THE HAIRY HIKERS
Copyright David Le Vay, 2012
Map by Robert Smith
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
David Le Vay lives in south-west London. He is a child-therapist and a senior lecturer at Roehampton University, a jazz pianist in a band that gigs regularly around London and a keen cricket player.
For Nicky and Jessica
For being with me every step of the way
And for Rob
Friend and companion
CONTENTS
Prologue
Arrival in Hendaye
Day 1 Hendaye to Biriatou
Day 2 Biriatou to Olhette
Day 3 Olhette to Anhoa
Day 4 Anhoa to Bidarray
Day 5 Bidarray to St-tienne-de-Bagorry
Day 6 St-tienne-de-Bagorry to St-Jean-Pied-de-Port
Day 7 St-Jean-Pied-de-Port Rest Day
Day 8 St-Jean-Pied-de-Port to Phagalcette
Day 9 Phagalcette to Chalet D'Iraty
Day 10 Chalet D'Iraty to Logibar
Day 11 Logibar to St Engrce
Day 12 St Engrce to Arette la Pierre St-Martin
Day 13 Refuge Jeandel to Lescun
Day 14 Lescun to Borce
Day 15 Borce to Gabas
Day 16 Borce to Gabas (Again)
Day 17 Gabas to Gourette The Central Pyrenees
Day 18 Gourette to Arrens-Marsous
Day 19 Arrens-Marsous to Cauterets
Day 20 Cauterets Rest Day
Day 21 Cauterets to Luz-St-Sauveur
Day 22 Luz to Barges
Day 23 Barges to Lac de L'Oule
Day 24 Lac de L'Oule to Azet
Day 25 Azet to Granges D'Astau
Day 26 Granges D'Astau to Luchon
Day 27 Luchon
Day 28 Lost in Luchon
Day 29 Still Lost in Luncon
Day 30 Luchon to Fos
Day 31 Fos to Refuge de l'tang d'Araing
Day 32 Refuge de l'tang D'Araing to Eylie
Day 33 Eylie to Cabane du Pla de la Lau
Day 34 To the Corrie Lake
Day 35 Corrie Lake to Seix
Day 36 Seix to St Lizier Campsite
Day 37 St Lizier to Aulus-les-Bains
Day 38 Aulus-les-Bains to Vicdessos
Day 39 Vicdessos to Siguer
Day 40 Siguer Camping
Day 41 To the Refuge de Rulhe
Day 42 Refuge de Rulhe to Mrens
Day 43 Mrens to Refuge Des Bsines The Eastern Pyrenees
Day 44 Refuge Des Bsines to Lake of Many Vowels
Day 45 Lake of Many Vowels to Villefranche de Conflent
Day 46 Villefranche de Conflent to Refuge du Ras de la Carana
Day 47 Refuge du Ras de la Carana to Py
Day 48 Py to Refuge de Mariailles
Day 49 Refuge de Mariailles to Chalet des Cortalets
Day 50 Refuge de Cortalets to Amlie-les-Bains
Day 51 Amlie-les-Bains to Las Illas
Day 52 Las Illas to Pic des Quatre Termes
Day 53 Pic des Quatre Termes to Banyuls Sur Mer Epilogue
Epilogue
PROLOGUE
'But I hate walking I've always hated walking.' My plaintive and frankly rather pathetic cry rang out around the dining room as we sat eating breakfast one fairly ordinary Saturday morning. My partner Nicky looked at me with a combination of concern and irritation whilst Jessica, our daughter, simply raised a curious eyebrow, gave a wry smile and held my arm in the way that you might an elderly gent as you escort him across a busy road.
The cause of my sorry angst was the fact that I was days away from embarking on a two-month, 850-km trek along the entire length of the Pyrenees; coast to coast from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean. I was, for better or worse, about to strike forth along the fabled GR10, a 'Grande Randonne' footpath that begins in the small town of Hendaye on the Atlantic coast and follows the French side of the Pyrenees eastwards, all the way to Banyuls-sur-Mer on the Mediterranean. Quite why I was doing this I didn't know. Did I hate walking? Maybe.
Up until this point, the longest walk I had ever undertaken was a 24-km sponsored school walk with my mother across Ashdown Forest in East Sussex when I was twelve. All I remember is that it rained non-stop that day, and after we had finished we sat dripping in the school hall whilst they revived us with hot chicken soup. I had been on some pretty good day-walks since then, maybe four or five hours at the most, but I had never been on any kind of hiking or trekking holiday as such. The nearest I got to this was when, many years ago at the ripe old age of thirty, I decided to go to the Lake District for a week on my own; to walk and 'find myself' in the hills. Unfortunately, I didn't like what I found and lasted only a couple of days (which somehow didn't include a lot of walking) before returning back home with my metaphorical tail between my legs.
I am still not entirely sure where the idea of doing the GR10 originated. No doubt, at the age of forty-three, there was a flavour of mid-life crisis about the whole thing. We didn't have an au pair for me to run away with, I knew I couldn't climb Everest and I wasn't about to circumnavigate the globe on a spacehopper, but the idea of an epic mountain trek seemed both challenging and just about within the realms of possibility. And once this idea had entered my mind it just sat there, percolating for some months like a strong black French double espresso.
I hadn't mentioned anything to Nicky at this stage, although she knew that I was feeling a little stir-crazy and wanted to do something to haul myself, albeit temporarily, out of the clutches of suburbia and my somewhat stressful job as a child-therapist. Over the years I have banged on enough times about buying a house abroad or living on a barge or growing a beard and hiding in the woods down at our allotment, so all in all Nicky was well aware that I had the potential to do something stupid at some point in my life. I stumbled upon the GR10 itself whilst I surfed the Net looking at walking holidays in France, and somehow the idea of a coast-to-coast walk that incorporated mountains, French villages and beautiful scenery seemed just about perfect. I had always had something of a love affair with France, having spent many holidays there both with Nicky and Jess and with friends in my younger days. As for mountains, there is something very special about the intense sensation of height and space, the solitude and sense of escape and the way in which they transform one's perspective, both externally and internally. They have always captivated me.