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

Laugh and the world laughs with you, snore and you sleep alone.

Anthony Burgess

Hopes that I would have a peaceful night’s slumber in the dormitory room I was sharing with Andy were soon shattered.

Within minuted of turning off the lights, Andy began to snore. At first quite gently but growing in volume like a badly tuned bassoon. Somehow I managed to drop off to sleep, but when I woke at 2.30am Andy was still snoring for Switzerland. This left me with somethimg of a dilemma. Should I gently wake Andy by some means? At school, perennial snorers used to have shaving foam or toothpaste pushed up their nose. I wasn’t completely sure how Andy would react to such draconian measures so instead I opted for plan B – rummage around in my sponge bag and fish out a pair of ancient ear plugs. Thankfully these seemed to do the trick and I managed to get im a few more hours slumber.

At breakfast there was a bit of drama. Neil and Simon were heading off early, but their day hadn’t got off to the best of starts. While putting on her boots, Sarah had been stung by an angry wasp that had been lurking inside one of them. Ouch and double ouch!

I headed off shortly after 7.30am. Finding one’s way out of large large towns can sometimes prove challenging, even with a compass and the help of the Buen Camino app I had downloaded to my phone. Thankfully I bumped into Andy who seemed to know where he was going.

“Just down this street, turn left, cross the river and continue straight” he proclaimed with Swiss confidence and precision. I followed in his wake, but after 10 minutes without seeing any of the telltale red and white waymarkers, it occurred to me that we might not be on the right track. I checked my compass and the Buen Camino app. It seemed we were heading im completely the wrong direction! I tapped Andy on the shoulder and suggested we do an immediate u-turn to reconnect with the GR78 and exit Pamiers.

After bimbling around for 20 minutes, i quickened my pace, overtook Andy and made my way out of Pamiers. This involved the first of many arduous hill climbs which came as quite a shock to the system. Neil and Sarah had wisely decided to take a series of short cuts which would enable them to avoid the worst of the hill climbs.

Thankfully the weather had improved dramatically since yesterday’s incessant downpours. Nevertheless it was going to be a challenging day getting to Gabré. I wondered how on earth Andy was going to manage. He was severely overweight, carrying a huge 18kg backpack and was going 8km further than me to Le Mas-d’Azil.

The countryside had changed from sunflowers and vineyards to pastures and cows. The morning was accompanied by the sound kf jangling cowbells in the distance and the mewing calls of buzzards circling on the  thermals in the sky above.

At one point, deep in the hills I encountered a small farmhouse with four huge slavering St Bernard dogs straining at their chains on either side of the path, trying to take a chunk out of one of my limbs. It was like encountering some fearful challenge straight out of Homer’s Odyssey! Thankfully their chains held fast, and I was able to pass between their snarling jaws without injury.

After another lung busting hill climb shortly after midday I took a breather. After a banana and a few dates from the previous day’s pucnic I crashed out for half an hour before heading off to Pailhès. If my guidebook was to be believed, there was a restaurant and shop in the small village.

As I descended towards Pailhès shortly after 2pm, I was already salivating over the prospect of resting my weary feet and sinking an ice cold beer or two. I arrived outside the restaurant in Pailhès in a state of great expectation only to find, to my dismay that it had closed half an hour earlier! Even worse, the small village store was closed until 4.30pm!

I’d hoped that the final 8km to Gabré would be something of a cakewalk but it proved anything but! Instead of a gentle amble the walk involvef two more lung busting hill climbs and a particularly treacherous stretch along a ridge which involved navigating a never ending trail of granite rocks and boulders as well as fallen  oak trees which blocked the trail. Eventually, to my grest relief, I made it to Gabré shortly after 5pm.

They say great things come to those who wait. And so it proved. Colette was a complete treasure. On arrival she greeted me with a jug of cold apple juice and a plate of melon where we sat at a table beneath some unkempt wisteria in her garden chatting away.

I was given the option of a dip in her swimming pool but opted for my first shower in 5 days before reconvening in her gsrfen for a sumptuous four course meal washed down with a bottle of red wine.

Over supper of salad, Cantonese eggs and rice and cheese, we chatted about nature, walking and the state of the world. Colette’s husband hsd tragically died some years ago and she had decided to up sticks and move from Belgium to help her son and daughter in law who ran a farm in the village. She enjoyed the slower pace of life in south west France and the friendly village community.

As the lengthening shadows were transformed into a glorious sunset, a pair of tawny owls began calling to each other. It had been a day which had called for survival skills but ended with a feast fit for a king and the best of convivial conversation.