LeftRight-Repeat

If you want to integrate yourself back into society after spending 6 weeks of near solitude in the mountains, don't arrive in Barcelona at 11pm on a Saturday night in the midst of an annual festival. City life in comparison to the mountains can be a bit of a shock to the system, especially in Spain because the Spaniards, jovial as they are, are notoriously loud and also seem to walk incredibly slowly. That may seem like the moanings of someone who has just spent almost two months walking but really, they do walk slower than other people. It's very frustrating. Anyway, I arrived in Barcelona on Saturday evening with little idea where I was going. I had the address of the hostel I had booked into but no internet or map so I resigned myself to the old fashioned method of asking for directions. I'm good at this, not so good at following them as I'm sure the boys will testify. Luckily everyone was very keen to help. Unluckily, I feel a lot of people didn't actually know which direction they were sending me in but couldn't admit that they didn't know. This resulted in a few laps around the block (or maybe just my directional skills again). When I eventually did make it to my hostel, the night was still in full swing with live music blaring from the streets, people dancing, drinking, smoking and peeing in the street. Apparently street peeing is completely normal (if not encouraged) here; I witnessed about 10 people peeing along the street of my hostel alone. The festivities were cheerful and the mood was catching I found myself excited to be part of city life again. The next day I spent walking round the city, soaking in the atmosphere for hours on end. ~ I think I'm having walking withdrawal symptoms. ~ Most of the people I've met out here have accused me of walking too fast everywhere we go, plus there is a certain tranquility that belongs to the mountains which is hard not to miss. It's another chapter finished and has left me with the adventure bug. I'm getting restless already; what to do next?

Our 6 week trek across the Pyrenees Mountains gave us some beautiful sights.

And so the last section finally came. I say finally, it seems like it took both forever and sped by faster than I could ever imagine. After our last rest day in Vicdessos we started off late due to absent-mindedly forgetting both to pay and to retrieve our washing from the machines before the office was locked up and having to wait until they reopened at 9 the next morning. Once we did finally get moving we made good steady progress and a little before lunch time we found ourselves in a quaint little French town who were celebrating their annual fete. They ambushed us on our way through the town square, which was buzzing with people, and offered us free sangria, beer and cake which we found exceedingly hard to refuse. We made a team decision to stop there for lunch and several sangria's each later we stumbled back onto the path, a little off balance. The 1200m ascent ahead of us was hot and sweaty and saw us marginally regretting accepting all that free booze, however, we all agreed it really would have been rude to turn down such kindness. At the top, upon waiting for me, the other two had met a spirited nudist named Brian Johnson who is re-writing the GR10 guidebook. We bumped into him again by the cabin we were camping at that evening and he walked a little way with us the following morning sharing with us his knowledge of snow coverage over the past decade and other such interesting facts. I'm not sure how he retains all this information, but it's quite impressive. The following evening we camped by a refuge with an awesome French Canadian guy called Remi who was also walking the entire GR10 (to our dismay faster than we were) and had our first gite meal. The guy who ran the gite was lovely and welcoming and even offered that we could sleep inside for free if the storm got too aggressive but unfortunately the meal itself was a bit of a let down. For starters, there wasn't a great deal of food and we all found ourselves going for seconds (and thirds) and filling up on the slightly stale bread. Second, desert was a disappointment; where we'd been promised cheese followed by desert, we got a single slice of cheese, served with the same stale bread, and an apple. The next day gratefully brought us the end of the Ariege with one last steep steep ascent which resulted in my falling on my bum, a lot. I've definitely perfected the art of falling over on this trip, although I can't say it happens any less, I'm just more attuned to it now. Running out of money again meant that we had to scour our pockets to scrape together enough loose change for a crepe each at the next refuge but by this point we were past embarrassment. We've become less self conscious about our travelling ways as time goes on, caring less about our smelly clothes and feet, where we pitch our tents, and stealing all the free bread from restaurants than we were inclined to at the beginning. When we finally did come to the next town with a cashpoint, we were informed that in order to get to it we would have to head 30 minutes uphill back in the direction we came from. Now his might seem like nothing when you've been walking 30km a day but the prospect still didn't sound particularly appealing. Luckily a lovely French man who spoke no less than 2 words of English offered us a lift and we spent the car journey playing charades in order to try and figure out what exactly it was that he did for a living. After that, lunch with my parents was a welcome treat and celebration of our soon to be completion of the walk. Only a few days to go and they literally flew by. The last week is a blur of lakes, cabins, siesta's, the best chocolatines of the entire walk and fake snake bites (apparently pretending to be bitten by a venomous snake is a funny pastime). By the last morning I was jumping up and down with excitement to the mild chagrin of the other two. The last day seemed to be hotter than it had ever been, but perhaps that was just because we walked through the the afternoon heat rather than stopping for our usual siesta. Red, sweaty, hot, bothered and smelly, we made it. All the way to the Mediterranean sea. We were greeted by Craig's parents with a bottle of fizz before running past the hordes of holiday makers on the beach straight into the sea. And that was it; we had finished. We were done and we could wake up the next morning knowing we didn't have to walk. I'm unsure how I feel about this, happy, sad, indifferent? Aspects of them all I suppose and a thousand other emotions that I can't even explain. It seems very separate and detached, as though it were a different person from me who completed the walk. Surreal I suppose is the best way to describe it although I'm not sure if I can quite put it into words.

So, we're done. It doesn't feel like we have. Being what I can only describe as lightning fast at hiking, we finished 18 days ahead of schedule, meaning we get a holiday within a holiday, so there hasn't been a dramatic shift, and I've been too busy travelling around Spain to realise what we've accomplished. So what've we been up to since my last post. We walked a lot. It rained a lot, then it was really sunny. I ate much and often. Fiona got lost a few times, and fell over a few more. Basically it became hugely routine. We had some amazing days and some really tough days. At times we came very close to taking the easy route out of valleys to escape the rain, but I'm pleased to say we didn't. We left Seix in ridiculously high spirits, and walked about 19km in one afternoon. Meeting a few lovely people along the way, and the pattern followed each day. It all blurred into one, and hopefully when I get a chance to sit down and go through the whole experience I'll remember the finer details. All I know for certain is that we really delivered on hard work in the second half of the walk. The most memorable days were the last few, when it became a tangible amount of time and distance and steps between us and the sea. On day 37 we walked through the pouring rain to an empty cabin about 5 km before Refuge de Cortalets, a touristy refuge due to Canigou, the biggest mountiaun in the area. Having dried ourselves we decided to test our lungs' reaction to smoke after so long without a cigarette, and lit the wood stove. About an hour later once the smoke had cleared we re-entered the cabin; Fiona and Craig settled down to watch a film while I went outside to the freshly rain free nature, and saw where we were. It was pretty much the most beautiful spot I've ever seen. That's no exaggeration, with my body pumping endorphins around after a day of 6 hours solid hiking, my head clear, belly full, and the sun not only illuminating the mountains it was setting behind, but also projecting two rainbows pretty much directly above my head from a light rain shower, it was pretty unbeatable. Although the next day challenged it pretty well, when after a long, stiff ascent first thing in the morning, I reached a ridge above Rufuge de Cortalets, and looked around. In the distance there was a shiny flat watery looking thing. 'Don't get excited for nothing doug' I told myself 'it's probably just a lake'. But it was, actually the sea. I could see the sea for the first time in 800km. I think it was probably what it signified, and that I'd daydreamed for at least an hour a day about reaching the sea, but I was close to tears at the sight of it. It must have looked strange to walk past me, a smoke/sweat smelling, dirty looking, bearded English man laughing to himself staring at a tiny bit of sea off in the distance, but that was me. Happy and smiling. It would be fair to say that the night before Craig and I had lacked self-control, and the result was we had to have breakfast at the refuge...but it was nice to sit down and eat cereal with milk (a luxury for us) and stare at the sea. The days carried on regardless, and as we approached the end we began to start realising that this lifestyle, although difficult, emotionally and physically draining, painful, sometimes lonely, is sustainable. We fitted into small habits, you could tell by our robot-like systems of packing up in the mornings, the instinctive nature in which one of us would stop at the right place for lunch as our appetites worked in time with each other's (although my appetite is more of a constant thing). We knew each person's speed, so how far ahead or behind they were likely to be. And then it was over. In those last three days we became close to each other and pretty much everyone else we met, having mostly all done the whole GR10, all the hikers we met were I. Very similar spirits and we all knew everyone there had come a long way, and faced as many if not more challenges than we had ourselves. But all of this knowledge seemed to disappear when we walked to the final marker in Banyuls. It was just another day, yes it may end in spraying champagne and running into the sea, but it felt like another day. Now however, only five days after finishing, the whole trip is a far distant memory. LeftRight Repeat 2015 has become exactly what it was intended to be, an amazing journey that pushed the three of us to our limits, in which we spent so much time aching, or tired, sweating, thirsty, hungry, sleepless in storms, freezing cold or boiling hot, than we did comfortably. Although this may not sound like your ideal holiday, the main factor of LeftRight Repeat 2915 is that we did it, and any pain we endured to finish, is now part of the memories of the laughs, and the relaxing hours walking across ridges at 2,600m, sitting and having siestas by beautiful rivers, eating dinner under the stars. It has become part of my repertoire, that has made me stronger, happier and rather well tanned. In my first entry during the walk I wrote down a few rules I'd learnt in the initial 4 days which were: Watch where you walk The French/Basque are amazing people Walking up mountains is considerably more difficult with heat and added weight. If you have a problem, tell the team. Cheese/ wine are simply better in France After another 38 days I would like to update these: Watch where you walk, take time to appreciate what is going on around you, you're in one of the most beautiful parts of the world, and walking through it allows you to see a huge amount of that beauty, don't spend your time looking at your feet wanting the day to end. People are amazing people. The people you meet from all over the world on these trips all have an amazing story and reason to do them. They also have a better understanding than anyone else of what you're going through, good or bad. Walking up mountains is considerably difficult, but worthwhile. If you consider every ascent, however tough, boring, tiring, steep, hot, slippery, painful, as a success, and you do a couple a day, you have a wonderful feeling of your own strength multiple times a day, and there's not many better feelings If you have a problem tell the team. One of the best things to come of this is the relationship Fiona, Craig and I have. It could have very easily one the other way and we'd finish feeling sour, and not wanting to spend time around each other, but we all made the decision alone to share our feelings, good or bad, with each other. This way no bad feelings were left to fester and cause arguments. Throughout the 6 weeks I think there were maybe 3 times I got angry with anyone, and each time it was settled within 5 minutes. Cheese/wine are simply better in France...I have nothing to add here.

Exhausted, grubby, but pretty pleased with ourselves nevertheless.

So the team's finished early and enjoying their well earned relaxation in different places around the Med. #travel #journey #Spain #France #summer #selfie

I’m sure as time goes by I will have a lot more to say about the trip and the experiences that we had. But at the moment I don't think it has really sunk in. Thanks to everyone for all the support and thanks to everyone who donated to Yorkhill. It does mean a lot and definitely helped us push on when the times got hard. If anyone hasn't had the chance to donate and would like to, please do at https://mydonate.bt.com/fundraisers/leftrightrepeat2015 .

Time seems to be passing us by so quickly now that we're speeding towards the Mediterranean and really coming into our stride walking wise. Where I started off with trepidation and angst about finishing this and the challenges that would present themselves along the way, I now feel confident in what we're doing, have accomplished and are going to accomplish by the end of this. That's not to say the mountains won't have any curveballs left to throw us but I feel more equipped to handle them now. I think we can by now give ourselves the title of 'expert walkers'. The evening of our rest day, in order to avoid paying for another night at the campsite, we resolved to walk on a small way and wild camp. Finding ourselves bounding with unexpected optimism and energy (probably as a result of our first caffeine fix in a while) we ended up walking a lot further than planned and ended up completing half of the next planned day. We stopped by a cabin with 3 bunk beds and a loft area, filled with people who also intended to stay there. Among them an English couple about our age named Raphie and Will who we chattered away to into the night about art, travelling and other such nonsense. The morning greeted us with another steep ascent. We took lunch by a well stocked refuge with an honesty box to pay by and bumped into Francis, the mum from the English family we'd met before who'd hitch hiked up there to wait for the others. The rest of the day was characterised by rain, fog and another steep climb. When we got to the col to camp the rain was beating down so ferociously we had to cook inside Doug's tent. It then continued to rain for the next 24 hours. We woke to rain, walked in the rain, sheltered in a cafe for a good 4 hours and then continued on in the rain. We woke to indecisive weather which continued throughout the afternoon and was a marginal improvement on the constant downpour. Halfway through the day we stumbled across a bee and honey museum/shop with a lovely French man who laid out honey nougat and gingerbread for us to try alongside a free honey tasting. Of course, we did feel obliged to buy various honey-ed goods afterwards. The highlight of the day for Doug and Craig though was the hot young bin lady who waved to us from the bin lorry as they drove past. Down in Vicdessos, our rest day, ahead of schedule again, we checked into a shockingly mediocre campsite with a regrettably under average boulangerie. Not to sound ungrateful, but the chocolatines really weren't up to par. The town was fairly boring and sparse with a single shop and cafe so whilst Craig and I went off to play mini golf and bumped into the English family again, Doug had a mini adventure of his own, hitch hiking almost to Toulouse and back in search of a new pair of shoes to replace his now broken boots. All in all another fast week, speeding through 6 days in four again to find ourselves itching to keep walking. The closer we get, the more we find ourselves wanting to carry on. I feel like the end of this adventure might leave me at a loss of what to do with myself when I get up in the morning, or maybe I'll just be more than grateful for a lie in on a real mattress.

Team photo after lunch with Fiona's parents.

Waking up to the sun shining on your tent is one of the best feelings in the world.

Oh Pyrenean beauty, we will miss you. Less than 10 days until we reach the Mediterranean Coast now! #beauty #Pyrenees #mountains #sky #landscape #adventure #leftrightrepeat

The views make it all worth it #eveningwalks #hiking #worthit #views #mountains #adventuretravel

Circling Mont Valier last week was perfect in the nice weather. Sadly we've lost all sight of said mountain and said weather. #walking #travel #beauty #pano #mountains (at mont valier)

Another top effort from the team this week. We managed to cram 6, of what were said to be the hardest days, into 4. As Doug correctly said earlier this week, going fast and trying to push ourselves is becoming a bit of a bug. And a bug that once you have got it, is very hard to get rid of. This week, on paper, was one of the hardest. We had to carry food for 5 days and to put that into numbers that is; 4kg of cous cous, 1.8kg of chicken, 2 kg of porridge and 900g of sausage. It doesn’t sound like much and it really isn’t. Although when you put it on your back and try to walk for 8 hours a day with it, it becomes a bit more of an issue. But that is just me moaning. Either way we got through our biggest test so far with flying colours. But we are now faced with the small task of finishing off the remaining 9 days of the Ariege. Wish us luck. Before we began this trek my dad, of all people, nagged about how important carrying as little weight as possible is. As you always do with your parents you brush the advice to one side and think you are right (we usually are). However on the odd occasion they turn out to be right. (I’m sure you are as shocked as I am). When this happens I think it is only fair to put your hands up and admit that we may actually, have been wrong. As we have got further and further into this walk we have all begun to realise how important it is to carry as little weight as possible. Our newly acquired Dutch friend also reinforced this. He looked completely taken aback when he picked up our packs and continued to hand us his pack that couldn’t have weighed more than 9kg. Pretty Impressive. After that I have tried to cut as much weight as possible, whilst trying to avoid walking around in the same pair of boxers for 5 days. I have rid myself of; a shirt, a battery pack, a gilet, a pair of shorts, 2 pairs of socks and a broken pair of boots. When you put it in writing it sounds so ridiculous. However it all added up to 2.3kg and it makes the world of difference. The whole team have also cut down how much water we are carrying. At the start of the walk, whenever we left a town we would all make sure that we had our camel backs filled to the brim. Now we barley fill them past half way. Shedding another 1.5kg. As I said it makes a huge difference and the progress we have been making in the recent weeks demonstrates this brilliantly. Another interesting discovery this week, is firstly Fiona’s love for sleep and secondly her inability to wake up. The love for sleep is understandable, we all love getting a good 8 hours. Although, as Doug keeps pointing out, the most successful people in the world live off 4 hours sleep. Interesting. As a test of Fiona’s love for sleep I asked whether she would trade 8 hours a night, for 4 hours a night, if she knew that she would then achieve any kind of success she wanted. Her answer was no because if she was tired then she would not be achieving success. Again interesting. But each to there own. The second point is her inability to wake up. Every morning she gets up bleary eyed,like every other person. However, for Fiona this bleary eyed period lasts for hours. It is quite amazing. This always makes the mornings fairly slow progress, but that isn’t really a problem. Because when she properly wakes up the results are incredible. No hill is too big and no distance too far. The sudden burst of energy is like nothing Doug and I have ever seen and means the afternoons more than make up for the slow mornings. The dream would be constant energy but that would be a lot to ask of anyone. Thanks to these fruitful afternoons the team has managed to get way ahead of schedule and are on track to finish 14 days early. The only issue is that we think people might think the GR10 is easy. Doug and I were doing a bit of maths to try and put the challenge of the GR10 into a more relatable statistic. Overall on the walk we will climb 49,714 meters (not including over regular de-tours). For those of you in Glasgow, if we say the height gain from the GUU to the top of University Avenue is 20m. You would have to walk up and down university avenue just under 2500 times. We still can’t decide whether that is a good statistic or not, so we will keep working on it. Coming up we have another tough week in the Ariege and after that only another 14 or so days. Very scary. However please remember be are doing all of this for Yorkhill Children’s Hospital. It is great cause and all the money raised goes straight to them. So if you can, please donate at https://mydonate.bt.com/fundraisers/leftrightrepeat2015.

That's two pairs of boots fallen victim to the GR10. Looks like @salomon @hitecuk need to go back to bootcamp! #boots #broken #walk #trek #problems

The beginning of the Ariege was actually a fairly enjoyable. A long steady ascent in nice sunny weather - the kind with a bit of a breeze that doesn’t make you feel like you’re melting as you trek uphill. I think we’d all had it in our minds that this was going to be a killer of a week so the kind start was more than welcome and kept us in high spirits. We were in for a long day however and when we arrived in Fos that evening we still had a 5km ascent to tackle. Fos is a small town with nothing much in it save for a bar which was closed and, to our delight, an open boulangerie which was stocked with about 1 baguette and a couple of delicious local cakes called Canelles which revived our blood sugar levels nicely. We camped just outside a town called Melles and woke early to drizzle and fog. I did not want to get out of bed, and rightly so, the morning was miserable. Soaking boots, constant ascent and a bitter finger numbing chill. One of the disadvantages of such an early start is come 10/11 am you start getting pretty hungry and lunch time is not yet justifiably in sight. I was relieved when we stopped at a refuge so we could warm up. I ordered a hot chocolate in a bowl, mainly to warm my fingers, and 3 slices of cake (one each, not just for me). We’d realised that I was the only one left with any cash and there aren’t a multitude of cashpoints readily available at over 2000 metres. Lunch time, as it turned out, much to my disappointment, didn’t come till around 3pm due to another unexpected detour otherwise known as getting lost. Again, more climbing to complete after lunch making this the hardest day we’ve done at a total of 2800 metres ascent. I’m kind of hoping we don’t have to top that. Just past the peak we found a little cabin inhabited by two kindly Frenchmen who let us warm up, cook and dry our clothes by the fire before heading to our tents to sleep. The night was freezing. Wrapped in most of my clothes with my fleece on over the top, my sleeping bag and sleeping bag liner, I woke every half hour or so, shivering. Part of the issue is that the sleeping mat I’ve brought with me is only ¾ length which gives little respite from the cold ground. Well we live and learn. Luckily nights this cold are a one off and I’ve not had too much of an issue otherwise. The next morning was exceedingly tough. I had slept badly and was tired and not enthused for the plan the mountains had in store for us that morning; descent followed by an uphill battle only to have to drop down again, all before lunch time. That is the nature of mountains though, as it goes they’re pretty consistent in their ups and downs. We took lunch by a stream, treating ourselves to more couscous than usual as we were now going to cut the 6 prescribed days into 4 so were carrying more than enough food. Still hungry (the amount of energy we are burning calls for serious calorie intake), we headed up to an overpriced and under-staffed restaurant where we waited 40 minutes for 3 ice creams and cokes. When we eventually started walking again I felt sick, like I was going to throw up and was regretting the overpriced ice cream. Craig walked with me and distracted me with chat about philosophy, medicine and space and before I knew it I’d forgotten all about the dread of the next climb and we were almost at the top. The view that greeted us up there was stunning. So stunning it didn’t really look real, more like a desktop screensaver or a film set. After sitting and inhaling the beautiful view for a few minutes, we clambered on down to a lake to camp for the night. A quick swim and dinner later I wanted bed and sleep despite the early hour. I was getting cranky at the other two who to my irritation were genially winding me up about something or other. We woke again to fog all around so that the lake was barely visible. Morale was generally high though as we knew there were showers and rest in store for us once we reached camp in Seix later that day. We completed those 6 days in the guidebook in 3 and a half and so were being rewarded with another rest day already. It seems so soon to be resting but at the same time we’ve done a hell of a lot these past few days, pushing our minds and our bodies to their limits so rest is very deserved.