Monday, August 2
Wonderful views in beautiful weather, that was my impression in the morning, as I was riding, surrounded by high peaks, through small picturesque villages - somehow I still could not get tired of the Romanesque architecture. I got to Bossost, a small village very close to the French border and had some breakfast there. Looking at the map, I noticed there was a road leading to France, which should have been in the direction I was coming from, but did not see any signs. I learned that due to Corona, the small border was closed, but one of the locals urged me to go for it anyway.
I did find the road with the entrance blocked by some stones and I started riding uphill on the switchbacks and suddenly I was back on the Tour de France – there was a stone bicycle statue and a plaque commemorating all the Spanish winners. For Tour riders, the uphill must have taken 20 minutes, for me, and hour and a half to get to Eth Portilhon at 1,291.8 meters. Here I met other cyclists trespassing over the otherwise closed border, them telling me to watch out for the police, who like giving tickets to the illegal border crossers, one I had now become (I have some stories from the Ukraine, back in 1992, of illegal border crossing). I was yet again in France, riding downhill, next to some small, but picturesque waterfalls. I did freshen up my feet in one of the ponds.
The town that now followed is called Bagnéres-de-Luchon, a spa town, as the name partially reveals this fact and is located at theconfluence of the L'One river from the west and thePiqueriver from the south. The Romans had already discovered the healing powers of the thermal water some 2,000 years ago. Everything was white in this town, the spa, the many villas. I spotted quite a fellow long-range bikers and chatted with a few of them.
Leaving town, there were road signs indicating not one, but three passes being open, so I knew I was yet about to do more elevation.
Little mountain villages were lining the road, with more wonderful wall paintings, a wonderful one was Église Sainte-Anne de Cazeaux de Larboust, absolutely stunning. As beautiful these churches were, I was usually just my myself in them – it does not seem to be a main tourist attraction. In that village, I found a home which I mistook for a restaurant, two elderly ladies allowed me to take a photo inside.
A looooong stretch of road veered uphill, I remember thinking I will never make it to the top. Going was strenuous, but I did arrive at the pass called Col de Peyresoude at 1,569 meters, also a skiing resort. This was the beginning of the department Hautes-Pyrénées. Riding downhill, I had a peak at a lake next to the town of Génos,
I got to the Arreau, with a pretty town hall – with quite a different architecture than I had seen earlier, with houses having (false?) half-timbered panels. Here (https://www.mairie-arreau.fr/decouverte-village/porte-vallees-aure-louron/patrimoine-architectural.html ) I found a website that offers information about this town, funny thing is that I took a picture of all the places that is on the website. In the town, I chatted with a lady, well, as much I could communicate in French, which is somewhat limited. I really liked the Frenchman with his dog - only the baguette at his elbow was missing.
I must have felt energized, as I started heading up yet another summit and was almost all by myself when I got to the top, Col d’Aspin, at 1,489 meters, around half past eight, yeah, rather late. There I met two young lady tourists travelling by car, we chatted for a while. They were from not far away, though it was their first trip to the summit….interesting. Of course I spotted some more wild horses.
It was anything but warm and getting dark, so while I was holding the possibility as back-up, was not looking to wild-camping. I arrived at a restaurant, they told me a place to stay was not far away, but first I have to try their pizza. They were very, very friendly, and the pizza tasted delicious. The walls were decorated by Tour de France memories from the beginning of the 20th century and showing plaques of the various summits. After dinner, I was sent out to the pitch-black, cold evening and had to ride some 3 kilometers, which seemed like an eternity, but I found welcoming small hostel, Auberge La Bergerie, where I chatted with two German ladies on a road trip (by car). I think to have paid just like €35. I was warm, safe, with a full belly, I slept very well.
Here an see the trip in Google Maps, it was 82 kilometers, with 2,373 meters of climbing and 2,282 meters of descending.