A fabulously sunny morning in the mountains.
Our first night in an aire was uneventful and we slowly got ready, in awe of the peaks surrounding us. We decided to do a couple of walks today, to stretch our legs after yesterday. As we’re in a National Park, there are restrictions on where you can walk your dog – the Pont d’Espagne was one place where the Pup could have a run, albeit on a lead.
https://www.valleesdegavarnie.com/en/destination/cauterets
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cauterets
Pont d’Espagne was south of us so we packed up and headed down twisty mountainside roads towards Cauterets, a sizeable spa resort town. We had this place lined up as a possible lunch spot. Beyond Cauterets was a series of switchbacks/hairpin bends that we had to negotiate which was exciting, but the scenery was stunningly beautiful with high peaks basking in the sunshine. The only blip on this idyllic scene was a couple of dirty and perfunctory concrete canopies covering the road, which on one level prevented rocks from bouncing off your roof, but were a right blot on the landscape. There was no effort to beautify it or make it blend in with its surroundings, just stuck out like a sore thumb.
We soon forgot about Pyrenean road structures as we approached the Pont d’Espagne, collecting a ticket from a ticket machine that raised a barrier before entering a vast and sprawling apron of tarmac – there were a huddle of cars near the information office this bright morning, but it obviously got stupidly busy during the summer months to warrant this mammoth car park.
We parked the Van by a little stream in a row of other campers and jumped out. The forecast had predicted 25 degrees and we had dressed accordingly – shorts, t-shirt and a light jacket, but we had failed to take in account that we were now 1500m above sea level and the sun hadn’t reached this spot yet. It was a chilly 11 degrees. The puffa jacket came out, though the shorts stayed and we headed off across the car park dressed for winter on top, but with bare legs below. We stopped at the information centre and discovered that Pup was restricted to one circular route which wasn’t particularly far, so clutching a map we began our stroll along a tarmac road. The mountains loomed over us, the sun bathing their summits, rivers and streams cascaded down waterfalls, rocks and ravines. It was gorgeous. We wheedled our way up towards the Refuge du Clot, where it opened up into a meadow with a little restaurant/cafe and a little ski lift. The sun peered down the valley onto this wide grassy spot, sending the temperatures soaring so much so, that we quickly discarded the jackets and walked in our t-shirts. There were workmen here loitering beside huge cylindrical tanks and those one tonne bags you get from builders merchants with a truck nearby – kind of spoilt the view a bit. We wandered over to the little cafe and ordered coffee and crepes and sat down on the picnic benches outside. Suddenly we heard the sound of a helicopter which appeared over an adjacent mountain pass, carrying one of those builder merchant bags on a long rope underneath it – it flew right up above the workmen and with amazing precision, placed the bag gently on the ground. One of the chaps wearing just a helmet, unhooked the rope and then attached it to one of the tanks, which the helicopter then lifted with ease and took it back over the pass. The chopper made repeated trips while we supped our coffee, its down draught pushing our coats off the table every time it left for another run. Apparently, there was some sort of bothy or huts up and over the pass, only reachable by a 2.5 hour walk (or obviously by helicopter) and they were restocking it with gas and other sundries. It was an incredible operation and fascinating to watch, without a hint of any health or safety protocols – we were no more than 50 metres away, no barriers, no exclusion zone, just guys in t-shirts hooking up bags while a helicopter hovered overhead.
We were now halfway round our walk, so we followed the loop back round and dropped back to the car park – the scenery was just getting better and better. Craggy mountainsides with thin jagged ridges, sheer drops and impossible angles. It was all there. We jumped back into the Van with the plan of going back to Cauterets for lunch and slowly crossed the car park to the exit when we spotted the horses wandering around (we had seen heaps of evidence). They must be like the New Forest ponies, allowed to wander anywhere and today they fancied a visit to the car park.
We drove down the mountainside, around the hairpin bends and enjoyed a different aspect. Once in Cauterets we headed for a campervan car park we had spotted earlier, only to find it blocked by an enthusiastic tree surgeon chopping limbs off trees and leaving debris everywhere. We didn’t fancy a puncture, so we went into the centre of town only to find another wanting to charge 12 euros for a 24 hour stay. We only wanted lunch. So off we set again (why are towns and carparks so traumatic) and with a little bit of convolution, found ourselves in one that just didn’t feel right. Though there were cars and campers there, it just felt that it wasn’t official. Giving up, we went back up the mountain to La Raillere, a couple of kilometres outside Cauterets, which was bascially a restaurant and a couple of gift shops but with ample parking. We sat outside under a parasol surrounded by tree covered mountains and a bubbling stream and enjoyed a lovely meal. Perfect. It was a nice place except on the way to the loo, I passed a stuffed deer and a stuffed fox with a pheasant in its mouth sat on a dining table by the bar. I did a double take and nearly took a photo, but thought it would be weird.
We decided to walk off our lunch and drove back up the road towards Pont d’Espagne, before turning a sharp left and following a narrow road with a tributary flowing down one side and hard rock on the other. There were a few passing places – of course we were unfortunate to meet three cars and had to reverse down to where the road widened enough for them to squeeze past – and then another 300 metres the road abruptly ended and we found ourselves in the La Fruitiere car park and a restaurant bearing the same name. The walk started here, heading up the valley to a lake. We were just wanting a stroll and to see how far we got. Two donkeys patrolled the car park as we checked the information board which had a No Dogs sign on it. We sighed inwardly – we had researched this beforehand to make sure that Pup was allowed, so we went to find the restaurant owner to see if he could clarify the situation. Yes, not a problem as long as Pup was kept on the lead so happily we set off along a stony track between magnificent peaks, glorious sunshine and perfect verdant green. We walked for quite a while until we reached a little summit on the path and we could looked down the other side. The sun slid behind a mountain and we went into shadow and lost the heat. We turned back – there were a few people walking this route – and admired the stunning view before us. We passed more horses chewing grass on the side of the path and The Pup paddled in the river, the water crystal clear. We got back to the Van to find a horse stood between the bonnet and a fence – we approached carefully, hoping that the horse wouldn’t get spooked and lash out. We didn’t fancy a U shaped dent in our grille. Luckily the horse was quite nonchalant about humans and their vehicles and didn’t flinch as we reversed out. We retraced our way back down the single track road and back onto the main road with its hairpin bends (we were getting used to these) and headed back to our little aire – we decided we didn’t fancy another round of stress and high blood pressure looking for a suitable overnight stop and decided to spend another night in Soulom.
We were a bit alarmed to find three new motorhomes on our arrival back, our compatriots having left. We parked in a different bay, under a conker tree which dropped conker casings on our roof with a dull thud. We sat outside and enjoyed the warm evening and splendid view across the valley to sun drenched mountains, which we didn’t really appreciate last night. Getting low on milk, I wandered into town, some five minutes walk away, as Apple Maps said there was a supermarket there. I came back emptied handed, unable to locate any supermarket or outlet selling milk, despite wandering up and down. Sometimes I despair of technology.
As the evening darkened, we headed inside with our fly screen pulled across. It was still warm. Tomorrow we are going to head up and over the Col du Tourmalet, a regular feature in the Tour de France and to another campsite, soaking up more of the Pyrenees. And it’s going to be another very warm day!
