Not so fast, and certainly not fearless... Sea to Sea via The Pyrenees High Route

Starting somewhere .

They say that even the longest of journeys starts with a single step.

Hmm, seems for me at least, that most trips generally start with negotiating some good farm care.

Luckily, this year, the already highly capable 'Team Fresh and Green' were joined for the season, by these two marvels.. 💚💜

Here early on in the season, weeding the onions before they swelled to a magnificent girth..

Whilst the chickens get some new ground to explore - their containing fence goes up once I've unhitched the house from the tractor. 

The summers cultivations, planting and picking circle around, week by week, regularly rhythmically. 

It was so very hot and dry, hard work for all of us at times. 

Tomatoes started to crop heavily - quite delicious.

And we welcome the furry new pest control team, Audré and Bel .

Then suddenly - how can this be??

It's August!

One way train tickets are purchased..

An open ended trip?!? 

How exciting.

If a tad daunting. 

So the usual last minute packing, finding and fettling, and even a couple of new things too. 

Including gossamer light waterproof trousers, and a hooded hiking suntop...

Yes I do like bright things.

I find they help with telling 'this' from 'that' on bleary eyed mornings in a tent.

And it's just cheery, to have a rainbow to choose from. 

Later on in the trip a super stylish young Frenchwoman told me she appreciated my colourful outfits..

I dont mind if she was 'only being kind' - i'll take the compliment as offered anyhow 🌈

Dye bath success at turning dull grey nylon trews to purple💜 gave me no end of satisfaction. 

Much less likely to show trail-stains as well as being a prettier colour.

And then, after seemingly endless lists, and sublists, making sure everything is sorted on the farm, we're pretty much packed.

And ready(ish) 

Experiencing the usual last minute pre departure nerves which over the years I've tried to tell myself is just excited anticipation.

But whatever it is, it still feels a bit scarey.

The farm is left in more than trustworthy hands, for sure.. 

Then a relatively smooth journey, all involving trains yes 😊 - UK to London. Trains - Eurostar to Paris.

 And yet more trains - Metro across Paris  then top deck on the TGV to find us arriving in Hendaye on the Atlantic coast, on a dark but warm Wednesday evening. 

Such a civilised way to travel 😎

 A perfectly comfortable pension with breakfast was secured, just over the border in Irun..

But the next days forecast is terrible, and so it proves to be.

Absolutely sheeting it down, overspilling shop awnings, and sluicing the streets, not ideal for starting a hike.

Although in truth the rain also brought some relief.

For the bulk of the summer, the whole area had been suffering severe droughts and fires, and the thought of even attempting this coast to coast traverse with very limited water sources, and high fire risk was worrying. 

So a day spent wandering the dampened streets of Irun was no real hardship.

And then finally, finally, a brighter day dawns.. The much anticipated beginning.

Traditionally you're supposed to start this hike at the Atlantic in Hendaye.

Or even more properly in the Atlantic.

So - not wanting to draw down the early ire of the trail pixies by defying convention - we do the decent thing .

And look! 

New blue shoes too.. 

Followed by some wriggling back through town, via yet more provisioning, and a cafe for a decent coffee.. 

Spying as we go, a couple more solitary hikers who appear to be on a similar mission..

Perhaps we shall meet them later??

Perhaps we shall 😊

Ascending the town's suburban hinterland, and first foothills already felt steepish, and hottish.. 

Eventually rising onto more open ground where we took our first proper HRP deviation -

Often the first part of the trail follows the more civilised GR10 through the Basque country - but it chucks you onto some slightly gnarlier and higher stuff now and then, just for kicks  .. 

 

It certainly felt as if a deviant had come up with the plan of  bashing through muddy slopes, overgrown bramble and bracken, to get to exactly the same place eventually as the main path, which we could have followed.

No matter - just an early test of patience. 

Lunch was taken soon after.

The plan had been to start the trip fairly gently..

As neither of us was feeling incredibly fit -

Not go too far, or too fast for the first few days at least. 

Right - so let's do pretty much 30km and 1,300 m of ascent straight out of the trap via

 - what felt, at this stage - a mahoosive mountain topped by a classic Bond villains lair, that should do it.

He looks pleased enough right?? 

After a strenuous ascent, which had me self distracting via counting footsteps - you know the kind of thing :-

 "I reckon i can get to that rock in 300 paces - lets see if that works" 

 We stopped for an early evening brew near the top of la Rhune, and marvelled at the swathes of tourists who had sensibly ascended via cable train from the other side.

 They then suddenly all dissapeared en masse the same way - Leaving it almost eerie on the eyrie.

So reshoulder packs, and contemplate the steepish descent to where flatter more campable ground, with water source was promised.

I had new blue shoes too 💙

My first ever pair of La Sportiva - recommended to me by a more experienced trekker as just the thing for this trail.

Generally favouring two pairs of liner socks inside so long as it wasn't really wet or cold.

And why would you pass up a chance to stretch those hamstrings if a compliant height presents itself.?

Utthitta hasta padangusthasana.

The sun was leaving us to get on with it, as we tramped what felt like a very loong way down, to that first nights pitch. 

Where we came, once again, upon our future firm trail buddy Alberto, already installed in the accommodating grounds of a local restaurant Lizuniaga - sadly the eaterie was closed by the time we arrived.

 We didn't enquire too closely as to the nature of the repast we'd missed.

We had already had a brief encounter with A'

 around midday, at that junction in the path where the HRP 'proper' went thaddaway >>> 

He too had done battle with the mud, and thorny undergrowth in pursuit of trail 'purity' 

Ahh, the virtuous, dedication of the noviates. 

Anyway, first serious use of our new tent .

It was late, so my main technical appraisal was something along the lines of - 

'Nice interior pockets' 

Before eating something hot, filling, and doubtless a tad mushy out of a packet, and subsequently falling very thoroughly asleep. 

Our Dan Durston X- mid in foreground, his Tarptent Stratospire Li in background.

 I've got an over-enthusiastic light gathering night sight on my camera which beefs things up - I know it was much darker than this at the time. 

Early(ish) up and out across the hot Basque hills, taking a couple of last backwards glances at the Atlantic.

And some tantalising glimpses on the very far horizon, of the 'proper' mountains to come.

Via old woodlands of oak and beech.

They are tiny ponies yes, but also a very big oak. 

Hot heights, and stony undulations, with little water available, plenty of reasonable places to pitch a shelter, but not much water for any overnight stays. 

Another long day of ups and downs, no really high heights, but fairly relentless switchbacks.

Honestly I wasn't complaining already...😇 

We briefly dallied with the idea of a pension for comfort, in Arizkun ...  But one half of the accommodation here was closed, the other fully booked up.

Ah well, push on, no doubt we'll find somewhere to pitch up the hill a little way out of town .

Couldn't quite make it all the way up the hills onto the higher wilder ground, which might have offered woodland glades...

Tired legs were being somewhat rebellious - especially carrying the weight of that nights water supply too.

So grown-ass adults that we clearly are (not) we snuck into a just-mown hayfield and camp on flattish ground away from lines of sight of any nearby houses.

I'm sure the farmer wouldn't really mind, I wouldn't really if it were me. 

A very hot humid night, not so much sleep, but the slight nervousness at being discovered, meant we were up in good time all the same.

On previous Pyrenees trips early morning starts were rather rarer but we've got specified km to cover, so we had better get with the distance programme, i guess. 

Up and up, and onto broad paths through misty, atmospheric old feeling countryside . 

All the guide books talk of dampness, and often rain in this part of the world - and true to form that's what we got.

Not really that unpleasant either when you're getting used to hefting a pack up a gradient.

Apart from a few way-finding challenges, where woodland and rocky outcrops came together to confuse.

 

We made it,  with barely a scratch to that days highest height.

Col de Burga - despite the name no fast food vans were in evidence..

On the trail downwards we had an encounter with a cute little fuzzy creature on the pathside.

We assumed she had fallen from a small child's clutches...

Duly rescued, and stowed in pack, as it seemed a rather lonely place to be abandoned to the elements.

Then another steep descent into Aldudes.

Here on a very steep concrete road I remembered how walking downhill backwards can relieve tight calves ( if the terrain allows of course)

Only a half days walking really, but it was nice to stop and have a leisurely Sunday board of cheese and charcuterie, and light beer 😊 at the friendly roadside bistro.

Then as an extra treat - the very helpful guardian of the village facilities, near where we'd arrived, made sure he was at the shower block at four o'clock for our pre arranged sluice off, very welcome after a couple of sticky and dusty, days and nights out.

The plan had been to stay at the tiny campground that Sunday night, resupply with a few days lunches, the following morning, and then push on.

Ah, but it turns out the little shop isn't open on Mondays either.. Ooops..

So a quick skedaddle down the road to a rather expensive, and limited in stock farm shop.

Quality local produce yes, but hikers cannot live by ham and cheese alone..

Well some of us can't at least.

Considerably heavier in pack, and lighter in pocket, next day we climbed up out of Aldudes.

More bosky landscapes, damp woodlands, and verdant views, but pretty easy striding out once we'd reached the tops.

A lunch stop to enjoy that quality tinned cassoulet from the previous days foraging. 

Mopsy - of the magnetic feet - for it is she whom we rescued - couldn't quite get the tin open.

So the deed had to be done with a titanium tent peg, and a rock - very rustic - almost verging on 'butchcraft'.

Not the kind of lunch we usually go in for, but it was particularly delicious, and sustaining, even cold shared straight out the tin.. 

A little further on, the HRP intersects at the col de Roncevaux, with the start of the Camino de Santiago, which heading west from here emanating from st Jean de Pied Port .

Quite a contrast in 'hiker styles' shall we say.

It was only their first day, but many of those pilgrims coming the other way looked as if they would be doing their fair share of suffering and atoning before journeys end.

 

I hoped they'd done some proper good sinning already to make it all worthwhile.

Quite a few appeared to be making life unnecessarily difficult for themselves. 

But in truth, I'm the last person to be judging other folks kit choices, so I'll stop with that kind of critique right now. 

It all looked very sociable - perhaps a bit too much so, if you're the sort who ever fancies a half hours contemplative solitude whilst walking.

Anyway - each to their own, and so forth.. 

Coming down from the heights, via pastures new (to us)

We bumped into another new friend Otto, with whom we'd briefly chatted in Aldudes, via more picturesque pastures to..

Unexpectedly a roadside cabine, as a stop off for the night, with handy water point.

Apparently you weren't supposed to stay over if you'd arrived by vehicle, but I'm not quite sure how they policed that one.

 Generally we prefer to camp, unless there's very good reason not to, so we pitched outside anyway.

 Otto, and Alberto, who had arrived a little earlier opted for sleeping indoors

Early morning route consultation..

Definitely a possibility of 'separated at birth?' with these two. 

- Oh and  OK maybe a few years apart too.

Here trying to outdo each other with their startling footwear choices.🤔

A lot of that morning was spent contouring just above or in the mist.

Longer views into the valleys, would have been nice, but it leant an air of mystery to the journey.

Like walking around the edges of grassy islands above a misty sea.. 

Except for the occasional clonking of cow bells from the lower pastures

Alberto caught us up at our lunch stop, and then continued on ahead.

We had the serious matter of another tin of cassoulet to savour...

Duck this time. 

and what appears to be the airing of a quilt.

At last the clouds burnt off with the midday heat. 

We dipped down from our lunch spot, only to climb and climb up the other side of the valley. 

Unsurprisingly, level walking becomes an oddity the deeper you go into the mountains proper. 

And then through the sparsely pine wooded slopes to reach some welcome riverside refreshment..

There was a nice bar serving welcome snackage and drinks too.  

It seemed like a logical place to stop, although water was scarcer than it should have been on account of localised water point malfunction.

The cafe helped us out though 

As we wandered back to pitch by the river we spotted two figures waving at us from the roadside..

Dutch Ton - who we'd encountered around about our lunch spot the previous day, and Otto had caught us up, and we pitched together on the special piece of grass reserved for hairy hikers like us. 

The X mid turns out to be a pretty easy pitch, even simpler than the stratospire that we'd got used to using on previous trips.

 It was a bit heavy with condensation by the morning, but that can be the downside of a riverside camp.

 I spent quite a lot of that evening with needle and thread and grosgrain webbing  beefing up my walking poles - their only real design flaw is rather fragile neoprene straps which start to stretch and thin after only a few days out. 

The next day was scheduled to be a 'big one' - and so indeed it proved.

The HRP here goes over Pic d'Orhy- it's a dry route, so a lot of water needs to be carried too.

The first incline of the day through the woods brings you out by a hilltop chalet complex, at Iraty which also boasts a highly distracting farm-shop type affair .

Lots of yummy local food, and plenty of that keenly sought hiker treat - fresh fruit..

So a big nine thirty am breakfast was taken - comprising some of the delicious but heavier things - fruit and yoghurt and just possibly some pastries - and then pack up a few lighter treats for later.

Up the road, and across the valley to get our first proper view of the days task ahead.. 

We had over three litres each of the last available water, to add to the load. 

Oh my poor over-priveleged, but not-very-fit legs.. 

There were quite a few hairy and airy parts to cross on the ridgy limestone outcrops, before getting to the final climb to the top at  2017 m .

.

Edgy ledges with proper 'deathy' drops for the unwary..

( I rarely, if ever, take pictures of them cos I'm usually too busy just trying to 'be brave' and 'not die') 

Fear not dear reader though -  I am proper wary.

 Being quite scared of heights is not always ideal for these kind of trips, but i like to think a fear of 'Things-that-could-kill-you-if-you-fall-off-of-them' is fairly rational and reasonable aversion . 

Further on, to reach the summit at we took (the designated) and slightly more cautious route. 

But shortly after we saw a couple of our new compadres attempt the less advised and more precipitous route behind us. 

Fortunately/ unfortunately we were there to see it, and alerted them to the safer way, hmm should you get involved like this.?

This is the slight downside to making friends along the way - you start to care a bit (too much?) about the advisability of other peoples choices as well .

At the top there were an uncommon amount of flying ants and other bugs and buzzy critters - clouds of them - but we got the stove going anyway as tea seemed to be the only sensible recourse after our first + 2000m  ascent of the trip ..

But the day was not done yet - not by a long shot .

 What goes up - must surely come down - and then up again - along a long ridge - up another hill then down again - one last surprisingly toe hurty slope - poor little pinkies had had enough.. 

Would they ever forgive me?? 

 

The end is not in sight yet  - it is beyond that hill yes - but which hill exactly ??

And then there's always another hill - albeit smaller beyond that ..

We arrived lateish about 6.30 after the promised long day, at Cabane d'Ardane.

Several people both known, and new faces too, were already congregated there.

 It is the most reliable local source of fresh water, and offers some solid shelter for those with less sturdy cover.

To add to the general confusion - here we encountered another Alberto - only this was the real deal - proper Spanish Alberto from Barcelona .

He informed us that we might not like him at first because he thought that people often didn't - 

- so i properly defied him by taking to him straightaway ...

I mean who could resist the delights of 'other' Albertos scran bag - thats quite a bearable bear right ??

Another riverside pitch a little away from the madding hiker 'crowd' - thats all of five people yes ..

  - reliably clean water fetched from the little shepherds cabin just up the valley. 

Next morning offered mist, and an early-ish start. Up and over into more mysteriously shrouded high ground and steepish ravines.

There were a few wayfinding glitches as local paths intersected with the main route. 

A small amount of tired grumpiness may have resulted also from the previous days exertions . 

But cordiality was largely maintained.

All of which brought us eventually to the newly renovated Refuge Belagua..

The plan had been for a brief lunch pitstop, before pushing on.. 

But the forecast for that afternoon wasn't so great..

Whereas, the hospitality on offer...😊

These people certainly know how to feed hungry hikers.

And then of course a light beer to wash it all down.

 

And then one of our party decided to book a bunk for the night rather than continue on into the gathering murkiness.. 

So conceding my weariness I happily agreed to this comforting proposition.

A good nights sleep in an almost empty dorm, on a proper mattress - bliss  

The forecast for the next day wasn't exactly brilliant either, but hanging about waiting for weather to change didn't appeal. 

So waterproofs on, sturdy attitude adopted, and keep going.

And for me waterproof socks on too.

This next section through high karst is pretty spectacular, maybe made even more so as the mist rises and falls to reveal, and then cloak the outcrops and clusters of pines with their toeholds between..

Again it's a dry area so the days water needs be carried. 

The effort, and even the delay, was rewarded .

The weather turned out much better than the dismal downpour that had been predicted.

Ton enjoying the trail most fulsomely.. 

But that seemed to be his default.. A cheery companion to have along.

He would often make encouraging remarks about my progress, maybe when he could see I was feeling a bit less than energetic - done less understandingly it could have come across as a bit patronising - but in this case it felt more helpful than anything else.

As the trip wore on I somehow managed to shift most, if not all, of the feelings of 'not quite good enough' .

 But I hadn't quite arrived at that happy mental state at this stage of the game. 

A lunch stop, and obligatory brew at the highest col of the day.

Still the clouds, they came and went.. 

Despite the clag there was enough wind for a celebratory flight.. 

Then down towards slightly greener areas of grazing and a little stream .. Someone even had a donkey dairy going.. 

Makeshift milking parlour, set up to take advantage of the high summer grazing, not sure how they would have done with this seasons' scanty grass.. Although donk's are generally considered good doers on thin rations. 

Descending into Mirkwood, and eventually a steep boulder and drystone pathway towards the plain on the valley bottom . 

Quite a feat of engineering towards the end, but I guess constructing it was the only way to safely get livestock up into the area of higher grazing. 

At the bottom a couple of inquisitive goats were on hand to greet us. 

Looking back from whence we'd come.

It's hard to get a sense of scale of the thing especially without good visibility.

The next day all would become clearer. 

And then onwards and down towards Lescun..

Somewhere we had hiked to and from previously. 

And looking forward to our first 'proper' rest day. 

'Someone' - not I had suggested that maybe (?!) we could get away, with just a half days rest, and be pushing on the following afternoon ..

However my knees and other achey bits, had other  ideas - A singular lack of gnarl I'm afraid. 

The campsite had been updated a little since our last visit, but still a nice country atmosphere - mostly campers and the odd van here and there.

The 'holiday' hat emerges - in the shady lanes of Lescun. 

And a short break for rest and recuperation..