Category: 2017 GR10

Why is it I always get snorers next to me when we stay in a refuge? Why is it that the snorer is always the first one up after keeping me awake all night? Why is it that they pack everything in grocery bags which make a hell of a lot of noise stuffing them into a pack? Why is it my wife sleeps quietly when there is someone else snoring? Why does my wife snore like a chainsaw if there’s just us in a room to ourselves? What is the point of this international conspiracy to keep me from sleeping? Who is John Gault anyway? (Just checking if anyone reading this has knowledge of literature–I guarantee none of the Pams reading this will get it.)

Breakfast by candlelight in the mountains of France–what a way to start the day. The refuge was fogged in. It even looked like a good chance for rain, but we’re thru-hikers so a little rain doesn’t scare us (says the couple who stays in refuges when rain is threatening). But a little lightening scares the bejesus out of one of us.

I got an ego boost as we were packing up to leave. A French couple who are out for 4 days of day hiking picked up my pack before I had it fully loaded. She dropped it and said “No way!” He picked it up and asked if we were Americans. I gave the spiel of what hikes we’ve already done this year, what more we are going to do, and our 12-14 year hiking plan. They were amazed, envious, and thankful to be heading home tomorrow.

The itinerary was another easy one today, only 2000′ up, 3000′ down, and just a little over 6 miles. If this is true, I will no longer belittle dead men. We may even go an extra 3 miles to see if we can get food in Py if the stars align and Pam is not complaining about (choose a body part here).

Actually, the hike wasn’t bad at all–may the author finally Rest In Peace. I did have to do something today that I truly hate to do. I tried using Pam’s visualization of a Wal-Mart parking lot but that just didn’t work for me. I went to go dig a hole but didn’t have to. I found a nice hollow between two rocks which allowed me to sit and relax–until it occurred to me that this would be an ideal spot if I were a little burrowing animal. Now I was afraid of a little burrowing animal getting pissed because I was defiling his front entrance and having him come up out of the hole and biting me on the ass. Of course, I had to keep an eye focused down below which made me gag. When I got done, I realized I had just done the equivalent of leave a flaming bag of poop on a marmots doorstep and rung the doorbell as I ran away.

The guilt was killing me as we climbed on up to the pass. Some poor single parent marmot was out making a living trying to support her three fatherless children because the deadbeat dad had run off with some young tart of a marmot from another nearby mountain. Meanwhile, some thoughtless human too lazy to dig a hole chose her doorstep for comfort. The guilt was killing me, until we got distracted by a truly heartbreaking situation.

Ahead of us in the trail, we saw a baby lamb staring at us. Of course, we both thought it was cute and stopped to take its picture. As I moved closer to it, I noticed what I had missed from seeing the lamb. It’s mother lay dead in the middle of the trail. There were no other sheep around that we could hear, so the flock must have moved up and over the mountain leaving the baby behind with its dead mother. It kept running up to its mother and nuzzling her head. She tried to protect her from us so we gave them a wide berth. Pam tried to approach the baby but it was too afraid of her and kept running only to return to its mother every time. Sadly, we know this little lamb will die.

If we were in the USA, I know we would now be a walking party of a dog (Lassie from the beginning of the trail), a pony (from the mother who died in birth at Lac d’Ilheou) and now an orphaned lamb. Pam is a sucker for helpless babies and I do wish there was something we could have done for the lamb. Unfortunately, I know the shepherds count on x% loss while grazing and that a little sheep is not worth the effort to go find.

Luckily, the trail got steeper which took Pam’s mind off of the baby lamb (until we picked out pictures for the day which started her up again). The day was pleasant enough even with the cloudy skies that we did something we haven’t done for a while; we soaked our feet in a cold stream while we ate our last lunch (food uncertainty).

We got into Mantet at a reasonable 3 in the afternoon and started looking for a gite to spend the night at. We stopped at the Mairie and they recommended a gite behind another gite. We went in search of it but missed the turn (or couldn’t understand the hand gestures well enough). We eventually ended up at a place above town that looked interesting because it had a yurt. When we went inside, we couldn’t find anyone and noticed the place was very dirty, but they did have a fridge full of cold beer. We thought we could chill a bit since it was so early.

I looked around the gite, yurt, and hotel and decided it was too dirty to stay at. Let’s put this in perspective. Someone who lived in the country with two Great Pyrenees dogs sharing the house and bed with him, who doesn’t like to sweep, and doesn’t mind tumbleweed hair balls blowing through the house is saying that the place is too dirty for him. I was getting a serial killer vibe from the place. We were finishing up our beers when the woman who owns the place came out. We were only about 2 minutes from leaving.

She said we would have to wait about 20 minutes before we could move our stuff inside because she hadn’t cleaned yet. For what time period it hasn’t been cleaned I was unsure, but we decided to go ahead and stay rather than moving on to Py. What difference will it make if we find out if there is food in Py today or tomorrow morning. Pam enjoys it when I latch onto a point and beat it to death day after day–that’s why she married me.

It turned out to be a nice setup for us. We have our own “apartment” for only 16 Euros each (plus a fridge full of beer at 2 Euros each. Beer helps to make up calorie deficits in a big way. We both showered before cooking our next to last supper. We will have our last breakfast in the morning. My pack will be the lightest it’s been the entire trip.

While Pam was showering, I “looked” around a bit and found a washing machine. It was obvious that the woman wasn’t going to use it tonight since she had stuffed the dirty sheets from our bed into the freezer (no lie). Bonnie convinced me, to once again, be drawn into her world of crime and steal a load of laundry. We made supper while the washer was doing it’s magic. We kept looking out to see if she was coming back. We even stopped drinking beer while the crime was in progress.

After supper, we hung our clothes out to dry around the dining area and resumed beer drinking. As we started playing cards, the owner gathered all the laundry she had hanging outside on the lines and brought it in to the gite–we had barely dodged a bullet. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to being caught in the act of a crime. I’ve never felt so alive. I wonder what else we can take from here.

I thought that I had eaten plenty at breakfast but apparently my body was thinking differently; or else there’s an internal power struggle still going on from the other night. The rest of my body wasn’t sharing food with my ass, so it was forced to resort to trying to eat my underwear. All day long I had to keep pulling them back out. The boys up front were complaining about the squeeze being put on them. I told everyone I didn’t want to hear any more about it, just get things calmed down. We all know that the ass controls the entire body. If he shuts down, no one else can work. Fix it now.

Today was the last climb even approaching the 4000′ mark–just a little over 3800′. We’ve got two more days around 3200′ and two days around 3000′ and then it should be smooth sailing. That is, if the dead jackass is even close to his estimates (which he hasn’t been doing a good job the last couple of days).

The hike today was actually kind of pleasant. I don’t know how the day got away from us. We were more than half way at noon, but we lost it on the climb over Col Mitja and the descent into the refuge. It took us almost 5 hours to do one little 2300′ climb and 1800′ descent. The only thing I can think of is Pam–her hips were hurting this morning and her feet this afternoon. She is carrying more weight because she “just had to have” a new pair of hiking pants bringing the total she is toting around to 3 (count them out; 1, 2, 3) pairs of hiking pants.

I’ve also got to get a dig in for all the Ariege haters in France. We spent more time today hiking in forests than we ever did in a single day in the Ariege. Maybe that’s why we only saw two other hikers heading in our direction. We did see a local hiking group of elderly people (all retired and older). The last guy in line took a tumble and rolled down the hill a couple of times but none of his friends seemed too concerned–like it’s normal for a 70 year old man to go rolling down a mountain (maybe he drinks so they just accept it). We talked to him a bit. He seemed to be just fine, probably just a little embarrassed more than anything else, but I’ll bet he’s stiff in the morning (just for clarification, there is no sexual innuendo in that statement–he’s over 70 and just fell down a mountain so he will be stiff).

The worst part about today was all the flies. We tried to take a nap part way up our climb, but the flies were horrendous. Flies are the only thing that will get Pam to consistently swear. It’s also the only time I don’t get yelled at for swearing since she makes sailors blush. We gave up on the nap, but I took some vitamin I and rubbed voltarin gel all over my feet. Pam doesn’t like it because it doesn’t feel natural to not have painless feet.

The climb down the backside of Col Mitja was quite steep which only made Pam move that much slower. After a loss of 1500′ a cow shepherd (?) was running his herd up the trail right at us. He had a dog running the edge of the herd and he kept forcing them up towards the pass. When he saw us, he did move the herd off of the trail to allow us to pass.

Because of our food situation (and me being cheap to make a point–I guess the point is I’m too cheap to spend large amounts on food to allow us to be comfortable) we decided to stay at the refuge, but cook our own supper. We have plenty of suppers, it’s breakfasts and lunches we are running low on. We went ahead and cooked as soon as we arrived. Everyone was envious of the smell of grilling onions and sausage. I even got to use one of my CANS of tomato sauce along with 1/2 of the pasta I am carrying. We did indulge in a blonde beer to wash it all down.

Tomorrow’s itinerary is a short and easy one which means we will be dragging bad. But if it really is only 2000′ of climbing in 6 miles, we will probably push on into Py in the afternoon to find out what the food situation is really like. If there’s food in Py, we’ll be fine (thanks to my not trusting shops in the Pyrennes or dead men). If there’s not food, I don’t know what we’ll do after I blow a gasket. The next shop after Py isn’t for another 3 days. I don’t want to think about it right now.

We are in a unique situation tonight. We have already eaten and are ready for bed. Everyone else is eating right now. I am torn between having another beer or going to bed before everyone else is done eating. I want to be asleep before the snoring begins (or liquored up enough that I don’t care). Decisions, decisions, decisions.

Most people who lose weight tend to snore less; not my wife. I know that I am as quiet as a mouse now that I’ve lost 40#. Pam now snores in just about every position. The only configuration where I can get relief is the one where she sleeps on her back and I hold a pillow over her face. Once she wakes up, she’s too paranoid to go back to sleep for a bit but, then, I run a very good chance of discovering a spork in my throat. Granted, she’s still not as bad as the woman on the Camino that snored on both the inhale and exhale, but if she loses much more weight, she could progress to that level.

Needless to say, I didn’t sleep much. I did manage to advance a few more levels in Candy Crush so the night wasn’t a total waste. When the alarm went off at 8, I was able to get 9 minutes of sleep while she lay awake contemplating the snooze going off. When we went down to breakfast, the waitress said the words that scare the hell out of me concerning Pam–“Self serve buffet.” This guarantees that when we leave, my wife’s pockets will be bulging like a chipmonk’s mouth full of nuts. She found drawers full of teas, sugar in cubes and granulated, jellies, and butter. I drew the line when she was sizing up the espresso machine, after all, where can we get electric when we’re tent camping in the mountains?

Today was supposed to be an easy day according to the guidebook–only 600′ total climbing. I’m glad the guy is dead. It’s only personal self preservation that makes me say that because if he wasn’t, I’d track him down and bitch him out. This would only lead to him kicking my ass and causing me a lot of pain or possibly leading to Pam becoming a widow. See, my wife’s best interests always come first in my thought processes.

The trail wasn’t bad, I just hate being deceived. Don’t tell me it’s only 600′ and then have it be 2000′ of climbing. Go the other way. Tell me 2000′ and then have it be just 600′–I’ll love you for that. I’ll still think you shouldn’t be writing a guidebook if you can’t do any better than that, but at least I won’t hate you. I’m very easy to please.

The other big thing that torqued me off today was food shopping. The book said we were going through 2 towns with shops today. What I liked about the Ariege was that it was very straight forward in it’s presentation. Straight up, it was presented that they don’t want hikers in the area and there will be no shops available to aide in hikers traversing the district. Very straight forward. You are on your own and don’t expect help from any shop owners. I know what to expect without question–I like that.

Now that we are in the Pyrennes Orientale, we have been duped into believing there will be shops along the route where we can get food. Now we are pretty much screwed because neither shop was open and one was even permanently closed. Food uncertainty is the number one reason I would never recommend the GR10 to anyone. Fortunately, I know I cannot trust shops in the mountain villages so I was carrying an extra 2 days of food on this leg (which we now have to stretch to 3 days). The guidebook gives a great description of what we can expect at the next shop: (Py) “There is a gite here and a bar/restaurant with a tiny shop beneath. Ask at the bar for the shop to be opened.” Oh boy, just imagine all the good, fresh food we’ll be able to get there.

I have had it with the GR10 and the food situation. When I complained about it in Fos, I got a bag of Ramen Noodles thrown at me because the gite owner thought I preferred tasteless food to good cooked meals. We are not rich hikers; we are on a budget. Bottom line, the GR10 is not a backpacking trail just like the Camino is not a hiking trail. The French want the GR10 to be a money generating vehicle for gite and refuge owners. They have taken what in the USA is a universal, affordable, outside activity available for all and turned it into a rich man’s leisure activity. I have met many young Europeans hiking the GR10 that won’t go anywhere near a gite. Unfortunately, they are only hiking for a week at a time because that’s all the food they can carry.

Now that I’ve got the rant semi out of me, I have to admit that we are staying in a gite tonight. Not because of bad weather, not because we have been out camping for a lot of nights, but because we are being held hostage for food. I could save 8 Euros if we camped, but that’s a drop in the bucket when you have to pay 46 Euros for supper and breakfast. This is really leaving a bad taste in my mouth and I am beginning to regret having hiked the GR10. I’m tired of carrying glass containers and tin cans on the trail. The only advantage to the gite is they have beer and it is slowly calming me down.

Jessica from Tasmania finished the trail on August 13–right around 45 days. She had two big advantages over us: 1) she speaks French, and 2) she had a cell phone. These are both musts for anyone wishing to hike this trail. We have met some amazing people on this trail and the problems we are having are, primarily, our own undoing. We will think long and hard before we go backpacking in a country where we do not speak the language.

So many people have commented on the amount of weight we are carrying. They all offer us suggestions as to how to lighten our loads by shipping equipment forward or carrying less food and getting picnic lunches from the gites. They do not understand the way Americans hike, nor do they understand the wilderness experience we are seeking. In one gite we stayed at, we got in a very emotional with another guest about “the bear problem in the Pyrennes.” I said “What bear problem? There’s only 39 bears in the whole mountain range. Is the problem that there aren’t enough bears?” This didn’t get the laugh that I was hoping for.

The Ariege was our favorite area for hiking. There was a wide variety of terrain which we enjoyed. We were out for 8 days and nights with everything we needed (too bad it stretched to 10 and we had to stay at refuges to make it). We met a French hiker today that was hiking the “entire” GR10 in 30 days. His only comment was there was too much forest in the Ariege and you couldn’t see the mountains. I don’t believe that he actually walked through the Ariege, but is using the same old line that everyone in France uses to justify skipping this section of the GR10. To me, this section is what would be the most appealing to the average American hiker–but be sure to bring all the food you need to make it.

I’ve finished 2 beers and am about to start in on my 3rd. I’ve got most of the bitching (pardon my French, but I am tri-lingual these days) out of my system. I would like to point out, in case I haven’t made myself clear, I have absolutely no problems with the French people. They have been outstanding and friendly beyond belief. We hiked with Fred for a week, Suzy took us into her home after talking to us for less than three minutes, Patrick and Anne acted as interpreters for us, Stefan invited us to visit him when we are in Paris, and dozens of other positive encounters. I don’t know where this myth that the French don’t like Americans came from, because it’s not true. My complaint is only with the lack of food availability suitable for backpacking and I’m pissed (in the English sense of the word–3 beers). Say good night Gracie.

It was so cold, that my kidneys and bladder decided to take a night off and let me sleep. About 2 in the morning, though, my brain woke up and said “Hey, what’s going on? We should have been up twice by now.” My bladder said “We’re cool. Go back to sleep.” Brain would have none of that; “Can’t you hear the running water right outside the tent? There’s no way it’s ok to sleep.” My butt chimed in “You guys shut up or I’m going to put my two cents in and no one will sleep.” Pam spoke up “Shut up or my spork will find it’s way to your throat.” I believed her, she may be sweet to everyone else, but try sleeping with her in a 6’x7′ tent every night.

What choice did I have but get up and go outside to keep everyone quiet. My bladder did have a little more than it claimed. My butt released enough gas to kill a small Pyrennes village, and my brain said “I told you so.” When I got back in bed, I told Pam we had had a hard frost and everything was glistening. She said “Shut up or spork.” I tried going to sleep, but my brain had the same ear worm it had had all day; the theme from underdog. “Speed of lightening, roar of thunder, fighting those who rob or plunder. Underdog. Ooh ooh Underdog. Underdog.” My butt, crotch, and feet all started screaming “shut up or we start singing ‘It’s a Small World’.” I finally got some peace and went to sleep.

I awoke again at 8. I tried to get Pam to get up, but she said she wasn’t moving until it got warm. I, the good husband, went out and made coffee and then boiled more water for muesli before coming back in to serve my wife breakfast in bed. I think everyone can see where this is going–we hit the trail at 10.

Today was a pleasant 1700′ of climbing broken up into 3 climbs and a mild 2500′ decline over 6 miles. This was the coldest day of hiking we have had so far. Even with the easy day of hiking (and under normal conditions, it would be an easy day), we were both dragging. It took us a few hours to figure out that the reason we weren’t doing so well was because we had spent all the energy we had earmarked for recovery on staying warm instead.

We went over 2 passes today and had great views. Approaching the first pass, we came upon a hiking club with about 16 members coming down as we were making our final climb up.

In between passes, we stopped and found a most unusual sign. All of my complaining is finally paying off. We found a trail sign with actual distances on it and not a single time. People are actually having to figure out for themselves how long it will take them to hike.

After climbing the second pass, we both about gave out. We had barely covered 6 miles and the trail was the type that would normally make you ask if you were still on the GR10 because it was such pleasant hiking. Our target destination for the night was still at almost 7000′ and we were hiking most of the day with our fleece jackets on. We didn’t think we’d be able to pull another night off in the tent and hope for any recovery with it already being so cold. We decided we were staying in the refuge.

When we got to the dam, we saw a really nice looking hotel/restaurant/bar. “We may never pass this way again” Seals and Crofts. We decided to splurge and get a good night’s sleep and two good meals. We ended up with a king sized bed (so I don’t have to sleep on the floor for once). They thought we looked pathetic and cold enough that they set us by the fireplace in the restaurant. With the full stomachs, 2 beers each, and 1/2 carafe of wine, we should sleep well tonight.

It’s hard to get up early when check out isn’t until 11:30–at least that’s Pam’s philosophy. I was ready to go at 5 but suppressed my urge to hike; I’m a good husband who sleeps when told to sleep. I do as I’m told. We did get up in time to eat our breakfast buffet before it finished at 9:30. Yogurt, meat, and cheese included so we started the day off with protein instead of just carbs.

The second train leaves Ax at 10:49. We half-heartedly tried to hitchhike on our way to the station but I was afraid we might get a ride and then not be able to communicate. When I ordered the tickets, he said 5.60. I assumed each but when I got the receipt that was the total. I think the bus ripped us off the other day because he charged us 4.80 each.

The train was nice. If this is the type of train we can expect to take when we are traveling all over Europe we’ll be happy. We had an entire car to ourselves with plenty of room to spread out. When we got off in Merens 15 minutes later, we only saw one other person. We heard him talk and identified him as either American or Canadian. Tim was Canadian. We walked with him as far as the gite he was spending the night at and then had a cup of coffee with him while he had lunch. We ran into him again a little bit up the trail when he went to check out the natural hot springs next to the trail.

Today will be our last big continuos climb on this entire trip–4500′ without a break. After today, we won’t have another day over 4000′. The next biggest day is 3800′ and that will be broken up over 3 different climbs. A very weird thing happened on the way into Merens the other day: as we were crossing the boulder fields, I said to the GR10 “That’s about enough of this shit” and the GR10 acquiesced. Never before has the trail backed down when I’m nearing my limit. In other words, we finally own this trail. (Of course, it will kick our ass at least one more time to prove that’s not true.)

As we were having our coffee with Tim, we looked at the “new” Cicerone book. As much as I enjoy kicking dead guys, it really is a superior book in every conceivable way. It uses topographical maps, it has some information about the area you are passing through, the itineraries are more realistic (55 vs 50 days), it shows side trails, and, most importantly, it’s written by a living guy so No guilt about bitching about it.

Ax is the first time we have ever taken 2 days in a row off (other than Vielle-Aure which didn’t really count since we didn’t sleep an entire night before coming into town). Out of Merens is a 4500′ continuous climb and we smoked it. We even passed a couple of French hikers in the process. They were probably hiking with broken legs, but it doesn’t matter; after 65 days, we passed French people on the trail. Ax was the break we needed: lots of protein (think 1.5# of hamburger and chicken curry), 3 nights of sleep (with a fan in the room), breakfasts with protein, and a two hour therapeutic hot bath. For the first time in nearly 5 months, we have allowed our bodies to fully recover.

Truth of the matter is, we can finally make the ridiculous hiking times that are posted on the trail or suggested in the guidebook, but we don’t want to. We will probably never pass through this area again and we actually want to see it and enjoy it. This has been the case all along. My whining has been a preemptive whine to keep Pam quiet. I have been strong and not needed to complain at all. For all who know me, I am usually quiet, reserved, and stoic. That’s the end of the record–you can all quit clearing your throats now and shut up.

When PaMary arrived at the Inn with her husband leading the way, all the beds were full. CurJoseph reluctantly continued on knowing that his virgin wife was due at any moment. They found a sheltered spot next to a grove of trees where PaMary gave birth to another damn bunny–just what the world needs, a savior bunny. Please don’t strike me dead for the sacrilege I was forced to commit just now. It was either that or steal more jelly.

There were actually still two spots left in the refuge, but Pam decided that we would be better sleeping out at 7000′ even though we have gotten blown away every night we’ve slept above 6000′ in the Pyrenees. As you all know, I’m just along for the ride and never really voice my opinion if it conflicts with anyone around me–especially my wife. I’ve never experienced it, but I’m sure a spork in the throat is not the most pleasant feeling to wake up to.

We set the tent up next to a stream further up the valley from the refuge. I made (yes, I do all the cooking while backpacking) pasta with pesto with hot tea to drink. Even before the sun went down, it was too cold to stay outside of the tent to eat yet another, gourmet meal prepared by Curtis.

After cleaning the dishes (yes, I did that as well) my hands were numb, my teeth were chattering, yet my ears were functioning perfectly to hear my wife complain about the cold and how she was freezing to death. If only someone had considered staying at the refuge. It’s going to be a long cold night.

8:15 came much earlier than we expected. Even after two snoozes, I couldn’t really get Pam moving. It was the threat of a cattle prod that finally got her attention. All the way through breakfast she complained about missing out on sleep, not feeling well, body aching, hips were sore, she needed another day of recovery, etc. She’s not very subtle when she wants another day off. I stopped by the desk to see if we could stay another night–we could, but we’d have to switch rooms because ours was booked for the entire weekend. We went back up to nap and chill until the new room was ready.

After we got moved into the new room, we thought that since we were up, we might as well walk around town a bit and eat some lunch (we don’t want to completely waste away). After walking for about 15 minutes, we decided to try something completely different–pizza. We started heading back up to the pizza place by our hotel and saw the French family sitting in the square. We stopped to say hi and finally get a picture with them. They are such a good looking and friendly family. This is their last day of vacation. They head back home to Brittany tomorrow to get ready for work and school on Monday.

We talked for a bit and they told us we should definitely check out the thermal baths. When in Rome, bath like a Roman. After our pizza we headed over hoping they would let us in without swimsuits. They wouldn’t, so now we have additional articles of clothing to carry. We spent two hours in all the different pools, saunas, steam rooms, showers, tubs, and baths. By the time we finished, we had devolved to invertebrates. We couldn’t stand because we were so relaxed. I have no pains at all. Pam is not whimpering any longer, but I’m sure her hip will be back to normal by morning.

To maximize time in the baths, we didn’t shower or clean up before we left (not unusual any more for us to skip personal hygiene). We just headed back to our hotel for a shower before heading out for some supper. The Chinese restaurant we found yesterday made a good impression on us so we went back and had exactly the same thing we had for lunch yesterday–spring rolls, jasmine tea, chicken curry, and ice cream.

After supper, the intention was to go straight to the hotel, pack up for tomorrow, and go to bed. Well, that didn’t happen. Walking back, we heard some live music coming from a bar in the plaza. Since it was only 8, we succumbed to beer and live music. It was a French quintet playing American folk songs from the 60s and 70s (Bob Dylan, Neil Young, etc) and they were pretty good. When they broke for an intermission, we called it a night. Packing can wait until morning.

We didn’t order breakfast today because we have one objective only–sleep. This is why we choose to hike, little things, like a bed, are absolute luxuries. We did get to sleep in a bed just a few nights ago thanks to Suzy, but today, we could sleep as late as we wanted.

We got up just before 11 so we could start the laundry while we have some coffee for breakfast. As I was running some things back to the hotel, I ran into Martina and Richard at the shop where we had bought some pastries. They have an apartment in town just around the corner. They are a very nice slightly older couple than we are (retired).

A lot of people ask us if we are retired. When we say no, they ask if we’re rich. That always makes us laugh. Only two types of people do what we do–the extremely rich, and extremely poor. We have to camp because that’s all we can afford to do. Would it be nice to be able to afford to stay in a gite or refuge every night like the French do? Heck yes, but that’s out of our price range.

After we ate a little breakfast, we did the usual town chores with one exception, Pam made sure we got a 10# bag of ibuprofen–she is not going to run out again on this trip! We got enough food for 4 days of hiking because we are always afraid that a shop won’t be available when the guidebook says it will be. It’s only 3 days to the next alleged shop, but…

Now we had one more major task for the day (other than getting caught up on blogging)–lunch! I know I’ve mentioned this before, but I have never eaten so much pork in my life. There are two things I would like to have today and we found a place I can get them both: chicken & curry. When we were hiking with George (may he Rest In Peace), we couldn’t go to an Indian restaurant because of the gastronomic affect it had on him (and liability of anyone in an enclosed space with him). Surprisingly, curry is one of the few things that don’t affect me that way, but I usually drink water with the meal so it doesn’t matter.

We walked around town a bit before heading back to the hotel. Right in the middle of town is a fountain filled with natural hot water. Funny, when I had my place in southern Illiniois, Pam constantly complained about the sulfur smell in the water (a harmless bacteria) but it didn’t bother her while soaking her feet).

Being away from internet for 12 days makes for a lot of uploading. Even though we select pictures and write entries on a daily basis, it takes time (a lot of time) to upload and publish everything. We spent the rest of the day and well past midnight working on bringing the blog up to date for you (I’m guessing, Pete, Pam, and Dad) to read. We’ve also heard that an article was published about us in “573 Magazine” but we have yet to see it and only one person has mentioned it to us, so we are afraid of what it says. Anyone in SEMO that might see it, let us know how bad it is.

We did take time out to have supper in the hotel restaurant. It is a classy place so I felt out of place (pretty much like I do everywhere). One thing that’s happening that might stop a few criticisms of me is that no matter how you order your meat in France (well done, extra well done, or burnt) it’s always brought out med-rare. I’m learning to like the undercooked meat as long as I don’t look at it (and I have red wine to wash it down).

It was a dark and stormy night–actually, it was dark, because it was night. It didn’t storm, but the winds did howl. This is the highest refuge we have stayed in. Whenever we have stayed at the head of a valley, the winds have been strong, but these were category 2 winds. The refuge is steel framed and the winds shook the building all night long. Little girls were crying and screaming, but surprisingly, Pam wasn’t one of them. Don’t get the idea she was stoic; Pam was just shy of a panic attack.

I didn’t sleep well either. I made the mistake of using their blankets instead of my quilt. I was scratching all night long because of the wool. The couple we shared a room with got up at 6 to begin their day of hiking. They are doing the entire GR10 in just 30 days (but staying in gites or refuges every night so they don’t carry a tent, stove, or food). With leaving an hour before sunrise and moving so fast, I wonder if they are enjoying themselves like we are.

At breakfast, we again bothered Patrick and Anne (that is, we sat with them). This is their last day. Martina and Richard were with them again. They had walked 10 hours to get to the refuge the day before and were too wore out to leave yesterday. Today, they are going to walk down to the nearest parking lot and hitchhike back to their car. Somehow, it had become known to a lot of people in the refuge that we were Americans who had sold everything and were hiking around the world (actually, the American part is pretty obvious since we were the only ones that spoke no additional language other than English). The first question most people ask us is “Trump?” We just hang our heads in shame and shrug our shoulders–we don’t get it either.

This will come as a shock, but we were the last ones to leave the refuge. Patrick calls us the clean-up crew and feels relaxed knowing that we will be behind them if anything happens. The reason we were so late is because we were talking to an American with dual French citizenship. Stefan Herald is retired now, but he was born in the USA, educated in England but is half French and lives in Paris. He was an aspiring actor at one point in his life and lived in LA for over a decade perusing that dream. We covered lots of subjects with him (including politics) but we just had a great time talking with him. He found our story of “breaking out” inspirational and encouraged us to write about it. We have travelled to several of the same places he has and he gave us some more travel ideas, as well. We gave him one of our cards and fully expect him to tell us to quit writing once he reads a little.

After talking with Stefan for over an hour, Pam drug me out into the rain and winds to get moving. We agreed to get together with Stefan when we come to Paris around the beginning of November. We have met, and continue to meet, amazing people wherever we go. This is probably the most enjoyable aspect of our travels.

To the trail–this is the first time I’ve ever had to keep my hiking poles in front of me while hiking uphill. These were the strongest winds we’ve ever hiked in. When we got to the top of the first pass, the winds actually pinned us to a boulder for a couple of minutes. We turned around and saw a rainbow behind us over the Refuge with blue skies approaching (the feature photo today).

It was only 8 miles predominately downhill (just a tad over 5000′ down) today with an estimated hiking time of 5 hours. We spent over 2 hours covering the first 2 miles because of multiple boulder fields. We thought there was no way we were going to make it to Merens in time to catch the 4:10 bus at this rate. Then, we even amazed ourselves. After the boulder field was a little over 1000′ climb which we knocked out in about 20 minutes–it was so easy once we got to a trail.

We caught up with Patrick and Anne in the valley 2500′ below the pass. They were finishing up their lunch and gave us some muesli bars they didn’t want (we were literally down to our last bags of M&Ms so this was a great boost for us–when the M&Ms are gone, I’ve only got 2 hours left to get Pam to civilization or she sits down and won’t move).

From this point, it was only supposed to be a little more than an hour into Merens. Worst case, if we missed the bus, we would just stay at the gite there and resupply from the small shop in town. Patrick and Anne said they’d see us at the bar for a drink in Merens and took off. We didn’t even pretend that we could walk with them: 1) they are French hikers and,2) they hike for a living (they are doing research on the underlying aspects of cooperation for multiple parties working on extensive projects–to get a better feel for the hidden cultural impacts of people involved. They walk into the areas where the projects are taking place to get a feel for life at “human speeds” and to develop an understanding of local custom which would impact the manner in which people approach the project.–I hope I’ve got the gist right).

We actually made it to Merens by a little after 3 and caught up with them after they had scoped out the town. This truly was a place with nothing for hikers (or residents). How do people live in these little villages? Even the bar was permanently closed. They decided to try to hitchhike down the valley so we left them so they could find a ride. I tried sticking my thumb out a little later, but was worried about how we would communicate if someone actually stopped. We decided to wait for the bus and would try hitchhiking if it didn’t show.

The bus showed and right on time. It was hard enough to communicate with the driver but we successfully did it. When we got on, there was a young kid that spoke a little English and he was happy to try to talk with us–first question, “Do you like Trump?” He knew most major political figures in the USA and didn’t like any of them; he understands our political system only attracts scum.

The ride to Ax was only 15 minutes. When the bus pulled up to the train the (bus is the train in slow times), Patrick and Anne were there waiting to get on. At least they had gotten enough of a jump from their successful hitchhiking to have a drink while they waited for the bus. We headed toward the trusty tourist info office.

As usual, they got us all the answers we needed including a hotel for 2 days. We went and checked in. It was only 5, earlier than we normally stop, so we walked around a bit to verify where everything was before we could have dinner at 7. We chose to eat at the restaurant next to the hotel which had some American foods we recognized and craved–we always like a greasy burger after a couple weeks out.

Since they don’t serve food until 7, we had no choice other than to drink beer. While sipping away, the French family with the two cute little girls we had been hiking with the last few days walked by. We talked to them a bit. I regret that we never exchanged names or got their picture. I always felt a little awkward around them and don’t know why. The ironic thing is the girls didn’t speak any English and the parents did, just the opposite of what everyone told us to expect–they may have just been shy, but they were always all smiles to us.

The burgers were huge, easily a pound each. Pam could only eat 1/2 of hers so I ate 1&1/2 burgers and went to bed pleasantly stuffed.

Wow. Just wow. This was probably our favorite day of hiking so far. Usually, you encounter something new on the GR10 and it gets beaten to death so that you are glad when it’s finally over. Not the case today.

Let’s back up. We did have mice last night, but they couldn’t get to any of our stuff hanging from the ceiling. What they we chewing on, we didn’t care about. It did keep me awake but Pam snored blissfully away even though she will deny it. One of the times I went outside, I heard a new strange animal noise that I couldn’t identify or wish to investigate because it sounded BIG.

We got up and had breakfast with Casper “on the veranda” and watched the sunrise over the mountain. We didn’t have much because we were hoping we could get some food at the restaurant that was less than a mile away that we were aiming for yesterday before the storms pinned us down. (Note to self: see if I can find a backpack for Pam with built in blue tooth surround speakers. Every time she drops too far behind or is going to slow, I can push some thunderstorm sounds her way to get her moving fast.)

There are a few events that stand out when you are hiking long trails. We will make a list of our highlights as we get closer to the end, but I’m talking like unexpectedly running into Axel & Heike in Gabas, having Suzy invite us into her home for the night, and a great breakfast like we had today. It wasn’t really much, but we are low on food, haven’t eaten enough calories for the last few days, and were very hungry. This meal hyped us up (maybe it was all the caffeine and sugar).

Because we broke today’s itinerary up and did a large part of the climbing yesterday, we only had 3000′ of rise and 1700′ of decline over 9.5 miles–practically an entire day of level hiking. We spent almost all day above 6000′ and almost half of that above 7000′. We are staying in a refuge just a little below 7000′ tonight.

It was a day of a few hundred feet up, a couple hundred feet down with amazing, postcard views in every direction. We ran into Casper again after breakfast. Today is going to be his last day hiking because he needs to hitch home to take care of his mother after her knee surgery and then he’s flying to Milan before school starts back up in late September. It was great hiking with someone his age. Maybe we can get Sam out for a bit next year when we’re doing the Appalachian Trail.

We got up to a high plateau just shy of 7500′ and we were all alone. Not a soul in sight in any direction. By the time we had a little snack, more than a dozen people had gathered at the spot we had stopped. There were 6 younger people from Paris as well as Casper coming up to catch us one more time to say goodbye.

We were the first to leave the group because we were a little afraid of getting caught in another thunderstorm. We were only about 2.5 miles from the refuge and we thought we’d be there in an hour or two at most. The entire hike from that point was one thrill after another. We hiked along a knife’s edge between several valleys that all converged in this area. It was a steep enough drop off either side to give you the illusion of instant death if you fell, but in reality, it would just be a slow, lingering death while you lied broken into multiple pieces praying for the reaper to come for you.

As Pam picked up some cheese off the ground that had fallen out of her sandwich and blew on it before popping it in her mouth, it occurred to me that we do things a little differently on the trail than we do back home. In one gite, we knocked some potatoes on to the floor. I picked them up and put them on the edge of the plate and then, eventually ate them. I didn’t blow on them because I didn’t want to draw attention that they had been on the floor (the extra grit wasn’t that bad). I’ve even eaten M&Ms out of a lake to keep fish from getting them (but even in civilization, M&Ms don’t even have a time limit, so this is no big deal).

When we arrived at the refuge, we dropped all of our stuff in the outer room and came in to check about beds. The people we had met from Paris had already told us there was plenty of room and the food was great so we knew what to expect. Walking into the dining area, we saw the little girls of the family we have been leap frogging for the last 3 days. They smiled at us and then we saw their parents sitting by the fireplace. Across from them was Patrick and Anne from Paris that we had met in Refuge de Bassies 6 days ago.

Unlike the Camino, where we had a “family” of people we hiked with for the entire month, along the GR10, we get multiple smaller families that keep rotating out. We talked with everyone for a bit before we sat down for a beer (or two, for me–I take after my nieces, Jill and Jennifer).

We heard footsteps beside the tent a few times last night. We have no idea what made them. We haven’t seen any deer at all in the Pyrenees. It wasn’t a cow or horse because they would have left some footprints (and other calling cards). It was too big to have been a marmot or other small animal. We’re leaning towards a bear or a stalker.

I’ve given up on early starts. Pam says she wants to get up early and get going and that she always wakes up before 7. She just doesn’t take any initiative to wake me up or get up on her own. It only seems to be when I start getting the coffee ready that she starts stirring. Today, I woke up at 8:07, coffee by 8:15, trail by…10.

The goal for today was the restaurant at the yurt and teepee complex on Plateau de Beille which is supposed to be a popular tourist spot. As usual, this would involve over 4000′ of climbing and 4000′ of descending. In other words, an average day on the GR10.

We’ve reached the part of the Ariege where switchbacks have not yet made an appearance. The trails are steep up and down, but not unbearably so. As we were packing up to leave, the French family that stayed in Cabane Balledreyt last night passed us. We asked them if they had the same problem finding the trail leaving the cabin. They did, so it’s just not us. Peter and Alaina have a gps maps app that they use if they ever have any doubt as to the trail–they never get lost. Our guidebook is actually more of a hinderance than if we were traveling without any maps. Other than the elevation profiles, I’d throw it away.

All in all, we were just a little slow and late this morning, but made ok progress. When we got to the first pass we crossed today, we met a young man from Belgium. He had stayed in Cabane de Courtal Marti which we passed up. We talked a bit and found out we were all headed to the same location for the night.

The trail down from the pass was through a great river valley with lots of waterfalls and flat spots for camping. It would have been great to make it this far last night to nab one of these spots, but the rain was working against us.

We had a 2400′ climb once we got to the bottom. I’ve developed a new low gear where I can just climb at a slow steady speed without stopping. Every 20 minutes or so, I take a 5 minute break for Pam to catch up. Her hips have been hurting more since she’s lost her daily ibuprofen fixes. While we were near the 3/4 mark of our climb, the unthinkable happened–thunder.

Pam’s worst nightmare is to be caught out in a storm on a mountain top. She has a vivid imagination and can stretch anywhere we are into an exposed mountain top. Most of the day she had been a good 5+ minutes behind me. The second thunder rumble, she was poking my feet with her walking sticks. I told her to back off a bit and she said she couldn’t. We needed to get moving, but where? Up or down?

I knew (as she did, if only she would let rational Pam have control of the brain) that we were almost to the cabin and we could stop there until the storm passed. There was rain behind us on the other side of the valley but we were still in sunshine with a light drizzle. Pam passed me at nearly a full run and headed to the cabin.

When I finally caught up to her, she was sitting inside and, Casper, our Belgium friend from the morning was there as well. Since a stranger was there, Pam had to act brave and coherent. It was still before 6, so we were hoping the storm would pass and we could make the restaurant. We got to know more about Casper in the mean time.

Casper is a 19 year old university student studying psychology. He’s spending a few weeks hiking on the GR10 by himself. He speaks French, Dutch, and English. Last year, he visited the USA (Chicago) but spent 3 months in Canada on work exchanges where you work on small farms or B&Bs in exchange for room and board. He seems like a very level headed guy and it was fun talking with him.

After a couple of hours, the rain and storm hadn’t let up, so it was apparent we were staying here for the night. Casper is Sam’s age (Pam’s son), so it’s hard not to make comparisons. I can’t imagine Sam staying in a cabin alone, or for that matter, with anyone. These are primitive structures with just a sleeping platform and protection from the elements. Most of the cabins have mice and insects. Given a choice, I’d take a tent, but not if I have to set it up in the rain.

Casper did set his tent up in what one can assume to be the kitchen side of the cabin and we are staying in the sleeping side. We’ve hung everything from the ceiling in anticipation of mice activity in the night. We’ve seen plenty of evidence that they are here and, no doubt, watching our movements. Pam promises to scream if a mouse runs across her in the night. I’ve already flicked a few spiders off of me and am thinking of switching sides with her since spider induced screams weren’t promised.