Jul 2007

In June, after everyone had departed back to their normal lives in Australia, Anouk and I started on a long-distance hiking route through the French Pyrenees. The whole route traverses the Pyrenean mountain range from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean and takes about 50 days of continuous walking. I love the concept of it, but to do it in one hit, as some people we met were doing, would be a challenging undertaking.

The whole route is called the GR10 (Grande Randonnee number 10), a French long-distance hiking route that basically tracks along the French side of the Pyrenean mountain chain from coast to coast. The route essentially involves hiking from village or refuge (mountain hut), over some high pass, and down into the adjacent valley to the next village or refuge, with each day averaging around 6-8 hours of walking.

Our first attempt at the hike involved entering the Pyrenees at a point approx one-third of the way into the long distance route. The day we entered Lescun was a beautiful day that highlighted the dramatic scenery of the surrounding mountains and dwarfed the picturesque village. This didn't last though, and after setting up the tent, the clouds fell upon us and the rain began.

After completing day one of the GR10 through unrelenting rain, which turned to sleet, then snow, then back to rain as we traversed the mountain pass, we descended into Estaut with both of us feeling the effects of a day walking in challenging conditions. The biggest concern for us was the fact that we were snowed on over the 1600m pass, yet the next stage of the hike, should we choose to attempt it, involved a 2200m pass. The continuing predicted wet weather, with extreme conditions on the high passes, and us having sent our waterproof pants home, convinced us that we should relocate our hiking to a more pleasant climate - the Eastern Pyrenees.

So, having relocated ourselves to the Eastern Pyrenees, we once again pushed into the high mountains, this time attempting to complete the final one-quarter of the whole route, rather than the more ambitious one-half from the Central Pyrenees. Like a wet dog, the weather chased us for the first two days, and once again tested our seriousness. If it wasn't for the homely warmth and three-course meals of the mountain gites (hostals) at the end of those first few days, we might've chucked it in.

The photo below is the look Anouk has when she sincerely wishes she went holidaying in the Maldives, rather with an eccentric who loves being in the mountains.

But, as with most things in life, the rewards have to be earn't, and the magical Pyrenees finally offered up her treasures in the following two weeks.

Our section of the route took us 15-days, starting in the high mountains of the Eastern end with snowy passes of approximately 2400m, down to the warm embrace of the Mediterranean coast.

At such a wonderful end point to this hike, there is nothing more rewarding than taking it easy on the gravel pile... aah, I mean beach.

In May, after crossing the straits of Gibraltar from Morocco to Spain, we spent time on the Gold Coast-like city of Malaga, wondering why so many English people flocked to a place with such crappy gravel beaches. It makes me sure that Queensland has some of the best beaches in the world, with an enviable climate that is hard to beat... why am I travelling here again?? Oh, 5 euros for a carton of beer, that's right! My parents, sister, and brother-in-law then joined us for a gastronomic romp through central Spain, as we drifted from quaint villages, to ancient palace, to tapas bar after tapas bar, gorging ourselves on gourmet food and drink, and vaguely noticing a few ancient chuches or castles every so often.

Below, the whole gang, looking like something out of the Adam's Family after a hefty day of sightseeing, hopes fervently that Adrian knows where he is going.

After so much good food, wıne, and endless hours gazing at historic monuments, Anouk, on the verge of madness, breaks ınto a spontaneous rendition of the Spanısh Flamenco! We do hope she will recover.

In April we travelled to Morocco via London. The Muslim culture and history was ever-present; some of it highly impressive, other bits strange and challenging to our western 'sensibilities'. Similar to Nepal, but little further developed (Morocco has roads!), there is still a large population living subsistence lifestyles, and these areas had a certain idyllic atmosphere about them reminiscent of a simpler times when families worked together in the fields. We spent some time wandering through the Berber villages in the High Atlas Mountains, camel-trekking across Saharan dunes, and hiking through fields of marijuana in the Rif mountains (yes, fields and fields of the stuff!).

In March, we soaked up the sun on Thailand's island beaches, and never have two people appreciated the steamy heat of Thailand quite as much as we did after enduring a Himalayan winter. I took a souvenir from Nepal in the form of tummy bug, and spent the first week in the toilet of the beach bungalow in Koh Samui, and subsisting on Pretzels, whilst Anouk swanned around getting massages and eating icecreams and Pad Thais down at the beach. We moved onto the less developed island of Koh Pha Ngan, and spent our time improving out tans (yeah, alright, getting charred like all the other Europeans!) and eating out down on the beach for every meal.

In January and February we hiked in the Nepalese Himalayas, marvelling at the locals walking the same route as us in thongs carrying three times our load, with weather that started out as wonderful warm sunshine at the lower altitudes (remember this is winter in the Himalayas), to freezing hands and feet as we hiked through blizzards at the high pass (we turned back at approx 4800m due to deep snow and bad weather).

As it turned out, we were attempting the high pass (at 5400m) at the same time as the weather system dumped the first snow in Kathmandu in 62 years! It took a few weeks for feeling to return to our fingers, and left us with an great deal of respect for the high altitude of the Himalayas and those people who climb the 8000m+ peaks.

Nepal itself is a fascinating place that has such a vibrant and visible past that it tumbles into the present – it is a place of living history.