I have taken two zero days in Banyuls-sur-mer, before my train to Geneva tomorrow at noon, from where I will begin walking the GR5 trail, the Grande Traverse of the Alps.
It’s widely considered to be one of the most beautiful and enjoyable hiking trails in the world, for both wilderness-loving backpackers, and hikers that enjoy the comforts of towns and refuges every day or so.
The guide on grfive.com says it is bested only by a trail through the mountains of Nepal and India in the Himalayas. Someone from zpacks says it may be bested by the GR20 along the spine of the Mediterranean island of Corsica. Maybe one day, I will be able to give a first hand comparison of these trails and tell you for sure, which is the greatest hiking trail. I doubt it is possible to tell, to gauge these mountains versus those.
All mountains, all adventures, all long walks, are surely beautiful things in their own rites, and we’ll always be biased towards the trails we have hiked or are interested in hiking. They’ll always take precedent.
But here, tonight, as I lay on the shore of the Mediterranean, on a pebble beach straight out of a postcard, surrounded by dance music and topless French girls, I’d like to talk about the high route of the Pyrénées, the good ‘ol HRP trail, the grand adventure that just consumed 6 weeks of my short life. If I am lucky, I may have 5,200 such weeks to spend. But very likely, much less than that. At least good weeks. Weeks that I’m not sitting in a hospital bed or watching TV or physically unable to hike anymore (Nature forbid).
The HRP is exceptionally strenuous. The 155,000 feet of ascent (and 155,000 feet of descent, although I’d love to not have to come down) over the course of 550 miles translates to a tough, constant gradient, every day of the trail. On average, this translated to 4,200 feet of climbing and 4,200 feet of descending every day. Similar to climbing Half Dome from Yosemite Valley every day, although the climb is spread across about 12-16 miles a day.
There are a handful of flat trails along balcons or valleys floors or ridge roads, but generally half of the trail is going up a mountain, and the other half is going back down. Steeply. On scree slopes. On boulder fields. On zig zag trails, or just straight up or down the thing. European trails seem to have an aversion to switchbacks, which can really strain your Achilles ankle tendon if you over do it too fast.
However, it was mostly the more difficult, scenic alternate routes on the challenging traverses that were partially trail-less and uncomfortably steep on the uphills. Most of the “official” trail is in fact, a trail, and a damn good trail at that. One of the best, most fun times I’ve ever had walking in the mountains.
Compared to the Continental Divide Trail, it is about 1/6 the distance but 1/3 the elevation change, which you could take as meaning it is about twice as steep per mile as the CDT. The CDT has a lot of long flat stretches through deserts, ridges, and plains though, so that may not be the best comparison.
The HRP is not for everyone. I love it, but I am someone who notoriously goes on “hell-hikes.” I love the uphill, the challenge, and the risk associated with hiking such a strenuous and lesser traveled path. I thrive in the remoteness, being alone and maybe not seeing another soul for days. I feel at home there. You might not agree.
The views on the HRP are magnificent. I know of few other places where you could see as many glacial valleys and clear aquamarine lakes and sculpted, sheared rock faces, and romantic, magic 3,000m peaks, in as many miles. Perhaps the John Muir Trail? I don’t know. Will have to hike that one day, to find out.
The people all along the HRP, at every village, have been phenomenally friendly and helpful. Except Aldudes. Sorry Aldudes (not sorry). I was reserved and afraid to interact with people at the start, as someone who does not speak the language of the land. I am okay with Spanish, but French, forget about it. But my reservations were a hindrance to my enjoyment of the culture, the cuisine, and hospitality of the locals. If you don’t at least try to make a connection, you will never gain an experience or see anything new, or maybe meet someone that helps expand your comfort zone, leading to new and more fulfilling experiences.
People at the hotels, markets, in town, and everyone along the way, were especially nice. They didn’t care that I didn’t speak French. Or fluent Spanish. They were happy to work with me and try to understand what I needed. I always smiled and laughed when attempting to speak their language, especially after seeing their faces made at my attempt. I tried my best to find the humor in every situation, trying my best to speak a language I know very little about. Many were excited to test their (fluent) English, although they always say their English is not good after speaking the language perfectly! I love it. People will reciprocate your attitude, so be kind and you will universally receive kindness in return.
I can’t recommend this trail enough– if it sounds like something you would enjoy, I’d happily provide whatever resources are at my disposal to help you on your way. I have recorded high resolution .gpx tracks with some waypoints for camps, resupply, and water sources near the hot lowlands around the start and fin. I wanted to contribute something to the HRP beta, and that will probably be the best bet. Be warned, it does take quite a few of the harder alternate routes, along the Frontier Ridge, not all of which are on trail, a few of which are not even mentioned in any guidebook.
Anyways, it grows late and the stars are shimmering overhead now. This is the final account of the high adventure on the HRP. The concluding words of finality.
This trail weaves together all the best parts of French and Spanish culture. The superb food, the quaint villages, the friendly people, and the scenic nature of the Pyrénées range make it one of the greatest hiking trails on Earth. The feeling of hiking down unto the Mediterranean, the ultimate object of your wanderings, could be described as Magnifique.
So lace up your boots, grab your ruck, and get to marching. There’s a whole world of wonder out there waiting for you. You have only to take a short walk to go and find it.
Dragon Dan Morriss, signing off.
