GR20 – Day 8. To refuge de l'Onda

Hey all,

Absolutely lovely day. Was the first time there was a choice between a high route and a low route – I chose the low route – it was, in this one instance, the hardest and the longest. The high route was high because it basically stayed at the altitude of the last refuge, went along a ridge, then down a bit to the next refuge. The low route was a steep descent this morning, then a long section along a river in a forest, then another climb out of the valley to the refuge. The high route sounded pretty straight forward – the guide book said that it involved “striding” along the ridge, except for a couple of sections where some “scrambling” was involved. If it was true to form, then by “scrambling” what the guide book meant was me clinging to some sheer cliff with a rictus of terror on my face. Anyway, I really wanted the river and the forest. Wise choice. Was just beautiful – I found a rock-pool waterfall combination of crystal clear water, jumped into it from a rock – a very brief swim because it was so cold I actually shouted underwater – then clambered out, made myself a coffee and had a cigar. Had it to myself the whole time. There were actually butterflies fluttering around in front of me – all that was missing was some neo-classical music and a voice-over advertising some high-end vodka. Then found one of the little places (they have a name but I have forgotten the spelling) where they sell supplies (bread, cheese, sausage) and bought myself some bread and a little wheel of cheese. Getting into the swing of it now – body is coping, know I've got enough food for the next day or two – the cheese/sausage/bread combination is what these mountain people survived on for ever – it works well. Only sour point to the day is the current refuge, which is a bit of a dive – camping in a cattle yard – glad I am in the hammock swinging above it, not in it. Camping anywhere but the refuges is illegal – this is basically financial, which is fair enough – it is not a wealthy region. But really – if I come here again – and that is not out of the question as now that I am up to it I am loving it – I will not camp here – will stock up on water at the last spring and sneak into the forest instead. Don't mind paying five Euro for camping the night, but not here. At one point some rude cranky (I saw him move someone else's tent as they were setting it up because it was too close to his, the animal) middle-aged walker was using the spring to have a shower in. There is a shower block, but instead he stood underneath where everyone fills up their bottles – and I am not exaggerating this at all – started washing out his speedo clad ASS CRACK. But apart from that, a lovely day. There are a bunch of British soldiers here doing adventure training, looking pretty horrified – they are coming from the other direction. One of them was asking, “Is it possible to die from this? It is so hard.” I took great delight in letting them know they had just done the easy bit. The tough stuff is still to come.

BTW – I met this dreadlocked English hippy a couple of days ago. When it got around to names, and I said mine, he said, “Oh! So you're B...” Just in case any more confirmation of my status as the famous idiot with all the gear was needed.

Photos: 1. While making coffee this morning. Aforementioned English hippy is sitting on the rock. 2. Looks like a good spot. 3. See that stick across a deep part of the river, in between the two trees? 4. There it is again, bottom right corner. I jumped in from about where this shot was taken. 5. Blisters, pain, fear, astonishing exertion notwithstanding, I did stop and think to myself right about now, “I wonder what the poor people are doing?” 6. Another shot of basically the same view, just because it is so nice. 7. Lunch – bread, cheese, sausage.

Cheers, B.