Jen on the slopes of Luz Ardiden, France...steep and high.
Jen sits on a peak, 2000 feet above the trailhead, viewing the sharp twists on the road to Hotel du Maillet and beyond. Fascinated by the clump of trees.
Over two thousand feet above Asin de Broto (Spain) and climbing, in color.
Each trip to a foreign destination begins with a miracle. I don’t mean getting through the chaos at the airport, finding the flight schedule has not changed or cancelled, and remembering to bring along one’s travel documents, including vaccine details. So what’s the miracle? The miracle is the aircraft takes off into the skies fully laden with passengers, baggage and many other burdens, not forgetting its structure and fuel. I cannot help but think of the concept of flight each time I sit in the uncomfortable seats, become bored and occasionally in rough weather, feel like I need to clean out my insides. It’s a marvel beyond my ken—something to be admired, something that makes one awfully humble. Come to think of it, I’m far too haughty relative to my contribution to the world.
Some history close by our apartment: "I'm the king of the castle and you're the dirty rascal"...excuse me, recalling year 5 of my life.
Napoleon Bridge (1859), Luz Saint Sauveur, also close to the apartment.
Jen sits on a peak, 2000 feet above the trailhead, viewing the sharp twists on the road to Hotel du Maillet and beyond. Fascinated by the clump of trees.
Over two thousand feet above Asin de Broto (Spain) and climbing, in color.
Each trip to a foreign destination begins with a miracle. I don’t mean getting through the chaos at the airport, finding the flight schedule has not changed or cancelled, and remembering to bring along one’s travel documents, including vaccine details. So what’s the miracle? The miracle is the aircraft takes off into the skies fully laden with passengers, baggage and many other burdens, not forgetting its structure and fuel. I cannot help but think of the concept of flight each time I sit in the uncomfortable seats, become bored and occasionally in rough weather, feel like I need to clean out my insides. It’s a marvel beyond my ken—something to be admired, something that makes one awfully humble. Come to think of it, I’m far too haughty relative to my contribution to the world.
When one gets to the trailhead, another facet of life delivers an additional helping of humility. Again, something I cannot help mentioning frequently, is the efforts of the pioneers. Crossing vast tracts of raw land, mountains, rivers and combatting many other obstacles in search of new destinations is frightening to behold. It gives new meaning to those of us who think an adventure is purchasing a home in a newly developed tract of land a couple of miles outside a city. I raise this point at this juncture because of the journey we undertook from Spain into France by way of a crossing of the High Pyrenees.
The roads in the mountains of Europe, particularly through the small towns, are narrow. Sometimes, an oncoming vehicle looks certain to scrape the left side of the car or in respect of the right side, as one passes too closely to the outside wall of a residence or store. However, the engineering applied in building the roads that cross the Pyrenees is again, beyond belief. Besides the roadways, the overhead powerlines crossing the mountains is another feat in and of itself. (Of course, this occurs in most countries.) Certainly, over the years we’ve travelled on incredible paths but when Jenni, normally timid on these narrow, high roadways in the mountains and along ledges, exclaimed the trip was the best she has ever encountered, I sat up and took notice. It truly is an incredible journey to make, even just for the sake of the journey, not considering a destination. It’s the first time I’ve ever acted as the lead for a cyclist riding down the mountain at 65 kmh. We developed a kind of bond as he sat on our tail and followed for many kilometers.
Language is always an issue. A big regret is that we don’t speak at least another—the more the better. Spanish is one I would choose as it is spoken in many countries—almost the whole of South America, Central America and of course, the South-Western States of America. We believe it’s even spoken in Spain and Andorra. We have had wonderful conversations, frustrating ones, too but in the end, they add to the experience. Once in Barcelona, a young man was filling our gas (petrol) tank. We spent twenty minutes conversing. The result was we ended up hugging after our long exchange. Truth be told, he did not understand a word of English and I, ‘No Hablo Espanol. Si. I loved that occasion and many others.
The strenuous hike to Lac Greziolles, what a struggle.
We crossed into France and had to brush up on another language. At least, one has to be able to greet people, show appreciation with a ‘Merci’ or two and try to appear a fraction intelligent. The problem is that one sometimes reverts back to Spanish, forgetting where one is. Most people who greet on the trails use the local language. Often, a foreigner is not recognized as such because of resorting to this concept. In the Carrefour supermarket, we had an interesting experience. We were attempting to weigh a mango but could not find the graphic on the screen. I asked a fellow customer for help and he obliged most willingly. He too could not find the answer so we gave up mangos for breakfast on the slopes and as Ms. Antoinette suggested, we will eat cake on the trails in future.
We crossed into France and had to brush up on another language. At least, one has to be able to greet people, show appreciation with a ‘Merci’ or two and try to appear a fraction intelligent. The problem is that one sometimes reverts back to Spanish, forgetting where one is. Most people who greet on the trails use the local language. Often, a foreigner is not recognized as such because of resorting to this concept. In the Carrefour supermarket, we had an interesting experience. We were attempting to weigh a mango but could not find the graphic on the screen. I asked a fellow customer for help and he obliged most willingly. He too could not find the answer so we gave up mangos for breakfast on the slopes and as Ms. Antoinette suggested, we will eat cake on the trails in future.
From an extremely strenuous hike, we view Pic du Midi...it never ceases to amaze. (See below for complementary picture).
Six days before, Jen stands on Pic du Midi, near the largest observatory. The 'kid' did well on both occasions. (Special feeling sits somewhere inside the soul, after that experience.)
I don’t know where to start and how to describe the location we find ourselves. We are in a small apartment in Luz-Saint-Sauveur, the southern part of France. We travel extensively within the regions we visit coming across many similar towns. It transports one back to an earlier age, a quieter period, an uplifting time aided by the incredible surrounding high peaks, large mountains and beautiful lakes, especially at high altitudes. The views of the villages, hamlets and especially the homes dotting the countryside viewed from high above are superb. The forests are so thick with trees that it appears the trunks are competing for space. Paths lead to houses and shelters high in the mountains. There are cableways in some places, ski resorts spread out, too. As one gazes at the mountains, the brain is filled with the greenery. The atmosphere creates a tranquility and calm within a person. The hiking is tough, rough but fulfilling and glorious. One of the hikes reminded us of the Sierra Nevadas, an incredible region in the wild west.
Six days before, Jen stands on Pic du Midi, near the largest observatory. The 'kid' did well on both occasions. (Special feeling sits somewhere inside the soul, after that experience.)
I don’t know where to start and how to describe the location we find ourselves. We are in a small apartment in Luz-Saint-Sauveur, the southern part of France. We travel extensively within the regions we visit coming across many similar towns. It transports one back to an earlier age, a quieter period, an uplifting time aided by the incredible surrounding high peaks, large mountains and beautiful lakes, especially at high altitudes. The views of the villages, hamlets and especially the homes dotting the countryside viewed from high above are superb. The forests are so thick with trees that it appears the trunks are competing for space. Paths lead to houses and shelters high in the mountains. There are cableways in some places, ski resorts spread out, too. As one gazes at the mountains, the brain is filled with the greenery. The atmosphere creates a tranquility and calm within a person. The hiking is tough, rough but fulfilling and glorious. One of the hikes reminded us of the Sierra Nevadas, an incredible region in the wild west.
Europe and more specifically, Spain and France, are nothing like the United States. Over the years, we’ve spent much time in Western, Central and Eastern Europe. Fortunately, we’ve not had to seek employment on the continent. However, we have enjoyed what’s on offer and the manner in which it’s offered. It’s best to conclude the cultures of Europe are vastly different from that of the United States and it’s of course, critical to understand what a person prefers in understanding the differences. In conclusion, we’ve always thought that the Europeans treat their mountains as an extension of their backyards. In many parts of the world, we have become part of the older set of hikers. In Europe, we are relative youngsters.
The roads, as mentioned are narrow, there are few traffic lights, if any, in the villages, a fortune of pedestrian-crossings, shops and restaurants are tucked away in every corner, many cyclists of all ages, hikers returning or on the way to trailheads and invariably with poles. It’s clear that young people head for the cities after schooling and return for adventure vacations. Many of the inhabitants are the older generations, hence, the calm, quiet and peace. Don’t be mistaken. Some of our ‘best friends’ are younger than us. One of the ways Jen and I can be identified is that we are without hiking poles. We’re beginning to believe it’s mandatory.
And what are you waiting for? The longer you delay, the worse it looks. (Spain).
The village of Asin de Broto below as we head to the peak above. Not often the trail begins from the apartment.
A framed view in Ordesa Monte Y Perdido, Spain.
The village of Asin de Broto below as we head to the peak above. Not often the trail begins from the apartment.
A framed view in Ordesa Monte Y Perdido, Spain.
Our first stop in Spain, after an uneventful flight was MADrid. From there we hired a vehicle and set off for Guadalajara, an overnight stay before reaching our destination of Asin de Broto, close to a former monastery in the mountains. The structure gives one the impression of living in a much earlier age. I’d like to say the Middle Ages but that might be misleading. Nevertheless, it’s an incredible feeling emulating earlier times, getting a feel of a different period, being in a foreign land, trying to communicate with the locals, adapting to the customs, even for a short while. We find it most satisfying trying to immerse ourselves in the local culture without getting too wet.
While the driving is easy, understanding signage and local customs can be tricky. Sometimes, it appears that we are 'winging' it. Actually, it could be reality.
Just today, a barrier was placed across the road close to our apartment. Our car was parked beyond the barrier. What does it mean? Who knows? Then we noticed vehicles driving up to the barrier, a person alighting, moving the barrier and proceeding. We even helped someone replace the fencing, closing off the road again. Many cars traveled through. Had we not seen this, we probably would have turned around rather than proceeded. Sometimes, it's humorous as we feel like two visitors from another planet. Yet, on most occasions, we are comfortable and at home.
Yesterday, we picked up two hitchhikers heading to a trailhead. They were undertaking one of the long trails that cross Spain and France. It tickled me that here were two foreigners with a rental car giving a ride to two local residents. Maybe I'm strange but it made me smile. It reminds me of a situation in Greece one year. We noticed a young couple, they were a few years older than us, walking close to the beach. They were without clothing although to be fair, they wore hats. It wasn't a pretty sight, seldom is. We went for our hike and it took us through a nudist beach. Always a bit of a shock at first as one notices that something looks different, or odd, until the light flashes. On our return, we came across the couple reversing their steps but on this occasion, fully clothed. We offered them a ride which they accepted. I doubt whether we would have stopped had they still exposed all those funny parts.
The waterflow in this part of the world, Cirque Troumouse, strikes us as very strong. Still much snow above, obviously.
While it can be difficult communicating, it can also be fun. Unfortunately, in the outlying regions, English which is such a universal language, has made less of an impact in these rural places. In past visits, it’s something we noticed in Spain, particularly. Of course, when meeting Germans, one can be forgiven for thinking their first language is English. Nevertheless, using the right approach with people seems to bring out the best in them—they try their utmost to help. We hope we reciprocate accordingly. One year we were in the south and stopped to ask an elderly man on a bike for directions. He was so sweet and helpful but we could not communicate at all. We noticed the frustration because he so wanted to assist. We bade him farewell, passed two young woman, stopped to ask and were provided an answer in near flawless English. Over the years some of the nicest people we’ve met have been Spaniards. Hello to Serge and LLuiz of Barcelona. We met them In Romania, the latter made a Spanish omelet for us which landed on the floor. We still do not know whether that’s the tradition although the handle of the pan did break. We received some very special treatment from strangers in Greece despite not smashing any plates.
While it can be difficult communicating, it can also be fun. Unfortunately, in the outlying regions, English which is such a universal language, has made less of an impact in these rural places. In past visits, it’s something we noticed in Spain, particularly. Of course, when meeting Germans, one can be forgiven for thinking their first language is English. Nevertheless, using the right approach with people seems to bring out the best in them—they try their utmost to help. We hope we reciprocate accordingly. One year we were in the south and stopped to ask an elderly man on a bike for directions. He was so sweet and helpful but we could not communicate at all. We noticed the frustration because he so wanted to assist. We bade him farewell, passed two young woman, stopped to ask and were provided an answer in near flawless English. Over the years some of the nicest people we’ve met have been Spaniards. Hello to Serge and LLuiz of Barcelona. We met them In Romania, the latter made a Spanish omelet for us which landed on the floor. We still do not know whether that’s the tradition although the handle of the pan did break. We received some very special treatment from strangers in Greece despite not smashing any plates.
In Asin de Broto recently, Jen reminded me of an incident where an elderly man I became acquainted with, more to greet and smile, looked our way while we were occupying his regular table on the patio. I stood and rushed over to explain we would vacate the position immediately for him and his wife. He looked puzzled. The manager came out of his office and tried to assist—he too was ‘without the English’. I tried to explain by using hands and arms and anything available to encourage him to return the table. Turns out they were departing for their vehicle.
While one may moan about a tight shower, it falls into perspective when you see an old house without a roof. Talking of showers, many places in Europe seem to relegate the importance of the bathroom, size wise. As for the shower cubicle, this took the cake. However, it was a shower and we would ‘fight to the death our right to have it’. The bathroom measured at 26 square feet. The shower was obviously smaller. We’ve all heard of stories about bending down in the cubicle. In this one, there was no such option. We could envisage some people, a little overweight, not making it. To drop the bar of soap was a definite ‘no-no’. I kid you not (Nice book by the way—makes great toilet (shower) reading.)
As we all know, a wet bar of soap is slippery. One cannot bend over to reach the shower floor—almost impossible. As one leans over one strikes the glass wall. It means bending at the knees and lowering the tired, old body, especially after a strenuous hike, as the rear end juts out and strikes the door or wall. Should you make it to the bottom, not yours, one has to hope the little bugger won’t slip from the hand. Then there’s the issue of being able to raise oneself to a standing position again. I know how many times I struck the sides walls and also, heard Jenni when she did the same thing. After our first shower, I began a countdown. After the first shower, it was 1 down and 5 to go, depending upon whether we’d need to shower more frequently than daily.
I remember when Mom used to tell us not to pee in the shower. Excuse me. Well, this was a distinct advantage of the cubicle. By opening the door, it was more than possible, without a stretch, to aim and fire directly into the toilet bowl. For the more experienced, it would be a typical point-and-shoot operation. We’re amazed at the madness overtaking the world—appalled would be a better description. I’ve never had the slightest doubt about women, their qualities, beauty and contributions to the world including me. I have a wife, I had a mother, I have a daughter and granddaughter—need I write further. Today, people are attempting to redefine women. Huh? Should we need to have this conversation, then I have my own definition. Should a person be standing in that tiny shower cubicle where we stood and not be able to pee into the bowl, then she’s a woman.
Truth be told, the showers were worth it because the pressure was strong while the water was hot. I prefer this type of arrangement compared with a luxury shower cubicle and lousy water. It happens frequently, especially where hotels are keeping heating bills suppressed. We remember one year in Greece. Upon returning from the trails, we had to give the manager the ‘eye’ after which he’d switch on the boiler.
Taking a break at Ordesa, Spain after a sharp climb to reach this point.
View of a tiny section of the French Pyrenees taken from on high.
Reaching Lac des Gloriettes.
Reflections are a favorite at Lac Greziolles (dam actually).
The worst discomfort has been the issue of the Spanish Fly. I cannot remember when we last had to confront this scourge. Well, it is summer and these pests are most prevalent. I suppose they are better to deal with than mosquitoes but it’s a toss-up. I can’t remember why but we have not been on the road much in mid-summer lately—we try to avoid hiking during that period but still go somewhere. What have we been doing instead? My memory is a ‘little shot’. With the restrictions of the last couple of years lifted, we grabbed the opportunity to return to Europe. It’s an incredible continent for hiking—it has been set up for hikers. People live in the mountains providing opportunities for all and sundry to grab hiking poles and backpacks and enjoy in the wilderness for periods. Often, one will find relative luxury in the form of hotels, refugees and campsites in places one would not expect. (Maybe not campsites). Mixed in with the ski resorts and high positioned structures, it always amazes us that you can find a bed for the night, meals and of course, a hot shower to squeeze into.
View of a tiny section of the French Pyrenees taken from on high.
Reaching Lac des Gloriettes.
Reflections are a favorite at Lac Greziolles (dam actually).
The worst discomfort has been the issue of the Spanish Fly. I cannot remember when we last had to confront this scourge. Well, it is summer and these pests are most prevalent. I suppose they are better to deal with than mosquitoes but it’s a toss-up. I can’t remember why but we have not been on the road much in mid-summer lately—we try to avoid hiking during that period but still go somewhere. What have we been doing instead? My memory is a ‘little shot’. With the restrictions of the last couple of years lifted, we grabbed the opportunity to return to Europe. It’s an incredible continent for hiking—it has been set up for hikers. People live in the mountains providing opportunities for all and sundry to grab hiking poles and backpacks and enjoy in the wilderness for periods. Often, one will find relative luxury in the form of hotels, refugees and campsites in places one would not expect. (Maybe not campsites). Mixed in with the ski resorts and high positioned structures, it always amazes us that you can find a bed for the night, meals and of course, a hot shower to squeeze into.
The Fiat continues the journey through the villages, towns, hamlets while circling the mountains, often performing up-and-overs while we absorb the overwhelming sizes, heights, lush greenery and everything else that captures our attention. We think the cameras capture much of what we see but less than they should. We don’t know why but it may be that the colors are so rich, evenly spread without many contrasts making it different and perhaps understating the naked eye’s absorption. At times, the challenges look impossible but thus far, it has not been the case. We would bet on nature though—it’s a cinch.
The richness of the region from height, Spain.
The conversations with the locals are always interesting and invariably end with some success but not always. It’s amazing how difficult it can be to have simple answers satisfied. We stopped a guy on the trails today to check whether we were on track to reach our intended direction. “Do you speak English?” we asked the big strapping fellow. ‘I sure do,” answered the Australian. Unfortunately, he had the language but not the knowledge. At the trailhead of this ski resort earlier, Jen approached the only person in the carpark. He was about to depart. He spoke English reasonably well but struggled a bit, too. He also believed he had to provide us with as much information as possible and then more. When he could not remember the word for sheep, he bleated for a few seconds. There are some very helpful people—bless them.
The conversations with the locals are always interesting and invariably end with some success but not always. It’s amazing how difficult it can be to have simple answers satisfied. We stopped a guy on the trails today to check whether we were on track to reach our intended direction. “Do you speak English?” we asked the big strapping fellow. ‘I sure do,” answered the Australian. Unfortunately, he had the language but not the knowledge. At the trailhead of this ski resort earlier, Jen approached the only person in the carpark. He was about to depart. He spoke English reasonably well but struggled a bit, too. He also believed he had to provide us with as much information as possible and then more. When he could not remember the word for sheep, he bleated for a few seconds. There are some very helpful people—bless them.
Our current landlady and her mother are delightful. The daughter speaks English as one would love to speak a foreign language. The mother tries but struggles. We, of course, can’t even try which is embarrassing. We are staying in an apartment for three weeks. It has the facilities of a home but not the services of a hotel. Whereas normally, one receives bathroom supplies and cleaning services, this is something we purchase or provide ourselves. Linen is available on a weekly basis. When we asked for this today, the daughter not being available, the mother gave us a beaming smile when she listened to the request and returned with fresh linen. When we can make someone’s day and receive fresh towels and sheets doing it, life can’t be bad at all.
As much as we admire and respect nature, it manages to make us a little uncomfortable at times. The system works like a charm as animals graze on the land and mountain slopes, excrete as they eat thereby fertilizing the ground, allowing the grasses and plants to regenerate. The problem for us, not a serious one though, is that one has to be cautious with feet placements, finding seating for breakfast which is not over-excreted or without putrid odors. This limits the shady spots because the animals are a lot smarter than one would think.
Torla, Spain from St. Anton's Church.
Returning from a side visit to Pic du Midi, rocky you might say.
At the lower levels, a trip through the countryside, where we, to use the modern nomenclature, ‘hang-out’, we find a peace, serenity and high adventure that is quite extraordinary. A trip along these narrow roads through small towns with accommodation in the middle of nearly ‘nowhere’ is delightful. Perhaps it’s both difficult to explain and to understand but country and rural living is a viable alternative to city life. At times, it’s far superior, in our opinion. Of course, should you need to be close to the ballet, theaters and museums, not forgetting Starbucks, the noise, violence, concrete, traffic, dirty air, high-rises, did we mention impossibly clogged roadways? then I would not suggest this type of lifestyle. No. It would be unsuitable.
Returning from a side visit to Pic du Midi, rocky you might say.
At the lower levels, a trip through the countryside, where we, to use the modern nomenclature, ‘hang-out’, we find a peace, serenity and high adventure that is quite extraordinary. A trip along these narrow roads through small towns with accommodation in the middle of nearly ‘nowhere’ is delightful. Perhaps it’s both difficult to explain and to understand but country and rural living is a viable alternative to city life. At times, it’s far superior, in our opinion. Of course, should you need to be close to the ballet, theaters and museums, not forgetting Starbucks, the noise, violence, concrete, traffic, dirty air, high-rises, did we mention impossibly clogged roadways? then I would not suggest this type of lifestyle. No. It would be unsuitable.
Fortunately, we don’t attend the ballet that often so we cope. As you may have ascertained, we do have our foibles but then it works for us. We remember a time when the big cities were exciting, alive, even comfortable—and I thought I’d lost my memory. Now we find those feelings in places where the mountains, lakes, volcanoes, rivers, deserts, and ski-resorts abound. They provide challenges and adventure, where people are relaxed, friendly, give one the time of day and set examples that allow us to envisage the original plan for humans. ‘Oh!’ You may be thinking these people are odd. Couldn’t agree more. Then again who cares! As long as we continue to seize the day, seek our passion, find life to be an adventure and journey rather than routine, remember our manners, we think we may be succeeding. After all, we don’t want to have regrets later for what we did not do. Even worse: We don’t know when our time is up.
Carpe Diem!
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
Short walk from our apartment (behind) to church.
Napoleon Bridge (1859), Luz Saint Sauveur, also close to the apartment.
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