16th August. 11.30 am
This is now my second day in Amelie. On the one hand it has been boring and lonely, the weather has been too hot to do anything other than sit in the shade. On the other hand it has given me time alone to reflect on what I have achieved. I sat and flicked through the guidebook yesterday and recalled memories from each day's walk. It has certainly been a very long walk!
I visited the Mondonay Gorge in Amelie this morning. Quite impressive. The town has been a thriving spa in years
gone by and the buildings and infrastructure reflect opulence that has decayed and crumbled as the crowds have dwindled. The
thermal spa is still operating, but it looks a bit jaded and I had the gorge to myself at 8.30 am.
I heard an English voice in a cafe this morning. That is the first I have heard since I met an English family in Font Romeu eight days ago. I am looking forward to Jim and Chris's arrival this afternoon. It will be good to have some conversation again, and there will be lots of news to catch up on. It should be fun!"
Photo: Amelie les Bains
17th August. 8.30 pm.
Jim and Chris arrived fit and well, and we had a pleasant evening at the crepere catching up on news and events. Then this morning we packed up and set off again on the final three day leg of the walk.
It was a hot and humid morning during which we climbed steeply up a ridge out of Amelie in lovely woodland of beech, chestnut and oak. On the south side of the ridge where the trees had been exposed to the sun during this exceptionally dry summer, they were already showing their Autumn colours and we crunched through dry leaves on the path. The heather was in flower and the bracken turning yellow. It was hard to believe that the bluebells had been in flower when I walked through the Pays Basque at the start of the trek!
After a hot and sweaty climb we eventually emerged onto the ridge of Roc de France where granite outcrops marked the two summits. We stopped for a break and then strode down forest tracks to Refuge Salinas, on the Spanish side of the frontier, which had a charming courtyard where we drank beer before grabbing a sandwich in the bar. We met an English woman there who was nearing the end of the GR10 in the company of a friend and spent a sociable half an hour exchanging experiences. Then it was back onto the forest tracks for a couple of hours to Las Illas, a charming little French village at the end of the road with a few houses and villas and a small hotel. We sat under two huge plane trees outside the hotel and enjoyed an excellent meal with good wine and obtained permission to camp on the village green beside the hotel.
18th August. 8.30pm
Surprisingly, we awoke this morning to overcast skies. After a leisurely breakfast [and meagre one] at the hotel we marched down more forest tracks with not a single view, as the skies grew heavier and the thunder rumbled through the hills. In the late morning we approached Col de Perthus, where a motorway crosses the frontier, as the rain grew heavier and the skies darker.
Col de Perthus is one of those border towns that exists to serve the peoples' greed for low price alcohol and cigarettes:
not unlike El Casa de la Passa in Andorra. We arrived in an absolute deluge! The rain had started and got heavier until
it was like someone pouring buckets of water over our heads. The roads were like rivers, and the steps down the hill onto
the mainstreet were a cascade of gushing water. We took shelter in a large supermarket cafe, where we changed into dry
clothes and left puddles of water on the floor. Lunch was cheap and nasty, but at least by the time we left the rain had
stopped and we were able to press on and leave Col de Perthus behind.
The mixed woodland had given way to cork oak forest as we descended to Col de Perthus. The cork is stripped off the trunk from ground level to about five feet, yet the tree seems to survive and replace the lost bark. The freshly stripped trunks were a bright orange colour!
The afternoon saw us climbing roads and tracks for four hot muggy hours, gaining 1000m altitude to the summit of Pic Neulos. En route we met and talked to a couple of Dutch chaps who had been doing the GR10 over a few years during their holidays, and like us were nearing journey's end. They stopped at the Gite d'Etape before the summit: It was tempting with sun on the terrace and people sipping beer, but we pressed on to the Font de Tagnarede where we have pitched our tents and are now drinking some very nice Rioja aquired in Col du Perthus as the sun set in the west.
Photo: Beechwoods on the final leg of the journey
19th August.
And so, at last, the final day of the journey arrived. After doing most of the climbing the previous afternoon there wasn't much more to do, but it was still a long walk. Firstly along an undulating ridge where banks of cloud drifted up from France to obscure any view that we might have got of the coast.
It was a very hot day, and the mist turned to heat haze as we trudged determinedly eastwards. The land here was parched dry, the cattle looked starved and there were masses of flies pestering us. We kept to the routine of two hours walking between rests and made rapid progress despite the discomfort. At midday we reached the end of the ridge, but the cloud and the haze stubbornly prevented a view.
Then it was down, surprisingly steep and rugged for the GR10, initially through rough scrub, then into cork woods on steep hillsides above the Banyuls vinyards.
The path brought us out onto tracks and roads that wound down towards the coast,
and we finally had our view of
Banyuls sur Mer as we rounded a headland above the town. Impatient now, we pressed on, and after six hours walking we
wound our way through the streets of the town and down to the beach.
Photo: Descending to Banyuls at journey's end
Banyuls sur Mer is a lovely resort. It's not too gaudy, has lots of cafes and a collection of decent shops. The only thing it doesn't have is a sandy beach - the beach is grey pebbles, but that doesn't keep the crowds away!
We stepped between the bronzed bodies, with packs on our backs, and still with our boots on waded into the sea.
This moment could only ever be an anti-climax, but we made the most of it. We bought some cans and sat on the beach amidst all those lazy and relaxed people. Even when the sky turned dark and a hail storm swept in, as the crowds ran for the shelter of the cafes we stayed put on the beach. Nothing could spoil this moment! It was lovely to think that we would not have to walk again tomorrow, or even the next day. Then I can go home! That's what I want now more than anything else in the world!