Pyrenees 6. End of the Pyrenees

three photos - walking towards the Cirque du Gavarnie

We turned south and upwards towards the Cirque de Gavarnie which turned out to be one of the great sites and sights. Parking was two or three miles from the Cirque itself and the walk to it was along a lovely valley with meadows to each side and a smallish river tinkling through it doing what seemed to be a terrible job at cooling things down a bit. However, we had no control to measure it against so I may be too harsh on what was an attractive bubbly little line of what had until very recently been snow. It was here we saw the only Edelweiss of our entire journey. A surprise because we’ve only seen it before on rocky slopes high in the mountains and this was a flat meadow with conifers dotted around and it’s not expected to start blooming until July. Unmistakably Edelweiss though, a funny little plant and I’ve never understood the fuss made about it. Maybe it is just that that old song made it well known. 

yes, this is Edelweiss

Anyway, back to the Cirque. Past the relatively level meadows the path rose steeply for a few hundred yards and then the full curve of sheer mountains peaks was towering right in front of us. The land drops in front of us followed by an undulating stretch of land and then it rises to a jagged top, still with lots of snow on it. The whole rock face is dotted with waterfalls all of which are melted snow and probably much bigger than they look from where we’re standing. A really cracking view. The puzzle is how so many waterfalls and so much water ends up as a river only twenty feet or so wide and not very deep. Maybe what we take for spray from the waterfalls is really steam as they evaporate in this astonishing heat. 

the full Cirque or as much as I could get in one photo

and just to prove we were there

Leaving Gavarnie we head for a place called Laruns which is the last town before the Col du Portalet, a pass we’d approached some two and a half weeks earlier from the Spanish side. This time we’re hoping for some lower temperatures and to see how different the flora would be a bit later in the season. 

just below the Col du Portalet

Alpenrose and a bit o' snow

I haven’t mentioned how many cyclists ride these hills, pounding up and down the various passes and on the hilly lower slopes. There seem to be hundreds of them grinding up and flashing down and Sunday is really the time to be on extra alert. These are serious cyclists. The approach to the Col du Portalet from the French side, even after they reach Laruns is a little under 30 kilometres, upwards. For Dorset folk that’s just a little less than Poole to Blandford Forum uphill the whole way. The road up has signs every kilometre, helpful or mocking I’m not sure, which say how far it is to the top and the average gradient for the next kilometre. On the weekend after we were there the road up to the pass and we presume the next pass to the west were closed for a bike race. From Spain the route ran (cycled, I should say) up and over the Pyrenees into France, then eastwards to cycle back up to the Col du Portalet and back down into Spain. 197 kilometres ! 

encouragement ? or discouragement ?

Having driven and not cycled up (it still took 40 minutes) we did find some plants we’d not seen on the southern side, a number of primulas and orchids including one of my favourites the Black-vanilla Orchid, it’s only about four inches tall, very dark and smells like chocolate. However, the heat had not eased with the altitude and at the top of the pass at 6,000 feet it was an unbelievable 33C (91F) with virtually no breeze. 

Black-vanilla Orchid.  the second photo is brighter
than reality just to show the detail

There was one more excursion we decided to do the following day on Le Train d’Artouste, mainly because it was high and again we hoped it would be cooler. This started with a cable car ride which took us up to almost 6,000 feet followed by a ride on a narrow gauge railway with open sided carriages to a lake some 40 minutes away. It looked very much like the sort of train that rumbles along a seafront promenade rather than a serious mountain run but it was originally built to get workers to the dam behind which was the lake we were stopping at. This was not a trip for anyone who suffers from claustrophobia, a fear of heights or even worse, both. It started with a ride through a tunnel hardly bigger than the train for 400 yards and then a fantastic ride hugging the side of a precipitous valley, in places with a view seemingly straight down as the train jogged waveringly along. It was only about a fourteen inch gauge which is why it wobbled about so much. We all had to wear seat belts, a first on a train for us, probably to stop people toppling out while trying to get a better view rather than so we’d still all be in roughly the same place if the train went over the side. Far better than the rack and pinion railway of a fortnight ago and a real highlight of the whole trip. The views were stunning and the whole experience could genuinely and accurately be described as awesome. 

Le Train d'Artouste

two trains about to pass

After that things just went downhill. The heat was unpleasant and even our fridge couldn’t cope with it. We couldn’t go any higher to try to escape the temperature, so we decided to try some dynamic scheduling, a phrase I remember using at work. Basically just changing the plan to suit the circumstances, so we set a course for the coast and then headed north in the belief that getting away from the SW and some cooling sea breezes would help. It didn’t. Royan, just north of the Gironde estuary was a pleasant little place and so was a spot just south of St Nazaire but it was still too hot. All we’d really done was split our drive to Cherbourg into more manageable and thanks to the air-con, comfortable chunks. On our last morning we’d spent some time in a huge Carrefour Hypermarket buying a selection of mainly grape based products and I’m writing this as the ferry noses its way out of Cherbourg en route for Poole. 

The Pyrenees were highly impressive and it suited us well that they weren’t very touristy. The trip was a reminder of that both France and Spain are always great places to visit and it is far too long since we’ve spent time in either of them. Bread still seems to be very important to the French and if the boulangerie is shut there really is only one thing left to try.

 

and this is it,
the baguette vending machine 

We had a great conclusion to this trip approaching Poole Harbour at sunset with the warm low light slanting across the harbour. Then driving off the ferry only half a mile from home. 

Old Harry Rocks catching the last of the sun as we're about to enter Poole Harbour

Brownsea Island Lagoon at sunset

covers 13 - 20 June 2022