Day 8: Gavarnie to Héas

Today we were back on a stage of the High Route that I've always enjoyed; it's not a particularly demanding route but it is one of great character.

The walk runs out of Gavarnie towards the cirque but quickly turns to climb steeply through woodland, towards the Refuge des Espugettes. We'd started early again as it was clear this was going to be a blisteringly hot day and although the early climb was well shaded I hoped to reach the refuge before the sun had really begun to find its full force.

As the route began to leave the woodland we got into conversation with a retired couple who were out for a day walk. They were keen to know where we were from and seemed delighted to tell us that they had both been to Birmingham. Both of them had worked for Michelin tyres and knew the Midlands well. It's almost impossible these days to meet professional French people who don't know Birmingham — one of the bonuses of the National Exhibition Centre and the International Convention Centre I guess. We chatted for a while. These days the couple lived in the Massif Central (near to the Michelin HQ in Clermont). They asked whether we'd walked there. I told them about my last trip to the area when — in June — we were blown to bits by high winds, freezing rain and snow. Nobody walks the Massif in June they replied; it's far too early.

The Refuge des Espugettes is one of those refuges that is a bit of a mystery to me. It's only a small refuge and I do wonder who stays there. On the way up we'd met three or four people descending who must have stayed the night there, but that was it. As ever the refuge was quiet with just the Guardienne pottering away at the back. One of the virtues of the Refuge — I guess — is that it is not in Gavarnie and it does allow walkers to minimise their stay there. But the great thing about this refuge is its location. Espugettes is located on a lovely small plateau with amazing views to the mountains to the West. I guess it would be a pretty place to spend a night — I must make a note ...

Approaching Espugettes

We lingered at the refuge a while with our only companions being a small group of donkeys that seemed to have climbed up from Gavarnie. The Guardienne came around with a mobile phone. She was obviously reporting that the donkeys arrived. Not only was she counting them she was describing each donkey to whoever was on the other end of the line.

From the refuge we set up to climb the switch-back route up to the Hourquette d'Alans. We were quickly passed by a couple of Dutch walkers who were going like express trains, and they were carrying quite a load. I remember commenting that I hoped that they'd either started walking that morning or were walking the entire High Route. Suddenly I felt quite old!

 

The Breche du Roland

The Hourquette is one of those places where the mountains seem to really reveal themselves in all of their splendour. The climb is constant although not particularly demanding. Each time the track switched back in the direction of the Hourquette we were treated to fabulous views to the West, the entire chain of mountains seemingly laid out in front of us. We could see many of the mountains that we'd clambered over and around before: Vignemale, Ballaitous and the distinctively shaped Pic du Midi Ossaue. We also got a good view of the Breche du Roland, the pass through which we'd planned to walk through from Spain. Despite the heat of the last few day there was still a lot of snow up there, and although the day was still reasonably young it was clear that nobody was crossing over the small glacier (although it's a good idea to cross later in the day when the snow has melted a bit).

Looking to Spain from the Hourquette

If you look in a French dictionary you'll see that a Hourquette is described as a Col but I don't think that really does them justice, after all there are plenty of 'Cols' in this area of the Pyrenees. Most of the Hourquettes that I've visited have not only been high cols but they have been quite narrow. Hourquettes they are great meeting places. The views always seem to be stupendous (maybe that's another common characteristic) and walkers seem to want to rest and eat their lunch while admiring them. These impromptu gatherings are international affairs. We ate our lunch in the company of French and Spanish walkers together with our Dutch friends who'd stormed passed us (but who I happily noticed had slowed down as they reached the top of the climb). From the other side a couple of young children climbed up to the summit to be cheered by their father who was following behind. The rest of us joined in with the cheering and the congratulations, to the obvious delight of the children themselves; you could see them beaming with pride at their achievement. One of the French walkers had a T-Shirt bearing the old anti fascist slogan from the Spanish Civil War, No Parasan! He seemed quite delighted to be asked for a photo and his friends were all adamant that the fascists had never had a place in these mountains, something I found quite heartening!

Anti-facist mountaineer

Young climbers, being applauded by the massed throng of the hill!

The Hourquette is simply a great place to hang around for a while. We sat looking out at the wonderful views to the East, to Spain and on to Troumouse. But when we wanted a change of scenery we simply walked around the edge of some rock and gazed back towards that stunning view to the West. But it was very hot and before long we set off on our long descent.

Initially the path descended along well established, zig-zagging paths of stone, but very quickly we found ourselves walking through green pasture often with a heard of cows leading the way. We were walking into the Vallée d'Estaubé which, while not one of the longest valleys in this part of the Pyrenees, is certainly one of the most charming. For a long time the path continues to zig-zag which simply gives you the opportunity to properly inspect another cirque, the Cirque d'Estabé at the head of the valley. When our path finally set us at the side of the river we gladly took off our packs, shoes and socks and refreshed our feet in the cool of the snow-melt. Absolute heaven!

Estaubé Traffic Jam!

We continued walking north towards the Lac des Gloriettes past a number of superb wild camp sites, indeed we'd used some of them on previous trips. The Lac is in fact a large, dammed, lake that is a popular day destination. A small number of families sat eating picnics while some of the men fished in the river and in the lake. A few tents had already been set up, I suspect by the fishermen who were out for a few days.

At Gloriettes the route splits, the North path heading up and over high plateau towards Gedre and our path that crossed the dam before heading down towards the valley that connects Gedre with Héas. On the map this looks a bit of a miserable walk since it involves tarmac all the way into Héas. But if you ever find yourself planning to come this way don't despair. The car park at the dam is just that with no shops of cafés or anything else to attract a crowd. The road quickly descends, without incident, to the road at the bottom of the valley. At the junction we turned right and continued on an evenish contour down to the little village of Héas.

This is a delightful stretch and spirits are raised by a sign welcoming you to Héas, far earlier than you would have expected from the map. In reality Héas is a long, strung out collection of a few farms and cottages. We came to a small farmhouse that advertised camping. I'm pretty sure that this is La Chaumiere which is listed in all of the guidebooks, but the name has now gone. There were once rooms here and you could also eat at the building next door, but these days there is just the camping. As we arrived a group of coach trippers were leaving a restaurant room after an afternoon's refreshments at a traditional auberge. I asked whether we might eat there but these days it seems that only coach parties are catered for.

Madam trotted out of the house, one of those fine, country women whose age is completely indeterminable. She pointed to the lovely open field at the side of the house and invited us to pick our spot. There's a small shower and toilet block here and this is how she makes her money. There's no charge for camping, or more precisely "you just pay me what you think; I make my money from the showers". It seemed a lovely way of operating and of welcoming hikers. Quite romantic. Indeed, it was so romantic that I found myself paying for showers in the evening and the morning as well as giving her quite a donation for her dedication to the cause of knackered HRP trekkers. I realised that this had been — in fact — the most expensive campsite on the trip!

La Chaumerie, camping field

Still, this was a lovely spot. Héas apparently gets its name from the old Gascon word for 'hay', hay making being what the village is traditionally famous for. Our field has recently been mowed, for hay, as had many others around. It was early in the season and we were the only campers. We set off to explore the centre of Héas, although that's probably over-egging it a bit. The centre of Héas is simply an old church and a few other buildings most of which have now become part of the Auberge de La Munia, La Munia being one of the mountains between Héas and the Spanish border.

The church is absolutely delightful and a place you must visit if you're ever here. There has been a building here since medieval times. The modern church has some lovely stained glass windows and some wonderful, large, paintings or freezes, hanging in the darkened interior. It was a calming place and also — in this heat — a welcome, cooling, place as well.

The Auberge was a delightful looking place also and happily provided us with a couple of very cool beers. It was so welcoming that we decided to give the Bushbuddy the night off and book ourselves into the restaurant.

We returned to the campsite to shower and change. The only downside to this site is that there is no shade — the spot being used to grow grass! But there are a few trees near the road and I settled down in a little of their shade to doze for a little in the late afternoon sun.

Back at the Auberge was one of the Dutch hikers who had burnt us up on the climb past Espugettes. We fell into conversation. I was delighted — and somewhat relieved — to find that the two of them were indeed walking the entire high route and had been walking continuously for a couple of weeks. This was the second year running that he'd attempted the high route but last year he'd had to abandon. He got caught in a terrible storm just short of Andorra and had to descend "way too low". He'd also run out of money, I think as a result of having to fall back on Spanish refugios. This time he was determined to make it to the Med although his mate seemed to be on a very ambitious time scale. My new friend was taking the HRP very seriously. Between here and Andorra the High Route becomes very serious and he'd set out — a few years before — just to walk the stretch to make sure he was up to it. In fact, he'd walked the stretch a couple of times, once in snow and once along dry, hard, rock and scree. His friend, he said, had simply no idea of how tough the next stretch was and he beamed when he suggested his itinerary would have to be amended!

The food at the Auberge was every bit as delightful as the setting. These small, country, restaurants are nearly always good and this was no exception. We both had a mutton stew, a kind of mutton au vin, which was truly fabulous, so much so that it made me think about ordering mutton more often back home. The staff here are lovely, the prices quite reasonable and the quality good. The rooms in the auberge also looked very comfortable and I would image that it is a good place to stay for on a hut-to-hut type of holiday.

Back at the campsite we'd been joined by another High Route trekker. His destination next day was the same as our Dutch friends', the small Spanish village of Parzan. It would be a long and demanding day with at least nine hours of walking. One of my original options was to walk on the GR11 as far as Parzan before crossing back into France and effectively tackling his route in reverse. Instinctively I wanted to set out on that route too. But then I was reminded that we were on holiday. And if we committed ourselves to going that way we'd have to chop off some of our other destinations.

At the end of the day we climbed into our tent happy, content and well fed. It had been a great day on the trail.