Pilgrim's Progress – Long Distance Walks in Europe and the UK

This is the 183rd end-of-the-world prophecy since antiquity

Pierre Delord – Mayor of Bugarach

Sometimes things go pear shaped for no good reason. Today was one of those days!

The previous evening had been spent in a remote farmhouse gite at Camp-sur-l’Agly in the company of another solo hiker ftom the Marne department of France and the lady who ran the  gite and a small herd of 20 Aubrac cattle. She had the muscled physique and weathered features of somebody who had spent her days out in all seasoms. She also smoked like a chimney!

Miguel had been given two weeks off by his wife to walk the Cathar way and was taking everything at a pretty leisurely pace. When I mentioned that I was hoping to complete the walk in just seven days he looked pretty gobsmacked. “Walking up to 40km in this heat, you must be crazy” he exclaimed as we sat outside on the terrace sharing a three course meal and a pitcher of honest local wine.

Miguel’s English was excellent but we soon shifted into French as I explained what had bought myself and Olivia to France nearly 3 years ago.

Miguel worked for a company that helped people prepare CVs and give them career advice. He’d done a fair bit of walking and met some fascinating people on the road including a chap who was walking with a 17 year who had been a drug runner, spent time in prison and was now trying to turn his life around for the better by ‘going straight’.

Our conversation then turned to more abstruse subjects including the most recent academic debate on the origins of the Cathar crusades. I wished I could have spent more time in his company but sadly he was only going as far as Bugarach, half way to my destination for the day at Quillan.

The first sign that the day ahead might be hexed came shortly after breakfast. The new phone which, I had been using on the walk (a generous gift from a friend I had visited in England recently), did something very unexpected, despite having been charged all night. It basically died! Blistering, blue barnacles I thought to myself. That is going to be a problem. I did have a second mobile phone on me (always carry an emergency backup!) but it had a problem with the charger and only 5% battery left. I would be flying blind for the entire day and unable to locate my position on my GPS should I get lost.

The Pic de Bugarach is the highest summit of the Corbières Massif in the Aude department, with a peak of 1.230 metres. Besides being an out-of-this-world natural site, it has played- and still does!- part in many legends. From fairies, goblins and dragons to aliens and spacecraft: this sacred mountain appeals to the imagination.

Bugarach is a geological oddity.- an upside-down mountain, with the top layers being millions of years older than the ones below. This can be explained by the way that the Pyrenees mountain chain was formed. While the Iberian and the European plates came together, some overthrust rocks broke, creating the Pic de Bugarach.

Believe it or not, Bugarach, a small village of 173 inhabitants, briefly became one of the most famous places in France thanks to an ancient Mayan prophecy that the world would end on 21 December 2012 and Bugarach would be the only place on earth that would be saved from armageddon! As it turned out Apocalypse now never arrived and life in Bugarach continued much as normal. All the same, I couldn’t wonder if the strange celestial forces at work in Mount Bugarach had buggered up my mobile phone!

To say that the one and a half ascent of Bugarach (1,220m and the highest peak in the Corbières) was a teddy bear’s picnic would be a severe understatement. In 90C heat, without a cloud in the sky, it was completely knackering.

Despite its temporary global fame, Bugarach didn’t stretch to a shop or a bar, so on I ploughed in the stifling heat. After leaving Bugarach there was another two hour gruelling climb which left me frequently puffing like an out of condition puffing billy. I was forced to take frequent breaks by the side of the trail to catch my breath and make another effort to get to the top of the ridge.

After what seemed like an eternity, I reached a ridge and saw my destination for the night (Quillan) in the valley below. Seldom have I felt more overjoyed. I let out a whoop of joy and motored my way off the mountain and into Quillan.

It was as if I had reached heaven. Crossing a picturesque bridge beneath which a fisherman was casting his line, I entered an open piazza where there were not one, not two but three bars. I made a bee-line for the Glacier Bar and promptly ordeted 3 beers. Life had rarely seemed better.

Before I left, I thought I’d better check where my accommodation for the night (CH La Scierie) was located. It was after all, 7.30pm and I’d been on the road for 11 hours.

A puzzled look crossed the barman’s face when I asked him the whereabouts of La Scierie. “Ah” he said, “that is quite a long way from here. In fact it is 20km away!”

I sat back in my chair, and promptly ordered another beer!