Day 11 July 22 2016 Iraty to Logibar
It was a turbulent night. Violent rain lasted all night with nonstop thunder and lightning. We started to worry about the walkers we met. Some of them camped in the wild. Somehow, we felt unexplained bond to our fellow walkers on these long distance trails. A lady from Paris, who’s camping every night. A walker from Belgium, who’s camping half of the time. Some of them we had a brief talk, some of them maybe just a nod when crossing the path. Most of us walk in solitude, but we knew we all shared something in common. The mountain and the path has a magical power to connect its lonely walkers.
At dawn, we got up in the dark as the storm knocked out our power. I was happy my camp light found good use for the situation. Rain continued in the morning, though not as fierce as last night. We foolishly decided not to put on the rain pants, as the air was humid. On paper, it was just an average day, distance and elevation wise. Yet, nature had its own ideas. It can turn a delightful journey into a horrid one, or a feared struggle into a marvelous discovery. This was one of those days. We started to climb immediately after leaving the camp. We could barely see anything more than 3 meters out. The fog was stubbornly thick. Yet true beauty can never be completely veiled. Clusters of beautiful, delicate flowers decorated the winding path next to our boots; some purple, some yellow and some white. After the steep climb, we walk through thick overgrown bushes along the narrow balcony. Before long, I had to stop to wring water out of my boots and socks. We had not hiked enough in bad weather. And we made the rookie mistake of not putting on rain pants. As we plowed through the thickets, water splashed down from vegetation to pants and then into the boots, completely soaking them. We went through a series of open ridges and tight balconies, for a second or two, when the rain eased and cloud opened up, we could even see the lush green mountains and the undulating valley. Then we heard cowbells. They grew louder and louder, until somehow we walked into a small confine, facing a herd of cows, surrounded by the thick bushes and backed by the steep mountain. The cows, some standing, some lying, stared at us nonchalantly, as if mocking us: you have to leave something here if you want to pass. My fear of animals didn’t help either. We had to slush through mud puddles and cow dung in order to avoid close confrontation. Then we plunged onto a dark pathway through the woods and bushes. On this rainy day following a severe thunderstorm, this pathway descended into a bunch of mud holes half a foot deep mixed with cow dung. It was slippery everywhere and the air was filled with foul smell. I had to check my GPS many times. Are you serious? Is this the official GR10 route? I questioned myself numerous times. No doubt about it. I can see clearly the GR10 signs on the trees. Yes, we do have to go through this stretch and it was not short. We finally took a sigh of relief as we stepped out of the darkness and thought we were finally out of this mess; only to find out the white and red GR10 sign pointed us to another depressing, dark hole. We moved at snail’s pace as it was definitely no fun slipping into these mud holes. When it was finally over, we were drenched.
Then, I spotted a beautiful village in a distance valley. Civilization looked so appealing at that moment. I told Z.Z. that we were close to the town. There we could get our boots dried; we could stock up; we might even find a self-operated laundromat! What a mirage. Before long, we sadly realized the white town (Larrau) faded behind us. We were supposed to reach Logibar. Is that another town? The rain almost stopped; the cloud lifted. We were still walking on the balcony, but we could see the peaceful valley down below, and the majestic mountains looming over our head. Just as we started to enjoy the scenery and reached the long-anticipated descent, we met our old nemesis, horseflies. As the rain lightened, these bugs decided to swarm out for an assault. Z.Z. was the usual victim. I frantically took out the bug spray for counter attack. The horseflies scattered, only a few stubborn ones hung on to his hat. The price was his rain jacket. Deet destroys Gore-tex. As we wrapped up this battle against horseflies, we reached Logibar: not a town, not a village. It’s a roadside outpost for hikers. We shouldn’t complain though. The dinner was sumptuous. With a bit of ingenuity, we dried our soaking wet boots to wearable condition for…