LUCHON

SUPERMARKET GAMBLING

GITE SKOURIA

HOTEL IN SUPERBAGNERES

MOUNTAINS ON THE BORDER

CLIMBING TOWARDS PORT DE VENASQUE

REFUGE DE VENASQUE

VIQUI & ME IN THE DEEP FREEZE

APERITIFS WITH FELLOW FRENCH WALKERS

I got my chance to have a look at Luz-St-Sauveur after all, since the bus from Gavarnie stopped in the centre for 15 minutes - just enough time to do some people waltching.

My little 'hop' along the Pyrenees was actually quite complicated and required 3 buses and 2 trains. I had vehicle changes to make at Pierefitte, Lourdes, Tarbes and Montrejeau. Given the amount of effort involved, I was actually quite dissapointed when I finally arrived in Luchon. The place looked grey and drab. My first impressions were not helped by the fog and the steady rainfall, which were even worse than in Gavarnie. My heart sank a little lower when I saw the Casino, but to my relief this turned out to be the name of a supermarket....and I'd always been taught not to play with my food.

My feelings about the place improved as I walked into town, which was larger than I had expected. I located the Tourist Office and a lovely young lady showed me the weather forecast, which didn't offer much hope for the following day. I had hoped to cross the border into Spain to take a look at Aneto, at 3,404m the highest mountain in the Pyrenees. She told me that, rain or not, the snow conditions on the high peaks would make it extremely hazardous for me to do so. Indeed, the weather forecast predicted a freezing level of 2,500m, so it was a distinct possibility that I would be snowed upon.

All this came as no surprise. Fog! Snow! Freezing temperatures! I had met conditions like this in Norway when I'd walked off a snow ledge without even seeing it, fortunately to receive a soft landing. If conditions remained like this then there was no chance of me even getting close to Aneto on this trip, let alone climbing it....and I'd paid an extra £50 on my travel insurance to enable me to do so. Oh well.

Still, I was here now so I might as well enjoy it. The same young lady assisted me in finding accommodation at the Gite Skioura, some 2km out of town. It was a bit of a uphill trudge along the road, but was amply rewarded by the smiling welcome I received from Gaelle, the proprietor, who quickly settled me in.

A group of French walkers comprising five women and a man had also arrived at the gite on the same day for a week's walking break. They were members of the French equivalent to our Ramblers, and had come prepared with computer generated maps with their planned walking routes already printed on them. Since I was the only other person staying at the gite that night, they kindly invited me to aperitifs, then gave me a central position on their table for supper. With the use of a bit of Franglais we managed to make each other understood well enough.

The following day I decided to take a daywalk into the mountains in the direction the French/Spanish border. I didn't need to take my large rucksack and instead just packed the essentials into the small one. My route was part of the GR10 and it initially involved climbing from Luchon, at 630m, to a ski resort called Superbagneres which sits above Luchon at about 1,800m. It can be accessed by car or reached by gondola from Luchon, but the gondola was not operating during the week. Since I didn't have to carry my usual rucksack weight, it only took me about two and quarter hours to walk up.

From there I continued south until the time got to 2.30pm, my turn-around time if I was going to get back to the gite in time for supper. I had reached a col at 2295m just below Coume de Bourg. The interesting thing was that I had seen almost no snow. Moreover, people coming along the track from higher up said they had seen very little too. Perhaps the information I had been given about snow conditions was inaccurate? The weather forecast certainly had been because, other than a little fog at higher altitudes, it had been a clear rain-free day.

The following day, Wednesday, I decided to stay on in Luchon and investigate further what the snow was like near the border. This time I caught a minibus from Luchon to Hospice de France, and walked south from there, heading for Port de Venasque which is the crossing point into Spain on the border ridge at 2,444m. Just ahead of me I saw Barcelona girl Viqui who had arrived at the gite the previous evening. We climbed together, initially in good weather, and had to cross a couple of streams and a small snowfield. As we got higher, visibility was reduced by cloud and it became quite cold. We were quite pleased when we reached the Refuge de Venasque at 2,250m as it had started to rain by then.

We were only 196m in altitude below the border ridge but the weather began to look so grim outside that we chose to wait and see if conditions might get better. After over an hour of getting very cold waiting, we could see that the weather was not going to improve soon so we put on all our waterproof clothing and headed down again. It was the right decision because, although it would certainly have been possible to proceed, it would not have been much fun.

There was an auberge at Hospice de France and Viqui was staying there for the night. I, on the other hand, had to wait until 6.00pm for the minibus to take me back to Luchon, although the driver did drop me right outside the gite. A warm shower had never felt so welcome. Nor did the daily aperitif with the French walkers, which I was becoming quite accustomed to.

However, in spite of the attractions of staying, I thought it was time to move on. After supper I disappeared to my dorm to study the maps. Where will I to go next? I'm not sure myself yet, but will certainly have made up my mind by tomorrow.