From a distance, we see the water escaping from the lake to which we headed.
We’d like to relate three stories that proved to be delightful although one was predominantly of endurance. Actually, the latter type of experiences are the best as they pick up a person and then remain as a notch on the body, or perhaps, the soul.
What an amazing engineering structure. Two days before, we came across it...see below.
Coming across the incredible structure per chance during an earlier hike: Pons Tibeta.
Walking along the bridge which is 2,000 feet in length.
We continue to gain elevation.
Destination. One of the best/most disappointing lakes of all time. The best: Because it took incredible effort to negotiate this tough hike. The worst: A disappointing pond, particularly for Andorra.
The rocky shale section. One of us stands at the crest of this very tough section.
More lake but mostly mountain.
Jen waits for a slow-coach. Good indication of the underfoot. Bare feet not recommended, then again, it takes all types.
Getting close to home. Drop down 700 feet, walk a little more and we're in Els Plants, around the corner from el Tartar, our wonderful little home.
A person does not want to be rushing down that 'track'.
We struggled enough to warrant another of the lake. Please say it's 'a great estany'.
Rolling hills and mountains, beautiful wilderness.
The previous week, we visited Gavarnie for the first time in our too short three-week stay in France. The town is popular among tourists and hikers. What makes it special for us is that 6 years before, we were in Spain. One morning, we drove to Saint Nicholas, had some tea and then headed up the mountain toward France, on foot. When we reached the top section of the Pyrenees, we stopped for breakfast which at that position was effectively, in France. How did we know? The primary greeting at that stage was ‘Bon Appetit’. We continued onwards along the mountains, headed down, arriving in Gavarnie where we had booked into an hotel for the night. The next day, we packed up and reversed our route, arriving back in Spain. We love those kind of opportunities—the mistake we made was in not staying longer. This trip, we drove from Spain into France, and for some reason, just could not make enough time for the town. Perhaps the thought of driving into Gavarnie felt odd, as if we were cheating.