RUI DEL PORT TO EL SERRAT

ESTANY DE CERTESCAN WITH BORDER MOUNTAINS BEHIND

MARTIN AND HUGE SLOPPY HAIRY DOG

TYPICAL CAIRN

THE UNMANNED REFUGI DE BAIAU

SNOW STILL ON COLL DELS ESTANYS FORCATS

ESTANYS FORCATS

FRANCESC AND HIS FRIENDS FED ME AT REFUGI DE LES FONT

JUST TO PROVE IT'S REALLY ME

MY HOTEL IN SERRAT

SCULPTURE ON THE 'RUTA DEL FERRO'

I hadn't had a particularly good sleep in my rather basic cabana, partly because of the horse and cattle bells that clanged most of the night. Also, the sleeping platform was narrow and far from level, and when I turned over in the middle of the night I fell off.

Anyway, I was up early. Sunday is meant to be a day of rest, but this wasn't going to be the case for me on the 16th of September. The first couple of kilometres down to Noarre were easy enough, but then I had 1,000m of climbing to do. I did the usual and just went into 'plod' mode. Initially it was a walk though a forest, but then it opened out into grassy slopes. After a bit of scrambling I eventually reached the Estany Blau de Guerosso, where I stopped for a break and to admire the beautiful vistas. I then had to tackle the crux of the walk which was to cross the 2,605m Coll de Certescan. To the east of the Col, is the huge Lac de Certescan, the largest in the area. On its steep northern side is a wall of imposing mountain peaks that define the border with France. I descended towards the lake and walked above it's southern shore to reach the Refugi de Certescan. A huge shaggy dog met me by the door. It was only mid-afternoon but the temptation of a cooked meal and the opportunity to have a shower and wash my clothes made the decision for me.

A couple of hours after I arrived, Martin, my helper from the previous evening, turned up. He was out mountain biking today, and had included the Refugi on his route. We shared a drink as we pored over the map. Martin was German but lives in Barcelona. I took a photo of him with his bike and the shaggy dog as he left, and considered how lucky he was to have the Pyrenees so close to his home.

I was the only hiker staying in the Refugi, although two young girls were sleeping in a tent outside. Also, I was the only guest having an evening meal, and substantial it was, as was the breakfast next morning. Indeed, in my enthusiasm to get some calories on board, I suspect I overate. 

During my walk to the next destination, the Refugi de Vall Ferrera, my stomach was definitely not right. I had refilled my bottles with water from Certescan, which was supposed to be OK, but treated it with Chlorine anyway as a precaution. On a positive note, my legs coped with the 1,200m of climbing required on the day without complaint. I suspected that the fatigue I had often felt was due to salt deficiency, so I had put lots on my food the previous evening. It seemed to do the trick.

The weather was perfect for walking, and the rain that several people predicted for the afternoon never materialised. As usual, the views were stunning throughout the walk, but the highlight of the day was definitely crossing the Coll de Sellente (2,438m), where I stopped for a break. I could see the the Baborte Lake and the unmanned Refugi de Baborte, an orange painted 'prefab', below me, but I wasn't going to stop there.

I reached the Refugi de Vall Ferrera after nine hours of walking, and was pleased to find that they had hot showers. I ordered just a small supper (soup, salad and yogurt) in the hope that my ailing stomach would settle down.

By morning my tummy was back to normal again. It was a pleasant walk from the Refugi to Pla de Boet, and then the climbing started as I worked my way up the Baiau Valley. There was an unmanned Refugi at the top of the valley, high up on a rocky outcrop so I could see it from a distance, but it seemed to take ages to get there. When I did, I stopped inside for a mid-morning break.

It was now time to enter Andorra and say farewell to Spain for the last time on this hike. The guidebook route would take me into Andorra via the Port de Baiau and lead me to the Refugi de Coma Pedrosa. However, I had no intention of staying there, so I studied the map and established that if I crossed into Andorra via the Collader dels Estanys Forcats then I would save myself a couple of hours and a lot of unnecessary climbing. It wasn't an easy route, but I did relish the navigational challenge.

I rejoined the 'official' route just north of Arinsal (where I got mobile contact for the first time since Salardu), and headed south-east until about 4.00pm when it started to rain. The unmanned Refugi de les Font was nearby, so I though it might be a good place to stop for the night. Imagine my surprise when I found a thick-set bearded man, who reminded me of Grizzly Adams (you would have to be around in the 1970's to remember the TV series) apparently living there. The Refugi was furnished with all the necessities of home and there was a roaring fire in the hearth. He spoke Catalan, but from what I could gather the Refugi was used by him and his friends as a shooting lodge. His name was Francesc and he welcomed me to stay.

Later, his friends turned up: Joseph, Tony and, much later, David (who also went by the nickname Lucky Luke). Joseph confirmed that the Refugi is for public use, but that they come to stay here for the one week each year when the Andorran Government permits the hunting of isard, once an endangered species but now growing in population.

Francesc was the 'chef' of the group, and he cooked a large pasta dish which I was invited to share - I must have been looking undernourished as I was given the largest portion, for which I was later commended for finishing. Along with peaches, chocolate, beer and, later, generous amounts of Famous Grouse whisky, I was more than ready for sleep by the end of the evening.

I was up early in the morning and said my farewells while two of the friends were still in their sleeping bags. It was a glorious day and I took the most direct route up to the Pic del Clot de Cavall (2,587m). It only took me and hour to reach the summit of this rounded, mainly grass-covered, mountain.

Getting down to the Angonella lakes on its scree-covered northern side was a slower process, and the walk down the Angonella valley to Llorts seemed endless. Indeed, the descent through the valley was on difficult, rocky, paths and largely through woods (so no views). I counted it as the most boring and frustrating couple of hours I had spent on the route so far, so I was surprised to meet quite a number of daywalkers going up it.

Llorts was a pretty village, but the bar I had heard about was closed on Wednesdays. Frustrated, I walked parallel to the road to El Serrat. It was time for another rest day, so I booked myself into the Hotel El Pradet for two nights. There are no shops in El Serrat so I would have to eat in the hotel restaurant, but they gave me a very good inclusive rate.

I made full use of the en-suite facilities to do all my washing and, during my 'day off', l wandered back towards Llorts to walk a footpath named the 'Ruta del Ferro', named after the local iron mines which generated wealth for the area in the 17th to 19th centuries. Evidence of the iron-rich geology was clear from the rust coloured soil and the staining of the rock. Further on, the footpath was lined with sculptures, iron being the theme of many of them. I eventually reached the small village of Arans, where I stopped at a restaurant to enjoy a lazy lunch and a couple of cold beers in the warm afternoon sun. This is the life!

Unless it's pouring with rain in the morning, I'm back on the trail tomorrow.