‘Subtract all that is distracting and unnecessary until only the essential remains.’
Ali Kazal on Unsplash
If you read my previous posts, you will know that I packed pretty badly for my trip to the Pyrenees. Just before that trip I tried to reflect on things I do and carry in life in general. It wasn’t an easy process and I’m sure that it affected my real packing for the Pyrenees. I had to literally go through the content of my backpack to see what I could and was willing to leave behind then and there to make my backpack lighter. It was interesting to see what was there, what I didn’t need and was ready to leave behind, what I didn’t need, but had too much value to let it go. It was a painful, but priceless lesson.
If you ever hiked, you know that you don’t always need to take the same stuff. Your backpack will be filled with different things depending on various factors: when and where you are going, solo of with other people, how long for etc. You wouldn’t take an ice-axe and crampons in mid-summer (and below the glacier) or short and sandals in winter… Or ropes and harness if you are not going rock climbing… Or ten t-shirts for a weekend… You wouldn’t take to the mountain hut the same gear as you would need while staying in shelters… Or would you… That was my major mistake the last time. I had everything to stay in cabanas – camping stove, cooking pots, super sleeping mat etc. All totally unnecessary in the mountain huts.
There are also things that you always pack – wherever and whenever you go. Things like a light, compass and map. Some food and water, waterproofs and sun cream – just to name a few.
For years my backpacks have been generally getting smaller, but I still haven’t reached the right size. Subtracting is an art. Focusing on the essential is an art.
Working on my metaphorical backpack is more difficult. I know that I need to check its content more often.
What do you carry in yours?
What are your essentials?
What weighs you down?
What can you leave behind? Temporarily or permanently…
It was another good night and it makes a huge difference. There is a lady at the reception who speaks decent English. She tells me that if I’m going down to the valley, the weather won’t be too bad. Be wise and guess what that means – not too bad. To start with, it’s raining, but very lightly in comparison to last night. It must have been shortly after I arrived yesterday afternoon when the heavens opened. There was a group older French walkers who stayed in Bachimaña the night before, but they came a different way and much later than me. They were absolutely soaked. Well, I definitely count my blessings!
When I was no more than a half-way down to Pont d’Espagne, the sun came out and I took off all my waterproofs. All the way through this valley is wide and gentle. When you walk up, there is nothing to prepare you for Mordor on du Marcadau, but to be fair, it was equally shocking walking from the Spanish side.
When I pass Refuge du Clot, I see the signposts for chair lift to Gaube Lake. Even before I saw it, I was considering changing the plan and walking up Valley de Gaube. When I was in the Pyrenees seven years ago, I was walking down this valley in the rain like yesterday, so I didn’t see much. When I saw that for €13, I could cut the most boring part of the valley, I didn’t think twice. I made peace with taking a taxi, so I can jump on a chair lift, too. That wouldn’t be unthinkable anyway. I looked at the map and was hoping that maybe I could get to the Refuge de Gaube (I had a really good impression of that place) and then walk over to the Valley de Lutour that would take me straight to Cauterets. I felt so good. I was carrying all the gear, but I was running like I used to when I was sixteen. I had to put suncream on, but the temperature was just perfect to warm me up before winter. Spanish and French maps are not timed and the signposts on the French side notoriously underestimate the distances, to the point that people brutally correct those timings. Even running, I didn’t have a chance to make it to Cauterets in time for the last bus. Valley de Gaube lies between two beautiful mountain ridges and takes you along a gorgeous stream and waterfalls, so technically it is a valley, but it’s not flat at all. It climbs constantly and is pretty steep at times. Vignemale in front of me looks very tempting. I could possibly cancel my meeting with Agnes tonight, but it would be madness and I’ve got a feeling that I’m just getting to the end of good weather. That’s fine. I don’t think that it’s my last trip to the Pyrenees.
I remember from my previous visit that it’s an hour walk down from Pont d’Espagne to Cauterets, so I walked up till 3 o’clock leaving myself a couple of hours to get back down to Pont d’Espagne and then an hour to the bus. I bump into Synna and Kristin on the way down and I speed up. On the last section before Pond d’Espagne I have a quick chat with a couple who lets me pass as she seems to be injured. I’m not sure, but I think that they are Irish. They offered me a lift to Argeles which is about 15 km before Lourdes. I thank them and carry on simply thinking that I would still need to get to Lourdes. However, I didn’t think straight… A few minutes later Filip phoned. As we chatted, I asked him what time it was – I was just passing that sign saying that Caurterets -1h. I had exactly an hour to catch the bus. One thing that I didn’t remember from my previous visit was that then I had plenty of time before the bus, so I stopped on the way to take photos and didn’t even look at the time. Did I say that earlier that French signposts underestimate distances? I was literally running almost for an hour, but it was no more than two thirds of the way. I knew I wasn’t going to make it and I was wondering how I would get a lift to Lourdes. Then there was a young couple in front of me. She really struggled with walking and I was going to offer her one of my trekking poles. They didn’t look prepared at all and she was terrified, but there was little encouragement or help that I could offer as they didn’t speak English at all. Through Google translate I managed to ask them where they were going from Caurterets and agreed to take me to Lourdes. After that run, this is a very slow walk, but I’m not in a hurry now. I follow them keeping some distance, so they don’t feel rushed. The half an hour in the car is a bit awkward, but take me directly to the hotel. They refused to take any money from me. God bless them abundantly!
Of course, the forecast was for rain again and this time it rained. Everyone in the refuge wondered how bad it was going to be. I didn’t have much choice. I had to be in refuge Wallon today. I packed everything, put my waterproofs on and set off without rush. Today I definitely needed music to keep me going and ironically the first piece that my phone decided to play was ‘Fall like rain’. Maybe not today, please!
I wondered about all those streams on my way, but I knew that my shoes would need drying after this walk anyway – there’s water coming from every direction today. It’s not heavy, but solid rain. For some reason, I’m in a very good spirit. I crossed the big stream just briefly dipping in one of my boots which I consider pretty good an achievement.
From here I start a steady climb to Port du Marcadau 2541m – the pass that is going to take me over to France. In the sunny weather the views would be stunning, but even in this rain there’s enough drama to make you wonder. The path snakes up and at some point gets surprisingly green. It might be because of the recent rains, I don’t know. It just made me think because it’s quite high and a quite exposed slope. I even saw a flock of sheep – the first on the Spanish side.
As I get closer to the pass, I’m simply walking in water (I was going to say on water, but I’m not sure that my faith is strong enough for that😉) – either on a flooded grassy path or rocks. Further up the landscape becomes incredibly dramatic and I don’t think that it’s just the weather. The rock formation is very different. Though, the word ‘formation’ seems too organised in this case.
As I approach this little pond, there’s only one word that comes to mind that can adequately describe this view. It’s MORDOR and it’s the same on both sides of the pass.
By this time, I’m freezing. When I was leaving in the morning, I knew that wearing waterproofs while carrying full gear and walking up, I would be hot in seconds, so I only had a short sleeve to under my jacket. At over 2500 meters it was really cold. My hands were literally purple. Thanks to my nausea a day before yesterday I had some tea with me, so I had a few sips by that pond and about half a bar of chocolate. I wasn’t that hungry. I simply wasn’t able to brake off a smaller piece. I didn’t bother to get out my hoodie. It was raining too much and by the time I put it on and then my jacket, I would have been soaked. I thought I’d be better off if I kept walking. It’s not the pass itself – as ever in the mountains the distances are deceiving.
When I got to the French side of Marcadau, now aka Mordor, I had Matt Maher singing in my ears ‘If you’re still alive and breathing, praise the Lord…’. I laughed… Someone definitely has a sense of humour. Of course, I’m praising you whatever the weather and whatever happens. It wasn’t an empty praise, either. Even though I was so cold, I felt great. It’s like I crossed the line of something and I’m not quite sure what it is. It’s like it doesn’t matter how cold I felt, how wet…. I was going to say how tired, but I actually didn’t feel tired. I was weirdly energised. This Mordor around me was oddly beautiful. The rocks were stripped in pretty colours. I picked a small stone that mesmerised me with its colours. I put it in my backpack. Silly, considering the fact that I was trying to make this pack lighter.
The Marcadau Valley appeared in front of me and there was suddenly a lot of green around. Quite different from the Spanish side. When the clouds lifted a little, I could see another flock of sheep on the slope in front of me. The rain got lighter, but the streams of water were everywhere and I had to really watch where I was going. I thought that it would be easier after I get to the valley. Well, I was wrong. That beautiful grass was soaked with water, so whether I walked on the path or not, it didn’t really matter – I walked in water. I felt warmer, but crossing all those streams started to frustrate me. However, as they started to get wider and wider, I saw something that made me very happy… Here one definitely needs a bridge 🙂
When I was about 15 minutes away from the refuge, I reached that point when you know that you are close and you are definitely going to make it, but you feel like you don’t want to go any further. I did and I was very pleased to have a long afternoon and evening in warmth.
I finally managed to catch up with journaling. Kristin and Synna, two ladies from Oslo, arrived not long after me. We had a good chat before their dinner. They were on an organised self-guided trip, so had everything planned and pre-booked. I’m not sure how I feel about that idea. I would gladly plan and then hike in a company, but I’m not sure if I want someone to do everything for me. I had another chat with a couple from Edinburgh. I’m still surprised how difficult it is to find English speaking people here.
By the time I finished writing, I was more than ready to sleep.
Mountains of Life 