Today’s traverse takes me across one of the three most dangerous passes of the HRP, the Col de Mulliers. It is incredibly steep and requires a bit of rock climbing at the crest and a lot of scrambling over scree and boulders to get there.
Luckily I had surpassed half of the climb the day before, so I had only about a 600m ascent, roughly the amount from the Merced River to Upper Yosemite Falls.
Also, I was driven by the news that my friends Paul and Chantal (whom I met hiking the Continental Divide Trail in Montana) would pick me up when I made it over the pass and down to the highway that afternoon. They had agreed to host me for 3 nights and provide some legendary trail magic, which they are very familiar with, having hiked the PCT, CDT, and HRP, among many other adventures.
I flew up the mountain, enjoying views along the way of the otherworldly granite landscape I found myself in, while skirting the Northern ridge of the famous Maladeta massif.
The final ascent to the col was a strenuous climb through a vast boulderfield, and when I finally made it to the crest and peered out over the other side, I was awestruck by what I had to do next.
Yepp, you should know by now: snow. Snow on pretty much the steepest pass I’ve encountered yet in the pyrénées.
Of course, there were a few hikers with the gear you really should have when you find yourself in such conditions (crampons, ice axe). All I had were boots and trekking poles.
That’s all I’ve ever needed, anyways. Boots, batons, and a fervent, pressing need to go unto the unknown and surmount every difficulty along the way, keeping high spirits no matter the circumstance.
I made the treacherous traverse down the eastern side of the col until I reached the snow. I thought that maybe I could get around it by moseying through the crevasse between the snow and the cliff face. Surely I knew it would not be so easy. I made it halfway via this route, and then came to a sheer face of smooth rock and ice on either side of me, with about an 8 foot drop below me. I almost lost my trekking pole into the abyss, and had to climb down a ways to retrieve it.
Then, I gave up hope on my alternate route of snowy avoidance. I would have to climb out of this crevasse and face the icy death slope before me. There was no way around it.
Of course, a well prepared Spanish hiker and his dog were trotting along, with the dog having a ripe fun time prancing up and down the snowy precipice above. In any case, I was glad to have some company in case my plan went awry.
I ascended the pit with one foot stuck in the snow, and one foot pressed upon the smooth rock, praying that the snow would hold my weight until making it out.
I guess I got lucky, as I was able to climb out, and then make my way to a flat area on the snow, with one arm gripping the snowy edge of the cornice and the other driving a trekking pole into the snow, while kind of waddling about to make some forward progress towards the safety of the rocks below. The Spanish walker passed me and said “this is the punta of the mountain, it is a long steep cliff down.”
“Aha. I almost went into it,” I said.
I was able to slowly glissade the snow behind his foot tracks, much to his and the dog’s entertainment, all the way to the solid ground below. I’ve never been so relieved to have something over and done with. My whole body was in survival mode. “Its all good now, no more problem down,” he said. Thank the Nine.
I made it to a glacial spring, filled up my water, and made a heaping cup of fresh hot coffee to recover my sanity. Woohoo, I’m officially in Catalon now!
The rest of the way down was easy walking through boulders, past lakes, waterfalls, and finally through forests and fields to the highway, where I met Paul and Chantal. I was so glad to see a friendly face, and riding in the car felt like jumping into warp 9.9 after being at walking speed for almost four weeks.
We made it to their gorgeous residence and they instantly started the trail magic with beer, soft drinks, and an afternoon breakfast with delicious eggs, sausage, fruit, tomato salad, and a heaping helping of WiFi.
I’ll be here for two zero days to recover from the last three maxi days, which really tested every gram of my strength, skill, and resolve. Good night!