Pyrenees 4. No, a rack and pinion isn't an instrument of torture

 

on that lovely site I mentioned

Cable cars and ski-lifts often do run outside the ski season and take walkers high into the mountains quickly and effortlessly but it seems that very few of them are running here at the moment.   We have found out though that a rack and pinion railway is running into the mountains from a town called Ribes de Freser where we’ve now chosen to base ourselves for a few days.  A rack and pinion railway has a third central rail which is toothed.  The locomotive has a cog wheel which meshes with the rail and in combination with the normal driving wheels the train hauls itself up steeper inclines than a normal train could.  We were able to walk to the station from our campsite which was fifteen minutes down an ankle-breaking rock strewn path which clearly doubles as a raging mountain torrent when it rains heavily. 

 

and here's that third rail

this is only here because
it looks vaguely amusing in English

After getting our tickets at the station I realised that for once I didn’t have a facemask which are still widely worn in Spain and I was told I had to wear one on the train.  We didn’t have time to go back to our van to get one and the rather severe woman who’d challenged me went into her office and brought me a free and very good quality brand new mask.   Our trip was a spectacular forty minutes or so past precipitous drops, fabulous views and through a couple of tunnels until we popped out of one into a flat bottomed high valley with a large ski hotel and a church.  Neither the hotel or anything else was open except a shop selling souvenirs so we couldn’t even get a cup of coffee.  The only working cable car we’ve seen then took us up another 500 feet or so and we went for a walk.   The walk was back down to the high valley on a winding trail through woods, across grassy ski trails and open hillside.  At one point on that walk we saw a couple of Griffon Vultures gliding in, then a bit of a kerfuffle and more and more arrived.  It was all about 300 yards away and something dead and also tasty had obviously been found.  By the time they’d stopped flying in there were more vultures in one place than I’d ever seen, even in Africa.  Probably 40 or 50 of them and it was quite a sight.  It’s believed that as vultures glide around on thermals apparently doing nothing they’re watching the other vultures that are in view and as soon as one drops out of sight the others realise that food has been found and take it as an invitation to luncheon.  That’s why they all suddenly appear as if from nowhere.

 

a Griffon Vulture in full majesty

On the return train trip we could see the mountain trail down which looked like a splendid walk although it would be quite a long one.  The walkers among you will know that a down is often far worse than an up.  Fortunately, we were able to stand at the front of the train on the way down just behind the driver and could see all the twists and turns.   It were a Grand Day Out.

 

I don't think that's a magazine he's reading

on the way down.  the rail track on the right, the walk down on the left

I mentioned the site we’re on in an earlier blog.  There are extensive views all around and we’ve parked so that we see no-one else, just a drop to a valley and mountains rising on the other side.  The site was virtually empty until two days into our stay when the mountain runners arrived, lots of them.  There are a variety of distances for them to tackle and while we’re not sure, we think that the longest route is 50 km (31 miles).  That did at least ensure that there wasn’t too much late night partying in the evening.   Everybody will have their own idea about where to park on a site and we like a view and not looking straight at other vehicles.  When the place was still virtually empty one other motorhome pulled in and parked with their large side door facing away from the view and straight at the toilet/shower block some twenty feet away from them.  Entitled to their choice but barking mad in my opinion.

 

an old bridge near Ripoli

a late patch of sunshine seen from our van

For quite a bit of our trip so far we’ve crossed or driven alongside the famous Camino de Compostela walk.  Originally a Catholic pilgrimage it is now very popular and some villages we drove through in the mornings had between a dozen and twenty walkers setting off.   Thousands of people walk all or some of the 500 or so miles every year and it must be a huge money spinner for the villages providing food and accommodation on the route.   Despite the publicity about the ‘ancient route’ I understand that although it had been one of the most important pilgrim routes, it died out some hundreds of years ago and in the late 1950’s a priest republicized it for a charity walk and it caught on.  It isn’t on my list of long-distance paths to do although a lot of the GR (Grand Randonnee or Long Hike) routes look like really good ones.

for scale, the straight line in the bottom middle of the shot
is a major dual carriageway

  

two views in opposite directions from the Mirador de la Devesa

 

Even at altitude it was hot though thankfully not humid but we took the decision to stay high if we could and miss the med completely where we reasoned it would be even hotter.  So we headed for France. To leave Spain we ground our way up yet another mountain to the border post which consisted of one closed and shuttered building and then we were in France.   Naturally it was then down for a long way and after a short while we turned our faces to the west and started back towards the Atlantic.

a last view of Spain from the French border

a very typical bit of mountain road
shown on our satnav

 

By sheer chance of course because that’s always our default plan, we stopped at a small market town called Prades whose market was the following day.  This was the worst place we or I specifically had a biting insect problem.  Ankle altitude no-see-ums had a jolly fine picnic on my ankles.  On the bright side, about ten days later I still have several join the dot puzzles on those ankles to keep me entertained during a long journey.

 

Prades turned out to be an interesting place but this may have really been because of the extensive market.  This radiated out from the church and central square down several side streets and sold mostly food.  It really was a big market.  We bought cheese from three of the cheese stalls, one stall in the market sold only oysters.   It had that sociable get together on market day feel to it and after our shopping we finished off like many of the locals with the usual coffee and croissant while we looked out over those still shopping.  There were a variety of what looked like ‘characters’ which always seem to appear at markets but these looked more interesting in a fanciful sort of way than those at an English market.   Less Delboy and Rodney and more Keith Richards.

 

a selection of photos of Prades market

I really don’t think I’ve said just how scenically impressive the Pyrenees are.   There is an immense amount of tree cover but when the tree line is reached the sparse trees clinging to the margin of altitude existence disappear very quickly.  On the Spanish side the foothills grow slowly like a mass of waves and the snowy tops of mountains aren’t often visible from a long way away.   It certainly is nowhere near as touristy as the Alps and in what is about three weeks in the mountains we’ve only once turned up at a car park and decided there would be too many people on the trails for us to stop.  There has been virtually no litter and very few Brits although we did meet an old Yellowbelly from Cleethorpes who has a French wife and has lived in southern France since the 1970’s.  For some reason he prefers it to Cleethorpes.  

 

the eviable determination of a tree

Covers 1- 7 June 2022