Outdoor Adventures with Ancient Brit
Pyrenees GR11 2003- Summary
“Ancient Brit” on the GR11
The GR11 is a long distance footpath traversing the Pyrenees from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean on the
Spanish side of the border.
After caching some supplies along the route, I arrived at the French border town of Hendaye on the evening of
8th August 2003 and walked to the far end of the beach where I knew it would be possible to bivouac overnight. I
should have made an early start in the morning, but I spent the morning on the beach. This was the naturist end of
the beach and by the time I left at 12am there were hundreds of naked bodies enjoying the sun. It was already 36ºC
(100ºF) in the shade by the time I reached the Spanish border.
During the first week the hills in the Basque country gradually increased in altitude. It was excessively hot and
I had to carry many litres of water on these normally wet misty hills. There were very few walkers on the trail, but
I did spend time with a number of Basques and a German couple who were also attempting to walk to the
Mediterranean. The hills are a mixture of woodland and rough pasture, often overgrazed by sheep and horses. As
well as the large flocks of Griffon Vultures, I also sighted Black and Red Kites, Honey Buzzard, Golden Eagle and
the rare Lammergeyer.
In this hot weather I took every opportunity to strip off whenever I stopped and didn’t need to wear any
clothing around camp. In these quiet hills it would have been possible to walk naked much of the time, but it is not
so practical when backpacking.
As the hills started to give way to the mountains, I came across the first significant streams. At the end of a
long hot day I was delighted to camp beside a stream with a swimming hole. Two Basque families were at the
swimming hole, but they invited me to join them and were happy for me to strip off to swim and wash all my
clothing.
The weather now turned thundery as I reached the steep limestone mountains at the eastern end of the Basque
Country. It was still unusually hot, but at least I was able to cool down in the streams and mountain tarns. After
two weeks meeting very few walkers I arrived in the Ordesa National Park, which is one of the “honeypot” areas of
the Pyrenees and is overrun with tourists. This is not surprising since the Ordesa Canyon is magnificent, rather
like a miniature Grand Canyon, with the added attraction of spectacular waterfalls. I had a 10-hour day since you
are not allowed to camp below 2100m in the National Park.
I had now reached the High Pyrenees with peaks over 3000m high and the GR11 followed some extremely steep
ascents and descents over high passes. The trail dropped down to isolated mountain villages with old dilapidated
stone houses. Many of these were deserted, but in recent years roads had been bulldozed up to many of them and
the houses restored mainly as holiday and retirement homes. Throughout the high mountains the weather was
thundery with some terrific storms. Fortunately a lot of the storms were at night and I was able to stay warm and
dry in my small tent.
The trail entered Andorra for a few days. Andorra can be a bit of a shock after the unspoilt mountains of
Spain. The lower valleys in Andorra seem to be a mixture of building site, with many new hotels and apartments,
and duty-free supermarkets attracting far more traffic than the roads can cope with. Most of the higher valleys are
despoiled by ski resorts. The only compensation was the improved quality of the paths. The trail in Spain got very
little maintenance and was frequently difficult to follow or overgrown.
On leaving Andorra I entered Catalonia. The weather started to improve at last after the disappointing weather
in the high mountains. Catalonia, like the Basque Country used to be an independent Kingdom and the people still
use there own language and are campaigning for independence from Spain. I walked up the spectacular Nuria Gorge
on the Catalan National Day, accompanied by thousands of tourists and pilgrims to the old monastery, which was
now a tourist centre and ski complex, only accessible on foot or by mountain railway. Surprisingly, on my last day
above the 2000m contour, having left the highest mountains behind, I now climbed to the highest point on the GR11
as I passed over the Pic Superior de la Vaca at 2824m. I was met by a strong gusting wind blowing from France and
was soon having problems staying on my feet.
It was hot again as I traversed the lower hills as I approached the coast, but fortunately there were a number
of swimming holes in the streams for refreshing swims. The paths were still steep, with several days of steep
limestone terrain. I was walking at this time with a couple of girls from Barcelona University and a couple of
Dutchmen. On the last night we camped at an old disused monastery and were surprised to find a proper swimming
pool, fed by spring water. It didn’t take long for the men to be stripped off and in the pool, but unfortunately the
girls had included swimming costumes in their heavy packs.
To make it easier to get home, I finished at Banyuls-sur-Mare in France, rather than continue to Cabo de
Creus in Spain.
The GR11 is a long distance footpath traversing the Pyrenees from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean on the
Spanish side of the border.
After caching some supplies along the route, I arrived at the French border town of Hendaye on the evening of
8th August 2003 and walked to the far end of the beach where I knew it would be possible to bivouac overnight. I
should have made an early start in the morning, but I spent the morning on the beach. This was the naturist end of
the beach and by the time I left at 12am there were hundreds of naked bodies enjoying the sun. It was already 36ºC
(100ºF) in the shade by the time I reached the Spanish border.
During the first week the hills in the Basque country gradually increased in altitude. It was excessively hot and
I had to carry many litres of water on these normally wet misty hills. There were very few walkers on the trail, but
I did spend time with a number of Basques and a German couple who were also attempting to walk to the
Mediterranean. The hills are a mixture of woodland and rough pasture, often overgrazed by sheep and horses. As
well as the large flocks of Griffon Vultures, I also sighted Black and Red Kites, Honey Buzzard, Golden Eagle and
the rare Lammergeyer.
In this hot weather I took every opportunity to strip off whenever I stopped and didn’t need to wear any
clothing around camp. In these quiet hills it would have been possible to walk naked much of the time, but it is not
so practical when backpacking.
As the hills started to give way to the mountains, I came across the first significant streams. At the end of a
long hot day I was delighted to camp beside a stream with a swimming hole. Two Basque families were at the
swimming hole, but they invited me to join them and were happy for me to strip off to swim and wash all my
clothing.
The weather now turned thundery as I reached the steep limestone mountains at the eastern end of the Basque
Country. It was still unusually hot, but at least I was able to cool down in the streams and mountain tarns. After
two weeks meeting very few walkers I arrived in the Ordesa National Park, which is one of the “honeypot” areas of
the Pyrenees and is overrun with tourists. This is not surprising since the Ordesa Canyon is magnificent, rather
like a miniature Grand Canyon, with the added attraction of spectacular waterfalls. I had a 10-hour day since you
are not allowed to camp below 2100m in the National Park.
I had now reached the High Pyrenees with peaks over 3000m high and the GR11 followed some extremely steep
ascents and descents over high passes. The trail dropped down to isolated mountain villages with old dilapidated
stone houses. Many of these were deserted, but in recent years roads had been bulldozed up to many of them and
the houses restored mainly as holiday and retirement homes. Throughout the high mountains the weather was
thundery with some terrific storms. Fortunately a lot of the storms were at night and I was able to stay warm and
dry in my small tent.
The trail entered Andorra for a few days. Andorra can be a bit of a shock after the unspoilt mountains of
Spain. The lower valleys in Andorra seem to be a mixture of building site, with many new hotels and apartments,
and duty-free supermarkets attracting far more traffic than the roads can cope with. Most of the higher valleys are
despoiled by ski resorts. The only compensation was the improved quality of the paths. The trail in Spain got very
little maintenance and was frequently difficult to follow or overgrown.
On leaving Andorra I entered Catalonia. The weather started to improve at last after the disappointing weather
in the high mountains. Catalonia, like the Basque Country used to be an independent Kingdom and the people still
use there own language and are campaigning for independence from Spain. I walked up the spectacular Nuria Gorge
on the Catalan National Day, accompanied by thousands of tourists and pilgrims to the old monastery, which was
now a tourist centre and ski complex, only accessible on foot or by mountain railway. Surprisingly, on my last day
above the 2000m contour, having left the highest mountains behind, I now climbed to the highest point on the GR11
as I passed over the Pic Superior de la Vaca at 2824m. I was met by a strong gusting wind blowing from France and
was soon having problems staying on my feet.
It was hot again as I traversed the lower hills as I approached the coast, but fortunately there were a number
of swimming holes in the streams for refreshing swims. The paths were still steep, with several days of steep
limestone terrain. I was walking at this time with a couple of girls from Barcelona University and a couple of
Dutchmen. On the last night we camped at an old disused monastery and were surprised to find a proper swimming
pool, fed by spring water. It didn’t take long for the men to be stripped off and in the pool, but unfortunately the
girls had included swimming costumes in their heavy packs.
To make it easier to get home, I finished at Banyuls-sur-Mare in France, rather than continue to Cabo de
Creus in Spain.
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