Category: HRP 2018

Words can’t express how awesome today was. I will let the photos and captions do most of the storytelling today.

I woke up at the Auberge Refuge at Col du Somport, had their breakfast, and hit the road. It looked like it was going to be another dreary foggy day. Bluh.

I met another HRP thru-hiker from Germany, named Sylvia! We camped right near each other at the Lac d’Arrious, in preparation to get up and over two high cols that may present some challenges with ice, snow, cliffs, and scree.

That means so far, I have met HRP hikers from: Holland, Scotland, New Zealand, Belgium, the Netherlands, Germany, France, Spain, the Canary Islands, USA (just me unfortunately!)

After spending a full month outside of the U.S., I can say with certainty that we are the most fortunate, most technologically advanced, and most free civilization on Earth.

Nowhere else do I know of a place where people are as free to organize, to protest, to defend ourselves, to write and think differently, to ascend from our lot in society, than we are in America.

While there are those that would try to divide us, to usurp and overthrow us, to pit neighbor against neighbor, we are a united people.

We must be, or those who wish us harm will surely prevail, and the American way of life could be cast away and unwritten from history, for the benefit of endless ages of tyrants and evil.

We cannot realize how lucky we are without stepping away from the country and viewing and experiencing the way of things elsewhere. We are so immersed in our freedom and the benefits of our society that they have become commonplace, a given, invisible to us.

We share a history, the good parts and the bad. We share a way of life, an American philosophy, that binds all of our independent actions into a single rope that lifts up all the things we hold dear.

How many people have died so that we could live this comfortable existence, that we could become such a great nation? They died for you as they died for me. They died for liberals and conservatives. They gave their life for the bible-thumpers, the baby boomers, the entrepreneurs, the rocket scientists, the gangsta rappers, the neo-nazis, every man woman and child that has ever had the honour and the privilege of being borne onto American soil. We owe everything to those who made the ultimate sacrifice for that which they believed in. Who devoted their life to a country full of thinkers and doers and fighters and writers, and people strong enough to stand up for what is right, and to put in the hard work of building something grand, something that the entire rest of the world looks up to and idealizes.

We have something great here. America is a great country already–always has been–and there’s nothing any bad-haired scapegoat politician or multi-national corporate conglomeration can do about it.

In this global age, those who produce the best media (music, movies, books, TV) are the ones who decide which direction the world moves in. And right now, nobody produces media or has as vibrant of an entertainment industry as America. We must realize how much influence we have on a global scale. What we do now, what we produce and broadcast and publish today, influences all future generations to come.

The world is listening. What do you have to say?

_____________________________________

Today I woke up to the sound of Spanish people talking. Because they camped. Right. Next to me. Oh well. I slept really well in any case. 20km of mountain walking will do that to you. Really resets the old circadian clock. Puts you on nature’s time. Falling asleep is no longer a chore, or work, it is only a blessing.

It was foggy and the entire tent was soaked. Nonetheless, I got it all down and walked off around 8am. I made good time to my first stop (5km), and had some coffee while waiting for the fog to clear. I didn’t walk all this way to see fog! Ugh. Better here than in the true high pyrénées.

Around noon, I met a group of 5 Scottish people who saw me walk off at the refuge! They said they got some badass shots of me fading into the fog with my trekking pole umbrella, like something out of an old Japanese samurai movie. They are doing the section of the high route to Gavernie, so hopefully I’ll see them a few more times over the next week. They told me about this awesome place called Auberge, from which I am writing this sentence right now.

I carried on and made it to the beautiful Ibon du Estanés. Well, almost beautiful. I felt I was tantalized all day by half-views, beautiful things opaqued by the mist. Ah well, there will be plenty of beautiful things where I’m headed.

Then, I met another hiker named Samuel from the Canary Islands! He is doing the HRP as well, and was originally with 2 others, but they said it was too hard and went back to Barcelona, lol. So now he is stuck with some big gear that was meant for three people. Ouch.

In any case, we walked the last few km to Candanchu together and got the fully loaded burger from the Expeditionista Bar! It was legendary! He also helped a lot with finding out where refuges and supermarkets were in town. It is very useful to have someone who can speak Spanish in Spain, believe it or not.

Later on, I checked out two of the refuges in Candanchu and wasn’t impressed with their hospitality. Then I walked on up the trail to the Auberge place the Scots told me about! I almost said “eff it” and moved on to camp somewhere, but I walked in and asked for a bed. Just 15 euros, with breakfast included for another 6! I’m sold. After unpacking on my bunk and hanging things out to dry, I went upstairs and had a few beers while writing today’s post.

I hope you have enjoyed the tale thus far. It will only get better from here as we enter the magical haute pyrenees! Stay tuned!

After a quick “cafe forte” from the breakfast nook of the gîte, I packed up and hit the trail by 8am.

The first stretch was a pleasant road walk through grass, forest, and farmland, which ended at a trailhead, with the trail pointed up a wooded limestone valley.

After about 1,300m of ascent, I reached col d’Pau. That’s where today got really good! The next 10km of trail was all level, easy ridge walking, with views into both Spain and France’s Pyrenees National Parks, which I entered on the way up.

I have begun to pass more hikers every day, which is a good sign that we’re starting to approach the most coveted regions of the Pyrenees.

The ridge walk ended at the beautiful Refuge d’Arlet, where I walked in and asked to “bivouac” (basically tent for the night) nearby. Bivouacing is free here, as you aren’t using any of their services. The owner pointed out a prime spot about 100m from the ‘fuge, with awesome views all around. It’s nice to be close by to other people in case of another hell storm, but I also prefer sleeping outside and away from the crowded bunk rooms full of snoring bears and smelly boots, especially on such a nice day.

But then, since I said I wanted to be near people, the universe sent a group of 20 Spanish students with four huge tents to set up right next where I was camped at like 8pm! I was like, come on! I didn’t hike 250km to camp right next to a bunch of loud people, I did it to experience the solitude and tranquility of the mountains. Ugh. Lesson learned. Bivouac further away from refuges.

I’ve also felt, since I got here at 2pm, that I should be hiking on. I had 8 hours to do not much other than write a bit and lay out in the sun under my shade umbrella, before going to bed around 10. Reckon that is the nomadic mindset I’m in now. I simply get bored with the place I’m in after a few hours of it. Something new to keep in mind. Maybe I should bring a book next time.

Anyways, I put in some earplugs to drown out the nonstop Spanish yelling and passed out promptly. Goodnight!

Source d’Marmitou to the Millet Gite d’etape in Lescun

Distance Forward: 9km

I’ll let the pictures do most of the storytelling for today. I’m happy to have wifi to catch up on posts and things today.

The village of Lescun. A beautiful place to live, if only for one night.

I also ran into Robert Broos again as soon as I walked into the town center, at a table outside one of the local cafes. His parents were there, and they treated me to a lunch platter! What a welcome party for the town of Lescun! They said that everywhere they looked around town was booked up, but a Belgian couple said they found a place down the road, and to ask at the bar down the street.

I did so, and a girl led me to a beautiful, brand new Gite d’etape, where I got a swank room for about $60.

You know how much I like a room with a view!

Storm clouds rolled in later, with thunder, rain, and winds in tow. I’m glad I was able to make a rest day out of today and end up in such a picturesque place for the night!

This town better give me a frickin medal. I’ve mowed down at least 50 flies today using a hand towel–at least the ones ballsy enough to wander into my chamber.

The clouds cleared up an hour after the storm. I decided to go out to the local tavern for a nice dinner to replenish my energy reserves before hitting the trail for another 7 days. Beer, some kind of chicken vegetable/lentil soup, and a chicken leg with vegetables and salad, and blueberry pie for dessert. Good night!

Refuge Bagargui to Source d’Marmitou

Distance Forward: 38km

Today was AWESOME

I woke up bright and early at 6am, packed up my pack explosion, made a cup of coffee, and hit the trail by 7.

I wanted to spend all day on trail today, as I was aiming to make it 35km, over the monstrous Pic d’Orhy and along the frontier ridge to the source d’Marmitou, just below Pic d’Anie, which the HRP guidebook describes as “a fine place to pitch a tent.”

The morning started off with the usual fog, but it quickly cleared as the sun hit it, and I had perfect visibility after 8am.

The trail follows the highest ridgeline of the Pyrenees today, called the frontier ridge. That means, badass views, all day.

I set out towards Pic Orhy and wove my way through numerous small valleys on the side of the ridge before reaching the trail at the crest. It was easy enough, until you get close to Pic Orhy, and then you reach a stairway kicked into the dirt, that ascends about 1,000ft of the way up.

Then, you reach the crest of Orhy’s Ridge, a narrow, Angel’s Landing kind of trail, where you have about 3 feet of trail on the Crest, and then cliffs on either side of you, sheerly dropping down 500ft or more.

Once you navigate that, it’s pretty easy to climb to the peak.

But of course, I missed a part where the trail curves off of the ridge to dodge this Shark’s Fin looking stretch of ridge just before the easy walk to the top. The trail comes to a single point, a razor’s edge, and I felt totally uncomfortable even attempting it with a heavy backpack on.

So I slid down one face of the 60° slope to that trail that dodges this last hard part of the Orhy Spine, and took the trail up to the mountain itself. Of course, now they put up a safety rope.

The peak itself was spectacular! Here are views:

I also met another HRP hiker who is doing a big chunk of the trail, named Clemon. We leap frogged each other a few times throughout the day.

After the Pic, the trail was a refreshing ridge walk through scenic valleys and out of the grips of civilization.

I walked 20km and finally found water! There is a spring nestled in a glacial mountain, and it seemed a perfect place to take lunch. Mmm, chicken soup, chips, and almond chocolate from New Zealand (thanks Robin!)

I hiked on, and found fog on the dark side of a big mountain. I ran into three backpackers who said something to me in Spanish, but I didn’t know what. I just nodded and said “yep!”

Then, after a hard hike up to a col, I ran into a big group of young kids, who looked like scouts, or something similar. Apparently they were spending the day hiking up that big foggy mountain! I think that’s great and that more people should nurture a love for nature in children from a young age.

After that, there was a long downhill with sweeping views of the barren limestone mountain range I was headed into in an hour or so. Of course, the wildflowers were off the charts.

After a while, I walked past an old run down refugio, got 2 litres of water at the last stream I knew of (there is no water in the limestone canyon up ahead, for about 10km), and headed into an old forest.

It was pretty bad at first–livestock had turned the trail here into a sopping muddy mess. After 3km through the forest, I finally reached a pass and got views of the bizarre limestone canyon that leads up to peak d’Anie! It was otherworldly. Felt like another planet altogether. Not to mention I was exhausted from the 32km I had just done. This last uphill 6km would be a real test of my endurance.

I made first dinner under a tree, and the flies were awful! I almost set up my tent just for some reprieve from their tyranny. They would not leave me alone until I got to camp later in the night. Beef strogranof mountain house and tuna with mayo and crackers, mmmm.

I ran out of water about 2km from where I was to camp, and I swear I started hallucinating due to sheer exhaustion. I thought I saw a face that was speaking to me, in the sunlight that was hitting a face of rock. “Is this what you wanted?” It asked.

I didn’t really know how to respond to that, and besides, the flies were bothering me, so I threw my pack back on and kept a good pace all the way to the Pass d’Anaye, where the source d’Marmitou begins. Water at last!

The sunset view was superb. I’m loving having these epic campsites every night!

I’m definitely sleeping in after all that. 38km (24 miles) and 2,000m ascent and 2,000m descent, 12,000 feet of combined elevation change. My legs are feeling it.

Tomorrow is just 9km to the village of Lescun, where I will resupply for the week journey to the beautiful Cirque du Gavernie, and take a rest day. 200km down, 500 to go on the HRP!

July 16th, 2018

Okhabe to the Randonnee Refuge at Col d’Bagargui

Distance Forward: 8km

I set an early alarm for 6 a.m. this morning, but I was first awoken by the sound of rain on the tent. Really not the worst wakeup call ever. I slept in until 7:30 to give it time to blow over, packed up, and started hiking at 8:30.

My aim was to make it up and over the Peak d’Orhy, the first mountain of the HRP above 2,000 metres! Exciting stuff, but the weather did not seem to want to cooperate with my plans.

After a bit of morning fog, the clouds cleared up a little for the first 3km down the mountain and on a road past Chalet Pedro and an old emergency refuge. Then the rain returned right as I made it onto another trail and into the trees.

There are many people who would be miserable in these conditions, but I just found a nice tree for shelter, whipped out my umbrella, and made a cup of coffee with some tea cookies. Ah, the sound of the birds and the river rushing and the rain in the trees. Very relaxing.

I made it to Col d’Bagargui and had a beer at the local restaurant. Alas, the restaurant part is closed on Mondays! So no hot meal today.. oh well! I asked for the owner to open the shop next door and bought some luxury items like orange juice, milk, chips and cookies to refuel myself before setting out tomorrow. The forecast shows the fog and rain clearing up overnight, so perfect conditions to hike the badass Pic d’Orhy.

I walked back down the road to inquire about a room at the refuge. It was only 15 euros, and they hand me a key for room 12. Little did I know the intensity of the luxury I was about to experience! After 7 days in the wilderness, I felt like I was staying at the Ritz.

• My own private room with two beds and a beautiful balcony window!
• Bathrooms! Hot showers!
• Electricity! Charging of my phone, battery pack, and the ability to use the internet!
• A place to dry out my clothes!
• An actual kitchen to cook in!
• A sink to wash everything in!
• A wood fired stove for heat!

Oh my stars. I died and went to hiker heaven. After cleaning up and resting a bit, I went down and sat in the common eating area and had a big bowl of coffee with milk, followed by a full 1L pot of Knorr’s 9 legume soup, made using their electric kettle. I sat around and sipped it while listening to all the other travelers talk.

Oh, I lived up to my trail name today! I helped two older women make a roaring fire in the wood stove like a true Dragon would, so that everyone could dry out their gear. Some people were less prepared than I was for the rain, so they got utterly drenched. “Llueve gatos y perros (it’s raining cats and dogs)” I said.

For dinner, it was seasoned vegetable couscous and tuna with mayo and crackers, and hot chocolate for dessert. Oh, and a nice couple that helped me find the place shared their baguette with me! Sweet.

The sun finally came out as I took the hot coco and walked to the Col. I could almost see the Pic d’Orhy in the distance, masqueraded in the clouds.

Col d’Roncevalles to Okhabe

Distance Forward: 30.3km

Today, I’d like to give you some reasons not to hike the HRP. Or at least, some reasons to skip the first week. And if you’re going to do it anyways (like a real thru hiker would) heres what you have to look forward to.
It’s easy to romanticize the notion of hiking the length of France in the mountains, but I can assure you, there is very little romance to be had out here.

First of all, even on the easy days, it will be the most strenuous hiking of your entire life. The trail is always going straight up or straight down. The nice cruising stretches on good trail are far and few between.

Like today, after hiking out of the Col Roncevalles and passing a few other Cols, I came into sight of a beautiful mountain called Errotzate. It’s one of those mountains that is so big and vast that you spend an hour hiking towards it and feel like it hasn’t gotten any closer.

Once I got down in the valley below the mountain, I basically had to go up and over it at its lowest point (Col Errotzate), about a 1,500 ft climb. Of course, there is next to no trail as I bushwhack through waist-high grass, probably infested with ticks carrying debilitating Lyme’s Disease. The trail was a tiny, overgrown strip of dirt on the edge of a 45° ( / ) semi-cliff, going up at about a 25-30% grade

The second reason you shouldn’t hike the HRP: It’s dirty. There are cattle and livestock and their waste products everywhere all around you, and you almost never escape the tyranny of the asinine bells around their necks, ringing constantly at all hours, day and night. Which leads me to reason #3:

Biting insects. The overpopulation of livestock leads to plague-level hordes of biting insects, mosquitos, and horse flies. You can scarcely have a 10 minute break without having to swat 50 of the bastards off of you. And some of the livestock I saw were downright destroyed by them, with big festering gaping wounds under the extremities and in the sensitive places infested by the buggers.

And if it wasn’t bad enough, theres almost no accommodation out here. Even the day that we tried to find a bed and a shower, and went around to the only five places in town, they all turned us away. It felt rather inhospitable, and there was an air of “you’re outsiders, we don’t want you here” in that town.

Then there are long stretches of road walking that feel pretty unnecessary, and they will wreck even the most tempered feet, ankles, and knees.

Oh yeah, and the heat. There’s a reason the Spanish take siesta from noon to three every day. It’d be well and good if they hadn’t clear cut every single shade tree to make way for cattle grazing. The mountain breeze received in valleys and peaks and cols are the only way an HRP hiker can bear it. Pair that with the highly demanding ascents and descents, and I don’t care how much deodorant you brought, you’re gonna smell like a dead farm animal, lol.

And the heat and weather creating ability if the mountains creates some pretty gnarly winds and thunderstorms, with huge lightning strikes and weather that can turn from sun to storm in 15 minutes flat. Of course, the rains bring mud, which makes any trail more fun.

But then, if you decide you want to do a real thru hike and beat all this stuff and come out on the other side looking fresher than you did on the way in, and become a stronger person because of your strife, props! It’s hard work. Not many people’s idea of a vacation, but it is mine.

And that’s an essential part of any pilgrimage/long walk. Putting yourself at the mercy of the elements and the fates. And being prepared for all this jazz and anything that can be thrown at you, so that when you get to the good part (in this case the central haute Pyrenees), they feel that much more extraordinary, and you have truly earned every view you enjoy.

Also, today I got my first trail magic! As I was cooking dinner at the Col d’Oraate, an older woman and her granddaughter came over with a bottle of water and filled me up with over a liter, which allows me to camp wherever I like on this high mountain ridge that took all day to get to (1500m elevation and 27km distance). It’s not much, but there are some good people still out there. Kindness from strangers is another great ingredient of the pilgrimage.

A fog rolled in as I was coming to Okhabe, the highest hill so far at 1450m. summited, hiked down a ways to an old-growth hickory forest, and called it a night.

Col d’Lepeder to Col d’Roncevalles

Distance Forward: 18km

Today’s music: Mr. Blue Sky by ELO, Only Go Backwards by Tame Impala, The Chain by Fleetwood Mac, and Dogs by Pink Floyd

We woke up around 7am today, had some fresh coffee with some baked goods we got in Aldudes yesterday, dried out the tent (there were some big thunderstorms that rolled through last night!) and set out for the day around 9am.

Early on we met a hiker couple from Spain, with a cute border collie named Luna. “Bollo (Beautiful)” he said to me, making a rainbow gesture with his hands while pointing out to the view of the country. I had to agree with them!

Then, while getting water, we met an old man in his 70s, who, while he didn’t speak much English, was able to convey to me the love and passion he has for the Basque Country that he lives in. He asked if we were doing the Atlantic to the Mediterranean hike, which we are, and his reply was “ohhh, I just do this mountain” while gesturing an out-and-back signal with his hand. I thought that was a really good thing to do, especially being above the age of 70.

After a nice big climb of about 500m, we met another HRP thru-hiker! Finally! That makes two in the last two days. Proof of how remote and unknown this trail is. On the Pacific Crest Trail you would probably see 100 hikers every day! We both agreed that this is about as strenuous of a trail as you can get, and we probably wouldn’t see many other thru-hikers because everybody would generally be making the same pace. It’s pretty hard to move fast on this terrain.

Later, we had a gorgeous, easy walk along a one lane asphalt road, along a ridgeline that eventually led to the mountain named Lindus, which reminds me of a name for a cloud!

After that there was an easy hike down to the Col d’Roncevalles, where the Camino de Santiago crosses the Pyrénées! We found a nice place to make dinner and call home for the night and passed out pretty quick. Goodnight!

Col d’Berdaritz to the French Village of Les Aldudes (but spoiler alert, it sucked so we went back to the mountains at) the Col d’Lepeder

Distance Forward: 3.5km

Friday the 13th oooo!

I awoke to the gentle noise of rain drops on our tent, and booming thunder off in the distance. The rain came and went in waves, stopping for a moment, then dropping a whole ocean all at once.

The forecast did say thunderstorms, but they could have given us a little longer to pack up camp..

Anyways, it cleared up quick enough and the tent was almost fully blow-dried from the wind passing through the Col by the time we packed up.

We took a short road walk down to the village of Aldudes, which we thought would be a hiker haven! We were almost right.

Walking into town, we met our first fellow HRP thru-hiker! His name is Robert Broos, from the Netherlands. We were both glad to meet someone else who spoke English, and with whom we could relate to about all the hardships and quirks of the trail. It’s his first long distance trail, and he is doing it in 45 days before returning to his job at an outdoors supply store.

We said our goodbyes and thought we’d walk down to the place we read in our guide should have beds for hikers. When we got there, it said to inquire at the bar, back the way we had come. So we walked back to the bar, and after waiting quite a while, I nice woman came up and told us there were no spaces available at the bunk place, as it was sold out for a youth retreat.

Oh well, we thought. Plenty of options! We walked back to where we met Robert, and saw him off as he headed on towards the Col de Roncevaux. On the side of a large building there was written “Chambres” or rooms for the night, essentially. I thought I’d walk in and ask about it, and I was greeted at the front door by huge piles of junk on either side of a hallway leading up a staircase. I took a few steps up, and an old lady opened a door above. “Une chambre?” I inquired?

“No. Ferme. Ferme. Au revoir,” she said with an upset face as she closed the door.

Okay, no big deal! We decided to walk back to the bar and have lunch. Mmmm, fresh bread with potato omelettes and locally sourced Basque-country ham! A hiker’s delight.

Robin went off to check out the gas station for food, as I searched every website possible for a place to stay so she could rest up. She returned quickly, saying the market was on siesta until 3pm.

We spend the next 3 hours or so just trying to find a place to spend a night and get a shower. I walked back down the road and found a place called Gite d’France, which should surely have rooms available for travelers, right? Wrong! No chambres. At this point

I’ve just about given up and am ready to walk back to the mountains, where at least I don’t have to deal with all this nonsense running back and forth just to find an expensive place to lay my head for the night. So I walk back to the bar and sit at our perch at an outdoor table. “Nothing.”

Robin, who should have been in bed resting 4 hours ago, goes up to the bar to order a coffee, and some guy who is apparently a doctor says he would take her to a hotel 2km down the road. So I assumed we could both go, but he insisted only one of us could go, and not bring our stuff. Weird.

Then when Robin and I both agreed we didn’t want a one way trip to a hotel with a stranger, he left in a big hurry. The whole encounter just felt a bit shady, and left us feeling less than charmed by the village of Aldudes, all things considered.

We walked back down the road to the gas station grocery, grabbed a few supplies for the 108km journey ahead, and got the hell outta dodge. We found a beautiful campsite with a view, for free, at a Col just above the village, where we made dinner and watched the thunderstorms roll in.

The day ended as it began, with the sound of raindrops on the tent and booming thunder in the distance. What a strange day. Glad that’s over with. Reminds me of why I pick mountains over civilization, any day. Good night!

Col d’Ursua to Col d’Berdaritz

Distance Forward – 24.5km

This morning, my hiking partner said she was feeling worse than ever! She has been hard at work fighting off a nasty throat bug, and today it came back in full force. Not something you would wish on anyone three days into a hard walk through the wilderness.

Nevertheless, she is a real trooper and we have already made 10km as I write this. After a long uphill through pastures and forest land, we reached the Col Bagacheta.

We have been out of water since about 9am, so I was elated when I saw a big bathtub full of water just below the Col! I ran down and found the source of the spring that filled the tub. Ahhh, fresh, ice cold mountain water, straight from the top. There’s nothing like it.

I took the opportunity of having this pristine spring water to make a perfect cup of coffee, which I had foregone this morning due to not having enough water.

After that, we had a pleasant ridge walk down to the hamlet of Azpulcueta.

Then, onto the town of Arizkun, where we retrieved some more water out of a public well next to a stone arc bridge.

We stopped here to have lunch, but everything in the town seemed abandoned (as often happens as a daily siesta from 12-3pm in Spanish towns), so we settled on some snacks and soft drinks from a little convenience store/bar/restaurant.

Everything about the architecture and style of the building here in the Basque region is so picturesque! White plaster walls, lined and framed with old cedar wood and sandstone, shutters on all the windows, little balconies and flowers and stone walls lining every street and pathway. Every detail of every building seems artfully designed and maintained in immaculate condition. If it weren’t for the power lines and cars on the road, I would swear I had fallen back in time a millinia or two.

We decided to shoot for Aldudes as a goal today, to end our day with a nice hot meal and a bed to sleep in. That meant we had another 15km to go over the big hill called Burga (872m)! We set out at 3pm as the sun was in full force. Luckily, we had the cover of trees for much of the way, keeping us shaded and only slightly hot.

A lady passed us with a pack of three dogs, which looked like good shepherds. Everything out here relates to farming in some way or another, as that is the economic engine of all these fertile areas near the coast. I have to admit, the constantly dongling bells around the necks of every horse, sheep, and cow gets a little old after about a day. Can’t they figure out a better way to keep track of animals? Not to mention, the flies are horrendous in the lowland pastures. They won’t stop bugging me as I’m draggin’ up the uphill stretches.

And there’s the fact that factory livestock farming has possibly the highest negative impact for the environment, due to the clearcutting of pastures to make hay, the millions of miles of barbed wire fences cutting off migration passages, and the nitrogen runoff from vast herds of animals which go on to pollute the rivers with suffocating blooms of algae. Let the rivers run clear and pure, the way they were meant to, damnit.

And then there are people worried about the “impact” that backpackers have on the landscape. Do they not see the impact of having millions of cows trampling the countryside, eating everything in sight, creating horrible hordes of flies, constantly clearcutting more trees for more space to feed a ballooning population?

Yeah. Don’t try and say I’m having an “impact” by walking through the woods and camping here or there. The impact has already been made.

How can you help? One idea is to substitute local vegetables for meat on occasion, or at least buy meat with less impact. Generally, on a scale of how good different protein sources are for the environment:

• beef is about 1/5 most negative environmentally,
• pork and bacon 2/5,
• chicken 3/5,
• fish 4/5, and
• vegetables 5/5, most positive environmentally.

This makes me all the more ready to get away from the countryside and into the central, haute Pyrenees, that sanctuous fortress of nature that few ever have the opportunity to see, much less experience. Some of the most spectacular hiking above 2,000m and peaks above the magic 3,000m await us there.

That’s one of the best parts about a thru-hike–the negative parts in the beginning make you so ready for the parts you’ve really been looking forward to!

On the Continental Divide Trail (CDT), I spent the whole 800 miles of New Mexican deserts looking forward to the San Juans and RMNP, I suffered through the whole Great Basin in Wyoming to make it to the Wind River Range and Yellowstone, I hiked gnarly terrain and faced off with grizzly bears and mountain lions in Montana, just to step foot in the holy land of Glacier National Park.

On this hike, I am especially looking forward to the national parks, the stretch from Candanchu to Andorra, the high pyrenees, legendary for their grandiosity among hikers and mountaineers.

Back to the story: we almost made it to the top of Burga when my hiking partner really started feeling the pain of her ankle and strep throat. For some reason she started walking down the hill the wrong way in a big hurry.

“That’s not the right way!” I yelled.

No response.

“The trail goes over the top here!”

No response.

Worried she might get lost, I ran through ferns and brambles while keeping the same elevation so as not to miss the trail we were supposed to follow at the top.

Ah well. We both found ourselves at the right junction later on, and carried on towards Aldudes.

After stopping for water, we decided it would be best to camp just before the downhill into town, and to go in early tomorrow and spend a full nero (nearly zero mile) day resting and recovering from sickness and the strain of the Pyrenees so far. Also, we need to be in peak shape to tackle the 108km of wilderness between Aldudes and the village of Lescun.

And boy, did we score with our campsite! We couldn’t have asked for a better view to have dinner and spend the end of a long day. As I type this, the sun is barely inches above the horizon, moving through a dark cloud to a patch of sky between it and the horizon, centered between two mountains. Here are pictures. They won’t do it the justice it deserves, but the image is forever burned into my retinas. Goodnight Sun!