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My Miraculous Wife - Hiking in the Pyrenees

5/23/2014

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One of the things we really missed during the years that Karen was injured was hiking in the Pyrenees.  For those of you who read my previous post of My Miraculous Wife, you know the joy we experienced when Karen crossed the finish line at the Big Sur Marathon 21-mile walk.  Now that we're in France,  I'll do a few travel blogs chronicling our experiences here. 

We've been walking daily on the spectacular Sentier Littoral (coastal trail) - I'll do a blog on that soon - and have been doing a few hikes in the mountains.  Last weekend we joined Karen's friend Martine and a group of local hikers for a climb up the Iramendy peak southeast of the village of Saint Jean Pied de Port.  Martine is a local personal trainer who Karen met when she was just beginning her hip rehabilitation.  Martine was a great help and she's since become a close friend.  She's even taken up disc golf here in the Pays Basque. 

We met up with Martine and the rest of the hiking group in Bayonne where the Adour and Nive Rivers meet just before entering the Atlantic in Anglet (a few hundred yards from the formerly great La Barre surf break).   The hiking group meets once a month and tackles a challenging peak somewhere in the nearby Pyrenees.  According to Alain, a well-tanned man in his mid-sixties, who does strenuous hikes 3 times a week and leader of the group, there were usually 6-8 people for these monthly Sunday excursions.  Today we were 14.  We caravanned to the parking area passing through Saint Jean Pied de Port about 45 minutes inland.   

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As some of you may recall, Saint Jean Pied de Port is the starting point for the  Way of Saint James, the pilgrimage described in the film, The Way.  It's a picturesque village with restaurants bordering the Nive River.  There's a Citadel which dominates the village providing spectacular views of the surrounding Pyrenees and of the Nive River valley.  Not that long ago, the Citadel served as a lookout to help protect the town from Spanish invaders.  Control of this area changed hands countless times over the centuries.

Reaching Saint Jean Pied de Port, we stopped at the restrooms in the parking area for the pilgrims, then continued up the small road bordering the Nive for several miles.  We parked on the side of the river not far from the tiny villlage of Esterençuby, loaded up our packs, and started up the mountain. The beginning of the trail is not marked and we made our way past an abandoned farmhouse up a steep trail.  For the next hour and a half, we continued climbing among the beech trees (hêtres in French).  

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We emerged into a clearing and encountered a rough dirt road with two rustic structures.  According to Alain, this was a Bergerie - a way station in the mountains where sheep were managed.  It was inaccessible in the winter and  the cabin-like stone building was occupied from time to time by the shepherds.  The other structure was also constructed of stone (hand built), and served as a covered shelter for the sheep.  He called for a 15 minute break.

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Alain indicated that we were now about halfway to the peak.  We should have taken some shots from this vantage point because the peak looked pretty intimidating.  I haven't mentioned Karen.  While Alain made it clear that he had to lead (even when the trail was clear), Karen and her friend Martine (in the photo on the left) were never far behind.  At the half-way point of the climb, Karen wasn't even tired.

After the break, we turned onto the rough dirt road.  A mile or so later, we saw a trail to the source of the Nive River.  Apparently, this is a pretty spectacular place, though it's not the actual source.   At this 'Source' the Nive emerges from the side of the mountain in a rushing torrent.  The real source is a trickle in Spain which drops into a cave and travels several miles under ground before emerging at this 'Source' in France.  We're hoping to hike to the real source before we leave if weather permits. 

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Walking on the road was pretty tame compared to the beginning and although the peak loomed above us a few miles away, everyone picked up the pace and conversations took the place of the heavy breathing and even panting heard during the initial climb. 



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Our dirt road met up with another in a relatively flat area where horses meandered,  uncorralled.  Alain turned off the road and started up the peak without looking back, expecting everyone to follow -  no  trail, just rough hillside, rock, and occasional dried tiny streambeds.  The picture at the left is looking down just before it got steep and a bit challenging.

Everyone except Karen, Martine, and I had brought hiking sticks, but several of them were struggling with the next section and had to stop to rest and to find better, easier paths among the often loose rocks. 

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We pushed to the top only to discover that there were two peaks and this was the first.  The next was only about fifteen minutes away but it was a couple of hundred feet higher.  The leader called a short break which let the stragglers catch up, and we were rewarded with our first of many exceptional views of the valley below and the surrounding mountains.

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Minutes later we were at the top.  Martine, who is also an expert in ecology of the region as well as endangered plants and animals, described and named some of the rare plants and the huge vultures and raptors that soared upwards in the thermals racing up the peak.  I couldn't help being envious, wishing I had a hang glider.  I later learned that this peak did host a paragliding championship last year.

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Alain called for an hour lunch break.  We pulled out our sandwiches as others broke out bottles of wine, exotic salads, breads, cheeses, sausages, pâtés, and deserts.  No wonder several of them struggled up.  Their packs must have weighed a ton!

We refused the wine but shared what we had and after an hour, we made our way down.  The descent was uneventful once down the peak as we turned onto a well-maintained dirt road for a leisurely hour and a half walk back to the cars.

We dropped our packs and made our way to a deserted local bar in the small village which the 14 of us quickly took over.  Karen and I had brought an apple tart made specially for us by the bakery about a block from our apartment and we shared that with everyone.  As it turned out none of the drivers (us included) paid for their drinks.  We didn't talk much about the hike.  Conversation went to the next one scheduled for the 15th of June.  Unfortunately, we'll be back in the States then.  With luck, we'll get to join them for their hike in September. 

And, in spite of climbing over 2400 vertical feet and hiking over 9 challenging miles, Karen was fine.  I think she was almost ready to do it again.  If we hadn't scheduled a dinner with friends in Ciboure that evening, she might have wanted to see the source of the Nive.  Hopefully we'll do that very soon.

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    Steve Jackowski

    Writer, extreme sports enthusiast, serial entrepreneur, technologist.

     
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