us he reckoned it would be a good night and we had chosen a nice spot for it, but that you can never tell “avec l'orage!”. Well the orage (a thunder storm – along the lines of a disaster movie) came with a vengeance. We found ourselves in wildly flapping fabric (not the cassoulet this time), counting seconds between strikes. As we started to be able to see really rather too easily for 1am, we decided to make off down the hill to a spot we had scoped out before bed (always a good idea when camping high, to plan a good escape route). The wind picked up all the time as we scurried down the track – the front was getting nearer and more angry as it pushed up over the surrounding peaks. Every few seconds our path was re-etched onto our retinas, along with an awesome skyline. Multiple strikes and forks stuck down on the cirques about us. We found our goal, what we had assumed to be a cattle shed, and dived in. It turned out it was a very funky little refuge, probably belonging to a local walking club or hunters. We sat in the shelter and relaxed a little as we took in nature's firework display, truly the most fearsome and amazing storm I have ever witnessed.

(Back to today) The walk was a nice one. We left our tent (that had luckily not vanished the night before) in good time and enjoyed a crisp, newly washed morning as we took the HRP over the peaks. We soaked in the views that sweep all the way down to the arid plains of Spain to the south and the foothills and green pastures of France to the north – the past 24hours had been an overload for the senses! The following zany moonscape of the limestone karst approaching and around La Pierre seemed to continue the vibe. The ground is peppered with holes with gnarly stunted pines just clinging to the rims. This seive-like ground gives away the location of one of Europe’s most extensive and massive cave systems. There are countless caves all around the perforated limestone peaks in this area – and consequently no surface water (take note).

La Pierre* is a skiing resort in winter and is rather a blot on the landscape in summer. Bull-dozered slopes run like scars all the way up the mountain, and ugly grey empty hotels stand sentinel. There is however a very good refuge where you can stay or camp and enjoy really good food*.

There was fog from dawn as we set out past the last bastion of Basque lands - Pic d'Anie. Up through the lunar landscape of this dissolving mountain with visibility down to a couple of metres at times. It was an eerie feeling passing deep crevasses, shake-holes and real 'bonsai pines' which loomed from the mist – every now and then intensified by the sound of creaking ski lifts swinging in the breeze somewhere above. The landscape is incredible – just a shame we could hardly see any of it (we will have to go back). The flowers poking from the scree and sheer faces were the highlight of the day. Wild aquilegia, bright blue and purple, looked like they were growing straight out of bare rock. At the foot of the top Pic there is a short 3m climb up and over the pass, then it’s a track down past the hostels all the way to the valley bottom. Here the fog parted, and the afternoon welcomed us with warm sun for an explore around the picturesque mountain villages in the valley. Lots of public springs, old wash houses a couple of good café/shops and a national park centre are to be found in Etsaut and Lescun.

We met up with our parents who were down on hols for a week at this point and took the valley road all the way back up to Oloron-Ste-Marie, at the valley's head, for welcome food and a bed for a couple of nights.

04/08/02 Lescun/Etsaut * à Pic du Midi d’Ossau (West valley) 14^th day of walking.

A long climb up to one of the most attractive views and region of the Pyrenees. The climb is started in style by following the Chemin de la Mâture* from where you can stare out across from this precarious perch to the Fort du Portalet and into the deep gorge below. The path continues the climb up a valley, ascending to the col at the head. En-route we passed a very healthy Marmot group at the top, sharing their rocky gardens with a carpet of flowers and electric blue Flag Irises. Its worth pushing up in one go without looking back, and savouring the treat as you top out at the col. From here is the stunning panorama of the Pic du Midi and with a glance back an instant record of the last week's conquests.

We dropped down from here, stopping at the little refuge for water and then at every pool for dipping and sunbathing - a truly satisfying day (Em walked down in her pants). We camped out in the valley, below tomorrow’s peak; Pic du Midi d'Ossau. It is national park from here for a while and camping is not allowed near the boundary. You are supposed to be a good hour's hike inside the park, and away from any access road, and then only bivouac i.e. pitch between 7pm and 8am. Since we are off early tomorrow and the evening fog is hiding us nicely.... erm 'you didn't see us right?'.

There are some interesting options from here; you can climb the peak itself (it's not tricky but you’ll need a rope and some knowledge of climbing), or divert from the GR10 and continue East from the Refuge de Pombie to the Refuge d’Arrémoulit, near Balaïtous. From Arrémoulit an excellent 1-2 day section of the HRP takes you direct to Refuge Wallon (near Cauterets) via spectacular scenery (a good place for many circular walks or to head high over to the Cirque de Gavarnie).

The Pic gave us shade on the morning climb up its western flank right the way to the col. Just before the final ascent is a lake with good camping spots (some walled around by industrious/desperate campers) and a small refuge (handy for climbers). Our early start had us here just as the couple of dudes camped out were getting ready. I think I would have camped here had we known; it’s a beautiful and surprisingly sheltered site. After the Pic the western stretch of the High Pyrenees is laid out, as is the view down past more idyllic lakes and the Refuge de Pombie (good for a cuppa and water top up). The sun was shining, but the first hint of growing clouds told us that a storm may be brewing. Not wanting to miss out on views (we had been in enough clouds), we decided to charge straight down into the valley and do the next big climb up towards the refuge d’Arrémoulit. It’s a long, steep way! About 3/4s up the first rumbles started, and the day walkers began streaming down in the opposite direction from us, first with calls of encouragement “bon courage!”, and then as things got louder, with increasingly concerned/shocked shouts of “bon chance” (you’ll bloody need it). We reached the col with burning legs and chests, without having had time to don waterproofs, and made as much descent after the col as possible; being all the while lashed by the growing gale and hailstones. We decided to keep low and not head for the refuge (now less than 1km, but uphill and likely to be packed with caught-out hikers) and found a great camping spot in a hanging valley looking down to the dammed lac d’Artouste. Here we waited out the storm with our hyperactive marmot neighbours (I think we may have camped right next to their hole, see if you can spot one in the photo left ). It was a great vantage point; a crucible like spot with the lake at the bottom of sheer cliffs, the peak sheltering us from behind, and sheets of lightning igniting the ring of crests surrounding us (did make it a bit tricky to do the washing up though).