Day 12 July 23 2016 Logibar to St. Engrace
When we slid our feet into the boots in the morning, yesterday’s gloom dissipated. The boots were dry! This was not going to be a short day and the sky was still grey, but our spirits were high. We heard about an iconic suspension bridge on the GR10 alternate during last night’s dinner, we decided to go for it. It‘s going to be a trek of sixteen miles long and more than a thousand meters up and down.
It was a rather steep climb along Gorges d’Holzarte, but the path was well maintained. Countless wild lilies burst out of the rocky crevices, waving and smiling at the lonely walkers. As we approached the bridge, the gorge came into full view: a sheer vertical drop of about 700 meters walled by a corridor of ancient cliffs. A classical suspension bridge spans across the gorge. In order to conquer his fear of heights, Z.Z. walked over the bridge like a robot with its sensors shut down, an experience of much amusement then and now (at least for me). We continued a modest ascent through the woods on the other side of the gorge, crisscrossing many streams. At one point, the path intersects with GR11. The trail led us to a series of narrow balcony walks. After some time the fog faded and the sky turned blue. The golden rays splashed upon the wavy mountain range and an assortment of wild flowers twinkled in the fields of green. The solemn gorge faded away, we were walking towards the high pastures where large herds of goats grazing happily. It was an uplifting view. Today, one can see far, and one can see high. On this land of harmony and vastness, one can easily forget about himself as each individual becomes to a tiny moving dot seen from afar.
Suspension Bridge near Logibar
But the gentle, soft slope was not easy on the legs. For every step up, I felt the backpack sank deeper into my shoulders. By the time the path merged into a paved road, I had lost virtually all the hiker’s arrogance against pavement. With a sigh of relief, I murmured “Good for a change”. As we paid less attention to where we should put our feet, we could freely enjoy the view and let our imagination run wild. There was no car on the road, as we suspected it was mainly used by local farmers for transporting animals up and down from the high grazing ground. The winding road roped around mountain after mountain, with each new turn came a fresh view. I took a few panoramic pictures and let Google work out the stitching magic. I was happily impressed.
After four hours of road walk, farms and villages started to reappear. We tried to be smart and took some shortcuts through the pastures and ended up in a dark, damp corridor of bumpy rocks and overgrown bushes resembling a ditch. We fought our way through the overgrown. We swore if we saw pavement again, we would cling to that unceremonious hard surface and promised no more second thoughts! But GR10 never let you off easily. We had to go through several alternations of roads and ditches. Finally, another gorge appeared. This time, it was the famous Gorge de Kakouetta, a popular local tourism attraction. Unlike Gorge d’Holzarte, where we were the only walkers, this place is much more accessible to cars and motorcycles, and hence crowds. We were amazed by the mirror-like water at the deep bottom of the gorge. Its color was pure emerald green. But by then, no diamond or emerald could entice me for an exploration. My backpack was cutting a wedge into my right shoulder. The last 3 kilometers to the gite was the longest in my memory. The gite was across the street from the ancient town church built in the 12th century. As soon as we laid down the packs, rain poured down.
