Onwards into the East Pyrenees HRP section two, Lescun and beyond.

Somewhat footsore and weary from the days exertions. arriving in Lescun, felt pleasantly familiar having visited before

Turning right at the first bar shop,  and wandering down the hill, we first came across our cheese loving friend Otto, and Estelle, whom we had briefly met at Cabine de A  .. 

Estelle was doing an older - more purists? Version of the HRP.. 

Something to do with an old guide book of her fathers if I recall correctly.

Or at least that was her intent at this point of the trip..

We got around to discussing what motivated us to keep going on those long hills, and during the more difficult days, when energy was running low and even the possibility of 'completing' seemed like an remote dream.. 

I mentioned that one of my motivators was the poor lost fluffy bunny found on day two, how I'd decided it was my mission to port her, if at all possible to the shores of the Mediterranean.. 

Also that I'd christened her 'Mopsy' after one of Peter Rabbits sisters ..  

Of course 🐰

"Oh, is your rabbit pale brown, and does it have magnetic feet??"

Enquired Estelle, her eyes widening.. 

"Er yeah here's a picture"

As at the time the actual creature herself was buried deep in my pack with my spare socks. 

After having established the place of her discovery, we realised that Mopsy was indeed Estelles' mascot, too new to yet have been named. 

 

And also too soon rather disloyally jumping ship (or trail) early on in the proceedings.. 

As it was, Estelle was moving on from Lescun that day, and she was happy for me to keep a hold of the fuzzy little turncoat for a little while longer.

Punishment much for such footloose desertion, to be so crammed amongst my undies.. 

A little further down the street we espied Alberto (Canadian) lately reunited with newly arrived from across the pond - pal Matt (also Canadian)

. 

The twosome were raising libations to each other outside the lodgings where they were booked in for the next two nights.

I insisted that they buy me a coffee, and a beer, as I had little doubt as to how much pleasure that would bring them both ..  

Duly refreshed , with promises of a near future rendezvous over maps for the next section, we made our way slightly out of town to the campsite.. 

The last path up to it was pretty much near vertical I swear..

Much much steeper than in earlier years.

Lescun sits on the side of a pastoral valley surrounded on all sides by craggy heights.

Our rest day was spend in gentle pursuits such as laundry, resupply shopping, and more eating and drinking out..

Almost like a 'normal' holiday 😌

Spanish Alberto joined us briefly, for a cafe meal before going on out of town in search of his preferred cabane accomodation 

Then a few running repairs, some yoga on flat ground (such luxury) and a campsite dinner. 

Next morning was another up and at it early-ish start with a good mileage to cover.. 

So many rocky hills, but not going up these particular ones for this trip.. 

Instead ascending here into the national park, towards the borderlands. Many beautiful cows enjoying the grassland. 

We'd walked this track before. 

And past the seasonal dairy cabin.

Lettuce were planted on on the roof to protect them from hungry cattle and sheep. 

Nearly at the col. 

Views into Spain at Col de Pau

Looks very inviting.

Naughty Mopsy allowed out to graze a while, at our lunch stop..

Then on we go - around here Matt and Alberto  'The Canadians' caught us up having made a later 'Hotel Start*' from Lescun. 

*This is the sensibly luxurious diametric opposite of an 'Alpine Start' - Thats the sort of gig where you have to awake before dawn and blearily scrabble around packing up your jumble in a half dark tent in order that you then attain some noble hiking goal for the day before mid afternoon..

Always character building of course..🙄

Aww one especially for our horsey readers  -

 Quite how the horsies manage to log in with those hooves is a marvel - i suspect they have hooman friends..

We sort - of kept up with The Canadians on our way towards Lac de Arlet

Rather unskilfully we'd all underestimated the amount of water we needed to carry for this particular section - and it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that we all arrived pretty much gasping for refreshment at the lakeside

Water was gathered and filtered painfully slowly drip drip drip - before drinking

Filtering water isnt something we routinely go in for but the lake was low and a bit muddy looking.

We then added to the filth by swimming with others from the sandy beach there - very refreshing 🌊

Last visit here we'd camped near the lake, but eaten in the refuge nearby . 

It was only afterwards that we discovered that there was a still in operation, clean water tap at the closed for refurbishment refuge - Quite a relief to be amply resupplied for our last push to that nights stopping place. 

Through a rather parched landscape..

Another 3 kms perhaps - 

- along the way i had the slightly startling experience of having sheep chuck rocks at me 

 -- Ok exaggeration - they were grazing the steep hillside above and as a result dislodged stones as they moved across the slope.

One bounced uncomfortably close behind - then another in front onto the path - did they in fact sense how partial to a lamb chop i am?? 

Somehow we made it here unscathed - if still a teensy bit dehydrated.

An entirely stone built shepherds emergency shelter situated within a grazing range that is allocated to a particular seasonal shepherd that year - apparently there was a bit of rivalry over whose sheep could go where.

And after this summers dearth of grass the potential for inter-shephard friction had increased.

But we were just carefree backpackers untroubled by land rights at this point in time.

Not taking up too much space i hope.

That evening we made our first acquaintance with Orelle another Frenchwoman doing the HRP by herself - and a professional singer. 

Most of us were generally way finding by maps on phones..

But it is nice now and then to get a big sheet of paper out and really see the context of where you are.

Later on in the evening, a couple of the seasonal shepherding assistants brought us very welcome beers and local pate to share.

All we really had to exchange for this hospitable largesse was chat - and perhaps we offered some chocolate?? - 

But that seemed to be enough to pass a convivial evening together. 

Later that night after retiring we had our first 'proper' thunderstorm.

Something we've grown to be a bit blasé about after many years of camping in them, and somehow living to tell the tale. 

But it was loud enough to have Orelle quit her tent and make for the more solid shelter of the stone built shepherds hut, already occupied by the colonials.. 

And then onwards, and onwards the next day.. 

Again it was terrain we had covered before, but it didn't matter - there's enough landscape here to bear revisiting many times over 

And through the gnarly beech woods and up the steep hillside.

Steeper and steeper

A stop for the obligatory 'album cover' shot..

"Chaps with Packs"

Ascending to Lac d Astanes, the last part of the climb takes you over some fairly 'airy' ladder type constructions .

Absolutely fine so long as you don't look down through the cracks.. 

Yet more lakeside refreshment was had..

Lunch, and a swim for some in Lac Estaens .

Down the hill, across the slope through woodland where we viewed the 'path' across the scree slope.

Face on it just looks like a thin line across a near vertical slope 

Nerves weren't helped by witnessing another hiker falling a couple of metres from the 'access closed' upper path

But once you're on it it's not nearly so bad, just a tad edgy in places..

By this time in the trip I'd started to classify any vertiginous paths into either 'potentially deathy' or 'just hurty' in terms of risk factor if fell off of, or maybe more accurately classified the 'fear factor'. 

Ultimately this one didn't really qualify for either. 

And anyhow - spoiler alert' you'll have surmised by now that 'I didn't die' - a happy phrase I picked up from Estelle on the trail.

A little bit more up and down and across for another hour or so, saw us approach the unlovely ski resort uglification known as Candanchu.. 

As we found refreshment and contemplated some extra provisioning for the next part of the trail, it started to chuck it down

Not content with that, the downpour turned into an absolute deluge, accompanied by all the drama of prolonged thunder and lightning.

Even the locals said they'd never seen anything like it.

My slight sniffiness at mountainside developments such as this, quickly evaporated into gratitude for affording such shelter.

The rain didn't look like stopping, so we decided we would.

The plan had been to push a few more km up the trail to camp. But ah the joys of having nothing to prove.

A good value, out of season hotel was found for the night.. With a bathtub..Such luxury.

And a pizza out with our new found chums.

It was a good decision.

The following morning was much nicer.

Along the way we caught up with Spanish Alberto, and made our way up the hill to Ibon de Escalar, where delight of all delights he made us proper coffee with his aeropress.

I traded caffeine for some precision adjustments to his head-balance technique..

Not a bad line I'd say.. 

Then up and over the pass to get our first good view of the iconic Pic du Midi d'Ossau .

Quite a few others on this part of the trail as it's close to the road, and definitely worth the haul up the hill to see - sitting in its encircling bowl of hills. 

A lunch stop to prepare for the next section of lumps and bumps.

Yup you guessed it - all the way down then all the way up again..

Looking back to where we;d come.

Quite a haul up, through flocks of highly unimpressed sheep.

They do this kind of ascent everyday I expect. 

Long distance gnarl shot.. 

And another peak for us to skirt around.

Finally past the rather dried up lake, where we'd camped on a previous trip..

And over the boulders to the Col de Peyreget.

Despite the daunting first impressions given this can make for a fun way of going, if you're in the mood..

It feels like a bit of a puzzle trying to make out which rock you're going to hop onto next, but one. 

But once you get into the flow it can feel like quite a satisfying way of making progress. 

There are occasional cairns to mark 'the way' but you do have to hope they've been put there by someone sensible.. 🤔

And then down and down again.

Steep downhill at the end of the day can feel as wearying as steep uphill, knees start to grumble - so hurrah for walking poles.

I know, I know one really mustn't grumble about 'tiredness' on super priveleged holiday excursions.. I do know that.. 

But still.

Compare the pack size...

Its rarely if ever just down and down - there's often a bit more up again ..

The refuge Pombie is situated by a small lake .

Some of our company had booked a meal there 

We'd provisioned for ourselves 

But did rather enjoy a beer, in company. 

And Spanish Alberto was keen for a bit more yoga instruction..

This is one of my favourite post hiking poses (that doesn't actually involve lying down)

 Parsvottanasa 

Streches the legs in all the right places, and unfurls the front edge of the spine whilst freeing the shoulders .

All it takes to effect is a handy, wall, tree, or even a big boulder will do.

Looking up, and being evenly aligned is really important.

And of course you do both sides a few times to get best benefit. 

And so once more to bed.

Little X-mid a home from home by now.

Putting it up is quick and simple.

As by this stage of the day there's precious little energy left for any kind of faffing. 

A moody view of tomorrows 'goals' but first a well earned rest..