This one is another which qualifies in both categories, I think.
Sunday, 17 July 2016
Saturday, 16 July 2016
Day 5 - Cabane Aouen to Aunac
Sat 16 July
12 or 13 miles-ish? 500m?
Wall-to-wall sunshine. Hot by mid-morning
We've been lucky with the weather for the last three days as it has been pleasantly cool, keeping us comfortable and the flies at bay. It was cool again this morning, as the frosty grass confirmed, but with not a cloud in the sky it was clearly going to warm up.
Our first climb of the day which, due to its aspect and the early hour, was in shade, proved to be much easier than expected. Yesterday afternoon we had watched quite a few people labouring slowly up the switchbacks so I'd built it up in my mind as being a monster. In the cool of the morning and on fresh legs*, it was neither.
We therefore thought we had done the right thing by stopping at the Cabane last night - until we got to the Col de Lazies and then to l'Etang d'Ayes (a mountain lake). The latter in particular would have been worth the extra couple of hours of hot/tired walking yesterday and I think we would have found a spot there, even though it was busy with other people camping.
I ran (or, at least, walked very fast) down the hill to that lake as it was a detour to get water from the inlet stream, so I thought I may as well make that detour at speed whilst Mick made his way down. Obviously, having gone out of my way we then passed right by five springs (all running, but perhaps usually dry) within the next quarter of an hour.
The GR10 splits at the next pass with a variant going one way and the main path another. The signpost there was at odds with my maps and books as to which way was the main route, but it mattered not. We knew which path we were taking - the more direct one which avoided a descent-to-reascend (and now signed as the primary route). The books warned that option would be dangerous in bad weather, which was not an issue today.
The next col was at a road, where lots of cars were parked. From there the plan had been to go off-route into Seix to resupply but we had a niggling suspicion that, with the town's lack of accommodation, it might be booked up on this holiday weekend. Taking advantage of the first good phone signal in days I did some internet research and even resorted to a phone call (I do believe the first phone conversation I've ever carried out entirely in French; I was quite proud of myself!) which confirmed that there was no room at the inn. Then we had a rethink as we didn't really want to go to Seix without somewhere to stay and we equally didn't want to walk a mile out of town in the wrong direction to a campsite.
Aunac became our new destination, having established that we could camp at the Gite there.
Onwards we went with my mind doing constant calculations (i.e. fretting) as to how our food was going to last (see Footnote 2), particularly if we couldn't resupply on a Sunday in St Lizier, when what should we encounter around the next corner but...
...a man and a donkey coming towards us, offering for sale beer, cold drinks, bread and cheese. The trail provides!
Soon afterwards we stopped to enjoy our fresh seeded loaf with some sausage, our food worries now allayed both by the bread and with the confirmation from the man (who works at the gite when not selling his wares off the back of a donkey on the trail) that we could eat at the gite this evening.
The camping set up here is good and the facilities are quite comprehensive too (I'm typing this whilst plugged into the mains (in a polytunnel) to recharge, which is always a bonus when camping).
(*whilst the legs were feeling good today, Mick is still struggling with the digestive distress that was affecting him in Day 1, whereas I had a poorly head
Footnote 2: if Mick’s malady hadn’t killed his appetite we wouldn't have had an option but to go to Seix for more food. As it is there are quite a few odds and ends left in our food bags.)
12 or 13 miles-ish? 500m?
Wall-to-wall sunshine. Hot by mid-morning
We've been lucky with the weather for the last three days as it has been pleasantly cool, keeping us comfortable and the flies at bay. It was cool again this morning, as the frosty grass confirmed, but with not a cloud in the sky it was clearly going to warm up.
Our first climb of the day which, due to its aspect and the early hour, was in shade, proved to be much easier than expected. Yesterday afternoon we had watched quite a few people labouring slowly up the switchbacks so I'd built it up in my mind as being a monster. In the cool of the morning and on fresh legs*, it was neither.
We therefore thought we had done the right thing by stopping at the Cabane last night - until we got to the Col de Lazies and then to l'Etang d'Ayes (a mountain lake). The latter in particular would have been worth the extra couple of hours of hot/tired walking yesterday and I think we would have found a spot there, even though it was busy with other people camping.
I ran (or, at least, walked very fast) down the hill to that lake as it was a detour to get water from the inlet stream, so I thought I may as well make that detour at speed whilst Mick made his way down. Obviously, having gone out of my way we then passed right by five springs (all running, but perhaps usually dry) within the next quarter of an hour.
The GR10 splits at the next pass with a variant going one way and the main path another. The signpost there was at odds with my maps and books as to which way was the main route, but it mattered not. We knew which path we were taking - the more direct one which avoided a descent-to-reascend (and now signed as the primary route). The books warned that option would be dangerous in bad weather, which was not an issue today.
The next col was at a road, where lots of cars were parked. From there the plan had been to go off-route into Seix to resupply but we had a niggling suspicion that, with the town's lack of accommodation, it might be booked up on this holiday weekend. Taking advantage of the first good phone signal in days I did some internet research and even resorted to a phone call (I do believe the first phone conversation I've ever carried out entirely in French; I was quite proud of myself!) which confirmed that there was no room at the inn. Then we had a rethink as we didn't really want to go to Seix without somewhere to stay and we equally didn't want to walk a mile out of town in the wrong direction to a campsite.
Aunac became our new destination, having established that we could camp at the Gite there.
Onwards we went with my mind doing constant calculations (i.e. fretting) as to how our food was going to last (see Footnote 2), particularly if we couldn't resupply on a Sunday in St Lizier, when what should we encounter around the next corner but...
...a man and a donkey coming towards us, offering for sale beer, cold drinks, bread and cheese. The trail provides!
Soon afterwards we stopped to enjoy our fresh seeded loaf with some sausage, our food worries now allayed both by the bread and with the confirmation from the man (who works at the gite when not selling his wares off the back of a donkey on the trail) that we could eat at the gite this evening.
The camping set up here is good and the facilities are quite comprehensive too (I'm typing this whilst plugged into the mains (in a polytunnel) to recharge, which is always a bonus when camping).
(*whilst the legs were feeling good today, Mick is still struggling with the digestive distress that was affecting him in Day 1, whereas I had a poorly head
Footnote 2: if Mick’s malady hadn’t killed his appetite we wouldn't have had an option but to go to Seix for more food. As it is there are quite a few odds and ends left in our food bags.)
Day 4 - Cabane de l'Arech to Cabane Aouen
Friday 15 July
10 miles (per the guidebook. I wonder if they measure on the map or via GPS, as those trillion switchbacks felt longer than 10 miles)
1500m ascent (down 700m, up 800m, down 900m, up 700m)
Sunny start, bit of cloud middle of day, clearing again later.
As you can see from the ascent stats above, today, like those that went before it, had its ups and downs. It wasn't big on level walking, as it seemed that no sooner had we hit our high/low point than we would start to descend/climb again.
Switchbacks featured heavily, as did the sunshine, lovely woods and steep meadows thick with wildflowers.
The one benefit of staying in the cabane last night (incidentally, for cabane you can read 'bothy' as the only real difference between the two is the lack of toilet spades over here) was that as I opened my eyes this morning, lying on a mattress up in the loft, the first thing I saw was the view out of the window. Towering mountains set off nicely by a startling blue sky.
As Isabelle's alarm clock went off, I sprang out of bed to seize the day and thus caught the glorious glow of the rising sun. The reflected glow off the mountains to the west was made even more special by the presence of an enormous stag, grazing.
Mick, mountains, startlingly blue sky^^
We met no-one on our first descent, which was little trodden. The difference between a path with a refuge or a lake at the top and one without.
After pausing to wash socks in the river running down the valley, our first ascent of the day couldn't be avoided, so on with it we got. The first bit featured ankle deep mud. There has been much mud thus far. I think it's been a bit damp lately.
A series of cabanes dotted our route up, over and down, including one right at the pass, Col du Clot. We only looked into a couple and also took advantage of the water supply at one.
We weren't far into our second descent before we could see our next low-point, which looked a disturbingly long way down considering that we were immediately to regain the height on the other side of the valley. There was, however, a particular attraction for us at the bottom of this descent in the form of a Refuge which I had earmarked for lunch.
To get there we had to pass through a large car park, stuffed to the gunwales (it was Bastille Day yesterday, so it's a holiday weekend). The number of vehicles made it curious that we'd only seen four walkers all day, and they were all walking along the previous valley.
Lunch at the Refuge was a fancy affair, with a price tag to match, but it was exceedingly tasty:
^^Main courses
And what does one want to do after a big meal? Well, to walk another 700m up a hill, of course!
A very short-lived bit of flat walking as we left the Refuge
Our aim was to reach Cabane Aouen, but I was unconvinced that we would be able to camp here, so the fallback plan was to continue another couple of hours to a popular lake, which is probably heaving with campers this weekend. That would have been another very lony day, but happily, when the cabane came into sight, it was clearly unoccupied, with doors and windows shut (these cabanes are generally dark, dingy places. You wouldn't want to be inside without at least the door open). The small trod leading to it suggested it isn't much used either.
Finally reaching the building (which seemed to take a very long time from first sight, with big switchbacks repeatedly taking us away from it), we did find somewhere that we could just about squeeze the tent, if we kept the doors rolled back and did without porches. Or, we could stay in the tiny room, rather like a cell really, which is just big enough for two people (or three if you're really friendly). We opted for the room.
We've spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the doorway watching lots and lots of people going up and down the path. After we'd been here about three quarters of an hour another backpacker came along. He'd left the Refuge at the same time as us, and probably cursed that we'd got here first and taken the better of the two rooms. He considered the other room (which unlike our cell does have windows, a fireplace and a bed with mattress, but give me a sleep platform over a manky mattress in a dirty room any day) and he considered the pitch we had stamped down. After about an hour of considering, he opted to continue on. We continued to look around at the magnificent alpine meadow in which we are situated, which is abundant in its variety of flowers, and at the truly incredible view across the valley. What this room lacks in character it makes up for in views.
10 miles (per the guidebook. I wonder if they measure on the map or via GPS, as those trillion switchbacks felt longer than 10 miles)
1500m ascent (down 700m, up 800m, down 900m, up 700m)
Sunny start, bit of cloud middle of day, clearing again later.
As you can see from the ascent stats above, today, like those that went before it, had its ups and downs. It wasn't big on level walking, as it seemed that no sooner had we hit our high/low point than we would start to descend/climb again.
Switchbacks featured heavily, as did the sunshine, lovely woods and steep meadows thick with wildflowers.
The one benefit of staying in the cabane last night (incidentally, for cabane you can read 'bothy' as the only real difference between the two is the lack of toilet spades over here) was that as I opened my eyes this morning, lying on a mattress up in the loft, the first thing I saw was the view out of the window. Towering mountains set off nicely by a startling blue sky.
As Isabelle's alarm clock went off, I sprang out of bed to seize the day and thus caught the glorious glow of the rising sun. The reflected glow off the mountains to the west was made even more special by the presence of an enormous stag, grazing.
Mick, mountains, startlingly blue sky^^
We met no-one on our first descent, which was little trodden. The difference between a path with a refuge or a lake at the top and one without.
After pausing to wash socks in the river running down the valley, our first ascent of the day couldn't be avoided, so on with it we got. The first bit featured ankle deep mud. There has been much mud thus far. I think it's been a bit damp lately.
A series of cabanes dotted our route up, over and down, including one right at the pass, Col du Clot. We only looked into a couple and also took advantage of the water supply at one.
We weren't far into our second descent before we could see our next low-point, which looked a disturbingly long way down considering that we were immediately to regain the height on the other side of the valley. There was, however, a particular attraction for us at the bottom of this descent in the form of a Refuge which I had earmarked for lunch.
To get there we had to pass through a large car park, stuffed to the gunwales (it was Bastille Day yesterday, so it's a holiday weekend). The number of vehicles made it curious that we'd only seen four walkers all day, and they were all walking along the previous valley.
Lunch at the Refuge was a fancy affair, with a price tag to match, but it was exceedingly tasty:
^^Main courses
And what does one want to do after a big meal? Well, to walk another 700m up a hill, of course!
A very short-lived bit of flat walking as we left the Refuge
Our aim was to reach Cabane Aouen, but I was unconvinced that we would be able to camp here, so the fallback plan was to continue another couple of hours to a popular lake, which is probably heaving with campers this weekend. That would have been another very lony day, but happily, when the cabane came into sight, it was clearly unoccupied, with doors and windows shut (these cabanes are generally dark, dingy places. You wouldn't want to be inside without at least the door open). The small trod leading to it suggested it isn't much used either.
Finally reaching the building (which seemed to take a very long time from first sight, with big switchbacks repeatedly taking us away from it), we did find somewhere that we could just about squeeze the tent, if we kept the doors rolled back and did without porches. Or, we could stay in the tiny room, rather like a cell really, which is just big enough for two people (or three if you're really friendly). We opted for the room.
We've spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the doorway watching lots and lots of people going up and down the path. After we'd been here about three quarters of an hour another backpacker came along. He'd left the Refuge at the same time as us, and probably cursed that we'd got here first and taken the better of the two rooms. He considered the other room (which unlike our cell does have windows, a fireplace and a bed with mattress, but give me a sleep platform over a manky mattress in a dirty room any day) and he considered the pitch we had stamped down. After about an hour of considering, he opted to continue on. We continued to look around at the magnificent alpine meadow in which we are situated, which is abundant in its variety of flowers, and at the truly incredible view across the valley. What this room lacks in character it makes up for in views.
Day 3 - Cabane d'Uls to Cabane de l'Arech
Thursday 14 July
11.5 miles, 1400m ascent
A few sunny intervals but mainly overcast
I woke at about 2.30 this morning and was cool enough to think that had I been in a sleeping bag by myself I would have needed to don my fleece. As it was I grabbed Mick’s arm, wrapped it around me and, thus stealing his heat, went back to sleep. It did cross my mind that maybe the fully-lightweight quilt (as opposed to the half-ligtweight one used for the last year) wasn't up to the job, but when we arrived at the Refuge Etang d'Araing the Gardienne told us it had gone down to 1 degree last night. A chap we met on our way up to the next pass also commented on how cold it is for mid-July. Perfect for walking really.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Before the Refuge we had a 300m climb up to the Col d' Auéran (from where lots of people were ascending into the cloud atop the 2660m peak, Pic de Crabere). Just getting to the pass was hard enough for us. In fact, it felt much harder, to both of us, than it should have. We were feeling distinctly Day-3-ish.
Even though we were rather early at the Refuge, the Gardienne served us tea and coffee and after an interesting Franglais chat with both her and with Short Poncho Woman we moved on, not expecting to see SPW again as she was taking a route which avoided about 800m of descent and reascent. We would have been tempted to follow her lead, but it looked a long way around; moreover, the paths weren't shown on either of our maps (1:25k on the phones, 1:50k paper map).
Leaving the refuge the first thing we had to do was to regain the 200m we had just lost, plus a bit more, before starting the killer descent of the day - down 1300m*. It was cheering that my right knee only started to protest during the last 300m, through more pleasant woodland (I slipped on a wet path on Tuesday afternoon and my left foot slid off the path and into a ditch. My right foot stayed planted where it was, which was not a happy situation for my right knee).
At the tiny village of Eylie we dithered for a few minutes. Whether to make use of the Aire de Bivouac there, or whether to push on. It was 3pm, but if we went on then it looked unlikely that we would find a pitch until Cabane de l'Arech, which the guidebook told us would be 3 hours 20 minutes further with 800m more ascent. Fortunately by then we were feeling more energised, so on we went through more lovely woodland at first then back out onto the open hill with magnificent views. With switchbacks galore the ascent passed far more quickly and easily than we had expected.
A school boy error at the pass before the Cabane saw us believe a woman who pointed out the path to us. On the one hand, we should have checked the map. On the other hand the non-standard, off-piste route we took was more direct.
From the pass we could see that next to the Cabane were pens stuffed full of sheep and as we descended they were released onto the hill. The wrong hill on the first attempt, but after a bit of regathering they were redirected to where they were supposed to be, with much baaing and jangling of bells. Fortunately there were no Patou dogs present.
Alas, when we got to the cabane, there was nowhere suitable to camp (and it stinks of sheep poo outside), so, very unusually, we've opted to sleep inside. Our companions are Isabelle and Este from Madrid and Barcelona respectively. They walked the first half of the GR10 westbound last year and yesterday started their continuation to Hendaye.
(*We passed a flock of sheep being guarded by an abnormally high number of Patou dogs down the first part of that descent. They were being quite vocal at passing walkers, but despite my nervousness we passed by largely unthreatened.)
Photos! Forgot the photos again. Here are a few:
looking back at Cabane d'Uls first thing this morning^^
^^there was much prettiness^^
^^there was so much I could have said about today and I forgot to mention that from the refuge to the final pass was through an old mining area with much evidence thereof
11.5 miles, 1400m ascent
A few sunny intervals but mainly overcast
I woke at about 2.30 this morning and was cool enough to think that had I been in a sleeping bag by myself I would have needed to don my fleece. As it was I grabbed Mick’s arm, wrapped it around me and, thus stealing his heat, went back to sleep. It did cross my mind that maybe the fully-lightweight quilt (as opposed to the half-ligtweight one used for the last year) wasn't up to the job, but when we arrived at the Refuge Etang d'Araing the Gardienne told us it had gone down to 1 degree last night. A chap we met on our way up to the next pass also commented on how cold it is for mid-July. Perfect for walking really.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Before the Refuge we had a 300m climb up to the Col d' Auéran (from where lots of people were ascending into the cloud atop the 2660m peak, Pic de Crabere). Just getting to the pass was hard enough for us. In fact, it felt much harder, to both of us, than it should have. We were feeling distinctly Day-3-ish.
Even though we were rather early at the Refuge, the Gardienne served us tea and coffee and after an interesting Franglais chat with both her and with Short Poncho Woman we moved on, not expecting to see SPW again as she was taking a route which avoided about 800m of descent and reascent. We would have been tempted to follow her lead, but it looked a long way around; moreover, the paths weren't shown on either of our maps (1:25k on the phones, 1:50k paper map).
Leaving the refuge the first thing we had to do was to regain the 200m we had just lost, plus a bit more, before starting the killer descent of the day - down 1300m*. It was cheering that my right knee only started to protest during the last 300m, through more pleasant woodland (I slipped on a wet path on Tuesday afternoon and my left foot slid off the path and into a ditch. My right foot stayed planted where it was, which was not a happy situation for my right knee).
At the tiny village of Eylie we dithered for a few minutes. Whether to make use of the Aire de Bivouac there, or whether to push on. It was 3pm, but if we went on then it looked unlikely that we would find a pitch until Cabane de l'Arech, which the guidebook told us would be 3 hours 20 minutes further with 800m more ascent. Fortunately by then we were feeling more energised, so on we went through more lovely woodland at first then back out onto the open hill with magnificent views. With switchbacks galore the ascent passed far more quickly and easily than we had expected.
A school boy error at the pass before the Cabane saw us believe a woman who pointed out the path to us. On the one hand, we should have checked the map. On the other hand the non-standard, off-piste route we took was more direct.
From the pass we could see that next to the Cabane were pens stuffed full of sheep and as we descended they were released onto the hill. The wrong hill on the first attempt, but after a bit of regathering they were redirected to where they were supposed to be, with much baaing and jangling of bells. Fortunately there were no Patou dogs present.
Alas, when we got to the cabane, there was nowhere suitable to camp (and it stinks of sheep poo outside), so, very unusually, we've opted to sleep inside. Our companions are Isabelle and Este from Madrid and Barcelona respectively. They walked the first half of the GR10 westbound last year and yesterday started their continuation to Hendaye.
(*We passed a flock of sheep being guarded by an abnormally high number of Patou dogs down the first part of that descent. They were being quite vocal at passing walkers, but despite my nervousness we passed by largely unthreatened.)
Photos! Forgot the photos again. Here are a few:
looking back at Cabane d'Uls first thing this morning^^
^^there was much prettiness^^
^^there was so much I could have said about today and I forgot to mention that from the refuge to the final pass was through an old mining area with much evidence thereof
Occasional Pyrenean Relics
Both of these were on the same property. I particularly liked the van (complete with a cat on the roof). It's a shame I couldn't get a better snap without trespassing up their driveway.
Pyrenees Day 2: Cabane Artigue to Cabane d'Uls
Wednesday 13 July
14 miles (ish), 4700'
Some periods of sunny intervals and only a few sprinkles from passing showers that didn't trouble us to reach for the waterproofs.
As I got out of the tent this morning an "Ooooh" escaped my lips. Although it had rained on and off through the night until gone 6am, by the time I stepped outside the cloud had lifted and I could finally see our surroundings.
Mick's day started with an "eurgh". He spent yesterday afternoon feeling under the weather and woke this morning still nauseous and generally feeling eurgh.
"What do you want to do" I asked, thinking we might spend the morning at the cabane.
"Get up and go for a walk" he said and so we did.
Downhill we went, expecting that to be our direction all the way to Fos. Then we got to a junction where our maps said to go straight on but the waymarkers said to turn right. We contemplated and opted to follow the new route.
Ten minutes or so later I was cursing the route planners, as our track started heading uphill. It wasn't steep but seemed to go for a long time.
Half way through our descent down a steep wooded hillside, I forgave the route planners. Both guide books* gave the strong impression that the way of the old route was like a double diamond black run liberally carpeted in banana skins. The new route is probably at least three times longer in distance but it's nice underfoot and relatively gentle with its million switchbacks.
the sun was out as we reached the aqueduct on the way into Fos.
A pause for water was had in Fos but not a pause for coffee as it's Wednesday and Fos is closed on a Wednesday. Happily, the auberge in the next village, Melles, was open and there we joined 'Short Poncho Woman' (see Footnote 2) for coffee. Two in Mick's case. I took that as an indication that he was feeling better.
Not a great deal more progress was made up the road before a convenient bench appeared before us. Shaded and with an excellent view, it would have been silly not to declare it lunchtime there, particularly as the clock had struck one.
Eventually, we got to the end of the tarmac and our real ascent started. Some of it was pretty steep but the path was a nice one and the surroundings were superb.
one of the gentle bits of the ascent^^
Mick started to flag on the pull up the final steep bit so I asked to pass. It's not something I ordinarily do, but I really needed a wee and I needed put a pace on to get far enough ahead of the chap we could see coming up the switchbacks behind us (see Footnote 3).
The path then levelled out a lot, and became quite boggy, then before I knew it I spotted the cabane 200m off route. With cloud rushing up the hillside towards us we wasted no time in finding a flat bit of ground and throwing (a very soggy) Rita up.
^^Rita and Cabane d'Uls
Tea was had in the cabane with Short Poncho Woman and a couple and their dog who are just out for a couple of days, before the cold got too much for our feet and we retreated to the tent. The temperature has been good for walking today, but it's a bit parky sitting around at 6300'!
(* I have two guidebooks for this route. I'm carrying the Cicerone guide in full electronically, and as much of the Trailblazer guide (out of print) as I could be bothered to type out/thought would be useful, also electronically.
Footnote 2: we're playing a large scale game of leapfrog at the moment with two people: Short Poncho Woman and Yellow Trouser Man.
Footnote 3: I didn't want to get caught with my trousers down. That happened yesterday when Yellow Trouser Man suddenly appeared out of the mist at a most inopportune moment.)
14 miles (ish), 4700'
Some periods of sunny intervals and only a few sprinkles from passing showers that didn't trouble us to reach for the waterproofs.
As I got out of the tent this morning an "Ooooh" escaped my lips. Although it had rained on and off through the night until gone 6am, by the time I stepped outside the cloud had lifted and I could finally see our surroundings.
Mick's day started with an "eurgh". He spent yesterday afternoon feeling under the weather and woke this morning still nauseous and generally feeling eurgh.
"What do you want to do" I asked, thinking we might spend the morning at the cabane.
"Get up and go for a walk" he said and so we did.
Downhill we went, expecting that to be our direction all the way to Fos. Then we got to a junction where our maps said to go straight on but the waymarkers said to turn right. We contemplated and opted to follow the new route.
Ten minutes or so later I was cursing the route planners, as our track started heading uphill. It wasn't steep but seemed to go for a long time.
Half way through our descent down a steep wooded hillside, I forgave the route planners. Both guide books* gave the strong impression that the way of the old route was like a double diamond black run liberally carpeted in banana skins. The new route is probably at least three times longer in distance but it's nice underfoot and relatively gentle with its million switchbacks.
the sun was out as we reached the aqueduct on the way into Fos.
A pause for water was had in Fos but not a pause for coffee as it's Wednesday and Fos is closed on a Wednesday. Happily, the auberge in the next village, Melles, was open and there we joined 'Short Poncho Woman' (see Footnote 2) for coffee. Two in Mick's case. I took that as an indication that he was feeling better.
Not a great deal more progress was made up the road before a convenient bench appeared before us. Shaded and with an excellent view, it would have been silly not to declare it lunchtime there, particularly as the clock had struck one.
Eventually, we got to the end of the tarmac and our real ascent started. Some of it was pretty steep but the path was a nice one and the surroundings were superb.
one of the gentle bits of the ascent^^
Mick started to flag on the pull up the final steep bit so I asked to pass. It's not something I ordinarily do, but I really needed a wee and I needed put a pace on to get far enough ahead of the chap we could see coming up the switchbacks behind us (see Footnote 3).
The path then levelled out a lot, and became quite boggy, then before I knew it I spotted the cabane 200m off route. With cloud rushing up the hillside towards us we wasted no time in finding a flat bit of ground and throwing (a very soggy) Rita up.
^^Rita and Cabane d'Uls
Tea was had in the cabane with Short Poncho Woman and a couple and their dog who are just out for a couple of days, before the cold got too much for our feet and we retreated to the tent. The temperature has been good for walking today, but it's a bit parky sitting around at 6300'!
(* I have two guidebooks for this route. I'm carrying the Cicerone guide in full electronically, and as much of the Trailblazer guide (out of print) as I could be bothered to type out/thought would be useful, also electronically.
Footnote 2: we're playing a large scale game of leapfrog at the moment with two people: Short Poncho Woman and Yellow Trouser Man.
Footnote 3: I didn't want to get caught with my trousers down. That happened yesterday when Yellow Trouser Man suddenly appeared out of the mist at a most inopportune moment.)
Holding post
We're alive and well in the sunshine in the Pyrenees, currently residing for the night in a cabane (or in English, a bothy) at 1600m altitude, with spectacular views.
Full blog posts are written and will be sent when I get a 3G signal.
Wednesday, 13 July 2016
Day 1 - Bagneres de Luchon to Cabane Artigue
Tuesday 12 July
12.5 miles-ish with 5400'
Dry start then persistent rain
After passing my "completing a transaction in the Post Office" French language test, and after a spot more shopping, it was 10.20 before we got out of Luchon.
Our next test was the "walk uphill continously until over 5000' of altitude has been gained" one. Quite an ask for the first day of a trip, but we only have ourselves to blame for not doing it last year at the end of the previous trip.
The Trailblazer guidebook (2005 edition, now out of print) made it sound like the walk out of Luchon through the village of Sode and up to the higher village of Artigue would be mainly on roads. It wasn't at all. The woodland paths weren't spectacular but it was perfectly pleasant.
After stopping for water at the tadpole-filled public fountain in Artigue, off we went again, this time to ascend into the cloud.
We saw very little for the rest of the day and thus have no idea exactly how spectacular our surroundings were.
Not long after entering the cloud base, it started to mizzle. By the time we got up onto the border ridge (involving a brief foray into Spain) it was raining. It's still raining now as I type this at 8pm.
We could have avoided the border ridge, but to do so would have involved a descent to reascend and I preferred the thought of a continuous ascent, particularly as it only went 100m higher than the bypass route. Mick may beg to differ as he was suffering a loss of energy before we got to the top. A result of the altitude or the continuous climbing, we didn't know, but to rule out other possibilities we paused for a drink and some biscuits, vaguely sheltered by a border marker, before completing the last couple of minutes of the climb.
The descent was hard going on our tired legs but by and by we reached a cabane* and decided to stay the night. Not inside, per the invitation of the two people already in residence. Rather, Rita was pitched on a bit of a slope outside.
We did pop in for tea, and by the time we left there were five people staying in there tonight (only one of whom spoke English and I was struggling to follow most of what was being said in French). As the sleeping platform is exactly five sleep-mats in width, it's going to be a cosy night for them, although at least they'll have dry tents in the morning.
(*We'd already passed 3 other cabanes. We didn't pause at the first as it contained a couple in bed - at 2.15 in the afternoon. The next two were together, with one in use by a cowherd and the other locked.)
Completely forgot to put any photos in the text so here's one of us at our high point of the day (altitude-wise) at 2193m. The sheep behind us did not move an inch whilst we were there. I don't think she was happy with the weather.
12.5 miles-ish with 5400'
Dry start then persistent rain
After passing my "completing a transaction in the Post Office" French language test, and after a spot more shopping, it was 10.20 before we got out of Luchon.
Our next test was the "walk uphill continously until over 5000' of altitude has been gained" one. Quite an ask for the first day of a trip, but we only have ourselves to blame for not doing it last year at the end of the previous trip.
The Trailblazer guidebook (2005 edition, now out of print) made it sound like the walk out of Luchon through the village of Sode and up to the higher village of Artigue would be mainly on roads. It wasn't at all. The woodland paths weren't spectacular but it was perfectly pleasant.
After stopping for water at the tadpole-filled public fountain in Artigue, off we went again, this time to ascend into the cloud.
We saw very little for the rest of the day and thus have no idea exactly how spectacular our surroundings were.
Not long after entering the cloud base, it started to mizzle. By the time we got up onto the border ridge (involving a brief foray into Spain) it was raining. It's still raining now as I type this at 8pm.
We could have avoided the border ridge, but to do so would have involved a descent to reascend and I preferred the thought of a continuous ascent, particularly as it only went 100m higher than the bypass route. Mick may beg to differ as he was suffering a loss of energy before we got to the top. A result of the altitude or the continuous climbing, we didn't know, but to rule out other possibilities we paused for a drink and some biscuits, vaguely sheltered by a border marker, before completing the last couple of minutes of the climb.
The descent was hard going on our tired legs but by and by we reached a cabane* and decided to stay the night. Not inside, per the invitation of the two people already in residence. Rather, Rita was pitched on a bit of a slope outside.
We did pop in for tea, and by the time we left there were five people staying in there tonight (only one of whom spoke English and I was struggling to follow most of what was being said in French). As the sleeping platform is exactly five sleep-mats in width, it's going to be a cosy night for them, although at least they'll have dry tents in the morning.
(*We'd already passed 3 other cabanes. We didn't pause at the first as it contained a couple in bed - at 2.15 in the afternoon. The next two were together, with one in use by a cowherd and the other locked.)
Completely forgot to put any photos in the text so here's one of us at our high point of the day (altitude-wise) at 2193m. The sheep behind us did not move an inch whilst we were there. I don't think she was happy with the weather.
Monday, 11 July 2016
Pyrenees Day 0
London to Luchon
The plan: 0825 plane to Toulouse. Arrive 1110. Repack backpacks in luggage hall then walk 1 mile from airport to Decathlon to pick up some gas. From there across the road to supermarket for last few supplies, to Post Office to send off a couple of resupply parcels, then tram and metro over to the train station for 1441 train/bus combo to get us to Luchon.
The reality: an early start and smooth passage through Gatwick saw us board our Easyjet flight on time. Then we sat on the plane, at the gate, and waited, and waited some more, for the arrival of a First Officer who was not part of our air crew, but was hitching a lift on our flight as he was needed in Toulouse. It was an hour and a quarter after our scheduled departure time that we finally rumbled along the runway. Our plan, which was already a bit tight on time, was scuppered.
The Post Office and the supermarket got ditched from our schedule so that we could catch our train/bus to Luchon. Better, we thought, to have a delayed start tomorrow whilst we run those errands in Luchon, rather than having to wait an extra 3 hours in Toulouse for the next train this afternoon and not arrive into Luchon till nearly 8pm.
Everything else went smoothly, and by twenty past five we were standing on our balcony looking at this view:
It's only a one star hotel we're in, but thus far it seems to meet our needs perfectly. In fact (unless it turns out the walls are paper thin and the other guests noisy) I'm sorry we didn't come here last year. The place we stayed then was over 50% more expensive and I've got my suspicions that they may have been involved in the credit card fraud I suffered last year (I say 'suffered' but the reality is that it was of cost and inconvenience to my card issuer, not to me).
So, tomorrow we won't be having our customary early start. At 9am we'll head over to the supermarket and the Post Office and at some time after that we'll mosey on eastwards out of town.
bonus photo of the monstrously large cake we shared for pudding tonight
The plan: 0825 plane to Toulouse. Arrive 1110. Repack backpacks in luggage hall then walk 1 mile from airport to Decathlon to pick up some gas. From there across the road to supermarket for last few supplies, to Post Office to send off a couple of resupply parcels, then tram and metro over to the train station for 1441 train/bus combo to get us to Luchon.
The reality: an early start and smooth passage through Gatwick saw us board our Easyjet flight on time. Then we sat on the plane, at the gate, and waited, and waited some more, for the arrival of a First Officer who was not part of our air crew, but was hitching a lift on our flight as he was needed in Toulouse. It was an hour and a quarter after our scheduled departure time that we finally rumbled along the runway. Our plan, which was already a bit tight on time, was scuppered.
The Post Office and the supermarket got ditched from our schedule so that we could catch our train/bus to Luchon. Better, we thought, to have a delayed start tomorrow whilst we run those errands in Luchon, rather than having to wait an extra 3 hours in Toulouse for the next train this afternoon and not arrive into Luchon till nearly 8pm.
Everything else went smoothly, and by twenty past five we were standing on our balcony looking at this view:
It's only a one star hotel we're in, but thus far it seems to meet our needs perfectly. In fact (unless it turns out the walls are paper thin and the other guests noisy) I'm sorry we didn't come here last year. The place we stayed then was over 50% more expensive and I've got my suspicions that they may have been involved in the credit card fraud I suffered last year (I say 'suffered' but the reality is that it was of cost and inconvenience to my card issuer, not to me).
So, tomorrow we won't be having our customary early start. At 9am we'll head over to the supermarket and the Post Office and at some time after that we'll mosey on eastwards out of town.
bonus photo of the monstrously large cake we shared for pudding tonight
Friday, 8 July 2016
Making Stuff (Again)
When flying abroad with all of our backpacking kit, we don’t like to put our Osprey Exos packs in the hold, for fear of rough handling doing damage to the frames. Until now, our solution to this has been to nip to one of the local charity shops and buy a suitable holdall for a few pounds, which then gets ditched at the other end (not in an airport, I should add, for fear of causing a security alert).
On Monday and Tuesday this week we visited twelve charity shops, but not a single suitable bag could be found. What to do if you can’t get hold of a holdall? Well, buy a pair of curtains, of course!
Three pounds got us a good quality pair of pink curtains, and I set to work with the sewing machine. A few hours later I was rather pleased to have produced a large holdall (big enough to accommodate four walking boots boxes, with plenty of wiggle room left over):
I haven’t got any zips lying around and didn’t want to splash out on one for an item of baggage which is going in the bin on Monday, so I made a roll-top closure with ties to keep it shut.
Today we came to pack and discovered that everything bar the two boxes of food would fit in the holdall we bought in Toulouse last year for our return journey. The bag I made yesterday was well-sized for what I thought we were going to be putting in it but far too big for what it actually needed to hold. Fortunately, I had a curtain left over. A couple of hours later, and Holdall Mark II was born, the mini version:
Its size meant the closure had to be done differently, so there’s a roll-top, plus some ties along one edge. I knew, when I decided to hold onto the grossgrain handles off last year’s TGO Challenge Goody Bags, and the ribbon off a box of House of Bruar box of chocolates, that they’d come in handy for something – they came in very handy for making the closure ties.
Such a shame, after all that effort (how many times did I have to retread the overlocker?!) that it’s going in the bin in three days time!
Thursday, 30 June 2016
Burton Hill and Hegdon Hill
Thursday 30 June
Burton Hill (SO395488; 294m)
When Mick sent me his customary ‘Good Morning’ text at five to six this morning he was audibly surprised, when I phoned him straight back, to realise (from my huffing and puffing) that I was already on my way up my first hill. And I’d had a half-hour drive to get there too.
Why the masochistically early start this time? Well, the parking area I’d identified looked perfectly big enough for a car, but a bit tight for Colin, so I figured that if I was going to partially obstruct a gateway, I’d best do it very early in the morning when I could almost guarantee that no-one would want access.
Actually, I was barely across the gateway at all.
Through the gateway where I’d parked were a couple of permissive paths…
…but I’m not sure they weren’t confined to the area of the field, as at the top boundary I found a double-strand, permanent electric fence. With Mick still on the phone I took off my pack and commando-rolled under it. He also got a commentary as I got stung by a nettle as I found my way through the hedgerow beyond, which landed me on a public right of way which would lead me to the top. At that point, Mick rang off to go and prepare himself for his final day at work, and I made my way up a very slippery path.
With the top of this hill being relatively flat, and with any slight raises hidden by the whole area being thoroughly covered in brambles, I can’t say for certain that I stood on the highest ground. However, I did have a good tramp around (stopping every now and then to remove thorns from the knees of my trousers) before climbing up onto the fallen branch that you can see in this next snap…
…which was clearly higher than any of the ground. Thus calling the job a goodun, down I went. It was a short outing, at just 1.3 miles with 500’ of ascent.
Hegdon Hill (SO585539; 255m)
It’s possible to drive to within a minute’s walk of the top of Hegdon Hill, but I’d planned a 3.5 mile circular walk from Pencombe, using the Three Rivers Ride long distance route for my outward leg, with a lane walk for my return. Then I got to Pencombe and, over breakfast and a cup of tea, decided that I couldn’t face wading through yet more wet greenery. I still walked, I just opted for tarmac in both directions.
What I hadn’t considered, in my wet-greenery-avoidance decision, was that the summit of this hill sits on the inside boundary of a crop field, meaning that I didn’t escape wading through the wet, long grass of the field margin. In fact, by the time I took the selfie below, my shoes were full of water and my trousers were sodden to mid-thigh:
Fortunately, the trig point (visible mid-shot) isn’t the highest point of this hill, so there was no issue of crop-trampling. The summit is right on the fence-line, just where I’m standing.
Getting back to Pencombe (2.9 miles, 300’), I was so amused by the parking situation, with Colin completely blocked in (it was school drop-off time), that I took this photo:
A minute later, as I was unlacing my shoes, a woman appeared and started questioning me as to why I was taking photographs. I assumed that she thought I was going to complain about the parking, but no, she thought I might have caught a child in my snap. I insisted on showing her the photo to prove that not a single child was included and she went away happy (with the comment that I wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while; good job it wasn’t my intention to move straight away, as it was a while before my exit was cleared*). I went away a little sadder about what a suspicious (and would I be wrong to say overprotective?) world we live in.
And that was that - the end of this little trip. Next it’s back to the Pyrenees for us, picking up the GR10 from where we left it last July.
(*It would have been perfectly possible for those people blocking me in to have parked without obstructing anyone, but they would have had to walk, oooh, maybe 50 yards further.)
Carneddau (Powys), Aberedw Hill and The Begwns
Wednesday 29 June
On Tuesday afternoon I settled Colin into the far corner of the main (riverside) car park in Builth Wells*, fully expecting to have the place to myself for most of the night, and hoping that I wouldn’t be plagued by boy-racers or other antisocial behaviour.
By 8pm I felt like I’d accidentally parked in a truck-stop. Late on, I even moved Colin across a touch, to allow one final artic to squeeze in next to me. The plus side of the company was that I felt very safe and secure (what boy races or antisocial youths are going to hang around a car park full of burly truckers trying to sleep?). On the downside, I suspected my neighbours might be early (and noisy) risers.
Carneddau (SO070552; 445m)
I managed to sleep through a few of the lorries moving, but at 5.25 the one next to me started up and that was me awake. The absence of the sound of rain had me springing out of bed in an instant. Was there a chance, that by acting fast, I could get up my first hill before it rained?
Gone was my plan of a longer-than-necessary walk over the high ground in this area in order to get to this hill. Instead, I’d identified a layby on the A481 which would allow me a much more direction assault:
Alas, I didn’t outrun the rain. It started not long before I reached the top, but at least the cloud base was high enough for me to see my surroudings, and from those views I rued the fact that I’d hit this range on such a poor weather day. Maybe we’ll return to Builth Wells sometime for a more significant investigation of the area.
It wasn’t as misty as it looks in this shot. The photo was taken through my phone case.
Shouts on my return alerted me to the presence of two farmers on quadbikes who were just setting about rounding up the sheep off the hillside. I bet they didn’t expect to see someone striding across that hill, given that it was only 7am! After a bit of a pause to decide whether I was going to cause an impediment, I scurried onwards and don’t think that I got in the way.
By the time I got back to Colin (after 3.3 miles with 1000’) it was looking like my comment yesterday, about needing to walk at 5am then wait till 5pm, if I was going to avoid the rain, was the best plan, so I relocated to my layby for the next hill and set about waiting, waiting and waiting some more, whilst rain variously pitter-pattered or drummed on the tin above my head and the nearby trees went from gently rippling to seriously swaying.
Aberedw Hill (SO 084508; 451m)
After seven hours of waiting, I was getting itchy feet, so when, at around 3pm, there was a brightening of the sky, I hoped that it signalled the end of the weather front and got myself waterproofed up, ready to go.
This snap doesn’t really do justice to the pretty purpleness of this lane, which led me to the foot of my hill, with fox gloves and thistles in bloom. Nor can you see how slippery the wet stones of the track were.
Beyond that lane (just as the only shower of the outing hit me) I could clearly see the track switching-back up the steep hillside ahead of me, in a way which gave easy passage up to the more gentle gradients above:
Once up there my immediate impression was what a good place this would be for an overnight on a backpacking trip. The difficulty would be choosing on which of the flat, cropped grassy areas to pitch. Next to one of the pools, perhaps?
I’d love to know how this bit of machinery came to be left up here. Was it an intentional abandonment, or a case of not quite getting around to retrieving it?
By the time I got to the bright-white trig point, the sun was out over Builth Wells…
… although it was still cloudy in the other direction. I wondered whether the small pools in this next snap are usually there or whether they only appear on particularly wet days, like today:
It was no hardship to retrace my steps through such loveliness and I arrived back at Colin with 4.7 miles walked with 1100’ of ascent.
The Begwns (SO155444; 415m)
By the time I’d eaten an early tea and driven down to The Begwns, it was 6pm, which had made it tempting to cut this walk very short by parking on the little lane just to the east of the hill. The thought of parking Colin on grass after so much rain put me off that option, so I stuck to plan and walked from the good parking area on the next road across.
Wide pathways run all over the place through the bracken which covers the gently rising and falling terrain, only some of which tracks are shown on the map, but it didn’t prove too tricky to just keep heading in generally the right direction.
The Black Mountain Ridge, of which we walked the length in April, was the notable feature to the SE.
As I crossed the road just before my objective I saw that the ground was perfectly firm enough to have parked there without a problem, but by then the point was academic, so onwards I went to ‘The Roundabout’ atop this hill – a circular stone-walled enclosure, planted inside with trees.
The stated ‘Summit Feature’ for this hill is “highest point in trees of roundabout”, which I thought a bit of a pointless description. Of course the summit is the highest point! This is where I settled on as being the top, although I did, of course, have a good tramp around elsewhere, just to be sure:
My return leg (which was as wet as my outward one; there were lots of fast-moving showers around) varied slightly from my outward leg only because one path through bracken looks very like another and I failed to pick the same options on the way back.
This one came in at 3.6 miles with 400’ of ascent and rounded off a day which, considering the weather, was surprisingly good, with three enjoyable hills walked and a book and a half read.
(*Powys County Council has an unusually motorhome friendly policy and allows both motorhomes and caravans to stay in its Pay & Display car parks for one night in seven)
Tuesday, 28 June 2016
Bradnor Hill, Great Rhos and Gwaunceste Hill
What a contrast to yesterday! I had a lovely time on three hills this morning, without a single sting or prickle incurred
Bradnor Hill (SO282584; 391m)
(Post blog note: 12 October 2016 – After this trip I bought 1:25k mapping for the whole of the UK and have just noticed that the relevant land around Bradnor Hill is designated as Access Land. Thus all of my reference to trespass in this post are incorrect. I had every right to be there!)
This hill was originally scheduled into our Offa’s Dyke jaunt in April, but got omitted due to the blatant trespass across a golf course at a busy time of day. It was far from busy this morning, which I attribute to the fact that I set out at 6am.
Consideration had been given to driving up to the Club House, but when I weighed the time it would take to relocate myself there, versus the time it would take to just walk from Kington town car park, I opted for the longer walk, revisiting a part of Offa’s Dyke Path which was still fresh in my mind.
Only one person was met on the entire outing, and that was a groundsman/greenkeeper. He was a friendly chap and didn’t bat an eyelid at my plans to walk across the golf course. A golf course, incidentally, which was covered in sheep and in sheep-poo at the moment. Either the course isn’t open, or surely sheep must regularly get hit, not to mention the likelihood of the golfballs rolling in poo.
Having taken a photo of myself beaming at the top…
…I opted for a different descent route. Well, if I was going to trespass across a golf course, I thought I may as well make a thorough job of it and cover as much ground as possible!
I’d covered 3.4 miles with 800’ of ascent when I got back to Colin at a couple of minutes past seven, and I didn’t even pause for tea or second breakfast before I made haste towards my next hill. Why the rush? Rain was forecast at noon and I didn’t want to get wet!
Great Rhos (SO182639; 660m)
My intention had been to start this one from a car park next to the school in New Radnor, but when I got there the whim took me to go and look at the Water-Break-Its-Neck car park a couple of miles up the road. I probably would have abandoned Colin in the picnic area I’d spotted on my on-line explorations of this area, if it hadn’t been for a sign indicating that there was another car park a kilometre up the track. Onwards I went, almost losing my nerve as I wondered if I’d misunderstood the sign and whether it was telling me that the car park was by the road, and the waterfall was a kilometre further on. By then though I was already committed to a lengthy reverse, so thought I may as well plough on in the hope of finding a Colin-sized turning area if nothing else. What I found was a car park a kilometre further on. Excellent! That cut an out-and-back walk up a dull track from my outing.
The going on this one was varied indeed, featuring forest paths, forest tracks, mown bits of forest…
…a hill track so long abandoned that it is now but a vague suggestion of a trod on the ground, and a couple of hundred metres or so of very rough yomping. On arriving at the trig I found that the latter had been unnecessary; I took the good path on the way back!
Two possible circuits had been plotted for this outing, one taking in just this hill, the other taking in a series of tops. In the event, I did neither, but retraced my steps instead. For the eagle-eyed, who pay great attention to my selfies, the clue as to why is in the next photo:
Yikes! Where are my sunglasses? Presumably somewhere in the forest where I’d dropped them whilst adjusting my layers. Retracing my steps seemed the most likely way of recovering them, so that’s what I did, trying hard to concentrate on looking at the ground.
So hard did I look that I noticed this skeleton, which I’d missed on my outward leg. Is it a dog?
A few minutes before getting back to Colin, it seemed rude to pass by the turn for Water-Break-Its-Neck without going for a look. Worth the short detour, I thought:
I arrived back at Colin with 6.4 miles walked with around 1600’ of ascent. And the sunglasses, I hear you ask, were they found? Yep – sitting on Colin’s sofa…
Gwaunceste Hill (SO158555; 542m)
I came up with two plans for this trip, imaginatively called Plan A and Plan B. Plan A was the conservative Plan. Plan B was more ambitious and included more hills. Having finished today’s Plan A hills before 10am, and with no sign of approaching rain, it was a no-brainer to skip to Plan B, which saw me heading over to Gwaunceste Hill.
Many people start this walk from just before the farm at Rhewey, and many others start from the layby on the main road at the bottom of Rhewey’s access road. Those options give shorter walks, but they also involve passing through a farm with reports of vocal, although tethered, dogs. Tethered dogs are better than untethered, but I still prefer to avoid walking through farms where there’s an obvious alternative, so I opted for a slightly longer walk in from Llynheilyn.
Good decision! What a lovely walk that was on some gorgeous grassy hill tracks. Even the final yomp through deep heather, when I realised that the ‘path’ I was on was so poor that it would be easier to go straight up than to continue onwards to the track which would (theorectically) take me more easily to the top.
The skies were starting to look ominous by the time I took my summit photos, so pausing only to text Mick to tell him of my whereabouts, down I headed.
The rain had been forecast to arrive at noon. At 1209 the first drops were felt. At 1212 I arrived back at Colin. Twenty minutes later it was lashing down. I’m so glad I wasn’t out in that! Alas, I watched the BBC forecast this lunchtime which has confirmed that there will be no avoiding getting wet tomorrow – unless I set out at 5am or after 5pm.
This final hill of the day came in at 4.4 miles with 700’ of ascent.
Monday, 27 June 2016
Wapley Hill and Shobdon Hill
Unless my memory is selective and is doing that ‘it was always sunny when I was young’ thing, I think it would be true to say that I enjoy well over 99% of my walks. Probably over 99.9% in fact. Today’s walk fell into the very tiny minority. In fact, it fell so far down the scale of enjoyment, that there isn’t even a glimmer of it transforing into a ‘good walk in hindsight’ (you know, like those outings where something happens that’s really trying at the time, but looking back on it it becomes either fun or funny).
It wasn’t entirely bad as an outing. The first bit, from the Wapley Hill Forestry Commission car park, whilst a bit muddy in places, was perfectly pleasant and very straightforward as I simply followed the red way-markers uphill. The evidence of the hill fort atop my objective was the undisputed highlight of the day, with more banks and dips than I ever recall seeing at a hill fort before. I even easily located the correct ‘oak tree on a mound’, which is the summit feature of this top.
Oak tree on a mound, otherwise known as the Marilyn summit
There were snippets of views to be had in a few directions too:
It was in between Wapley Hill and Shobdon Hill that the wheels started falling off my day. It all started with me missing my path and merrily skipping onwards, almost back to the car park, before I noticed. I could have just continued back down and walked along the road (in hindsight, that would have been a good plan) or even driven to my next objective (in hindsight, that would have been a *really* good plan), but the Mortimer Trail, which follows a byway along the ridge, looked pleasant on the map so I went back uphill to find it. No wonder I missed it on my first pass:
For the next mile, I battled through overgrown 6’ bracken, intertwined with spikey, grabby and stingy things. Seldom have I been so pleased to reach tarmac as I was when the awfulness of it came to an end (also, seldom have I been so pleased, on such a warm day, to have chosen to wear trousers. They’re not nettle-proof, but they’re more so than bare legs).
At the village of Byton, finding no evidence of the footpath I wanted (which would have lopped off a bit of road walking), I stuck with the Mortimer Trail and went the slightly longer way around, taking an extra detour for a quick look at the pretty little church, the name of which I have already forgotten:
After another short backtrack for another missed turn, the bracken/brambles/nettles nightmare started all over again. Wet bracken too, even though it was a nice day. I would have been pleased to get to the top, if it hadn’t been for the knowledge that the only sensible way back was to repeat the last mile of overgrowth.
I’m pretty sure that the place where I’m standing in the next snap is the top, although ‘ground by oak tree’ isn’t a massively helpful clue in an area of oak trees! It’s also difficult, in tall bracken, to spot where the ground might be higher, but it seemed to me that this was the highest spot, and it tied i with the 10-digit grid reference I had noted. And there was a trodden line which dead-ended nearby.
With no views to admire…
…I didn’t tarry on this one, but strode off back the way I’d come. Or, at least, I tried to. Then came the point when I realised that I wasn’t heading in the right direction (something I tried to deny for a while, until the compass proved the point). Then came some more backtracking and back-and-forthing until I eventually spotted my overgrown trail.
It was at a positive march that I took the last mile and a half of road back to Colin, desperate to get the outing over with. It was perhaps a tiny bit funny, after such an unpleasing afternoon that two agressive dogs legged it the whole length of the car park to try to tear me limb from limb as I got within sight of my destination, particularly as the owner didn’t even acknowledge my presence, much less apologise for her lack of control over her beasts in a public place. The icing on the cake really.
The stats came in at 8.3 miles with 1500’ of ascent and arms and legs covered in nettle stings and bramble scratches.
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