As I intend to keep this blog going I thought I would update it every now and again with some interesting videos or websites until I am on my feet again. I found this video a few months ago and really liked it. It does not have a strong narrative and is a little higglety pigglety in what he covers but overall it's interesting enough.
Monday 24 August 2015
What to do in my down time.
As I intend to keep this blog going I thought I would update it every now and again with some interesting videos or websites until I am on my feet again. I found this video a few months ago and really liked it. It does not have a strong narrative and is a little higglety pigglety in what he covers but overall it's interesting enough.
Thursday 20 August 2015
The doctors diagnosis puts a fork in it.
Today I am sorry to announce that I will not be finishing the trail. After a few days of recuperation
my foot began to feel better but after a little swimming and a small walk it started to degrade again with pain in the opposite foot also.
I decided to go home from Barcelona yesterday and see my doctor. Today he has diagnosed Achilles Tendonitis on both sides. I have been advised to rest for a month and refrain from excessive sport for a month afterwards.
This is a huge blow to what I thought was a setback and I'm pretty down right now. I know I have seen some amazing things on the days I have completed and I will use this next month or so to plan section hiking the route over the winter and into next spring.
The most disappointing thing about this whole situation is the time, effort and money I put into this.
I was explaining to a friend that although I have seen some amazing scenery and climbed some great mountains in my six months prep, It was all leading to this month. I went through days of cold, crap weather in the knowledge that it was all leading to something.
I'm going to take this down time to reflect and plan for the future as this is unfinished business for me. The blog will remain and my future exploits will be documented. This is not over!
The unhappy marmot.
my foot began to feel better but after a little swimming and a small walk it started to degrade again with pain in the opposite foot also.
I decided to go home from Barcelona yesterday and see my doctor. Today he has diagnosed Achilles Tendonitis on both sides. I have been advised to rest for a month and refrain from excessive sport for a month afterwards.
This is a huge blow to what I thought was a setback and I'm pretty down right now. I know I have seen some amazing things on the days I have completed and I will use this next month or so to plan section hiking the route over the winter and into next spring.
The most disappointing thing about this whole situation is the time, effort and money I put into this.
I was explaining to a friend that although I have seen some amazing scenery and climbed some great mountains in my six months prep, It was all leading to this month. I went through days of cold, crap weather in the knowledge that it was all leading to something.
I'm going to take this down time to reflect and plan for the future as this is unfinished business for me. The blog will remain and my future exploits will be documented. This is not over!
The unhappy marmot.
Tuesday 18 August 2015
A Message for David & Helen
Give me a shout michael_lett@hotmail.com or +34 647118656 (If you have whatsapp i'm using it.)
I would love to catch up and see how you are getting on.
I would love to catch up and see how you are getting on.
Monday 17 August 2015
Day 8 Part 2
After around 40 minutes of trying to get a lift I realised it was a futile situation and I had to look at other options. There was the town I had come from (Isaba) 13km to the west or the town of Anso 16km to the south. Isaba seemed like the easy option, but I remembered there had been a 20-30 minute decent yesterday into the camping, which ment at least that going back, descending is ok on my foot but ascending is where I was having major problems. On the other hand the town of Anso was to the south and all decent along a main road. I decided to go to Anso purely on the basis that I would be walking on a main road the whole way and if I had a tear or rupture of any type passerbyes might see the body at the side of the road, although i´m sure they would just ignore it.
As I started the four to five hour journey the name Anso was burning into my head, somehow I felt an affiliation for it. I didn´t know why but it just rang bells for the first three hours or so. Eventually the face of a friend came into my head. She had told me she came from Aragon but I couldnt remember where. I decided to text her as I knew he was summer holidaying and she might just be close to Anso or at least in the region.
As I walked what turned out to be only a four hour journey I had lot of angry thoughts running through my mind. It was obvious that the overweight backpack and insistance on doing two days in one had been my downfall, indeed here I was injured, walking an extra 16km only worsening my predicament.
As I arrived in Anso I was greeted by a village that had a lot of ameenaties even for a Sunday. The bars were thriving and the centre square was as busy as any Saturday. Suddenly my phone sounded, it was a message from my friend indeed had a summer house in Anso but was currently holidaying in the Costa Brava. She said her brother was there and if I needed help she would contact him. I said all i needed was a decent hotel for the night, she recommended one and before I knew it I was hobbling along to look for it. Just as I turned a corner I thought I saw a glimpse of a student, "impossible!" I thought. Sometimes as a teacher you see a little bit of a student in another child but as soon as they turn around it´s not them. As I turned the corner again I see the boy who even from the front looks like a student. I was a little afraid too call out as I still wasn´t sure but he was a spitting image. As I passed him I look at the adults he was with and I recognised the father as my students dad. I was taken back, not only is my friend from here but also I´m now seeing a student..... This was just a little village some 700km from my town.
To cut a long story short it turns out the father was the brother of my friend. They helped me along to the hotel and translated for me in order to get a room. Although I was till angry with everything about leaving the trail I was mentally any physically tired. I fell onto the bed around 3pm and didn´t awake until 9pm. After I woke up I checked for buses to Barcelona, it was going to be a pain in the arse and the bus left very early, but It could be achieved in 9 hours.
After finishing us I slipped back into a slumber until 6am when I got up showered and took the bus.
Since then I have been resting my foot here in Barcelona to this very day. For the first 5 days it was difficult to asses any damage as both my feet ballooned in swelling and both my calves we cramping, I suppose once you stop waking after 8 days hardcore this is normal. In the last two days I have felt much better and have been doing a little walking along the seafront.
Now I think I´m ready to get back on the trail. Unfortunately it is going to be impossible to go back and complete the whole thing as I have a lack of time and now money, but I do endeavour to at least cover the majority of the Catalan Pyrenees. Fingers crossed tomorrow I will book a ticket and the next day I will be on my way. I'm sure if I stay fit I will over 3/5ths of my original route with the other 2 to be completed at a later time. My biggest fear is injury which is why I wasn't to stay inside Catalunya, if anything happens I feel much better about seeking help and treatment here. My other fear about injury is that it becomes chronic. I don't even like to write that word as it might be a jinx, but I am very wary. I love these mountains and have aspiration of going on to do the GR20, John Muir trail and even section hiking the PCT and Appalachian trails, so keeping myself healthy is an important part of the plan.
We will see and only time will tell, but keep posted for when I'm back on the trail bitches!
In the meantime here are a few photos of the long walk to Anso.
As I started the four to five hour journey the name Anso was burning into my head, somehow I felt an affiliation for it. I didn´t know why but it just rang bells for the first three hours or so. Eventually the face of a friend came into my head. She had told me she came from Aragon but I couldnt remember where. I decided to text her as I knew he was summer holidaying and she might just be close to Anso or at least in the region.
As I walked what turned out to be only a four hour journey I had lot of angry thoughts running through my mind. It was obvious that the overweight backpack and insistance on doing two days in one had been my downfall, indeed here I was injured, walking an extra 16km only worsening my predicament.
As I arrived in Anso I was greeted by a village that had a lot of ameenaties even for a Sunday. The bars were thriving and the centre square was as busy as any Saturday. Suddenly my phone sounded, it was a message from my friend indeed had a summer house in Anso but was currently holidaying in the Costa Brava. She said her brother was there and if I needed help she would contact him. I said all i needed was a decent hotel for the night, she recommended one and before I knew it I was hobbling along to look for it. Just as I turned a corner I thought I saw a glimpse of a student, "impossible!" I thought. Sometimes as a teacher you see a little bit of a student in another child but as soon as they turn around it´s not them. As I turned the corner again I see the boy who even from the front looks like a student. I was a little afraid too call out as I still wasn´t sure but he was a spitting image. As I passed him I look at the adults he was with and I recognised the father as my students dad. I was taken back, not only is my friend from here but also I´m now seeing a student..... This was just a little village some 700km from my town.
To cut a long story short it turns out the father was the brother of my friend. They helped me along to the hotel and translated for me in order to get a room. Although I was till angry with everything about leaving the trail I was mentally any physically tired. I fell onto the bed around 3pm and didn´t awake until 9pm. After I woke up I checked for buses to Barcelona, it was going to be a pain in the arse and the bus left very early, but It could be achieved in 9 hours.
After finishing us I slipped back into a slumber until 6am when I got up showered and took the bus.
Since then I have been resting my foot here in Barcelona to this very day. For the first 5 days it was difficult to asses any damage as both my feet ballooned in swelling and both my calves we cramping, I suppose once you stop waking after 8 days hardcore this is normal. In the last two days I have felt much better and have been doing a little walking along the seafront.
Now I think I´m ready to get back on the trail. Unfortunately it is going to be impossible to go back and complete the whole thing as I have a lack of time and now money, but I do endeavour to at least cover the majority of the Catalan Pyrenees. Fingers crossed tomorrow I will book a ticket and the next day I will be on my way. I'm sure if I stay fit I will over 3/5ths of my original route with the other 2 to be completed at a later time. My biggest fear is injury which is why I wasn't to stay inside Catalunya, if anything happens I feel much better about seeking help and treatment here. My other fear about injury is that it becomes chronic. I don't even like to write that word as it might be a jinx, but I am very wary. I love these mountains and have aspiration of going on to do the GR20, John Muir trail and even section hiking the PCT and Appalachian trails, so keeping myself healthy is an important part of the plan.
We will see and only time will tell, but keep posted for when I'm back on the trail bitches!
In the meantime here are a few photos of the long walk to Anso.
Sunday 16 August 2015
Day 8 Part 1
This was my view this morning, I will copy another full size version of it at the bottom of the post just so you can get a comprehension of the grandiose nature of it. I awoke to this knowing I would be descending into that canyon with the huge rock face hanging over me. I was super charged and super motivated after a great nights sleep. My only lingering fear was of my Achilles, this was a two day walk into the higher Pyrenees, no shops, no refuges.... No help. It was a make or break decision but my foot felt good. I went up and downstairs a couple of times and felt OK. It felt a little stiff but that was no different from any other days. We had breakfast and decided to go for it. This could be a 10 - 12 hour day today with a lot of ascent and descent.
As we set off across the car park and towards the trail head the above photo was my view, it was jaw dropping. I was excited! We finished crossing the car park and hit the trail. Not five meters into it I felt a searing pain followed by a lack of energy in my calf. Although it was stronger pain than yesterday I just thought it was because my Ibuprofen and Paracetamol for the morning had not kicked it. I also had a bad pain in my back but that had been ever present since day one. I stopped for a moment to let the pain pass. As I started walking again another pain came in my foot, like someone holding a burning match to my heal. It was that moment my calf lost almost all its power. I realised there was a problem I told David and Helen to continue on, they had a long day and it was only a short distance back to the camping. As I hobbled along with the odd glance back I was gutted. All those bad days, all those crappy rolling hills (Still steep but not like a mountain). It was all for nothing. At this moment I really wasn´t sure of the injury. I had a serious Achilles problem in the past but it was from over stretching and working myself too hard. It just didn´t feel right though. When I arrived back to the camping I took a coffee and after that tried to walk again. It was OK but i was hobbling a little still but the jarring pain had gone.
As I worked my way through the camping looking for a staffer who spoke English, I found a guy who said he spoke a little. I explained my problem and he basically told me to hitch hike the to next town of Anso. I explained i couldn´t walk and should probably see a doctor, he said he understood, I should hitch hike. "How close is Anso?" I asked, "about 15km" said the guy.
I grabbed my bag and went to the car park exit and assumed the hitch hiking position. See the experience of last night seemed to continue as car after car just ignored me and drove past, not even asking to where I wanted to go. "I'm gonna end up walking this" I thought.
Day 7
I awoke to the pitter patter of rain around 7:30 and unzipped the tent to have a look outside. Everything outside looked wet (Obviously, its had been raining after all). My rain sheet had managed to cling to the bag through the storm and my tent had held up well although last night had been nothing compared to the storms that await me in Catalunya that´s for sure.
I sat in the tent wondering what my next move should be, if I get out now everything including my rucksack will get soaked which means I will have wet kit tonight or I can sit in the tent and wait it out which could be all day. I might also remind you that my tent is just a bivvy, its designed for sleeping and not a prolonged stay, you can hardly move inside.
Having lived in England for the majority of my life and having experience of the powerful afternoon storms in Catalunya/Spain I know that for small periods the rain almost halts at times for two to three minutes when a lighter cloud passes so my idea was to wait until there is a lull and jump out batman style put as many things in the rucksack as possible jump back in and wait for the next lull.
It worked! After just one hour I was packed and off on my merry way..... Well i wouldn´t say merry, it was pissing down and I was getting soaked especially my shoes which are not really build to defend a down pour.
So today´s plan was to do a double day, the guide book said day 7 is 20km/5 hours, so my plan was to push to the next town in four hours and a half then have lunch before jumping into day 8 11km/3 hours. I felt I could cover 31km in that time.
As i trudged through the rain I was becoming disheartened and demotivated, all but two of the days had been miserable and here was another day where taking photos was pointless and walking was mundane without reward. I wondered to myself why I had chosen this route, at least here in the Basque country... I knew it would be sunny and hot with afternoon storms in Catalunya, that is more predictable, but rain and near freezing temps in summer? No way!
It was only when I arrived to the town of Izaba that the rain let up and I was able to rattle off a couple of photos. I sat in the centre of the town eating my lunch slightly depressed. My phone and Mp3 player were done, no battery because of the lack of sun for days. My tablet had maybe one hour of power and I was fucking freezing.
"Give yer head a shake", I thought to myself, "Just get on with it!"...... Once again I was off.
As I threw on the rucksack pain was shooting through my back, no problem! This happens every day now, i just block it out however, when I climbed the stairs to go back to the main road I felt yet another pull in my Achilles. At least it was only one, yesterday I had felt it a few times.
As I walked to the edge of the town I met David and Helen who were just arriving. David took one look at me and said, "Let´s have a coffee and we will move out together. So that's what we did, we went to a bar and had a few coffees.
I don´t know if it was the warm milk, the caffeine or the company but when we rolled out of that town I was like a new person. The rain was still hammering down on us but I was driven, driven to arrive at the next camping ground. You see today was one of my "Special" days, basically I have five of them along my route. It is a day when I can either stay in a hostel or take a meal in a restaurant. Tonight I would be staying in a hostel . As comedic conversation covered the sound of rain David and Helen told me stories of their "Short Cut" routes which had ended in walking much further than anticipated and as we talked and laughed the hours seemed to pass by very quickly until David got us a little lost again at a badly marked section. With just one hour remaining be started our final ascent. Only three minutes in and I felt an almighty uncomfortable tug in my Achilles. and for the next hour I would feel numerous more. I adjusted my walking style to try and give relief but it was of no use. As we descended into the camping I was happy I would not feel that tugging again and as evening arrived so did we.
"A hostel!" I thought, "Electricity, I can charge my things. A shower, I can have a wash. A bed, I can sleep like a baby. Well, one of them was correct. I showered for around two hours, not only to eradicate the smell of the last six days but to charge my phone in the only power outlet here. I also ate my dinner in there. Not in the shower of course but in the bathroom (My grandma would slap me silly if she knew, fortunately she cant use the Tínternet). After a beer with David and Helen, David confessed that he had tried to lift my rucksack whilst I was in the Bakery yesterday. "You have to get rid of some of that weight" he said. I explained I had dropped a few kilos in town yesterday but I needed to keep some of the things in my rucksack for the moment, I could send them home later if need be.
After finishing our beers at an ungodly 22:15 we all decided to hit the sack, not before I downed some Ibuprofen.
Hostels have a strict policy of lights out and no sound after 22:00 hours which although early is there to let long distance hikers get a good rest before setting out early but also to stop people coming to the mountains for a party. The first time I experienced this I was on a short hike and didn´t agree with it myself but... "When in Rome". It seems lots of Spanish people don´t get this. I was quit shocked by their simple disregard for the rules well into the night playing music on their phones and basically having a party even when people pleaded with them to stop they were just ignorant about it. These are the selfie selfish days I suppose. I wasn´t too bad for me as I sleep like a baby but I woke up a few times to hear them still talking. However soon enough I slipped back into a deep sleep.
I sat in the tent wondering what my next move should be, if I get out now everything including my rucksack will get soaked which means I will have wet kit tonight or I can sit in the tent and wait it out which could be all day. I might also remind you that my tent is just a bivvy, its designed for sleeping and not a prolonged stay, you can hardly move inside.
Having lived in England for the majority of my life and having experience of the powerful afternoon storms in Catalunya/Spain I know that for small periods the rain almost halts at times for two to three minutes when a lighter cloud passes so my idea was to wait until there is a lull and jump out batman style put as many things in the rucksack as possible jump back in and wait for the next lull.
It worked! After just one hour I was packed and off on my merry way..... Well i wouldn´t say merry, it was pissing down and I was getting soaked especially my shoes which are not really build to defend a down pour.
So today´s plan was to do a double day, the guide book said day 7 is 20km/5 hours, so my plan was to push to the next town in four hours and a half then have lunch before jumping into day 8 11km/3 hours. I felt I could cover 31km in that time.
As i trudged through the rain I was becoming disheartened and demotivated, all but two of the days had been miserable and here was another day where taking photos was pointless and walking was mundane without reward. I wondered to myself why I had chosen this route, at least here in the Basque country... I knew it would be sunny and hot with afternoon storms in Catalunya, that is more predictable, but rain and near freezing temps in summer? No way!
It was only when I arrived to the town of Izaba that the rain let up and I was able to rattle off a couple of photos. I sat in the centre of the town eating my lunch slightly depressed. My phone and Mp3 player were done, no battery because of the lack of sun for days. My tablet had maybe one hour of power and I was fucking freezing.
"Give yer head a shake", I thought to myself, "Just get on with it!"...... Once again I was off.
As I threw on the rucksack pain was shooting through my back, no problem! This happens every day now, i just block it out however, when I climbed the stairs to go back to the main road I felt yet another pull in my Achilles. At least it was only one, yesterday I had felt it a few times.
As I walked to the edge of the town I met David and Helen who were just arriving. David took one look at me and said, "Let´s have a coffee and we will move out together. So that's what we did, we went to a bar and had a few coffees.
I don´t know if it was the warm milk, the caffeine or the company but when we rolled out of that town I was like a new person. The rain was still hammering down on us but I was driven, driven to arrive at the next camping ground. You see today was one of my "Special" days, basically I have five of them along my route. It is a day when I can either stay in a hostel or take a meal in a restaurant. Tonight I would be staying in a hostel . As comedic conversation covered the sound of rain David and Helen told me stories of their "Short Cut" routes which had ended in walking much further than anticipated and as we talked and laughed the hours seemed to pass by very quickly until David got us a little lost again at a badly marked section. With just one hour remaining be started our final ascent. Only three minutes in and I felt an almighty uncomfortable tug in my Achilles. and for the next hour I would feel numerous more. I adjusted my walking style to try and give relief but it was of no use. As we descended into the camping I was happy I would not feel that tugging again and as evening arrived so did we.
"A hostel!" I thought, "Electricity, I can charge my things. A shower, I can have a wash. A bed, I can sleep like a baby. Well, one of them was correct. I showered for around two hours, not only to eradicate the smell of the last six days but to charge my phone in the only power outlet here. I also ate my dinner in there. Not in the shower of course but in the bathroom (My grandma would slap me silly if she knew, fortunately she cant use the Tínternet). After a beer with David and Helen, David confessed that he had tried to lift my rucksack whilst I was in the Bakery yesterday. "You have to get rid of some of that weight" he said. I explained I had dropped a few kilos in town yesterday but I needed to keep some of the things in my rucksack for the moment, I could send them home later if need be.
After finishing our beers at an ungodly 22:15 we all decided to hit the sack, not before I downed some Ibuprofen.
Hostels have a strict policy of lights out and no sound after 22:00 hours which although early is there to let long distance hikers get a good rest before setting out early but also to stop people coming to the mountains for a party. The first time I experienced this I was on a short hike and didn´t agree with it myself but... "When in Rome". It seems lots of Spanish people don´t get this. I was quit shocked by their simple disregard for the rules well into the night playing music on their phones and basically having a party even when people pleaded with them to stop they were just ignorant about it. These are the selfie selfish days I suppose. I wasn´t too bad for me as I sleep like a baby but I woke up a few times to hear them still talking. However soon enough I slipped back into a deep sleep.
Day 6
I awoke to the sound of a mobile playing some kind of wake up tune, "This can´t be mine" I thought and I was correct, it was one of the phones of the Pamplonian girls next to me who had no intention of waking up to turn it off. As my furry four legged night guard did her early morning stretches next to be I was already up and packing my stuff.
As I waved goodbye to the girls as I was eager to be on my way, I waved hello to Helen and David who were just setting off. They bolted off up the hill as i took my rubbish to the bins.
The start out was rough, pretty much 70% gradient uphill with awkward way marking which the early morning mist made even more difficult to read. Even though I had a GPS I had decided to use it only in an emergency as it had been eating batteries the first few days out and the way marking had been pretty decent so far if you kept your eyes open. As strode uphill I noticed a slight pain in my achilles, it wasn´t bad but it was defiantly something to keep eyes on.
As I ascended yet another wooded hillside I wondered if I was ever going to climb a mountain on this trip. yet another misty minimum sight distance of 5 meters day was ahead of me.
I finally reached my first crest and stopped a the water point I heard the chirp chirping of the Pamplonians catching up with me, we had a bit of a chit chat about the weather before I got on my way and left them to rest.
I found myself going up through yet another wood and as I bitched about cutting some trees down to get some kind of view I came to a clearing. The clearing was right on the edge of a precarious ridge, having a slight problem with vertigo (even though I like heights) I edged close but not too close to grab a couple of photos. Yet again the Pamplonions caught up to me but before there was time for chatting I was off. I seemed to be making good time today (which was a shock) and as I reached the edge of the wooded mountain and look up to today's mountain to climb I could see David and Helen in the distance. "I might see them at the top" I thought, I never did.
I was crossing a huge field full of inquisitive cows and took a short rest to look back where I´d came from, I had expected to see the girls clearing the wooded ridge but they hadn´t. With a "huh!?" I was on my merry way.
As I started along a long farm road which lead to the mountain for today I looked back one more time, the girls still hadn´t cleared the woods and it was beginning to make me worry that one of them had fallen or something, the climb up wasn´t that bad but I seemed to have a good thirty minute lead on them when it had been five minutes maximum for the last two hours. Just then I saw movement, "one, two, wait wait, three ok good! Oh hang on four, five, and a dog?" Nobody with a dog has been on the trail as far as I knew. "Hang on, that dog is white.... Euski was white... It cant be" I dropped my rucksack and jogged about twenty minutes back to find the pooch walking along wih the girls. I turned out she had followed two walkers out of the village then got on the scent of the girls and found them. After some discussion we decided the best thing to do was continue to the next destination and call the bar from the last town to say we had their dog. It was a plan and the only plan however, Euski had other ideas. When we arrived to the accent of the mountain the dog took one look at it and turned heel and started walking back. "Can she really find her way back?" was my only question, I just had to hope so.
As we finally summited we took a well earned rest and took some photos the view was split. One side of the mountain had views of steep rolling hills as far as the eye could see, in another direction thick cloud approaching us, and to the east.... Well that was my first view of the jagged peaks of the Pyrenees. They looked amazing in all their glory, I couldn´t wait, just one more day and I would be there.
We started what seemed to be the longest decent I have ever done, maybe four or five hours in total, knee jarring, muscle cramping decent. Three hours in we had a rest bite, a slight climb of a few hundred meters, "Thank god!" I thought, "My knees need this". As I climbed, I felt a distinct pull in the heel of my foot, not painful but uncomfortable. I had felt this before. I continuted to climb and after about 10 minutes I felt another tug, this time with a little pain but nothing too bad. I have suffered with achilles problems in the past but it had been a long time ago. "Maybe they are just a little tired" I thought, "I can rest them up today as the walk is pretty short, we should be arriving in the village in an hour or so". At the top of the ascent I was greeted with a church and the Pamplonians taking a rest, on the ascent they had lost me when I stopped to take some Ibuprofen and Paracetamol for the foot troubles. We ascended into the village and I was invited to swim in the river with them...... I wasn´t going to cock block myself again.
Arriving hot footed and slightly dehydrated I downed a couple of beers before actually enjoying the taste of the third. After this we took a short walk to the river which was fantastic, mountain cold water mixed with 40c heat. Thats a mix you can´t beat.
This was where I had to bid bon voyage to the girls, they had only been along for a short walk and they were on their way homes to their beds. I was slightly upset to be losing them but it had been fun while it lasted and there were still a couple of people on the train I knew and would meet up with at some point.
As the girls departed I went back to the village to search for provisions, the next few days were without food stops or at least minimum availability, and I was planning two days in one for the next couple. I grabbed what I needed and started tomorrows trail looking for good camping. Just as I was about to start the trail I met David and Helen who informed me that there should be good camping around the towns camping site, but I already had it in my head to head out and find somewhere with a good view.
I did! I found a great spot on top of a hill in the corner of a field protected a little by trees and with amazing views of the route I had taken today it was fantastic. I settled in for the night snug as a bug in a rug.
.................................................................................................................................................................
A strobe light and massive drums woke me from my slumber. I could have sworn I had set up camp in a disco had it not been fo the extra drumming of rain on my tent. I felt a slight pang of panic as I realised my tent had yet to be tested in a true pyreneeyan storm. Storms in these mountains bring buckets upon buckets of rain, nothing like your usual stuff. I had visions of my backpack rain guard blowing off into the night and my clothes being subjeted to a natural washing machine. Would the tent hold up? Will I end up swimming to my next destination?
Find out tomorrow.
As I waved goodbye to the girls as I was eager to be on my way, I waved hello to Helen and David who were just setting off. They bolted off up the hill as i took my rubbish to the bins.
The start out was rough, pretty much 70% gradient uphill with awkward way marking which the early morning mist made even more difficult to read. Even though I had a GPS I had decided to use it only in an emergency as it had been eating batteries the first few days out and the way marking had been pretty decent so far if you kept your eyes open. As strode uphill I noticed a slight pain in my achilles, it wasn´t bad but it was defiantly something to keep eyes on.
As I ascended yet another wooded hillside I wondered if I was ever going to climb a mountain on this trip. yet another misty minimum sight distance of 5 meters day was ahead of me.
I finally reached my first crest and stopped a the water point I heard the chirp chirping of the Pamplonians catching up with me, we had a bit of a chit chat about the weather before I got on my way and left them to rest.
I found myself going up through yet another wood and as I bitched about cutting some trees down to get some kind of view I came to a clearing. The clearing was right on the edge of a precarious ridge, having a slight problem with vertigo (even though I like heights) I edged close but not too close to grab a couple of photos. Yet again the Pamplonions caught up to me but before there was time for chatting I was off. I seemed to be making good time today (which was a shock) and as I reached the edge of the wooded mountain and look up to today's mountain to climb I could see David and Helen in the distance. "I might see them at the top" I thought, I never did.
I was crossing a huge field full of inquisitive cows and took a short rest to look back where I´d came from, I had expected to see the girls clearing the wooded ridge but they hadn´t. With a "huh!?" I was on my merry way.
As I started along a long farm road which lead to the mountain for today I looked back one more time, the girls still hadn´t cleared the woods and it was beginning to make me worry that one of them had fallen or something, the climb up wasn´t that bad but I seemed to have a good thirty minute lead on them when it had been five minutes maximum for the last two hours. Just then I saw movement, "one, two, wait wait, three ok good! Oh hang on four, five, and a dog?" Nobody with a dog has been on the trail as far as I knew. "Hang on, that dog is white.... Euski was white... It cant be" I dropped my rucksack and jogged about twenty minutes back to find the pooch walking along wih the girls. I turned out she had followed two walkers out of the village then got on the scent of the girls and found them. After some discussion we decided the best thing to do was continue to the next destination and call the bar from the last town to say we had their dog. It was a plan and the only plan however, Euski had other ideas. When we arrived to the accent of the mountain the dog took one look at it and turned heel and started walking back. "Can she really find her way back?" was my only question, I just had to hope so.
As we finally summited we took a well earned rest and took some photos the view was split. One side of the mountain had views of steep rolling hills as far as the eye could see, in another direction thick cloud approaching us, and to the east.... Well that was my first view of the jagged peaks of the Pyrenees. They looked amazing in all their glory, I couldn´t wait, just one more day and I would be there.
We started what seemed to be the longest decent I have ever done, maybe four or five hours in total, knee jarring, muscle cramping decent. Three hours in we had a rest bite, a slight climb of a few hundred meters, "Thank god!" I thought, "My knees need this". As I climbed, I felt a distinct pull in the heel of my foot, not painful but uncomfortable. I had felt this before. I continuted to climb and after about 10 minutes I felt another tug, this time with a little pain but nothing too bad. I have suffered with achilles problems in the past but it had been a long time ago. "Maybe they are just a little tired" I thought, "I can rest them up today as the walk is pretty short, we should be arriving in the village in an hour or so". At the top of the ascent I was greeted with a church and the Pamplonians taking a rest, on the ascent they had lost me when I stopped to take some Ibuprofen and Paracetamol for the foot troubles. We ascended into the village and I was invited to swim in the river with them...... I wasn´t going to cock block myself again.
Arriving hot footed and slightly dehydrated I downed a couple of beers before actually enjoying the taste of the third. After this we took a short walk to the river which was fantastic, mountain cold water mixed with 40c heat. Thats a mix you can´t beat.
This was where I had to bid bon voyage to the girls, they had only been along for a short walk and they were on their way homes to their beds. I was slightly upset to be losing them but it had been fun while it lasted and there were still a couple of people on the train I knew and would meet up with at some point.
As the girls departed I went back to the village to search for provisions, the next few days were without food stops or at least minimum availability, and I was planning two days in one for the next couple. I grabbed what I needed and started tomorrows trail looking for good camping. Just as I was about to start the trail I met David and Helen who informed me that there should be good camping around the towns camping site, but I already had it in my head to head out and find somewhere with a good view.
I did! I found a great spot on top of a hill in the corner of a field protected a little by trees and with amazing views of the route I had taken today it was fantastic. I settled in for the night snug as a bug in a rug.
.................................................................................................................................................................
A strobe light and massive drums woke me from my slumber. I could have sworn I had set up camp in a disco had it not been fo the extra drumming of rain on my tent. I felt a slight pang of panic as I realised my tent had yet to be tested in a true pyreneeyan storm. Storms in these mountains bring buckets upon buckets of rain, nothing like your usual stuff. I had visions of my backpack rain guard blowing off into the night and my clothes being subjeted to a natural washing machine. Would the tent hold up? Will I end up swimming to my next destination?
Find out tomorrow.
Sunday 9 August 2015
Day 5
I awoke to an early morning mist which was disappointing considering I had gone to sleep under the stars last night. As I congratulated myself for my fast packing of my back pack I was approached by 3 girls all checking out my huge rucksack, "yeah! You like it big" I thought to myself as I leaned against a table to stop myself falling over. I thought the next few hours would be easy following bums in Lycra however I was horrified by the sudden realisation I no longer possessed a GPS so as I spent the next 25 minutes going through my rucksack I realised I might have been a little to fast to congratulate myself.
Once located the GPS was on and ready to go.
As I climbed through steady brush and trees I cursed my stupidity that had forced me to lose sight of all that lyrca however it was not long before I caught up. The girls were sitting under some pine trees in the shade perusing over a map and looking for alterative routes. One of them spoke English very well and showed me their map and a possible route. I nodded as if I knew what I was lookin at (for the last few days I had just been following red and white blazes and a yellow line on my GPS. "Anyway" I said "I've gotta get going, got kilometers to cover" cock blocking myself, and off I went. After a fair few hours of ascent on easy gradient road inevitable descent started and my good lord what a descent it was.
Jarring steps off limestone rock seemed to dislocate my kneecaps mm by mm, my thigh muscles bouncing around as jelly would when a kid shakes his bowl, my toe caps being hammers against an invisible anvil, this is decent to me. Anyone who knows me knows I prefer to go uphill to downhill any day of the week. Its just pure torture descending 2km at a gradient of 85%. As I reached a small village unfortunately not my destination I gargled like Homer Simpson at the thought of an ice lolly and a glass of cider (purely for medicinal reasons you understand). As I threw on that bag of lead for the final 15 minutes of my journey I saw the girls from earlier come skipping down the hill. As they past me, one said "I want to go swimming in the river, wanna join us.…...." "No thanks!" I said cock blocking myself once more. "Gotta get to my destination, see ya!" and off I went.
Clearing yet another false crest I let out a loud "Joder!" (Spanish for f%(k ) that the whole valley must have heard. My knees were done, my feet were hot and I just wanted to get done.
Two false crests more and a slight descent and I was done, hobbling through the streets of this quaint little hamlet I found a bar, a bar with cold beer and internet, gotta write that blog.
A couple of hours later I emerged from the cool dark bar into bright sunlight, high temperatures and scantily clad girls direct from a river. We sat and talked about many things but very little about walking as the night drew near, some in good English some in Spanish, all with smiles. We were joined in conversation by a lovely tempered white dog named Euski, we laughed and joked as i scratched the ears of my new frind. Just then I noticed a couple approaching the bar, it was David and Helen from yesterday. I was very surprised to see them, the way they had been shifting it yesterday I expected them to be half way up the French Riviera by now. I switched tables and learned more about the lives and escapades of the two people who drove me on yesterday when I was faltering, it turned out they both lead very interesting lives which took me back to my old documentary days. As night fully fell on us Dave and Helen retired to their bnb as I roamed the hamlet looking for camp ground.
As I decided that it might be best to return to the pub and camp there I heard the faint whisper of my name and as Iooked over to a play park/church entrance I saw the girls sitting under an overhang. We ate and talked as i supped a bottle of cider. Looking up at the stars I drifted off into sleep with my new friends a my four legged friend keeping guard.
Thursday 6 August 2015
Day 4
As I was awoken by the sound of bells I was snapped into reality of being stampeded in my tent by hundreds of mountain sheep as I quickly unzipped my tent and looked out I found it was a mother and her foal. They stared at this half naked human like a child ponders my head before informing me that I am bald. They finally ignored me and continued to chew on the fresh rain filled grass.
As I packed up my tent it was a little later than I expected but earlier than I had starts the previous days. I swung the bag of lead on my back but was stopped in my tracks before taking a step. Above me were 30 or 40 birds of prey (eagles I suspect) frozen in the air high above the ridge above me. Not really frozen you understand just riding the thermals and wind with the precision of a formula one driver, this was by far and away one one most awesome things I have seen in my life. I continued on passing a multitude of hunting towers and hides along the was. The weather was much better than yesterday but there was a strong headwind really slowing me down. As I crossed a field full of mountain horses one approached me. No sooner had I stroked her nose s presented her belly to me. After giving her belly a good rub I continued walking and my friend decided to follow me.
A couple of hours later I came across two German guys coming in the opposite direction just a couple of days from the end of their journey. "We don't have to leave until the 20th" of the said. "We're just going to walk slowly and party". "I wish I was you I thought". We passed some chit chating about their route through Catalunya. Turns out they decided to walk over Puigmal to Puigcerda rather than go around, a route I have done myself in the past. After a while I wished them well but I had a whole extra stage to cover today after bailing yesterday.
As I filled my water bottle and dipped my cap into a fast running cold water river a couple passed me walking at a pace I couldn't understand. Way faster than me they were already disappearing into the distance as I stood up.
Ten minutes later I was sitting in an Alburgue drinking Coke and eating Haribo. Sitting next to me were the couple who had blasted past me earlier, turns out the guy was from the U.K and the woman was Swedish. As usual there was chit chat but now were ready to leave. I started a near vertical ascent with them sure in the knowledge that soon they would rapidly lose me like they had before but after 20 minutes I realised that like a racehorse they we pacing me. As we ascended yet another near vertical hill the usual evening mist rolled in. As we reached the summit there was some discussion over which direction we should go (visibility was down to a couple of meters), I had both my GPS and my phone GPS open, they had maps and a compass and before long we were moving on. Is we descended into town we went out separate ways wished each other luck and said we might see each other tomorrow. As I sit here today we didn't, once you lose people on this trail they are gone, its a sad but understandable part, this is not the Camino Santiago, this is the GR11.
Day 3
After what had been a 10 hour hell walk yesterday, I was hoping for better things today, I was deluded. What started as an easy if not a little steep climb entered yet another area of cloud cover, clouds that happened to contain rain, lots of rain. As I climbed through rain sodden bracken which in turn emptied its water covered leafs all over my jacket and shorts, I began to understand how a piece of over cooked pasta felt, soggy!. In my guide book there was a listing for a bothy (a small shelter) halfway through the route, my best bet would be to wait there and see out this rain. As I arrived at the bothy I had a thought come to me. "I bet it's locked for some reason", As jacks complete lack of surprise it was.
As I rose higher into the cloud covered mountains clutching my GPS the was a pensioner hugs her purse around teenagers I started to give up. "Why am I doing this?" I thought. "I could be on the beach or I could have taken a bus to the mountains near my house and stayed in a refuge or something, anything is better than this!". Just as my hopes faded the rain let up. Not the mist but at least the rain. I decided to set up camp for the night before the rain returned. As it was I only took one picture on that hell day and that was of my tent.
Oh! And one of a dead carcass.
Tuesday 4 August 2015
Day 2
Day 2 started with a hangover and a mess. Turns out drunk me puts up a tent real well but because of the darkness didn't realise it was going up on clay.... Clay everywhere. Well at least my kit looks seasoned now. As well as the hangover there was a distinct smell of vinegar, turns out that was me, yes one day into the route and I'm stinking up. Before long bag packed and solar panel attached I was off. The route started out very well marked but after 40 minutes or so I was off track, its hard to understand why because there were no visible options, however I had picked up a four legged friend who trotted alongside me for 15 minutes or so before I realised there was no owner or collar.
I came across a small farm where the enthusiastic farmer in his best Spanish accent pointed out a route to get me on track. I say Spanish accent because here in the Basque country they speak Euskadi, a language of unknown origin where the word "bai" pronounced "bye" means "yes". I explained that the dog had been following me and he took it off my hands saying he would look after it. Although he said I should have a dog if I can pick them up so easy.
A few hours later I arrived at my first rest point, I was flagging.
Three hours walking but according to the signpost only 2 hours covered and 6 more to go, at this rate 9 hours. Also the rest stop had been advertised as having a shop and bar, It didn't. …..
Further along the route I bumped into a couple more Valencians who informed me that a nice local was offering water as his house as water on the route was sparse. A lovely guy who started with"you speak French? Spanish?", to which I replied "no but I speak English". "I don't speak English" he said in English. I was baffled.
It was apparent at my second rest stop that I was indeed flagging badly. I had commenced 6 hours ago but was only 4 hours into the 7 hour walk, by my calculation that would put my finishing time well after 9pm. I set off again through rolling hills higher and higher until I was above the clouds a spectacular experience before descending into the cloud and meandering through misted forest that wouldn't seem out of place in a Friday the 13th movie or some kind of Stephen King adaptation. As darkness descended so did I on Elizando, the rain started to fall at a perfectly wrong moment I realised that I would not get the tent up in time so I sought out the local Alburge, over priced and way out of town it was the only option. I arrived damp and tired after 12 hours of walking. Please gods of the GR11, make tomorrow easier.
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