SECOND EPISODE

SOLORUN OVER THE PEAKS OF THE PYRENEES 
SIXTEEN DAYS, 650 KM AND 36000 M ASCENT

Hello dear readers,

Welcome for the second episode covering my running voyage through the Pyrenees. That first week through the Catalonian mountains had been extremely hot. At that stage I felt slightly disappointed about my progression. The extra miles I did taking the wrong route, the storm, dog bite and heat had forced me to take it easy and instead of running 50 kilometers a day, I was at an average distance of 35 kilometers a day. Despite these feelings I was still hopeful to complete this voyage, knowing that the last part of 200 kilometers, the descend would be more important than the climbing as I would approach the ocean. So far I had past through marvelous landscapes, and felt very lucky to be out there. I arrived at the gate of Andorra and was ready to attack the high altitudes.

A MEAL FOR GIANTS

In the first episode I arrived in Puigcerda, dehydrated and exhausted after a long run in the unrelenting sun. I had a couple of refreshing drinks on a terrace. Temperature was once again +40°C. I went to the upper part of town, where I had hoped to buy some supplies, but all the stores seemed to be closed. 

I had lost track of the days and was forgotten it was sunday. So I moved on, hoping to get to the refugi de Malniu before the night. A climb of 1200m total ascent over 15 kilometers. The heat was unbearable. After 6 kilometers I arrived in a small town, where I took some rest and ate a sandwich at the local and only bar in this bled. After refilling my camelback at the source, I moved on. My feet where killing me again, because of the heat. The part on the road earlier that day from France to Spain, had only made things worse. Never the less, once on top, I ran with great pleasure through the meadows and bushes. I arrived just before half past eight at the refugi, where I found myself a hot shower, a bed all by myself in the dormitory and a meal for giants, which was more than welcome to me. Two trailrunners who were doing a three days training in the surroundings, could hardly believe I was running this whole distance, especially with minimal shoes, no socks and a small backpack. I feel a sense of pity for them as I notice their backpacks are loaded heavier than me.

A COSTLY MISTAKE

After a good night sleep and a full breakfast I leave this welcoming place at 6:30 in the morning, heading for Andorra. The sun was just coming up and a mystical brume floated over the lake. The nature was splendid and I ran fast and light, having good sensations. I tried not to focus on my feet who showed several wounds and blisters. Halfway the first part of my planned run that day, I stopped by a gorgeous mountain stream, where I washed my feet in the ice cold water. I took a while contemplating the immense beauty of this area. The stream, wild flowers, trees and surrounding mountains worth a postcard enchanted me. As I left this place filled with energy, I got surprised as I noticed the markings in red and white from the GR went up north. Thinking it made a loop to take me around the mountain, I followed them up the river. It took me through a marshy valley full of horses, leading me to a circular theater which I had to climb. Up there at 2600 meters, I started to doubt about my position. The sun should have been behind me, but for the last hour I was heading north as I had the sun on my right. The descend seemed to take me even more up north east, but as the GR signs where all over, I clearly wasn't lost. I ran downhill, through another astonishing valley, finding great pleasure in my progression, expeditiously playing with the terrain. Then suddenly I saw a small snake, about half a meter, just where my feet was about to land. I could just avoid her and felt a surge of adrenaline passing through.

As I reached some houses, I immediately got the confirmation that I had been moving in the wrong direction. The cars had french number plates. I was in France. The only hotel in town was closed, but as the owner saw me, he came outside and asked me if he could help. A quick look on his map showed me the magnitude of my mistake. The GR11 was crossed by the GR107 and at that crossroad, I had switched on the last one. I was about 65 kilometers away from my goal which was the town of Encamp in Andorra. Anger, frustration and despair got a hold of me for a while. It was 3 in the afternoon and I had been running with great pleasure. But my enthusiasm melted like an ice cream in a bakers oven. For a while I studied the map, looking for alternatives. Moving on was all I could do. A phone call with the home front gave me some new courage.

ANDORRA LA VELHA, THE BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

It was nighttime as I reached Encamp. There is a camping site in the middle of this town, where I quickly set up my tent. I was exhausted and wished nothing else but sleep. But I needed food and I smelt terrible. After a quick shower I went in to town and was lucky to find a small Portuguese restaurant where I washed away the deception of today with a good pint and a good meal. Once back in my tent, I fell a sleep like a rock. 

The following morning I felt broken. Nothing but normal, if you run about a marathon a day with 3000 meters ascent. I took some time to get warm, do some stretching and had a coffee at the terrace in the city park. Then I bought some basic supplies in the supermarket and in a drugstore I bought all the necessary to take care of my feet, which I immediately did as I found a source in the old part of town. Dark clouds appeared in the sky and some far away thunder was audible. Weather for expeditions warned me to keep safe in the evening. The climb I engaged, was the roughest, steepest and most technical one I had met at this point. But once I got over the first pass, it went very well. 

I moved with a good pace in the descent, as suddenly a big dog (the beast) ran beside me. He moved on and seconds later an athletic young woman (the beauty), running in minimal outfit passed me by. As the descent continued a hundred meters further on single track, I caught up with her and we started running together. She was fast and technically skilled and clearly enjoying this sudden encounter with an unknown training partner. Nothing to do with 'ego' or 'macho' intentions, I was simply stimulated by this girl running like a runners hare before me. Speeding up, I followed here all the way downwards to Ordino, where she took another turn, smiled and waved me friendly goodbye as she understood I was running on the GR11 route. I had been running over 5 kilometers at a very high pace. Her training was over, but for me another climb was to engage and the sky turned more and more unfriendly. I decided to take an early stop in Arrans due to the fatigue after my mistake the day before and the risk of finding myself high and isolated in the mountains in severe weather conditions. A good decision it appeared, as that evening and night thunderstorms didn't stop a minute. The following morning, I had to search my shoes, who were blown away several meters by the severe winds that night.

POURING RAIN AND SNOWFIELDS, THROUGH A GRANDIOSE PIECE OF NATURE

I left Arrans, in the pouring rain. Climbing pretty fast over the slippery mountain trails, towards Col de las Cases. Downhill is real pleasure, despite the rain. I arrived after an hour and a half in Arinsal, where the sun appeared just in time to keep me warm as I stopped for a coffee and a sandwich. Every town and village I have crossed in Andorra made me feel like I was in Switzerland, where I have lived for 5 years. Not that I found similarities in the mountains or style of houses, but everything is neat in this country. A sharp contrast with the impassable mountains. The climb from Arinsal goes towards Portella de Baiau. Tough, but extraordinary beautiful. I pass the refugi de Coma Pedrosa, named after the Pic that dominates with his 2945m. Some Izards cross my path as I climb up. Black clouds cling to the ridge. I feared that once over it, I would find myself in heavy rain and cold. I felt in great shape, no fatigue at all and heard some admiring expressions from two hikers I passed running in the ascent, which gave me an extra boost of energy. I reached the Estany Negre, a half frozen lake, and no other way to pass along it but to cross a long snowfield. A dangerous passing, because if you slip, there is no way to avoid ending up in the ice cold water. If that would happen I realized I would never be able to get out of it, as the sides of the lake are frozen. I decide to wait for the hikers, before engaging this pass. If something happens, they could help me out. As soon as I saw them I start the crossing, ensuring myself every step is well secured, before I set another one. The snow was of poor quality, icy and very wet, witch made it pretty uncomfortable. Once over it, I looked back and saw how the hikers had put on crampons, helmets. Icepick in hand and bound together by rope they moved slowly over the snowfield. They must have thought I was crazy. Maybe I was, a little. More snowfields were to come, but they were less dangerous, and my God so beautiful. The Baiau lakes in brilliant tones of blue surrounded by ice and snow. I felt really thankful to be up there. The Portella de Baiau, is a small natural pass into Spain again. As I reached it I was confirmed that the weather conditions over the ridge were severe. The wind blew right through. A perpendicular descend through loose rock lied ahead of me. It took all my concentration, because a fall here could be fatal. I thought about my children and wife back home, inflating myself courage to go through this. Hail fell down in intervals and every foot I placed slipped a meter down. I reached a field of bigger rocks, less steep, where I had to jump from one rock to another. The rain and mist made it difficult to find my way, but after some searching I reached the refugi the Baiau, soaking wet and in a state of hypothermia.

The refuge, a small metal structure on stilts, was completely taken by a group of Spanish climbers, who looked at me with this mixture of admiration and concern. I ate some bread with chocolate and slowly warmed up. But as I felt the fatigue coming up, I decided not to stop for to long and move on towards Areu. A descend over 15 kilometers. As I stand up to go outside, a girl tried to stop me, saying I can not possibly reach Areu before the night in this weather. I assured her I could and stepped into the storm. The first seven kilometers where quite technical, but from then I ran fast through single tracks in forests. As I arrived at the charming village it was seven-thirthy. The shop selling local cheese and bread was still open. I found a bed and a warm shower in a rural house, safe from the lightning and thunder that night. I fell a sleep, dreaming of the turquoise blue icy lakes. What a day. Very wet, slightly dangerous, exciting and cold, but so damn beautiful.

SHEPHERDS, RUINES AND NINA SIMONE

I left by sunrise. The cold was quickly forgotten as I climbed up a 1000 meters towards Col de Tudela. On top I met a group of shepherds, with a giant herd of sheep. They greet me friendly as I find my way between the animals. Their Pyrenean sheepdogs follow me playful for a while. After a short steep descend I arrived on a larger pista, where I ran with high speed to the picturesque village of Boldis Sobirà. The views over the valley were phenomenal. From there I continued on a single track covered by grasses and flowers, visited by hundreds of colorful butterflies. My feet got soaking wet in the grass and as it didn't allow me to see where I put my feet, I suddenly slipped and fell down the steep slope for about 5 meters. The glass of my cellphone broke, but he still worked. My enthusiasm was shattered for a while after this fall, but I recovered with a good soup and sandwich in Tavascan. A big german shepherd crossed the road and joined me. Clearly more interested in my sandwich, I shared some of it with him. As I continued my path, the sky was covered by clouds, it was cold and it soon started to rain. I engaged a long but easy climb where most of the time I managed to run. Only the last part was hard to get through the deep gullies of erosion that leaded vertically towards the Col de Jou. The sun came back and soon I suffered from the heat. But the descend was pure pleasure. Running fast on the single track towards the river. Besides the river a beautiful ruin surrounded by these majestic mountains made me once more dream about living such a place, close to nature. In the shadow of the trees I ran fast towards Estaon. In the middle of the small village, there is a new refuge in a house run by a lovely young lady. Some hikers were eating outside. I refreshed myself inside and got in trance by the sound of Nina Simone as I sipped a coke. Normally I would have ended the day there, but as I had been running this good that day, there was plenty of time and energy from the music left to continue. A 6 hours stage which I hoped to run in less than 3 hours... How that ends and continues, you can read in the next episode.

See you soon...