What does "risque d'avalanche" mean?

Now that we have a little expendable income and enough language skills that I won't accidentally get myself sold into slavery, Jason and I have been trying to see a bit more of the country we're calling home for the next two years. We were looking for our next weekend trip, and when Jason suggested the Pyrenees, I said, "Hell yes."

I had read in the paper that there had been some flooding somewhere in France earlier in the week but since it didn't really affect us in Bordeaux, I didn't pay much attention. There were also no travel advisories on the SNCF website or on any of the tourism websites so we figured we were good to go. FALSE. On Thursday, I mentioned in class that we were heading to the Pyrenees for the weekend and Carolyne was like "Now? It's flooded. The towns are in shambles." I immediately got on the phone with the tourism offices and the people at the hotels, all of which assured me that everything was fine. I was not convinced but it was too late to cancel our reservations so we decided to just go. I was worried it was going to be disastrous but we're no strangers to extreme weather so how bad could it be?

Famous last words.

Photos of the destruction and subsequent clean-up efforts were posted online on Friday morning. Rail lines were completely under water. Whole trees and other debris covered the streets. Houses were completely swept away by the floodwaters. How did we not notice this? And still the tourist website of Cauterets was boasting that the town would be fully operational for the weekend. Hope is strong, but it doesn't magically wipe away a catastrophe.

We have a bit of a knack for making the most of natural disasters (like starting our relationship during Snowpocalypse and getting engaged during Hurricane Sandy) so we boarded the train on Friday afternoon and headed to Lourdes.

Lourdes is a small city at the foothills of the Pyrenees. It's a favorite stop of Catholic pilgrims because a nun was once said to have seen an apparition of the Virgin Mary in the grotto there. Perhaps because of its alleged miracles or perhaps because of it's cozy situation in the hillside, the city avoided most of the major flood damage and our fears of being drowned in the streets were allayed momentarily.

Despite all the news about the floods, there were thousands of devotees making the pilgrimage to the holy site that weekend, hoping to be cured of their ailments or at least to catch a glimpse of the Blessed Mother. We didn't see her but we did buy a coin with Jesus's face on it for Jason's dad.

Say what you will about religion, but it sure has inspired some amazing architecture. The basilica in Lourdes was stunning. The plastic Jesus statues and vials for holy water emblazoned with a likeness of the Virgin in the hundreds of shitty souvenir shops that all sold the exact same things, not so much.

Lourdes was just a stepping stone, though, as we were mostly looking forward to getting up in the mountains in Cauterets. We got up at a reasonable hour on Saturday morning to get the bus that would take us to Cauterets but we were having a hard time figuring out when exactly it was leaving. The tourism office told us 2:30pm, the website said 11am and the people selling the bus tickets said 12:15. Typical France, but we decided to go with the bus company since they would best know what was going on.

Tickets in hand at noon, we found our bus but the driver told us it wasn't going where we wanted to go. I tried to explain that the woman in the station had just sold us these tickets an hour ago and she told us there would definitely be a bus to Cauterets right now. The driver said that she didn't give two shits what they were doing inside their fancy ticket booth, the road to Cauterets was out by police order and wouldn't be open again until 2:30. These morons don't listen when people tell them there's no more road. Oh and you should get a refund on that ticket because the bus between Pierrefitte and Cauterets is free and I don't know what those assholes are still selling tickets all the way to Cauterets for. Greedy SNCF motherfuckers.

She was a gentle, eloquent woman.

So, our plans were dashed for the moment but it gave us time to go climb the castle, which was a lot of fun. I love castles!

The bus to Cauterets was worth the wait because 1) driving through the mountains was breathtaking, with waterfalls and sheer rock faces around every hairpin turn, and 2) the bus driver was not kidding and it really was a national guard-type situation down there. I guess because there was so little damage in Lourdes I assumed that everywhere else was doing similarly well. We all know what happens when you assume. The single road leading into the town had been washed into the ravine below during the floods and there was literally no road left to travel on. The gendarmes had converted an old hiking trail into a makeshift road that only 4X4s and foot traffic could traverse. We took a bus to this spot a ways out, got off and walked around where the road used to be and then got picked up on the other side by another bus that took us the rest of the way into the town.

After seeing what the floods had done to the road, I was worried that Cauterets was going to be a mess but I couldn't have been more mistaken. It was the cutest little mountain town and it was almost like we had the place to ourselves because it was such a pain to get there. There were some cool hiking spots we wanted to check out in the area and hoped we could get on some kind of shuttle to take us there but because it was already after 4pm, they had stopped running. We asked if it was possible to just walk it and the woman at the tourist office strongly recommended against it.

Screw that! We didn't come all the way to the damn Pyrenees to not climb some mountains! So we filled our water bottles, packed some snacks and tightened our laces for what was sure to be an epic hike.

The way up was pretty tame. We stayed mostly on roads, not because we like four-mile walks on the road but because we couldn't find the trail that was supposed to take us to the top of the mountain. Oh well. We were in a bit of a hurry because we had to make it to the top and back before sunset, which was in about six hours, so the road was probably our best bet anyway. Still got some nice shots walking along the river.

See the top? That's where we're going.

Two and a half hours later, we made it to the Pont d'Espagne, a beautiful bridge way up in the mountains where the mist from the river rapids makes about a zillion rainbows clear and cold.

We didn't have time to hang out much because we were trying to get to the Lac de Gaube, which was another 50 minutes up the mountain. If I'm being completely honest, it was a pretty tough climb. The "trail" was just boulders and we were already getting a little tired but we were determined to make it to the lake.

It was no walk in the park, that's for sure

Almost an hour of intense hiking later, we reached the Lac de Gaube and we were the only people around for miles. Being so close to the source, the lake was crystal clear and still, reflecting the clouds and the mountains perfectly. We sat out on a rock on the edge of the lake, had a snack and enjoyed the serenity of the moment. Perfection.

After not too long, the sun started setting, the temperature dropped and the clouds rolled in so we knew it was time to start heading back. I don't care what you say, going down is just as hard as going up because gravity wanted nothing more than to send me plummeting down the mountain to my death. Not cool, gravity.

Treading gingerly

We did manage to find the trail we were looking for and decided that would be more fun than taking the road back down the mountain. It was a bit...unkempt...but I was okay with it until we had to jump a gorge. Jason will probably tell you it was no big deal because he is agile as a little spider monkey and very easily clambered up the other side of the embankment and back onto the trail. To me, we had to cross a raging river and then climb up a cliff of loose dirt to make it to safety. One wrong move, and you're sucked into the rapids, never to be seen again. This may be a slight exaggeration but I was pretty scared the whole embankment was going to give way and I would be a goner. Obviously, I made it out unscathed, but a little shaken up.

We came across a field of giant rocks that looked as if they had recently fallen into the path. Again, Jason was not concerned. "They aren't going anywhere!" I, on the other hand, remarked that the sign reading "Danger: Risque d'Avalanche" might suggest otherwise. Agree to disagree.

Unstable mountainside full of boulders? Walk faster.

Although the trail certainly was more of an adventure, it was becoming harder to see because the sun had completely set. Luckily, we made it out of the woods safely, only to find that the entrance to the trail had been roped off. Trail closed due to safety concerns. I think this maybe would have been a useful sign to put at the top, too, but who am I to judge! After walking for 10 miles, I was in no condition to be fussing out the park rangers.

Back in town, we were starving but since it was already 11pm, all of the restaurants were closed. We wearily dragged ourselves back to our hotel and asked the staff if they had any suggestion but to no avail. One of the guys took pity on us, though, and gave us a leftover baguette and some knives so we could make sandwiches from the souvenir sausage and cheese Jason had purchased earlier in the day. Faith in humanity = temporarily restored!

The next morning, we were sore but proud of ourselves. We got an excellent brunch at the hotel before heading out of town to catch our train back to Bordeaux. Oh, Pyrenees. You are so great. See you for ski season!

Bluest sky EVER and the moon.

Encore deux Leffes, s'il vous plaît

Au revoir, Cauterets!