Day 10: Héas to Gedre

In the morning the mist still lay as thick as the evening before. It was impossible to see any of the mountains around us. My plan had been to walk back up to the toll booth and climb up to gain the top of the plateau, walking on to the Lac des Gloriettes, continuing over the plateau before dropping down to Gedre. I knew from previous visits that the plateau would more than likely have been above the clouds but the prospect of finding the route up the steep hillsides was not really that pleasant, so we opted to simply walk down the road into Gedre.

Although we were back on tarmac the walk was not particularly demanding, indeed, it was gently downhill for most of the way. A we began our descent proper towards Gedre we could see that the mist was beginning to clear and when the village came into view the sun was beginning to fight its way through the cloud.

Camping de Bivouac de Ernest - Looks fun

Gedre is a reasonably nice kind of village even thought there's not really much here. Over the years I've found myself here a lot not least because a lot of holidays have seemed to end at Gavarnie, and Gavarnie does not seem to be a very satisfactory place to finish! Down the valley from Gedre is Luz, the town which is effectively the gateway back to the main bus routes and train lines. You can walk into Luz from either Gavarnie or Gedre in a day but having done this once it's not something that I'm desperate to repeat. The walks are not really that interesting and from Gedre you're forced back onto tarmac for stretches. On recent visits I've been happy to stay in Gedre and take the early bus, from Gavarnie, down to Luz.

There's a nice and hospitable campsite just a few minutes walk to the north of the town and we were happy to book in, again, for a single night. Tent pitched, we set off back to the village and to catch up with the Hotel des Pyrenees.

The Hotel des Pyrenees has a certain mountain pedigree. Edward Russell stayed here when exploring this part of the mountains, indeed, I'm told you can still inspect the pages of the hotel register with his signature on it (though I've never bothered to ask to see it). But for us the hotel is famous for the feuding that goes on between Madame la Patronne and her son.

Over the years we're witnessed a battle royal as the son has sought to take control from his ageing — and it has to be said failing — mother. But these provincial French women are made of strong stuff. Madame fights back. It had been three years since our last visit when we'd seen her — rather pointedly — go and count all of the money in the till after each of his transactions. Back then, the hotel had clearly seen better days and was in need of some loving care and attention, if not a bit of financial investment. Clearly, the son knew that things had to change and he'd introduced a few changes that hinted at a better future. But the relationships between the two — and their sharp conversations — suggested progress would not be easy.

We strolled into the bar and set down our packs. Things were looking up. The bar had become something of a tabac since the news shop, over the way, had closed. We bought a few French newspapers and settled down to catch up with the rest of the world. At lunch we ordered salads that were not only half decent but were served by a waiter with a distinctly pleasant disposition — another employee, wow! The son came into view, not looking quite as surly as I remembered. I wondered what had become of Madam. She soon appeared but it was soon apparent that the last three years had sucked away much of her spirit. She looked no longer capable of controlling the till and the son seemed to have finally gained the upper hand. Who knows, perhaps in a year or two we might even be able to recommend this place! Actually, to be fair, the bar does have an outside area of table across the street, and this is often a pleasant place to spend time and to have something to eat, but the weather was too wet, cold and windy to enjoy it this time around.

Back at the campsite we were able to wash out our clothes and generally enjoy the ambience of the place. It was one of those campsites where only really nice families seem to stay, French and Dutch in the main. A night here in Gedre is certainly to be recommended over another evening in Gavanie. The Bushbuddy was a hit again and we dined like royalty with our tin of cassoulet supplemented by fresh courgettes and haricot beans accompanied by a super ripe melon and some spankingly fresh peaches.