XPyr
Day 5 or how the Pyrenees divide the world in two
Once
again, in the moonshine and absent-minded, shivering because of
exhaustion, I’m marching. Right in front of me I can see Pena
Montanesa, whose summit is 1,600 m higher than I am right now.
Few
comments to our situation: yesterday, with the last effort, we
reached the right side of the river, just under the hill. The weather
today should allow at least a little bit of flying, so my only option
how to escape is to fly regardless the conditions. Tomorrow the
conditions will be 100% unflyable. Jessie (USA) is not far ahead of
us, behind us there are Zlatko (SLO) and Giuseppe (ITA), but they
have to reach the TP from north, as they used a shortcut that I
mentioned in the previous part of the Pyrenees tales. Although their
distance to the TP was shorter “as the crows fly”, the trail they
have to use is overgrown by dwarf pines and some other staff and the
inability to take off probably makes their morning not very nice.
Their only option is to go around the whole mountain and go along the
same trail as I’m going now. The problem is that in the afternoon
it will probably be overcast and also some thunderstorms are
forecasted, so they probably won’t manage that.
But
let’s go back to the point, I don’t know why, but this morning
cold and dew after the yesterday’s downpour, I feel really light
and somehow enjoy the walking. I don’t even feel all the aches and
pains that my “chassis” sends, any more. Because you know, pain
is just a kind of information, and as we’ve seen recently the
information can be sometimes wrong or confusing. So better not to
believe anyone and anything… nothing hurts me, and although it can
be misleading, I like it.
The
trail up the mountain is beautiful; I struggle through the bushes and
skitter along the rocks. For breakfast I have the already mentioned
evergreen from yesterday sitting on the last piece of asphalt road
with the view of that rock. It’s hard to believe that I could
manage it, but let’s give it a try.
Smartly
lead trail goes around all the rocks, which hide it when you look at
it from below. After couple of hours I reach the first plateau,
grassy and sloping. Altitude is something around 1,800 – 1,900 m
AMSL. The problem is the wind, it’s blowing from east and the east
wind doesn’t usually bring any good.
Thus
I have to continue in climbing the mountain because such cross wind
would wash me down the rocks. Easier said and even much easier
written, but you can bet your ass that it wasn’t that easy. It was
only 300 m, but slope steep like hell and of course full of pure
rocks like a rocky field waiting for Juraj to slip. Sometimes they
are cover with strange mutated giant moss. The trekking poles help
just a little, an ice axe would be nice :D
Knowing
that in these conditions with cross wind I will barely take off makes
me feel even happier. I reach the summit hopelessly and see the damn
limestone razor blades peering at me from the grass. I walk for a
long time like the protesters in front of the barricades, all useless
and without success. Eventually, I do it like this. I unpack Avax on
the unfortunate rocks, tighten the lines as much as possible so they
don’t get stuck and wait for a blow.
When
it comes, I pull gently the A-lines, with my ass clenched as I’m
scared not to tear anything and I jump in. Avax is right above
my head and cuts the Hispanic air cheerfully.
Straight
away there’s a tiny thermal so I climb as much as I can. Funny is
that it’s blowing from NE, what is actually the already mentioned
east wind. I fly together with some vultures, sometimes I climb a bit
until there’s the first jump. I have maybe 2,200 – 2,300 m
altitude and let’s go. I finish at maybe 1,900 and I’m literary
planing a ridge which is being blown by a valley wind. I plane it so
much that I eventually land. Damn it. And if it’s not enough the
thermal was not above the ridge but in the valley where I land. And
my calculations went wrong, so instead of landing on a meadow I end
up in junipers, good enough for catching the lines. Half-an-hour is
enough to entangle all the lines and I’m swearing blind what an
idiot am I. I will have to climb back up the mountain. No signal,
Livetrack doesn’t work for sure. No trail, just junipers, rocks and
trees. Scratched all over my body I go on up the mountain… full of
doubts but full of determination as well. Doubts are caused by the
lack of time as I see clouds coming from west, next, there’ll be
problems with the take off and, as usually, with water. However, the
biggest challenge is the take off, since the whole 2,700 m high
mountain is covered with gravel, which starts as soon as there are no
more trees at maybe 2,000 m and what’s more, the slope is getting
so steep that it’s almost impossible. Each step means half a step
of slip backwards. I have 3 decilitres of water and sun is shining
(the weather is sweet :D just joking there’s nothing sweet there
yet). I’m angry as a bull a therefore the time passes fast.
Finally, I take off from a small rock into a blow, praying for not to
meet a thermal straight away… as I’m at only 2,100 m, and it
seems too low to me (only 100 m over the tree line and damn below the
summit at 2,700), but I wasn’t able to climb and take off higher
because of the steep slope and gravel all around me.
I
have no idea how I deserved that but Aiolos helped me. Straight away
I’m taken, together with an eagle, by a thermal broken like my
knees. I’m turning, and turning and climbing and enjoying the
flight… I will make it over the ridge for sure!
In
brief: I climbed just below the cloud base, tried to climb over each
ridge and hurried with tail wind until I reached the break point
which is the high mountains in the back. Pic du Maupas seems to be
the best option for a jump. By the way, west of me there’s a cloud
the size of a pig and is taking me up. The cloud base is at 2,800.
The saddle I have to do is at 2,850. Bugger!
Fortunately,
it opens up for a while, the cloud rises a bit and I, with my ass
clenched (once again), fly over the saddle with 400 m, at the level
of summit just next to it. What followed was just astonishing, mainly
the view I had. There’s fog in France! Up to the ground! Awaxiáš
is flying around me, or I should rather say that I’m flying around
it; it shows me that, just by the way, I’m in a lee. I can already
see the TP5, Ceciré. I make it and I’m trying to figure out what
to do next. The wind is turning; I can’t land in the valley because
of the fog, but I won’t climb any more. I’m landing in a steep
slope at maybe 1,100 m.
I
have to change the SIM card immediately, as there’s no other way to
let my support know to follow me… finally they told me, it was 180
km. I find a stream and can get lost in the fog. I’m marching up
the mountain which is 2,200 m high, hoping to fly down to the Spanish
side, what will spare me a long way to walk. I’m hungry as a horse
because I haven’t eaten anything since morning, I can’t walk any
more as I managed to climb maybe 2,000 m of elevation difference and
there’s still much ahead of me. And if it wasn’t enough the fog
is climbing much faster than me. Bugger, damn it! I must, must, must
make it. But it’s not that easy. There’s no trail leading up the
mountain, it’s way too steep, the grass is high, it sprains my
ankles. There’s just one word to describe it: IDEAL!
When
I imagine that after all this struggle, if I run out of water again
and I will have no energy to go on one meter or one minute more, I
find out that it’s not flyable on the other side… then… I’d
rather not think about that.
Last
meters can be compared to clinical death, sweat is running down my
face, I didn’t put on my gloves or used the skydrop, or camera or
glasses. It blows like hell from west. So I throw it to 8 m/s lee
with height around 1.5 m over the edge… yeah!
When
I manage it all, I fly over the milky fog praying for a gap. I must
have been a really good boy because there just one sidelong gap ahead
of me, therefore I couldn’t see it from above. I go down through
it, nice VFR, and I’m kicked by the valley wind. I fly like a
missile, overtaking the cars below me. Wow, awesome! It blew me some
5 km more than I thought. As I’m landing in someone’s cabbage
field, I have again some hard times because there are poplars just in
front of me and aren’t doing any good. I jump over the fence like a
thief and hurry to eat something. Sitting around, eating sausages,
feeling happy as a clam… I managed it! I crossed the TP5 and
returned as well.
With
full stomach I walk down the valley, across the town of Vielha (just
by the way, I see quite pretty girls for the very first time, or
maybe we’ve already been here for too long?!) until I reach a camp
in the village of Garós. I’m done!
Some
numbers: walked 22 km, climbed on foot: 3,000 m! Flown: approx. 60 km
I
lost my camera in the hurry somewhere in the mountains… :/ I have
no idea where because all the memories are somehow blurred. It’s
just, you know … I lost it in that rush all day long, struggling in
bloody conditions and thinking about thousand other things whether
navigation, planning, following the weather and my own knees, water
any man others…
And
when I’m writing this and looking at it backwards, it doesn’t
seem that bad when I compare it to that actual day.
And
to mention the others struggling around me: Zlatko and Giuseppe
stayed south, made it just half way to the TP4, they took off but
didn’t manage as much as I did, that is to land after a jump and
take off again in better conditions behind TP4. They didn’t have a
place to land. I’m pretty much ahead of them; tomorrow they will
have to conquer that bloody mountains on foot in storms and rain. I
managed to overtake even Jessie, just few km, but anyway, in the
morning he was quite ahead of me. So now we’re fifth.
Great read!
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