Refuge Bayssellance to Gavarnie
Z.Z. took the most elaborate picture of the mountain grandeur from Refuge Bayssellance, a massive shot including the famous “La Breche de Roland”. With good sense of accomplishment, we bid farewell to Bayssellance and embarked on the long descent to Gavarnie.
As we walked down, groups of climbers were laboring their way up. Many of them, young and old, with or without modern equipment, were heading towards Vignemale. They must have started before dawn and have already climbed for hours, but their exuberance was intact. This was their weekend outing! I was surprised that the people we encountered were all going for Vignemale on their own, without a professional guide. Fair enough, I guess only rookies from other continents hire guides for Vignemale? Something worth checking out!
This section of the walk is true to its reputation. The view was exceptional. We bypassed two interesting, weather-shielding grottos carved out of the granite mass. The steep path led to yet another open meadowland woven with babbling streams and delicate yellow flowers. On the expansive prairie, we sat on a lonely rock watching the wind caressing the tall, fluffy grass. The tranquility charmed us. From here, the path splits into two, one continues as GR10 towards Gavarnie, while the other, HRP, heading towards the legendary La Breche de Roland. Gradually we descended into the tree zone where clusters of pines decorated the flank of the choppy ridge. We started to see the contours of the distant village, where a persistent piece of white cloud hang on top. The initial excitement of spotting a village quickly dissipates as it usually takes a few more hours to actually get there. The beautiful, crisp ridge walk will end, replaced with either a dark passage in a thick forest, or a dizzyingly steep switchback, or some combination of the two. There we hobbled on the switchback.
Gavarnie is distinctively a tourist town. Cars and cafes lined up the main street. I knew the place is well known and people like to talk about Victor Hugo’s emotional proses about it. The village is quaint, but more has to be offered to attract all this attention. At that moment though, shower, beating everything else, was the foremost on our minds. We checked into the first hotel we could grab on Main street, a bygone place that appeared to be more in tune with the gramophones.
From the old-fashioned window in our tiny hotel room, we had a view of the cirque and understood why Gavarnie won everyone’s heart. We decided to stay here for two days.