Day 12: Bareges to the Refuge des Baston

The taxi arrived at 8.25 promptly and about twenty minutes — and €23 —later we were dropped at the Pont de la Guabie. It had looked quite a nice place on the map not least because the Pont was next to a botanical garden. But the reality was something different. Everywhere was open and treeless. There was an entrance advertising itself as leading to the Gardens, but there was precious little sight of them.

Soon we were off and walking on the GR10. As we climbed from the bridge the mountains still shaded the sun. We quickly realised how many trekkers do this walk as we passed a number of folks packing up their tents and leaving their wild camp sites. After a rather featureless climb we reached a junction to where I reckoned we would return on the way back. Our path continued along the GR10, climbing up and round into some thoroughly lovely country. The path sometimes walked through sweet meadows and sometimes climbed above them. The chiming sounds of the mountain cattle had returned and the mountain around us looked far higher, and more dramatic, than I had expected. All around the valley floors were sprinkled with meandering streams and as the morning sun glinted off them the whole scene seemed transformed into a kind of watery, wonderland. Although it was still early we knew that we were in for a great day's walking and our sprits rose.

We shared our route with quite a few other walkers, many of them families. They all seemed to be taking the GR10, carrying small packs and presumably planning to stay the night at one of the many refuges on the route. At the Cabanne Aygues-Cluses we said good bye to the GR10 and to most of our fellow walkers. Our route then turned to climb over, in the direction of the Hourquette Nere.

Though the climb to the Hourquette was not particularly steep the walk was pretty strenuous, not least because of that sun again. It was quite a relief to gain the Hourquette which — in case you're wondering — seemed to conform to my observed characteristics of Hourquettes. The views ahead were stunning, a chain of small, glistening lakes strung out between rugged, stoney, peaks.

We reached another, smaller, cabanne to find that all of the available shade had been taken over by a group of goats — and they weren't giving up their shade for anyone. I was rather relieved that the goats seemed to be suffering in the midday sun as much as I was. We were joined by a couple of fellow walkers, a nice slightly loopy couple who were enchanted by the goats. Soon one of the goats settled down to lick all of the salt of one of our companion's legs! They were both (the humans that is) even more delighted!

Saving Goats

From this cabanne the route climbed again and each time we met fellow walkers were asked the same questions. Is the refuge this way? Is the refuge far? Is there another hill? (The answer to this last question is always yes of course!). Our route must feature in French guidebooks as a bit of an excursion around he area and as it wasn't on the GR10 it didn't have the famous red and white flashes to guide the way. There were a few places where you had to think about the route, and I began to use the map more often, but I wouldn't have said that navigation was in any way challenging.

We continued on along another chain of lovely, high, tarns before reaching another high Col and dropping down to the Refuge des Baston.

 

The Lacs de Gaston

It's fair to say we were pretty tired by the time we reached the Refuge but a quick beer quickly restored us. The Refuge has been constructed on a natural terrace that looks down on another chain of lakes and tarns — the Lacs des Baston. The atmosphere at the refuge was magical. A group of Dutch walkers — finally old enough, and free, to holiday without their children — were having a ball. A group of young French walkers appeared in fine, happy spirits. Everyone admired the Refuge's pig, dozing happily in the trees despite the attention of everyone around. The refuge mule grazed on grass, occasional letting out a blood-curdling cry that jolted you from your day dreams. I, of course, wondered about the pig. It pig seemed quite happy eating up all of the taste food from the refuge. A sign at the refuge said something like:

"Please take your rubbish with you; I have enough waste of my own to deal with" — The Guardian.

"Feel free to leave me your surplus picnic - I'd much appreciate it" — The Pig.

What do you suppose they do with the pig? I reckon it's slaughtered at the end of the season for the staff and the last guests to enjoy a magnificent hog roast. Kate told me off for thinking such thoughts. But as I watched the pig feasting on pine cones I couldn't help but think she'd taste wonderful!

Refuge de Baston

We dropped down from the refuge to make camp at the side of one of the tarns. Previous visitors had dragged stones down to the site to build a shield for their wood fires, and these proved to be a great location for the Bushbuddy. Once the tent was up we strolled back up to the refuge to collect firewood and to down another beer or two. In all of my wanderings through the Pyrenees I have not found a nicer looking site for a refuge. Baston is a great place and well worth the walk to get there.

Back at camp we settled down to enjoy another dish of couscous. After dinner entertainment was provided by the fish of the lake, celebrating the cool of the evening by jumping for insects. The young French group decided to go for a mass, evening swim in our lake. Baston is a happy place.

It had been a great day's walk, as good as any I've had in the Pyrenees. I was pleased that we'd finally decided to come this way. Looking at the map this seemed to be the best of the two days although tomorrow we would be in the Néovielle proper.