‘Life is like a book. If you haven’t travelled you’ve only read the first chapter’. Told to us in Tarascon sur Ariège
As it was a Saturday, we were expecting another noisy night, perhaps with fireworks, rather than fire, but thankfully it was all quiet and we enjoyed a peaceful night. The next morning, we set off to new territory further north in Andorra. We joined the main road through to France but stopped just before Soldeu. We had hoped to drive up the Vall de Incles to La Baladosa, but the road was closed, and cars were parking at the side of the road and people were walking towards the barrier. It turned out that they run a little coach/train thingy up the road, as it is obviously a popular walking area at weekends. So we parked Eileen and walked to the information lady at the barrier. We had just missed the coach/train thingy and the next one wasn’t for 15 minutes, but she said it was only a kilometre to where we wanted to start our walk. So we walked and when we found the footpath to the Refugio Y Lago de Cabana Sorda, we turned left, uphill….. a very steep uphill.
It was one of those hikes where there is very little respite from going up and I have to say, I was dreading the coming down. It was also one of those hikes, where we kept seeing a ridge and thinking we were nearly there, but there was always another ridge beyond that one….! But we made it up above the tree line and into areas that were still a little bit snowy and finally, after two hours walking, we sat beside the lake and ate another picnic of baguette, brie and jamon. We had climbed 470 metres and we had to get back down.
For Rodney it was a bit like taking a hamster for a walk; my short legs and dodgy knees make me so much slower and I can’t even blame the altitude, we were only at most at 2,295 metres. The fantastic display of wildflowers kept me sane on the way back down and also the thought of a nice cold drink when we got to the café on the main road. Trouble was, it was siesta time when we reached the café, so of course it had closed. Never mind we had cold drinks back in Eileen; that did the job.
We drove back south, just five kilometres to Camping Jan Ramon in Canillo and, with the reception still closed for siesta, we picked ourselves a spot not too close to the one other campervan already parked there. It’s the first campsite this year where we have parked Eileen on thick healthy grass and it felt lovely sitting outside with our toes in the soft, fresh cut, green stuff. I also felt comfortable knowing that the Bombers, translation: Fire Brigade, were stationed just on the opposite side of the road.
Having worn ourselves out on such a steep walk, we slept really well on Sunday night; I could have happily slept Monday away. We packed up Eileen and headed north and east through the rest of the main valley that is Andorra. The Grand Valira ends with a series of hairpin bends up over the Port d’ Envalira, or the long Tunel d’ Envalira through the mountains to France. We, of course, opted for the pass over the top and stopped on the ridge (2,408m) to soak up the spectacular views of mountains all around us.
Every ski resort we passed sat silently waiting for the snow to come again; everything was quiet and empty, that is until we reached Pas de la Casas. This was a very busy town filled with masses of shops selling duty free anything and everything, even huge paella dishes at bargain prices. Sadly, we have absolutely nowhere in Eileen to store one of those.
We crossed the border in to France and then slowly easing our way downhill, we kept pulling over; partly to let the cars behind us pass, but also to enable Rodney to really enjoy the views of the velvety valley on the French side. We followed the valley down to Ax Les Thermes and then turned north-west following the Ariege River to Tarascon sur Ariège. There was no more Spanish chat on the radio, we were now picking up sexy French voices, but it was still mainly English and American pop music. We checked in to Camping Pré Lombard and settled in for a couple of days. The heat had built up during the afternoon and we were no longer high up in the mountains, so the swimming pool beckoned and, along with all the other pensioners here, we flopped in to the water and then fell asleep on the sunbeds, until it was time for dinner.
And there we stayed for a couple of days; gosh we are slowing up. We wandered along the Ariege River into town on our first day. There is a quirky tower set high on a ridge above the river and picturesque views of the surrounding mountains. We stopped for a lovely long chat with an English man who was sitting in the Jardin du Plateau du Mazeil Vieil, a very small memorial park with a very big name. He and his wife live half a year in Tarascon sur Ariège and the other half in Shropshire; there’s a contrast.
On Wednesday morning we walked in to Tarascon a little earlier to catch the weekly market, where we stocked up on cherries, a cucumber and some rather curved potatoes. We were feeling so relaxed that we planned to stay another whole day and do nothing, but then when we started looking through the guide books for France and plotting a route, we discovered a lot more to see and only three weeks left to do it all. So the decision was reversed and we kicked back in to gear. Tomorrow we’ll head up the road to Foix, then Montségur and end the day at Rennes les Baines. Then we’ll take a route north via Mirepoix, Sorèze, Castres, Albi, Cordes sur Ciel, Cahors, St Cirq Lapopie, Montal, Beaulieu, Tulle, Uzerche, Limoges, Oradour sur Glane and then up to Brittany. Well that’s the plan and one always needs a plan……
