Picked up Vera in Barcelona at the airport, and before she had a chance to realize she was jet-lagged, scooted off to the mountains. At the train station we found out that we couldnt use our passes for the first half of the journey, because all the rail pass seats were booked. This worked out just fine because Vera was able to not use her train pass the whole time and she can get a refund. So we embarked on the day-long journey to Lourdes. At the train station in Toulouse, we saw people making the pilgrimage to Lourdes - we didnt realize it at first, since the women wear habits very similar to the uniform of a WWII nurse. I honestly thought there might be some kind of re-enactment going on, and then i kept seeing more of them, plus the discussion of the healing waters in Lourdes reappeared.
See Vera's pictures from our trip, here.
We agreed to meet Sandra and Abi in Cauterets, which is an adorable skiing town. Its quite touristy, but they serve good cafe au lait. Cauterets was a great starting place, since the scenery around that area is spectacular. No matter where you start in the Pyrenees, theres a stiff uphill climb ahead of you, though, and Cauterets - Refuge des Oulettes de Gaube was no exception. (See these photos of the hut). By the end of the first day, we were exhausted and no less than ecstatic to see the hut which served an enormous carbo-tastic meal (veggie options too!). We camped next to the hut, much to Vera's chagrin, since the designated campsite was situated in the river floodplain and right beneath a talus slope - "you'd have to be STUPID to camp in a glacial moraine valley". I was heartened by the 20 or so other campers who didnt seem to notice the impending flood or landslide, although doomsday headlines did flash before my eyes several times. Fortunately, we all emerged unscathed although this wasnt the most helpful to remedy Vera's jetlag.
Breakfast in the refuges is continental - that is, coffee or tea, bread, jam, butter, croissants if you're lucky. Cold cereal and milk was usually provided as well. So after "breakfast" (i quickly learned that i could carry a loaf of bread and some cheese and just pay for the coffee to save some money and longing for eggs and toast) we set off with our legs aching already. However, despite the hurting and the longing for more breakfast with real coffee, i was quite content since this area was as spectacular as anything i could have hoped for (Sam was RIGHT! not that i ever doubted, but). We climbed our first high mountain pass in better time than i hoped, so with some urging and a nice break we dropped our packs and headed up Petit Viginemale, a high peak close to the saddle at the pass. The weather was clear, despite a dry thunderstorm the night before (that didnt help the nervous sleeping situation). The top was crowded but absolutely great views. We could see the valley we were headed down to Gavarnie, and the Breche de Roland in the distance looking like a gap in a toothy kid's front teeth. Below us on the other side of the pass we'd just climbed was Refuge Baysellance, where we stopped to eat lunch at their tables. Both these first two refuges we encountered were new looking, clean and lush. We descended into the valley des oulettes, for our long walk into Gavarnie.
We had a good long way to go to get to tree line, and we were all acutely aware of the thunderheads building as we descended. Just about the time we scrambled over the last of the exposed rock-ledge bits (there werent many, but enough for those of us afraid of heights) the rain started. However, there wasnt thunder, so we just kept walking. There were plenty of other people on the trail. In France, it is customary to say "Bon jour" (or Bon jour! or Bon JOUR!, however you feel) to everyone you see on the trail. I loved this custom, seems very civil and nice to me. Not so nice when someone then tries to keep talking to me in French and i cant understand a dang word and i have to admit my American ignorance.
Luckily we had french-gifted people wiht us, and Abi and Sandra, surely after a lively Bon jour!, struck up a conversation with some fellow hikers. They were just out for the day, and offered to give the four of us a ride to Gavarnie from the car park. Saved from the rain! By the time we made it to the car, we were already drowned rats. All of our stuff was wet and muddy, and to make matters worse these guys who gave us a ride had a volkswagen station wagon, with leather interior. Abi told me later she thought it was a rental car, but still, i wanted to jump out from embarrassment when the bottom of the car scraped rocks several times as we zipped down the dirt road which is steep and winds into Gavarnie. Well they put up with us and hauled all of us and our wet shtuff to town, and we thanked them profusely and scampered off before they could record our details to report to the insurance company.
Accomodation under a roof, and hot food are like winning the lottery when trekking in the rain. We found this amazing gite d'etape (like a hostel-refuge that serves food) and splayed all our stuff out to dry and went to order glorious pizza and wine. On our way, we discovered that the town of Gavarnie has absolutely astoundingly beautiful views, and the cirque du Gavarnie has become one of my favorite places on the trek. The town looks south onto the cirque, and Le Grande Cascade. The cirque and the waterfall seem unreal, and i stared at them, standing on the wet ground and the scent of wet leaves and dirt surrounded me. The clouds hovered just above the ridgeline, and it seemed as though we'd been delivered to wonderland. In a volkswagon.
Next day we set out for the Refuge des Sarradets (Vera calls it the "crazy hut at the pass"). We were skeptical about the pass above the refuge, and the climb up to the hut looked dicey on the map. Reading in the book, we learned of a glacier crossing above the hut that sounded dicey - you need ropes and training for that! So we gathered all information we could, and talked to some people at the gite d'etape who had been up there the previous day, and sussed out that we could make it, that it wasnt as bad as the book said. So we set out, not without trepidation, and as we started the steep part of the day, (the second half), the clouds were already gathering over the peaks. Us Colorado girls saw this as a BAD sign, meaning, we better make it SOON or we might have to turn back because of a thunderstorm up there. This was the day that Sandra was parting with us, so we said a hurried goodbye, and made a run for it. Later, Abi told us that she never wanted to hear those words again in the context of climbing. First, "running" is quite the wrong metaphor for going full steam, while still only moving at snails pace because its so steep and your pack is so heavy. Second, if you're making a "run for it", you maybe shouldnt be there anyway, right? Well anyway, we made a last push for the top and we made it in an hour up the steepest bits and up the waterfall you have to use chains to assist climbing. The waterfall was stressful, not because it was that scary, but because it was crowded and there were all these people with kids in their little tennis shoes and there was no right of way or yielding pattern so it was sort of a free for all. Regardless, we made it and the view! The hut! When we arrived at the hut (it was only 12.30), we were exhausted. And, the weather never got terrible. It rained, but no thunder and it cleared up in the afternoon.
So we had a rest day in one of my favorite places on our trek. It was glorious. We watched the waterfall, and we read and we napped in the sun. We drank coffee and we played crazy norwegian-style gin rummy. Exquisite. We talked to people about the pass ahead, and consulted our maps. We decided that based on what we'd already done and what the maps showed, it would be fine to try for the pass the next day. The pass, the Breche de Roland, is the border between France and Spain, and the story about Spain will be continued from here.
29 Sept 2006
26 Sept 2006
Le Tour, Zagreb Interlude
Now in Zagreb, trying to learn how to say basic phrases and count to ten in Croatian. I will post about the Pyrenees trip and Barcelona soon.
Leaving Barcelona, the train was delayed, and i missed the first connection in the series of four trains that was to deliver me to Zagreb sunday morning. Trying to resolve the issue in Montpelier, the woman at the train station communicated through rough english and spanish that i would have to make a new reservation in Geneva. The scenery on the train journey through eastern France was absolutely gorgeous. Mountains and cliffs, forests and vineyards. I read Stephen Jay Gould essays and dreamed about what the next phase of my life and career might be.
Upon arrival in Geneva, i was surprised in my ignorance to learn that (obvious now that i think about it) Switzerland is not part of the EU, and they only take Swiss Francs for money. All the change offices were closed, so i managed to pay for some coffee with euros. I made a new reservation, this time leaving a bit later but a bit more direct to Zagreb, only now i was due in to Croatia in the late afternoon instead of the morning on sunday. No matter, i still had a new reservation.
As i boarded the train, i realized that the ticket agent had misunderstood me, and booked me in a sleeper car instead of a seat, a happy mistake since it meant i had a little bunk to sleep in more comfortably. Thankfully my bunk was on the bottom row (i'm still scared of sleeping on the top bunk) and as i sat back in my bed to read, i saw a flash of light outside. I looked up and there was a full display of fireworks proceeding, in perfect view, outside the train in the distance. As orange and golden balls of light exploded in streaks in the sky, i felt a great sense of peace and the conducter idled the engine such that the train slowed and i could see the show with ease. The rest of the trip to Zagreb went smoothly and without obstacle (although the border guards in Croatia adamantly questioned me about where i was going and why).
I landed into the lovely city of Zagreb, and have since been steadily eating and drinking my way through town. Sandra is such a gracious host, picking me up from the train station and patiently teaching me Croatian, listening to me stumble my way through pronunciation as i try to read the writing on the food cartons and billboards. Jessica was here for a couple of days as well, and we did a walking tour of the city which was really nice and gave good views of the city. Highlights of the eating and drinking include coffee at a street cafe listening to live cello-guitar duo and lunch at a macrobiotic cafe, Makro Nova. So far, so great!
More on this and the previous bits of the trip i've omitted, soon.
Leaving Barcelona, the train was delayed, and i missed the first connection in the series of four trains that was to deliver me to Zagreb sunday morning. Trying to resolve the issue in Montpelier, the woman at the train station communicated through rough english and spanish that i would have to make a new reservation in Geneva. The scenery on the train journey through eastern France was absolutely gorgeous. Mountains and cliffs, forests and vineyards. I read Stephen Jay Gould essays and dreamed about what the next phase of my life and career might be.
Upon arrival in Geneva, i was surprised in my ignorance to learn that (obvious now that i think about it) Switzerland is not part of the EU, and they only take Swiss Francs for money. All the change offices were closed, so i managed to pay for some coffee with euros. I made a new reservation, this time leaving a bit later but a bit more direct to Zagreb, only now i was due in to Croatia in the late afternoon instead of the morning on sunday. No matter, i still had a new reservation.
As i boarded the train, i realized that the ticket agent had misunderstood me, and booked me in a sleeper car instead of a seat, a happy mistake since it meant i had a little bunk to sleep in more comfortably. Thankfully my bunk was on the bottom row (i'm still scared of sleeping on the top bunk) and as i sat back in my bed to read, i saw a flash of light outside. I looked up and there was a full display of fireworks proceeding, in perfect view, outside the train in the distance. As orange and golden balls of light exploded in streaks in the sky, i felt a great sense of peace and the conducter idled the engine such that the train slowed and i could see the show with ease. The rest of the trip to Zagreb went smoothly and without obstacle (although the border guards in Croatia adamantly questioned me about where i was going and why).
I landed into the lovely city of Zagreb, and have since been steadily eating and drinking my way through town. Sandra is such a gracious host, picking me up from the train station and patiently teaching me Croatian, listening to me stumble my way through pronunciation as i try to read the writing on the food cartons and billboards. Jessica was here for a couple of days as well, and we did a walking tour of the city which was really nice and gave good views of the city. Highlights of the eating and drinking include coffee at a street cafe listening to live cello-guitar duo and lunch at a macrobiotic cafe, Makro Nova. So far, so great!
More on this and the previous bits of the trip i've omitted, soon.
22 Sept 2006
Le Tour, part 1 Oxford - Barcelona
Le grande tour of Europe began three weeks ago, late at night after a chocolate tasting in the cyptic quarters of Magdalen College. After a frenzy of packing and errands, Caroline and Jessica made elderberry pastry while i unloaded the contents of my kitchen cupboard onto Jessica´s bedroom floor. Thank goodness she´s staying in Oxford, otherwise i would have had no such luck. Anyway, we tasted chocolate and by the time we said goodbyes it was already 1 am. Jessica and i had to catch a 3 am bus, so we decided just to stay awake, since Jessica had to pack anyway. We walked out of Magdalen´s Holywell Ford at 2.45 am, and thus the journey began.
The bus brought us, bedraggled, to a cabon-neutral cab, the cab brought us to the train. The train took us through the chunnel to Paris, and oooh la la! Nick W and Sandra met us at the station, and about fell over laughing when they saw how much luggage i had. Nick sherpa´d us to his sister´s flat. Dazed and confused, we walked past the Moulin Rouge and then to the storefront where Amelie buys her groceries in that film of the same name. We walked to Montmarte, and the Basilique du Sacre Coeur which is the most amazing view of the entire city. It was like walking into a dream, with Paris laid out at our fingertips. Gorgeous. Then Nick played tour guide, and we drank coffee and we went to Notre Dame and the Louvre and the Seine and it was all very nice and Parisian. We ogled the bread, the pastries, the shops. There was a shop that only sold pots of mustard and vinegar. You can bring your own jar, and theres a tap that pours out different kinds of mustard. Plenty of entertainment in Paris, for the foodies certainly.
After some eating and interesting car packing, we sqaushed into Nick´s vauxhall, risked our lives driving round the Arc de Triomphe (good driving Nico!), and drove out of the city past the Eiffel Tower. Au revior to Paris, bon jour to Cognac! We drove to Sam´s family house which is on the north coast, about halfway between Bordeaux and La Rochelle. Its in cognac country, vineyards everywhere and fields of spent sunflowers. Little villages, dotting the landscape between rolling fields. All very picturesque and lovely, until then you have to try to find some house address and none of the roads have street signs or names apparent. After some searching and additional direction from Sam, we made it to the hostel of heaven. The house was amazing, with lavender growing out front, fig and plum and pear trees in the back and vineyards all around. A swimming pool in the back convinced us we shouldn´t ever need to leave. However, we were fortunately next to the beach, so we went there too. The beach was full of people, and good size waves. I wasn´t aware that clothing is optional on a french beach, but apparently, it is.
We made a big feast and told stories and said goodbyes - one last class goodbye, even though many were already missing. Then at 6 am on a misty morning, Nick and Jessica shepherded me off to the train station, where i met my first all day train trip, from Bordeaux to Barcelona (via Toulouse, Narbonne and the coast). No views of the Pyrenees as i had hoped - they were still too far away and tucked in the haze. But amazingly, i was able to muddle my way through with only 5 words of french and some euros. It turns out that one of the most important words to know for me is the word for "meat", so i can point and ask for "food without meat". Sin carne, por favor. If you just try all the languages you know usually you can communicate something, or at least you end up laughing together if nothing gets through.
This all delivered me safely to Barcelona, in the late of the night, 11 pm. And Nuria was there, at the train station to catch me! My saving grace. We hauled my baggage through the stiflingly hot metro to her flat in Barcelona, and flopped into bed after cranking up the air conditioning so we could sleep a while. Then the next chapter began...the Pyrenees.
The bus brought us, bedraggled, to a cabon-neutral cab, the cab brought us to the train. The train took us through the chunnel to Paris, and oooh la la! Nick W and Sandra met us at the station, and about fell over laughing when they saw how much luggage i had. Nick sherpa´d us to his sister´s flat. Dazed and confused, we walked past the Moulin Rouge and then to the storefront where Amelie buys her groceries in that film of the same name. We walked to Montmarte, and the Basilique du Sacre Coeur which is the most amazing view of the entire city. It was like walking into a dream, with Paris laid out at our fingertips. Gorgeous. Then Nick played tour guide, and we drank coffee and we went to Notre Dame and the Louvre and the Seine and it was all very nice and Parisian. We ogled the bread, the pastries, the shops. There was a shop that only sold pots of mustard and vinegar. You can bring your own jar, and theres a tap that pours out different kinds of mustard. Plenty of entertainment in Paris, for the foodies certainly.
After some eating and interesting car packing, we sqaushed into Nick´s vauxhall, risked our lives driving round the Arc de Triomphe (good driving Nico!), and drove out of the city past the Eiffel Tower. Au revior to Paris, bon jour to Cognac! We drove to Sam´s family house which is on the north coast, about halfway between Bordeaux and La Rochelle. Its in cognac country, vineyards everywhere and fields of spent sunflowers. Little villages, dotting the landscape between rolling fields. All very picturesque and lovely, until then you have to try to find some house address and none of the roads have street signs or names apparent. After some searching and additional direction from Sam, we made it to the hostel of heaven. The house was amazing, with lavender growing out front, fig and plum and pear trees in the back and vineyards all around. A swimming pool in the back convinced us we shouldn´t ever need to leave. However, we were fortunately next to the beach, so we went there too. The beach was full of people, and good size waves. I wasn´t aware that clothing is optional on a french beach, but apparently, it is.
We made a big feast and told stories and said goodbyes - one last class goodbye, even though many were already missing. Then at 6 am on a misty morning, Nick and Jessica shepherded me off to the train station, where i met my first all day train trip, from Bordeaux to Barcelona (via Toulouse, Narbonne and the coast). No views of the Pyrenees as i had hoped - they were still too far away and tucked in the haze. But amazingly, i was able to muddle my way through with only 5 words of french and some euros. It turns out that one of the most important words to know for me is the word for "meat", so i can point and ask for "food without meat". Sin carne, por favor. If you just try all the languages you know usually you can communicate something, or at least you end up laughing together if nothing gets through.
This all delivered me safely to Barcelona, in the late of the night, 11 pm. And Nuria was there, at the train station to catch me! My saving grace. We hauled my baggage through the stiflingly hot metro to her flat in Barcelona, and flopped into bed after cranking up the air conditioning so we could sleep a while. Then the next chapter began...the Pyrenees.
2 Sept 2006
Hip Hip Hooray!
Weeks of work. Days of high stress. Late nights. Hard work. Here we are, finished with our dissertations! Yesterday was our due date, and we all submitted on time, for better or worse. It feels like a dream now. All my books are back at the library. All my notes are packed away. It is such a relief, and such a release. There is a reason to write a Master's thesis in 3 months: the reward of feeling free from the stress of reading one more paper, one more book. Digesting that information and incorporating it intelligently into an already complex study. Unfortunately, the side effect is that now its difficult to think clearly, to process. Regardless, i'm proud of all of us! We did so much work, and put in so many collective hours. All of us had moments when we didn't think it would ever be complete. Yet, here we are, tired and worn as we might be. Now we're all off to different corners of the world to spread love and conservation. Great job guys!
Stay tuned for travel diaries from me, as i move around continental Europe for a while.
Stay tuned for travel diaries from me, as i move around continental Europe for a while.
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