CYCLING THE COLS OF NORTH-EAST SPAIN

AND SOUTH-WEST FRANCE ALONG THE PYRENEES

JUNE 1999

Travelling in our motorhome from Morocco's Western Sahara to Norway's NordKapp, we paused for nearly a month along the Spanish/French border formed by the Pyrenees to cycle a number of mountain cols. Using the motorhome as a mobile base, we were able to fulfil a long-held ambition to explore this region in the warmth of June and before the summer crowds arrived.

The heights of the cols are summarised in a table in our information sheet 'Cycling the Mountain Cols of Europe'.

Sun, cloud and rain as we rode north up the valley from the campsite, through the sleepy village of Barruera and on past a mineral water bottling plant to the spa of Caldes de Boi. Here the large hotel/thermal baths was closed until mid-June, the hostel deserted and the only cafe shut, just as a heavy shower started. We sheltered under the trees with chocolate and lemonade until it passed.

The narrow road into the Parc National d'Aiguestortes now banned buses and continued past a National Park information and traffic control point, where we were issued with a map and a rubbish bag (the only litter we saw was discarded rubbish bags). Alone for the last 5 miles, we climbed and zig-zagged past a mountain refuge to the top of a huge dam wall at about 1,850 m (6,100 ft). It was suddenly windy, spray blowing over us from a waterfall, magnificently eerie.

We donned our waterproofs and free-wheeled back to Barruera where the few shops, not yet open on our ascent, were now closed for siesta! Down past the smaller reservoir at Llesp and home for a late lunch, without any side trips to the tiny villages built of granite and slate, famous for their Romanesque churches and hermitages, clinging high on the sides of the valley.

Later the weather settled and we rode into Pont de Suert, 3 miles (5 km) below on the main road, to shop and look round its medieval centre, currently under restoration, though the eponymous old bridge was washed away in 1964.

From Pont de Suert we had driven north, past Caldes de Boi and through a long tunnel to Vielha, then a few miles east to Arties.

It rained all night and we woke to see the mountain-sides clad in mist, rising like steam off the pine forest. Margaret wrote to 'Dog Dazers' as listed by cyclist Bettina Selby in her books (last year's request to Josie Dew's address having proved futile), Barry managed to reattach the handle to the whistling kettle, and by noon the sun was out again.

After lunch we had perfect conditions for the 11 mile (18 km) cycle ride to the top of the Col of Bonaigua - cool, back wind, clouds without rain, light traffic. At 2,075 m or 6,800 ft, it's the second highest pass to actually cross the Pyrenees (only surpassed by the Puerto d'Envalira from France into Andorra at 2,407 m or 7,900 ft). The road from Arties climbed steadily westwards, through the village of Salardu to the ski resort of Baqueira, deserted now the season is over.

The last 5 miles hairpinned more steeply with pockets of snow lingering at the roadside. It took 2 hrs 10 mins without pause to reach the top, where there was a large car park at the bottom of a ski-lift and a cafe/hotel - all, of course, closed. But what magnificent peaks all round, as we had our usual lemonade and chocolate, put another layer of clothing on and turned for the descent - back in 30 minutes, freewheeling the whole way to the campsite, reaching speeds of 30 mph, narrowly missing a stray sheep. The road followed the tumbling infant Garonne, which rises among dozens of tiny lakes south of the Col, just north of the Aigüestortes National Park peaks which form the Spanish/French watershed.

As soon as we were settled inside with a pot of tea the rain started again, perfect timing! (The next day, setting off to cycle to Vielha, Barry's rear wheel rim cracked.)

We drove the motorhome north from Spain on N230 over the Porte du Roi into France's Midi-Pyrenees region. Barry's rear-wheel cycle rim had cracked and twisted while riding in Vielha and we were seeking a repair shop.

In the first large town we reached in France, Montréjeau, the Tourist Office told of a bicycle and motorbike repair man at the Atelier du Vieux Moulin on the riverbank. He did not have a new wheel rim (= la jante) of the right size but recommended a new branch of La Cyclerie at St Gaudens, 10 miles east, saving us a drive to their HQ at Toulouse. We found the superb Cyclerie a couple of miles after St Gaudens along the Toulouse road and left the bike to have the wheel rebuilt with a new rim. As the Camping Municipal in St Gaudens was fully occupied by gipsies, we waited on a simple campsite at Montréjeau.

The bicycle was ready 2 days later, new Mavic rim and spokes rebuilt and the new pedals we'd chosen fitted. We bought similar pedals for Margaret's cycle, a spare tyre and a spray can of chain lubricant strongly recommended by the nice young man who looked after us well. He spoke patiently and clearly, explaining why he thought the rim had gone (grit under the brake blocks), and he'd lovingly cleaned and checked the whole machine over, all at a very reasonable price. A gem of a shop in keen cycling country - this year's Tour de France passes through in July, with a rest day in St Gaudens itself and the Cyclerie looks forward to their business!

In no hurry to leave the Pyrenees, we returned to Montrejeau and south to Bagneres de Luchon to ride the two nearby cols.

The spa town of Bagneres de Luchon, Reine des Pyrénées, was pleasant and well-heeled, like Keswick crossed with Buxton. (In fact, it's twinned with Harrogate, dubbed Reine de Yorkshire.) It had several campsites, but on the edge of the town by the River Pique was a new 'Aire' – free parking for motorhomes, with water and dump point. It was busy with French Camping Caristes but not full, an ideal base for cycling.

We began with a fine sunny ride to the Spanish frontier on a quiet minor road winding up to the Col du Portillon, border of France's Midi-Pyrenees region with Spain (Val d'Arran). The road followed the Pique briefly to the village of St Mamet, then leapt eastwards up the hillside through forest dotted with signs for walks, passing rock faces lined with climbing routes and a waterfall. It took 1.5 hours to reach the Col du Portillon at 1,293 m or 4,267 ft (Luchon is at 630 m or 2,079 ft) and less than 30 minutes to drop down again, in time to get a hot poulet rôti in Luchon and take it home for lunch.

Then a short walk along the river to the little aerodrome and lake, where gliders were being towed aloft by a small plane. We saw 4 taken up and let loose to circle among the mountains. Anglers fished for trout in the lake (maximum 10, maggots prohibited) while joggers circled it and the old and young fed swans and ducks. An idyllic scene as the sun shone and the tow-plane buzzed overhead.

Back in the motorhome we watched a French/ Moroccan pop concert in Marrakesh on TV. The music was dire, the audience 99% young males, but there was some nice footage of Morroco between songs.

Cooler and overcast with mist on the hills, into which we gradually climbed as we followed a busier road winding west from Luchon up to the Col de Peyresourde, the border between the Departments of Haute-Garonne and Hautes-Pyrénées.

Passing through several small villages, their church bells ringing for morning Mass, St Aventin bustling with its annual fête, we rode into the mist, alpine cattle looming in flowery meadows. Overtaken by a few serious young cyclists - all lycra and muscles - we met them again at the Col where some had partners waiting in cars to take them home. There was actually a café open at the top but thunder rumbled in the distance, the mist was dense and drizzly and we couldn't linger. The 10 miles (16 km) up had taken 2 hours and we were back down in another 45 minutes, past the market just packing up in the square in Luchon.

After lunch rain set in, a good time to rest, read and write. There are still 9 camping cars settled here, all French, and our neighbours talked to us about their winters in Morocco when they noticed our motorhome's mural of camels, newly acquired in Agadir.

From Bagneres de Luchon we drove west to Luz-St Sauveur, an excellent centre for mountain walks, ski-ing and wildlife, with several campsites. More importantly for cyclists, it lies just a few miles west of the Col du Tourmalet, a Tour de France favourite. At 2,115 m or 6,980 ft, the Col du Tourmalet is the highest pass in the French Pyrenees (second highest in the whole range, topped by the Puerto d'Envalira at 2,407 m or 7,940 ft in Andorra).

Starting from Luz at 711 m (2,350 ft), Tourmalet is a climb of 1,404 m or 4,633 ft, our biggest challenge since the Alpine summer 4 years ago. We were not optimistic about making it as we set out, climbing steadily right from the campsite entrance. New signposts for cyclists marked every kilometre from Luz (18 of them), showing current altitude and incline (mainly 7%, rising to 8% with a last burst at 10%). Young athletes sprinted past while we took in the mountain air and scenery. After rising 1,780 ft (540 m) in 5 miles (8 km) we reached the ski resort of Barèges, where we noted a campsite. If we didn't succeed today, we could move the motorhome up and try again from there!

But the weather was perfect (light back wind, not too hot), the traffic thinned out and the cyclists coming down looked happy! Settling into a good rhythm at 6-7 km an hour (4 mph), we just had to keep it up for 3 hours. Another 1,000 ft (303 m) up, by a Pyrenean Flower Garden at La Gaubie, we had a break at the cafe with a splendid view of our road below (and above!) Then the steepest section, up the zig-zags and we'd made it in 2 hr 55 mins. A wonderful feeling, the exhilaration shared only by the other cyclists at the top. Motorists admired the view but without the satisfaction.

We got well-deserved hot soup (gabure) from the hotel, which had a marvellous display inside - photographs from many Tour de France rides, which climb from the other side (less steep) and descend our route. Black and white photos went back to the 1930's and 3 very early racing cycles were hung on the walls. We'd seen the names of recent riders painted on the road as we came up - Indurain, Jalibert, etc. Delighted with our performance and the view, we took photos before turning for home, just 40 minutes away! We took the alternative older road for a short stretch, bypassing La Gaubie, and were soon back in Barèges and down to Luz, barely touching our new pedals. Barry's new rim, which had been squealing on the brakes, is fine now he's filed the joint smooth. In fact everything is running perfectly (the motorhome, bicycles and us!)

After a pot of tea we still had enough energy to cook, clean and read. A superb day - how can we top that?

From Luz-St Sauveur we had moved south to Gavarnie, high in the Pyrenees against the Spanish border. The only campsite was still closed (until July) and we had settled on the town car park, where we had some company: the donkeys and horses who take tourists to the Cirque de Gavarnie waterfall, as well as a few more camper-vans.

After an electric storm in the night the surrounding peaks had a fresh cap of snow. The rain cleared by 11 am and we saddled up to ride the narrow road which climbs south-west to the Gavarnie-Gèdre Ski Station and beyond to the Spanish border. We were soon above the statue of Notre Dame des Neiges which overlooks the village and past the Refuge de Holle, where the GR10 trail (coast to coast on the French side of the Pyrenees) meets the road. Zig-zagging up, signs warned of falling ice and free-range animals (sheep, goats and cattle).

After 4 miles, half-way to the top, we paused at the ski-station (closed). Mist was shrouding the tops and cloud gathering as we continued, stopping only to photograph the marmots, out from winter hibernation, running across our path, darting down burrows, re-emerging, standing on their hind legs to sniff the air. These very pretty alpine animals with thick fur and bushy tails were successfully re-introduced into the Pyrenees in the 1950's. We could hear their shrill whistles long after we could see them. The road was open to traffic as far as the Col des Tentes, where a few cars awaited the return of hikers.

We continued past the barrier of boulders for another rough mile until the tarmac ended abruptly at the Col de Boucharo, at 2,270 m or 7,490 ft, our highest point yet in the Pyrenees (starting from 1,357 m or 4,480 ft in Gavarnie). This was the border with Spain but only a mountain track thick with snow led down the north-facing side to the Spanish village of Torla, 5 hours' walk below. A lone German, who we'd met at the ski station, arrived on his way there and we talked for a while. He was studying the flora, some unique to the region, and knew the mountains well. The mist was descending and rain drizzling as we donned our waterproofs for a rapid descent - 2 hours up and 30 minutes back, stopping to watch a single Bearded Vulture soaring above. The biggest bird in Europe with a 3 m wingspan (nearly 10 ft!), they nest in the region and we were very lucky to spot one.

Back to beans on toast in the motorhome, reading and writing, as rain set in. At tea-time we moved the motorhome down to the Parking Municipal, where she had some company: the donkeys and horses in their shelter as well as a few more campers.

We drove from Gavarnie down to the village of Gèdre, 5 miles to the north, then a short way south-east along the Cirque de Troumouse road, parking the motorhome by a lightweight campsite (not yet open) before the route got too steep and narrow.

Then we cycled up, following the Gave de Héas stream through the tiny village of Héas, climbing from 1,200 m or 3,960 ft, through a toll point (cars pay 24 FF for the 5-mile scenic drive to the summit), past an Auberge where we stopped for coffee at 1,800 m or 5,940 ft, and a final 2.5 miles (4 km) of zig-zags to the top at 2,105 m or 6,947 ft. It took 1 hr 35 mins to reach this splendid point, shared with a few high level walkers and surrounded by the Cirque de Troumouse, whose peaks form the Spanish border. Cloud rested on the tops but rain held off as we made a swift descent to a late lunch.

We drove back for another night at Gavarnie, sharing the Parking Municipal with half a dozen French camping cars. In the ski-ing season, December-March, there is an overnight charge, but the rest of the year it's free, including water and toilets. A civilised country, France!

From Gavarnie we had driven north and west into the Aquitaine region to Laruns in order to cycle 2 more Pyrenean cols. There were several campsites and also a free Aire with water, toilets and dump-point in the town centre.

From Laruns we moved the motorhome a couple of miles east up the Col d'Aubisque road to the little spa of Eaux-Bonnes. There was no charge or problem in parking in the centre and we prepared for a morning's hill-climb (2 hrs up and 30 mins down again). We had missed a recent cycle race over the Col d'Aubisque, with the riders' names freshly painted on the road and the kilometres counted down. It was steep (average 8%), rising for 5 miles (8 km) to the ski resort of Gourette, then even steeper for another 3.5 miles (6 km) to the summit.

We are used to French and Spanish racing men honking past us, but who are all these friendly English lads with labels on their bicycles 'Raid des Pyrénées - Hendaye-Cerbère'? When we reached the top (1,709m or 5,640 ft) they were resting and lunching at the cafe. Interrupted by a helicopter repeatedly landing to carry buckets of concrete to a cable car station above, we talked to a few of them and the woman driving the back-up car. On an organised endurance ride, they are cycling coast to coast across all the major cols of the French Pyrenees from Hendaye (French-Spanish border near Bayonne, where we crossed in January) to Cerbère, on the Mediterranean border - 500 miles (800 km) and many tens of thousands of feet in 90 hours if they want the badge! Well impressed, we learnt that today's route still included the Col de Tourmalet, which we'd ridden from Luz-St Sauveur (and of course the road in between). Even with a van carrying their baggage, and meals and hotels arranged, this is no 'Cycling for Softies' tour (nor for us - one col a day is plenty!)

We turned for a cool descent, stopping at a quieter bar a mile down to drink coffee and watch the circling eagles before our own effortless flight. Lunch in the motorhome before driving back to Laruns for a peaceful evening.

A much longer but gentler climb, cycling south from Laruns to the Spanish border.

The beautiful route followed a stream along its gorge (the Gave d'Ossau), through the little spa of Eaux-Chaudes, climbing through the village of Gabas (on the GR10 long-distance path) then more steeply up to the reservoir/lake of Fabreges.

Most of the traffic stopped here: tourists bound for the cable-car up to the Pic de la Sagette and a ride on the Petit Train d'Artouste which runs along a ridge (built in 1924 to carry materials for building a high-level dam). We continued, rising above the meadows grazed by sheep (this is cheese-making country) and watered by trout streams and waterfalls, which sometimes splashed over the road. Passing several avalanche warning lights (not flashing today), we reached the Col du Pourtalet after 3 hrs 20 mins, right on the Spanish border in the Pyrenees Occident National Park. Our corned beef sandwiches were worth their weight, then we bought coffee on the French side before turning for home - one hour and 5 mins later without stopping or turning the pedals! Much sunnier today, we arrived very thirsty and another shade browner.

From Laruns we had drove west to Larrau, to cyce to the Spanish border crossing at Port de Larrau. Access to Larrau's only campsite was difficult for large motorhomes but we managed to manoeuvre onto a terraced pitch. Barry had camped here before, climbing to Spain while cycling Roscoff-Santander in the summer of 1986 (a month before we met!) and we had returned by car at Christmas 1988, when the pass was closed by snow (though the road to the nearby Iraty ski station was kept clear). Today, dry and clear but with a head wind, we hoped to ride it together.

With perfect timing, we emerged from the campsite top gate to find 2 cycle-tourists waiting for their 3 slower mates to catch up. After exchanging French greetings, we soon realised we were all English and we showed the Five Men of Cornwall the village shop and drinking fountain. They had just ridden from Tardets, 10 miles below, and were cycling Roscoff-Santander!

We all set off towards the Col, though we didn't expect to keep up with them (well, they were younger and 100% male) but in fact, perhaps because they paused regularly as one had a strained knee, or because they were loaded with camping gear, or because we've got fit, we rode pretty much together and really enjoyed having some company and conversation as we climbed (the first time ever!). It wasn't the highest or longest climb we have done but most definitely the steepest, using the granny gear for most of the way.

After climbing 2,396 ft (726 m) in 5 miles (8 km) we reached the Col d'Erroymendi at 1,362 m or 4,495 ft, where a break was needed. (This was where we had walked to on Christmas Day 1988, after driving as far up as we could. Good memories of sitting in the snow with a flask of coffee watching a mountain rescue helicopter land and eagles circle. The raptors were still there.) Harold, Kevin, Nigel & co were a super gang, led by the local GP, and they shared a huge Basque Gâteau they'd bought with us (an exceedingly good kind of custard tart). But the climb wasn't over yet - the magnificent mountain road levels off for a couple of miles before a final lung-bursting mile with 4 zig-zags to Port de Larrau, the Spanish border, at 1,573 m or 5,191 ft. An amazing place and a little-used summer border crossing, with no habitation until Ochagavia, 12 miles (19 km) below.

Wind, cloud and gathering rain told us all not to linger - just time to take group photographs by the sign-post, put on a few layers of clothing and say Bon Voyage all round. We missed 'The Lads' as we turned to drop back to Larrau (2 hrs - not counting pauses - up and 30 mins - without pause - down).

Back to a late lunch, a rest and a well-earned 'Cock-au-Van' for supper, to end a perfect day.

From Larrau we had moved north-east to Arette, ready for a 2-day cycle tour into Spain via the Col de la Pierre St Martin, returning over the Port de Larrau.

Leaving the motorhome on Arette's Camping Municipal, we set out to ride south at 10 am, once the threat of rain had passed. It was cloudy and cooler, good for our highest climb this season, from a low starting point (Arette is at only 340 m or 1,122 ft). The road went through the village and then followed a stream through cow pastures and woodland, rising very gently for the first 5 miles. We paused to watch a junior school party learning to climb on the cliffs before our route got seriously steep, winding its way up through the clouds (a triple arrow on the Michelin map, 15% or 1-in-6 for a couple of miles). Then a misty plateau with low visibility before climbing again, now above the cloud. From Arette, signposts had counted the 27 km (17 miles) to Pierre-St Martin, a deserted ski resort 2.5 km (1.5 miles) before the Col. We ate our sandwiches on the steps of one of the abandoned cafes, surveying the mess that is left in summer without a blanket of snow to transform the scene.

As we climbed the last mile or so to the Col de la Pierre St Martin (the Spanish border) we were in bright sunshine, looking down on a blanket of cloud pierced by peaks, as from a plane. We reached the top (1,760 m or 5,808 ft) after 17 miles (27 km) in 3.5 hours' riding time. A further 18 miles (29 km) following the Belagua stream down to Isaba took another hour, through a short tunnel and a series of zig-zags, dropping to 813 m or 2,683 ft. The Spanish road was rougher, the landscape empty and wild, the main hazard avoiding the horses and foals grazing at large.

Isaba, the first habitation since Arette, was a pretty village with steep cobbled alleyways and stone houses decked with wrought iron balconies and flower pots - very Spanish. The main hotel, Hostal Lola, had a splendid room with its own bath for £28.80 including breakfast. Soon the bicycles were resting in the kitchen store-room and we were resting with coffees and TV. Later M walked round the village in the afternoon sunshine to buy pop, chocolate and biscuits from the only shop, ready for tomorrow's return over Larrau. The woman didn't speak a word of French but luckily was happy to accept their Francs!

We ate at Bar Txiki, a simple restaurant (less formal and expensive than our hotel) nearby, and had an excellent 3-course menu with wine, bread and coffee for 1,500 pts (about £6) each. Fish soup, pork steaks & chips, crème caramel with ice-cream and a whole bottle of local rosé. We slept well!

Breakfast in the Hostal Lola at Isaba - orange juice, coffee, plain yogurt, croissants and jam. Then back in the saddle to cross the Pyrenees and rejoin the motorhome in Arette.

A couple of easy miles led along a lovely wooded valley, north-west to the sleepy village of Uztarroz where we tried to buy bread (too early!) Then a 5-mile (8 km) 1,100 ft (333 m) climb to the Col of Alta Laza at 1,129 m or 3,726 ft (from Isaba at 813 m or 2,683 ft). Magnificent scenery and hardly a car (or cyclist) to be seen. We dropped down about 1,000 ft (303 m) to meet the Larrau-Ochagavia road, then turned north to climb another 2,400 ft (730 m) in 7 miles (11 km) to the border on the Port de Larrau col. The former Spanish Customs House was now a cafe and the only building on the way up, but sadly it was closed outside the ski-ing season, whatever our guidebook said! It was a well-graded climb, nowhere near as steep as the French side, not needing the granny gear until the last mile which included a short tunnel through a ridge just before the top. It was hot, sunny and clear - very different from last Sunday morning, when we said goodbye to the Five Men of Cornwall, all wrapped up for a chilly descent.

We watched the eagles which always circle over this pass, then dropped down to Larrau, 7.5 incredibly fast miles (12 km) below (Margaret's maximum speed reached 33 mph or 53 kph, despite the bends). First stop in Larrau was at the drinking water fountain, then the little hotel for coffee, bread and local cheese. Now it was gently downhill all the way to Tardets, where we had a break on the river bank under the shady plane trees before continuing. Total riding time was 4 hrs 50 mins - 2.75 hrs to the Larrau Col, 1.25 hrs to Tardets and 50 minutes for the last 10 miles of main road to Arette, with a 500 ft (150 m) climb along the way into Lanne village.

It was good to find the motorhome waiting, cool under the maple trees, with ice cold lemonade, pots of tea and a tin of Lidl's best cassoulet to revive us. We had cycled 80 miles (128 km) in 2 days, crossed the Pyrenees twice and climbed a total of 8,700 ft (2,640 m). And we had enjoyed every foot/metre of it!