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...

FIRST EPISODE 

SOLO RUN OVER THE PEAKS OF THE PYRENEES SIXTEEN DAYS, 650 KM AND 36000 ASCENT

Dear readers, 

It's time to share one of the greatest adventures I've ever lived. A journey alone, on my two feet, running as fast as I can from Cap de Creus  at the mediterranean over the Pyrenean mountain range towards Cabo Higuer an the Atlantic Ocean.

EXITING AND VERY HOT DEPARTURE

I started off from Cadaques after a refreshing soda on a terrace by the Mediterranean Sea. Wishing the statue of Salvador Dali all the best, I ran along the coastline towards Cap de Creus. About 14km in extremely hot conditions. My plan was to sleep in my tent somewhere near the cape and set of by dawn the following morning for the real take off. After a refreshing bath in a small bay, I felt reborn and decided to take some advance, running up to Port de la Selva. The terrain was fairly rough and not many people go hiking in this area. I met no one, except a black goat, looking down on me from a ruined wall of what seems to have been a chapel once. Darkness fell and I was glad to see the lights of the town in the large bay. I planted my tent in a camping, where the cook was friendly enough to reopen his kitchen and prepare me an excellent fish dish.

The next day I set of by dawn deciding to stay near the sea up to Lanca. Somehow I wanted to enjoy the sea as long as I could. Mixed feelings of real excitement about the long run through the mountains and some apprehension about the pains that would be part of it kept me from a quick start. Before engaging landward, I went into town for basic supplies. Sandwiches, a can off sardines, tomatoes, Iberico ham and water. I got slightly frustrated as I had to search for the GR track for over an hour. No one I asked seemed to have any idea where 'la senda' is located. Finally I found my way and took off for a climb, which was nothing compared to what was to come in the higher mountains, but the sun was literally melting me.

Another property off this region is that all plants are prickly. My legs got scratched all over, here and there deep enough to create bloody lines on the surface of my skin. The heat was going to have a price. In the afternoon I reached Sant Quirze de Colera and threatening clouds appeared in the sky. The church and abbey are in full renovation and not a visitor around. The refuge was closed and some hostile dogs were not really reassuring to plant my tent on the terrace. The multiple 'no camping' signs contributed to my decision to continue running. I wasn't very far from the top and 'Weather for expeditions' warned me to stay in the valleys in nasty weather, especially electrical storms. So I climbed over the summit, found a well hidden fountain downhill to fill my reserves of water and ran down searching a place to camp that seemed secure.

FEAREST STORM I'VE EVER LIVED

I found a dry riverbed, covered by cork oaks surrounded by open fields in the valley. As I set up my tent the first raindrops started to fall. At 1a.m. a terrible thunder stroke waked me up. This was the beginning of  the longest night I've ever known. I must have been in the eye of the storm. Lightning smashed around me. Counting didn't last more than three counts and the rain was so heavy that my North Face tent started to leak, leaving me but a small space of dry underground where I could sit. I felt stupid. My mobile phone was out of reach. If the tree above me got hit I might get stuck, injured or worse. Fear and cold got a hold of me. The whole night I sat up, by moments paralyzed by a stroke only meters away from me. Asking myself if I should leave my tent or stay. Both options could be suicide.

By 6 a.m. it calmed down and the rain made place for severe winds that made it a difficult operation to fold my tent. A tree, just 30 meters further up, was split in half. I ran away from this place as quickly as I could, nose in the wind and gradually calmed down.

THE FOX, DOLMEN, CASTLE OF REQUESENS AND BURNED DOWN WOODS

Somehow my sleepless night had awaken me twice. I realized more than ever that if I want to make it safely throughout this expedition, I must listen to the signs of nature. Anticipate better and find real shelter in case of stormy weather. Every year people die in the mountains, often because they let them be surprised by storms. Whenever Marc or Fritz from 'Weather for expeditions' warn me, I'll adapt. Time is not the first priority, safety is. I also felt extremely vivid and alive that morning. A fox ran just in front of me on a single track, from time to time hiding in the bushes to pop up again seconds later. I passed along many dolmen, and the formations of natural rocks on top of the hills appeared like artistic sculptures. But I was tired and many times I missed a red-white sign of the GR11, making extra miles to get back on track. I ate a plate of local specialties of dried meat and bread spread with tomato, garlic and olive oil at a bar near the castle of Requesens. The medieval fortress dominates the surroundings. Two dutch couples arrived and found great interest in my plan on running all the way to the atlantic ocean. As they obtained the key to the castle, they invited me to join them for an exclusive visit. But I thanked them for the offer and set of towards La Jonquiera. The climb on pista was very nice and I climbed over the top instead of following the path that went around it. Beyond me a death wood of charcoaled trees was to cross. As the rigid branches were unavoidable, I got covered in black stripes. I was to tired to continue after the blank night and decided to sleep in a bed in the border town of La Jonquiera. The lady at the counter of the motel seemed to hesitated if she would give me a room or not. Once I saw my face in the mirror, covered in sweat and black charcoal stripes, I understood her doubts.

VOLCANIC GAROTXA

The following days took me through Garotxa, a landscape of green covered mountains in deciduous trees, here and there crowned by majestic blocks of volcanic rock. It was extremely warm. Sometimes I ran in temperatures above 40 °C, which was slowing me down considerable. I enjoyed the effort, feeling privileged being out there. I keep good memories of a small restaurant run by Luigi in Vajol, the refreshing swim in the river and the fresh water from the fountain in Sant Aniol de Ajuda, beautiful ruins where the experience of loneliness is sharper than ever,  the night amongst the cows in my tent at Taixala, the beautiful town of Cabanys where I bought a nice and useful pocket knife. On the way to Beget more ruins, that made me dream of living here. Beget with his roman church and river running through the small and peaceful medieval streets forced this feeling. I took a long stop there over noon to recover, on the terrace of a small restaurant, where a beautiful young woman served me pan con tomate and Jamon Ibérico.

But I also mistook myself several times of route. Trying to take a cut of I found myself surrounded by bees, who clearly liked my perfume of sweat. As I looked up, I found myself in the middle of about 20 hives. I stepped back slowly and little by little they abandoned my skin for real flowers. Just a shiver, not a sting. After a refreshing coke and a sandwich at Can Nou, I took a wrong direction and had to run 3 hours to get back on track. I kind off climbed over the Bassegoda instead of surrounding him. At this point I didn't mourn about mistakes. Better keep my energy for the road, than to loose it in useless frustration and anger, which doesn't solve the problem. After tree days I arrived in Mollo. Due to the heat these first days have not been as fast as I had hoped. It's simply crazy to run fully exposed in the sun in temperatures above 40 degrees. My feet also suffered, due to the transpiration, there is more friction inside my minimal shoes and blisters and some wounds appeared. I've decided to have an early stop in Mollo, to take a good rest and take care of my feet.

THE BULL AND THE VULTURES

A day full of adrenaline. From Mollo I climbed up. At a certain point I passed a fence, still thinking I was in the right direction. On top I suddenly found myself eye to eye with a massive bull, who immediately roared and took an aggressive posture. Instinctively I took a step backwards and he charged towards me. The fence was about 30meters on my left and I literally ran for my life, the bull coming less then a meter behind me. I threw my backpack over the fence to lose weight and jumped just in time over it. The beast stopped roaring and heavily breathing, running up and down the hill along the fence. I lost a water bottle in my escape, but decided he could keep it as a trophy. My legs were shaking. As I moved upwards the mountain, I realized I should never have crossed the fence at all. The path markings were back on the side I was on. The farmers who placed the electric fence just didn't pay attention and crossed the marks as they made a loop.

As I slowly became of the passed emotion, I suddenly spotted a group of big oval masses in a field about 50 meters on my left. A better look, confirmed my first thought. A whole colony of vultures was spread out over the field and the treetops. From time to time they flew up to strike down on a pine tree, others circled around in the warm air. A great spectacle which drove away the remains of the past emotion with the 'torro'.

Down the hill I past the skeleton of a horse. The tale and some skin still on it. The poor animal must have fallen on this difficult terrain and was left to die. This was a strange day. A superstitious person would certainly see nothing but signs of dead in all this. To me, after a few days completely by myself in these vast mountain range, it's part of life. The first days I coped with anxiety, as evening fell and I found myself in the middle of nowhere. But very quickly this went over. You get used to the noises in the forests and higher plains. Being alone no longer means lonely, but peace.

OVER THE PEAKS TOWARDS NURIA

In Setcases I took some forces before engaging a huge climb up to Refuge d'Ulldeter. Warm, again, but the climbing goes extremely well. I arrived at the refuge much faster then I expected and took some time to eat an rehydrate. An Italian couple asks me what brings me there. They look at me with a mixture of admiration, unbelief and concern. I passed a nice moment talking to these romans, who were wandering from Andorra to Cadaques in three weeks, taking all the time they can. Kind of the opposite of what I am doing, but not less attractive. What follows was my first real experience of high altitude on this trip. I ran over the same peaks I did a year ago, during the Ultra Trail d'Emmona. The high valley that took me there was full of wildlife. Izards, marmots allover the field and circling raptors in the sky. I also passed half wild horses and of course cows. The climb went extremely well. At 2900 meters, I could start running along the ridge on the edge of the peaks. Freedom ! It felt like flying. Moving like a wild animal in a mineral world, dotted by snowfields and ice cold lakes, right and left of me the deep and eagles flying at less than 50 meters beside me. This is as close you can get to heaven.

Downwards to Nuria, more wild animals and cows crossed my path. I arrived just before the rain and the first thunderstorm of that night. After a few days in my tent, I decided to go for a room in the luxury hotel of Nuria, besides the church. A warm bath, a good washing of my clothes and shoes, taking care of my feet, a richly filled buffet and a good night sleep, made me feel reborn in the morning. Heavy rains and thunder delayed my departure. Fortunately it went over quickly and I found myself running with new energy once again through a landscape of rocks and pastures of unimaginable beauty.

DOGS THAT BITE AND A FRIGHTFUL CLIMB

My feet slowed me down, but from time to time, your body seems to forget the pain. Over Planoles towards Puigcerda, I arrived in very small mountain village where I got instantly attacked by a bunch of dogs, about ten I guess. A local peasant woman called them back just in time. As I took water by the fountain and started running again, the dogs chased me again. I stopped, but one of them bit me in the lower leg. I kicked him and they took of. The wound was pretty deep, making a question marked shape from his canine. I immediately washed it out in the fountain and disinfected it, but the following days it would continue bleeding, as the sweat doesn't allow the wound to get a crust. Ever since I was a kid I've adored dogs, and this is the first time I ever got bitten. In Portugal I've often been chased by dogs, as in small mountain villages they wander around in freedom, but usually as you stop and turn towards them, they withdraw. This dog seemed so angry, that I had some worries about rabies. But as I still don't bark as I'm writing this down, I guess he was okay.

Later that day I saw three hikers starting to climb towards a pass where no path lies at all. A glimpse in the GR11 guide, tolled me there is a place where no markings are made and you have to climb up. But in my opinion it was to early. After quit some hesitation, meanwhile eating a energy bar, I engage the climb as well. I realized climbing up, this wasn't the right way, but decided to go straight up and see up there how to move further on. Very steep climbing, which demanded all my attention not to fall, got me safely on top. The hikers had abandoned and went down again east of me. I had no idea were I was, but decided to go for a run on compass. This delivered me a great experience, going straight through and over everything from rock formations to grassy fields and woods. After about ten kilometers of up and down running above 2000 meters I met a group of french mushroom pickers. Puigcerda was still a long way to go, as I found myself in France. First I arrived in a town called Osséja. The contrast with the vivid atmosphere in Spain was confronting. Except the two bars around the church the town seemed abandoned. I quickly ran through it and had to run about 7 kilometers on the road towards Puigcerda. The heat was unbearable. I arrived completely dehydrated and ordered a big cervessa and a bottle of sparkling water at the first bar I found. 

See you very soon for the next episode...