Just follow that sign to France, Lady.
The 'Rising' in sun and shadows.
“We’re out of French fries,” our chef announced. Besides being an intrepid hiker and adventurer,
she also cooks, edits, seeks hiking opportunities and directions, occasionally losing directions, too.
You can’t have everything.
“We’ll buy some more at our next shop stop,” I answered, admittedly not a brilliant response. We have
mentioned our restrictive diet over here in Spain. Potatoes and chips (fries) are one of the staples.
“While we’re so close to France, why don’t we hop over and buy the real thing,” she answered.
“You can’t be serious. I’ll settle for the local spuds…they’re fine.” The editor fancies herself
as a comedian, too. Who ever heard of people taking a flight to buy French fries.
“Flight? We’re going walking for them.”
“Walking?”
“Yeah! France is next door Spain. We walk out the back gate, up the hill, cross over the Pyrenees Mountains
and before you know it, we’re there.” A regular Hannibal is our editor. Until she mentioned the walk, I thought
she’d lost it. The walk entails a return journey distance of ten miles, a gain of 3,200 feet to reach altitude
of about 7,500 feet. The path is a good one although very rocky and stony. One’s feet don’t talk to you for
a few days after this type of track. The Pyrenees, at least the parts we have hiked, are spectacular and
overpowering. We walk around in awe. Even after a number of years pursuing, whatever it is we’re pursuing,
most days we wonder at sights, situations and our good fortune in this process of discovery. The last few weeks
have extended the feeling, not to mention, pushed us considerably.
This is a mountain that strikes one between the eyes...in a manner of speaking.
An early morning start gave us the 'shining'.
The editor reaches France...Vive le Francais...or something like that. No, no: Viva España.
Then we decided on a different tack. “How about an assault on France rather? Let’s liberate the country,
for a change.”
“But,” retorted the editor, “the war’s being over for 60 years.”
“Not to everyone,” I replied smartly, “There may still be pockets of resistance in the south, tucked way high
in the mountains.” With no reply to my clever comment forthcoming, the editor had no option but to join
the expedition. “Let’s re-enact the scene. The Allied forces will arrive in Normandy by sea. We’ll come over
the Pyrenees by foot—it should be a big surprise.”
“For whom? Them or us.”
“I don’t think I appreciate your sarcasm.”
“Okay. So we’ll be coming from the far north of Spain into the deep south of France?”
I was puzzled. “This is the part that confuses me,” I answered forthrightly. “If we are in the extreme north
as we enter France, the second we put our feet over the border, surely we’ll be even further north. It makes
no sense. Look at it this way. From the north of Spain, we cross this border, by say a foot, moving further
north and we’re now in the south. Nonsense.” Sometimes, I have to be very patient with the editor when I teach
her these concepts. It’s fortunate I have the dual attributes of patience and intelligence, always
with an abundance of humility.
There those power lines following us up again under colors and shadows.
Lunch anyone? This is after all, France. (Bon appetit.)
With an hour to climb, we view what looked like initially, icicles. I realized then of an age issue
creeping up on me. Fortunately, the editor is still young.
Finally, we reach the snow field before the final push to 'free the French' of fries.
Anyway, we set off to cross the Pyrenees hoping not to get lost and find ourselves in Germany. It might
be tougher should we come across Germans still fighting the last war. The editor remarked, “I hope you have
lots of space in your backpack besides ‘assault weapons and yoghurt’.”
“Why do you ask?” I replied starting to lose some of my abundant patience.
“To carry the packets of French fries back with us, silly.”
A double favorite.
Hi Honey, I'm home. Rough day in France...good to be back in Spain.
The idea of walking into France from Spain was exciting. In fact, the reality met our highest
expectations. We thought we might obtain a glimpse of Paris from the top but the editor of course, forgot
to bring binoculars. It’s been a year during which we have climbed from South Africa up into Lesotho
and run back, taken a simple walk to-and-from Gibraltar and now culminating in this amazing experience.
Fortunately, the year is still young.
On the way home, a rather steep path that gets vicious as we pass the next curve
below trees on the right.
Jenni walking somewhere over one of the summits. Could it be another favorite?
When we sat down to brunch in France, a number of people were walking from a nearby car park,
about a mile away, to take in the views of Spain, we suppose. While few people in Europe normally greet us,
every French person passing wished us ‘Bon appetit’. We think we have found the formula to friendliness.
Mind you, we did not offer, or even think of offering to share our yoghurt, fruit and cereal—we had not
obtained the fries, yet. (As an aside, the people living in the same establishments with us are proving
to be most friendly, varying greatly from those on the trails.)
It ended up being a day in which we commenced early with a cup of tea in Asin de Broto, Spain, had brunch
in France and dinner back in Spain, in a matter of a few hours, without mechanical transportation. We’d expect
the French to have been horrified had they known the contents of our meal.
Then again, we are not partial to the legs of froggies or the entrails of snails.
Early morning light softens these rather harsh but exciting mountains.
How green are your valleys, how overpowering are your mountains, hence, the daily siesta.
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
Wow! The Pyrenees, at times terrifying but at all times, magnificent.
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