We're off again, it's about 5 pm, the road
approaching the mountains is smooth and wide at this point, the climb is
gentle, I could enjoy the approaching wall of rock which seemed to form the
base of the mountains, all the time I am looking to see if I could work out the
route the road might take,
we are close now, the road turns right to run parallel
to the hills, suddenly we are on a viaduct going hard left in to an opening in
the cliffs.
We start to climb, we are still on the elevated viaduct the walls of
the gorge we are in tower above, every now and then I get a glimpse of the
mountains proper, wow I wish I had Baldricks gift for description, perhaps big
rocky things with snow on top. We are now back on the land and I get the
impression we have hardly climbed at all, the road is 3 lane, two ups one of
them being a crawler, good job, I am getting slower and slower, there is a lot
of traffic going up and when the road reverts to two lane I can see in my rear
view mirror quite a queue of traffic building behind me, the temperature gauge
is going up, I'm worried now.
I need
to stop and through a little tunnel round yet another zig zag, fortune smiles
on me yet again, a massive reservoir with a few houses grouped by the roadside,
there is room to stop off the road.
Despite the no stopping sign, when I step
out of the van I immediately see the problem, the road is seriously steep, the
temperature is extremely high, Whilst driving in the mountains I had no idea as
to the gradients of the roads we were on, sometimes I couldn't tell if I was
going up or down or on the level, I've noticed this before in other hilly
areas, very strange, at least I know that it's the terrain and not a fault with
the engine, I put my little triangle behind the van and pop the bonnet up, plan
is to let the van and the air cool down, I figure there will be much less
traffic in a couple of hours.
in the meantime we will take a walk around the
lake, what could be nicer. There are pine trees and shrubs on the slopes around
the lake, I can hear cicadas and the hills have that smell you get in dry hot
hilly places, is it sage or oregano mixed in with the smell of the pines,
something like that, anyway it's really nice. The walk is good, the path is metaled and not too steep, the lake had a strange bluey, milky appearance, two
of the three of us did what was necessary.
Back to the van for dinner and a
drink, I’m not really feeding Lilly much she really is suffering with the
travelling, Sid seems totally at ease with the situation and sleeps at the drop
of a hat. Outside it is still so warm and the traffic has not decreased, a look
at the map shows we are in a small village called Canfranc, this village gives
it's name to the pass through the mountains, we are on the E7 still well in to
Spain, the E7 runs alongside the Rio Aragon, Aragon is the name of the area we
are in.
When I passed through the last big Spanish
town, Jaca, I was sure that there would be road signs heralding the closeness
of the Spanish French border, but all I saw was a minuscule road side marker
with Francia on it, well Francia here we come.
It's now 1 am we have had a snooze
and it's a little cooler, traffic has eased though when cars do come round the
corner on the uphill carriageway they are still going at a fair old lick. We
are all strapped in, I watch for headlights on the valley wall, there are none ,go,
go, go.
As with
so many life situations, I needn't have worried, the van took off at a very
respectable lick and no more than 500 meters round the next series of bends we
enter a tunnel, another serious tunnel, I never knew about this tunnel either,
why on earth hadn't my mother told me about it? What’s the big secret?
The entrance was festooned with what looked like warning signs in Spanish,
no reference to France whatsoever, normally in these situations I would follow
someone, but it's the wee small hours and I am alone, so onward, the tunnel
goes on and on, its fairly level and deathly quiet, there are escape hatches
but goodness knows where they go, then a weird thing I get a text message, I
read the message, no one to see me down here, it might be Sandy saying goodbye,
it says welcome to France, how did they know I was down here? The message
turned out to be unnecessary, when we eventually came out of the 8km long
tunnel I knew instantly we were in France, the road had deteriorated in to a
rutted almost single track lane, there were four roadside
houses two of which were for sale and deep joy an inviting parking area, we stopped
and slept, relieved and happy.
I'm pleased to see the peaks still gathered
all around us, the clouds promise to burn off, the sun is already warm when it
peeps through the gaps, we have some breakfast and Lilly is included, there is
a stream and a path so another walk looks a good option whilst we wait for the
clouds to clear away. Half an hour later the sky is blue, it has been well
worth the wait, more craggy peaks towering above and all around, it's
spectacular, again I don't have the words, I must come back one day, take loads
of photos.
Getting ready for the off, have managed to
avoid the proud one in front, his window sticker showed dubious judgement, not
because of it's sentiment but just because it was on display. Two big coaches
and several cars sweep in to the car park and spill dozens of senior citizens,
they are all togged up for walking, shorts, little haversack, walking poles,
it's 9.30 in the morning, not for them the eternal worry of when and where to
go, where there’s a boulder there’s a way, again I am ashamed of myself, and do
you know what? They were all sipping water, pogo pogo!
Off on my gentle downward trek, the scenery is
still there, the valley cut is dramatic, difficult to estimate but the valley
walls must be 90 meters plus and behind these close sides the mountains proper,
mostly barren rocky surfaces the bigger more distant ones with snow, The road
follows the course of a river, the Gave d'aspe, this tumbles and rushes
alongside me.
We pass through several hamlets, I must stop and look soon,
sooner than I think, we must be 5 or 6 miles in to France and the French
customs leap from behind a building and I am stopped, the two who come to
interrogate me are a well mannered young man and lady, they are all called
Duane, strange. The questions are all quite reasonable and delivered in very
good English do I have drugs? Do I have weapons? Where have I been? Where am I
going?
I think all is going well, we have avoided the
complication question of the dogs, then a big ugly chap comes over and asks to
look inside, we all make our way round the back of the van and Sid is grinning
at us, I just know he is going to make a lunge at us, I open the door a crack
and grab the two dogs, we open the back doors,
I am waved on, they have things to discuss,
the young man is oblivious and I resist the urge to suggest if it's a boy they
might consider calling him Sid.
Brilliant!!
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