you cross it, to the south that is, is the Saburedo, which is the last
peak of the western branch. To your right upon the north the hills lift
up to the Pic de l’Homme, which is the terminal peak of the eastern
branch, and the ridge uniting these two branches runs in a serpentine
fashion north and south with the saddle of the Bonaigo for its lowest
point.
You will reach the summit, going easy from Esterri, in about three hours,
and thence you will see, if the weather is clear, the distant snow of the
Maladetta to the west, and in the vale at your feet, the first trickling
of the Garonne. For by the twist the watershed here takes, you are
crossing geographically from Spain into France, though the valley of the
Garonne before you is still politically Spanish. The descent upon the Val
d’Aran is somewhat steeper than the ascent from the Noguera, a path of
sorts begins at the foot of it, and runs down the Garonne to the first
hamlet, the name of which is Salardú. At Arties, a road begins, and 5
miles further on you come to Viella and to rest.
In Viella there is nothing but oddity to note: the oddity of a French
valley governed by Spain. You are quite cut off, you will hear no news,
and the only sign that you are on the north of the mountains will be the
great and excellently engineered road leading down the Garonne from
gorge to gorge and reaching at last the French frontier at a narrow
gate where is the “King’s Bridge.” Some miles further on is the French
railway-head at Marignac. An omnibus starts in the early morning from
Viella at whatever hour it pleases and gets down to the French railway
in time for the mid-day train, but whether you take it or walk down on
foot, you had better stop at Bosost, not half-way down, and there take
the whittle woodland road westward over the frontier by a very low gap
called the Portillon and so saunter into Bagnères de Luchon, the noisy
and wealthy capital of luxury. To come into Luchon suddenly after such a
journey is as sharp a change as you can experience perhaps in all Europe.
Do not forget before you reach Bosost to look up the gully which comes in
from the left at a place called Las Bordas, some six or seven miles from
Viella. This gully is that of the true Garonne, the fork of the river
which we saw having such strange adventures rising on the wrong side of
the main watershed of the mountains, burrowing right through them in a
tunnel and coming out upon the northern side; surely the only river in
the world which behaves in such a fashion.
The walk which I have just described will have shown you most thoroughly
all the wild north-western corner of Catalonia, and have taught you
Andorra as well. Whether you take Cabanes for your starting place,
entering Andorra by the difficult passes of the Aston, or whether you
take Ax for your starting place and enter by the easy pass of Embalire,
you will not make the whole round to Luchon in the best weather under six
days, and indeed a man who has but a week in which to begin to learn the
Pyrenees, might very well choose this little square of them for his first
introduction.
[Illustration: THE CATALAN VALLEYS & ANDORRA]
VI. CERDAGNE
[Illustration]
The Cerdagne forms a district quite separate from the rest of the
Pyrenees. Its scenery differs from that of the rest of the range,
its facilities for travel, its politics, everything in the place is
different; and though both valleys are Catalan, it is well not to include
in the same summary a description of the Cerdagne and a description of
the Roussillon.
The Cerdagne is the only broad valley in the Pyrenees, and it is a broad
valley held in by walls of high mountains. All the other trenches which
nature has cut into the range, are, without exception, profound and
narrow. They expand occasionally into enclosed circles of flat land, the
floors of ancient lakes, with a circle of steep banks all around, first
wooded, then rocky, and reaching almost to Heaven. But these solemn
circuses of secluded land, held in by narrow gates at either end, and
small compared with the rocks around them, have a totally different
effect upon the mind from those produced by such a landscape as the
Cerdagne. You here have a whole country-side as broad as a small English
county might be, full of fields, and large enough to take abreast a whole
series of market towns. This is the sort of plain, which, were it bounded
by hills, rather low like our English downs, would seem a little country
by itself: a place large enough to make up one of our European divisions,
like the counties of England, or the minor provinces of France. A broad
river valley, such as decides a score of places scattered over Western
Europe, here binds many households all united historically and defines a
corporate condition for a fixed community of men.
This picture is framed in two great lines of hills roughly parallel to
each other, and the effect when one comes upon it out of the last of the
narrow valleys, may be compared to the effect upon a child’s mind when he
first sees the sea.
In order to perceive the full contrast of this exception in the Pyrenean
group, it is best to approach it from the west; whether you are coming on
foot over the foothills of the Carlitte groups down on to Mont Louis or
Targasonne, or whether you are coming by the high road over the pass of
Porté, there comes a point in your journey where, after so many gorges
and narrow cliffs, the hills here suddenly cease at your feet and you see
the whole sweep of the Cerdagne as broad as a field of corn; you will
have seen nothing like it all your way from the first foot hills of the
Basque and the shores of the Atlantic.
On the eastern side, beyond the plain, you see the long ridge which
is among the highest of the Pyrenees, and which stands steeply out of
the flat. It stretches, as it were, indefinitely away into Spain and
was called for centuries by the Mohammedans, and still is, the Sierra
del Cadi. At its feet are a group of villages and towns, Saillagouse,
Odeillo, Bourg Madame, Puigcerdá (with its curious little isolated
hill), Angoustrine, Palau, Osseja, Nahija, Err, and Caldegas, and that
fascinating territory Llivia, which stands enclosed, making a little
island of Spanish territory in the midst of French.
The structure of the Cerdagne explains its history. It is a slightly
sloping shelf upon the Spanish side of the watershed, but the watershed
here is not as it is everywhere else a steep ridge with rocks, it is
a large imperceptible flat which, for the first few miles upon the
northern side, slopes quite gently down towards the valley of the Tet,
and on the south side slopes still more gently and easily away towards
Spain. The Segre, the last and largest tributary of the Ebro, rises
in this gentle plain in innumerable rivulets, which joins innumerable
other rivulets at Llivia, and then receives the river of Val Carol, the
river of Angoustrine, and the little river of Flavanara below Puigcerdá.
There is in the whole extent of this plain no natural feature to form a
frontier, and (as its upper waters form the only approach to the province
of Roussillon) Mazarin, when the treaty of the Pyrenees submitted the
Roussillon to the French Crown, claimed as a sort of right of way, the
upper stretch of this wide plain.
The negotiations were not difficult, the frontier was drawn just so as
to give the French Government everywhere the road down the Val Carol
and up by Mont Louis to Perpignan. It was not the frontier between two
civilizations or languages, the few square miles of the French Cerdagne,
which is geographically Spanish, are Spanish also, Catalan Spanish,
in customs, hours, architecture, and even cooking. It is Spanish in
everything save the functions of government; and here you see just what
differences government can and cannot make in a country-side. Government,
where it exists against the will of the governed, effects nothing;
but here there is no such friction, and you may compare the contented
Cerdagne, which takes its orders from Paris, with the contented Cerdagne
that takes them from Barcelona and Madrid. The subtle effect of the
contrast is sufficiently striking; it is seen in the type of roadway,
the paving of courtyards, in clocks that keep time upon one side and not
upon the other, and in a certain hardness, which French assurance breeds,
and which the Spanish ease avoids. It is a good plan as one enters the
Cerdagne to take the by-road which leads straight across the plain from
Urgel to Saillagouse. This by-road, when you have pursued it for about a
mile, enters the isolated Spanish district of Llivia, and when you reach
that town you find yourself in Spain, although all the villages round
you in a circle are French villages. You have the Spanish delay, the
Spanish tenacity, and the Spanish disorder. On coming out of it again,
and immediately over the stream on the first village, the influence of
the distant prefecture and of a strong hand upon the local community is
apparent.
The Cerdagne has one bad drawback that, for all its beauty and wealth,
its entertainment is bad. There is not, I think, one good inn in the
whole of it, and at Saillagouse, where the exterior looks most promising,
the people are so hard-hearted that there is no comfort to be found under
their roofs. If you are thinking of food, the best place perhaps for your
head-quarters is the little village of La Tour Carol. But if you are
thinking of sights, your best head-quarters is the town of Puigcerdá,
just beyond the Spanish frontier, 3 miles or so from Latour.
Puigcerdá is the capital of the Cerdagne, and there the people gather as
to a fair. It was the capital of the Cerdagne long before the people knew
or cared whether they were governed from the north or from the south.
One and a half miles away, over the river in French territory, the tiny
hamlet of Hix marks the place where the old capital was before Puigcerdá
was founded and ousted it in the early Middle Ages. From many points in
Puigcerdá, from the terrace in front of the Town Hall, from the northern
end of one of its streets, but especially from its church tower, you
take in one view the whole of the Cerdagne. As one gazes upon that view,
one should remember that this was the principal highway of organized
Christendom against the Mohammedan, and through this went Charlemagne and
his son.
The Carolingian tradition is nowhere stronger, strong as it is throughout
the Pyrenees, than in this fruitful plain. The very mountains perpetuate
it with the name Carlitte, and the valley of Carol and the popular songs
perpetuate it also. It was this broad floor, full of provisions and free
from ambuscade that allowed Christendom to dominate Catalonia, and render
free the country of Barcelona, first of all Spanish territory, from the
weight of unchristian government. It is the Cerdagne, therefore, to
which we owe the later segregation of the Catalonians from the rest of
Spain, their forgetfulness of warfare, their active commercial unrest,
their modern submission to Jews, their great wealth. The Cerdagne should
possess a great road throughout, for it is all of one type and all of one
valley. By some historical accident it is not yet (I believe) so served
throughout. After Puigcerdá there is a good new road all the way to
Urgel. Another from Puigcerdá turns out of the valley of the Segre and
runs off south and east to Barcelona. Certainly Urgel—that town we spoke
of in connexion with Andorra—every one travelling in this part should
see: Seo, the “Bishopric,” the “See”; a sort of Bastion first thrown out
against the Mohammedans by Charlemagne. It is more intensely Spanish
perhaps than any other large town in these hills, and that because it
has long been so thoroughly cut off from communication with the north.
Here also you can find good hospitality. The people are kind, and local
travellers are common. Urgel is, however, more easily approached from
Andorra than from Puigcerdá. And upon that account I dealt with it in
connexion with the little republic.
[Illustration: THE CERDAGNE]
VII. THE TET AND ARIÈGE
[Illustration]
The valley of the Ariège is a basis for going either southward into
Andorra by the tributary valley of the Aston or westward into Roussillon
around the flanks of the Carlitte. Of the former journey I have spoken
in connexion with Catalonia. The latter takes one into the valley of
the Tet, and so to the Canigou which is the principal mountain of that
valley. The high road up the Ariège and over the Puymorens Pass into
the Cerdagne and so into the Roussillon does not concern us here. It
is designed for travel upon wheels. For going on foot the district is
concerned with the Carlitte and the Canigou.
If one means to spend some time in the big group of the Carlitte, one’s
head-quarters must be Porté, the little village just over the Puymorens
Pass. It is from here that the ascent of the highest peak is made and
from here the fishermen start for the lakes that surround that peak. If,
then, one proposes to spend some days camping in the mountain and going
nowhere in particular, it is from Porté that one must start, as the
nearest point to the summits. On the other hand, nothing can be bought
at Porté nor for miles around, and if one ascends the mountain from Ax,
though the distance is greater, one is more in touch with provisions.
The Carlitte group is remarkable for the number of lakes, some quite
large, which are to be found in the hollows just under its highest
ridges. On the north is the large Lake of Noguille with the two little
tarns of Rou and Torte just above it on one side; on the other, two
little tarns lie under the Pic d’Ariel. The main lake is 6000 feet above
the sea, not far short of a mile long, 500 or 600 yards across, and very
little visited. On the south of the highest ridge and to the east of the
summit of the Carlitte, just above Porté, lies the still larger lake of
Lamoux. A good mile and a half in length, but narrower than its twin upon
the north. Besides these two is the little group of lakes at the source
of the Tet, another group at the sources of the Ariège, and another of
half a dozen and more just under the eastern cliffs of the Carlitte which
feed the big marsh of the Puillouse.
Unfortunately all this district, which is so wild and open for travel,
and so full of good fishing, has but few camping grounds. The forest
on the east of the Carlitte is one of the largest in the Pyrenees, and
one may camp anywhere within it; but for a lake as well as wood one can
find but four spots: one, the Camporeils; the other, the little pond
just above Langles; the third, a whole group of lakes a mile south and a
little west of the marsh of Puillouse. It is by these last that one will
do well to camp if one is making one’s way over the mountain eastward to
Mont Louis, for they are within 5 miles of that town, and just beyond it
is the valley of the Tet. The best camping ground in the neighbourhood of
Ax is the fourth spot, at the northern end of the lake of Noguille. Here
the lake, the stream flowing from it, and the wood are all close together
and as good a camping ground as any in these mountains can be chosen.
The way to reach this is to leave Ax by the western road which branches
off from the great national road and runs up the valley of the Oriège to
Orgeix. Beyond this little village of Orgeix is another little village,
Orleu, and beyond that again at the head of the high road and not quite
5 miles from Ax is the point where you must turn off for the lake. It is
not easy to find because the whole distance is very similar for miles. I
will describe the way as best I can.
After the road leaves Orleu you have upon the left very precipitous
steeps, rising to a height of some 6000 feet (or more than 3000 above the
dale) covered with a forest which comes down very nearly to the road. On
the right is a stream, and beyond it another belt of wood, less steep,
with bare and high rocks above. Somewhat over an English mile, from the
Church of Orleu, a path leaves the road to the right and crosses the
stream, taking its way upwards through the opposing wood; this path
will lead you to the lake, but it is not the best way. The best way is
to go on further, somewhat over half a mile to a group of huts called
“The Forges.” Here you will see on the other side of the stream a valley
running towards you from the mountain and coming from due south as you
look up it. The valley, or rather ravine, is that of the torrent called
Gnoles, and this is the gully you must follow. It falls into the Oriège
just by the forges. You must go some yards beyond this junction of the
streams and a path will be seen going right off at a right angle to the
road and making for the gulley opposite. It crosses the Oriège at once,
crosses the torrent almost immediately after, climbs up the steep on its
left bank, crosses again on its right bank, and thence keeps on due south
between the rocks and the stream, through the wood, until, at a point the
height of which I cannot discover but well over 2000 feet above the road,
it comes out suddenly upon the lake.
Here is the best camping ground within a reasonable distance of
provisions and succour, and yet quite remote enough for a hermit. Here
with the aid of the 1/100,000 map, one may wander and take one’s luck in
the whole of this district of high peaks, rocks, and tarns, which stretch
every way for 8 or 10 miles around.
If one’s object is to make one’s way into the valley of the Tet, instead
of spending one’s time in the mountains, the direction is straight and
the way apparently easy, but it contains one difficult passage.
Your business is to make from Ax to the village of Formiguères, which is
politically in the Roussillon, and lies south-east by a trifle east from
Ax, and, as the crow flies, barely more than 15 miles away. You will,
however, hardly get there under 20 miles of going, and it is unlikely
that you will do it in one day.
The first part of the road is plain enough. You follow up the valley of
the Oriège, as though you were going to the lake of which I have spoken,
but instead of crossing over at the forges and going south towards the
lake, you go straight on up the valley. Your path is not always distinct,
but your main direction is to stick to the Oriège as it gets smaller and
smaller in the high valley, and to look out for a path which runs along
that stream on its left or southern bank.
For about 4 miles from the Forges you continue climbing up the high
valley of the Oriège, which is wooded upon either slope, until you come
to a place where the wood recedes upon either side (though there is wood
in front of you), and the path crosses the torrent to the opposite or
right bank. It is here that the difficulty of the way begins.
The path, you will notice by your compass, is at this point going due
south, for the Oriège has curled round in that direction. Five hundred
yards in front of you is a wood for which it makes. Now, if you were
to pursue the path through that wood you would go clean out of your
way, and either get tangled up in the rocks that overhang the sources
of the Oriège, or get down into the marshy sources of the Tet. Neither
of these districts are what you want. When you get to the edge of the
wood, which, as I say, is about 500 yards from the point where the path
crosses the stream, you must turn sharp to your left and go due east up a
little watercourse, which here runs down beside the trees. As you do this
facing due east, and looking up this watercourse you will see before you
a ridge like any other of the Pyrenees, with peaks upon it. This ridge
is the watershed between the County of Foix and the Roussillon, and is
to-day the frontier of the department of the Eastern Pyrenees, which is
the modern representative of that ancient province. The ridge is plain
enough, but to cross it is not so simple a task as it looks. You must not
attempt to go across it by the depression which lies immediately before
you between two peaks. It _can_ be done, but the chances are you will
lose your way in the great forest upon the further side. The right way is
to go on due eastward up the stream until you are right under the ridge,
from which point you must bear to your left up the bank which encloses
the gully upon that northern side. You will notice two peaks of rock at
the point where this bank branches from the main ridge. You must so bear
up that you leave them both to your right, and turning round the base of
that one which lies furthest west of the two, you will see (when you are
round the base and over the bank) a saddle just east of you and about 600
or 700 feet below the rocky peaks in question. This is the _Porteille_;
you will go across it, come into the dense wood on the other side, and
there the path follows running water all the way throughout what soon
becomes a profound gorge, until you reach open country and a few small
buildings 3 miles further down; though the open country, it is true, is
only a small stretch of meadow between the wood and the river (a stream
called the Galbe). The way is clear between the wood and stream for 2
miles more to the hamlet of Espousouille. There you must leave your path
and take one which branches straight off to the right, goes down to the
stream, crosses it, rises through the wood beyond, and in less than a
mile from Espousouille, brings you into the considerable village of
Formiguères.
I have already said that you would not easily manage this crossing in a
day, even in fine weather. The Porteille is over 7000 feet high, and you
may quite possibly lose your way for an hour or two in the difficult bit,
but luckily there is no difficulty about camping. There is good camping
ground with wood and water in every part of the journey, except the last
mile of the steep going over the ridge. And you have only to choose where
you will pass the night.
This is the shortest cut by far from the County of Foix into the
Roussillon. If you are going down into the Cerdagne a great national
road takes you from Formiguères to Mont Louis, and the distance is
about 9 miles, but if you are going down into the valley of the Tet in
order to climb in the Canigou you must make for Olette, for that cuts
off a corner. Olette is just under 10 miles in a straight line from
Formiguères, but the county road which joins them has to cross a pass and
is full of windings, so that the whole distance, even if you take short
cuts to cut off the long turns, is more like 14 miles. The pass, which
is nearer 6000 than 7000 feet high, is 1200 feet above Formiguères,
and stands just opposite that town in full view, the summit of it about
2 miles away to the south-east, but there is no need to describe the
road, as it is an ordinary carriageway from the one place to the other.
At Olette you are on the Tet, about 5 miles from the old rail-head at
Villefranche (the new rail-head is at Bourg Madame on the Frontier).
[Illustration: THE ARIÈGE & TET VALLEYS]
VIII. THE CANIGOU
[Illustration]
The Canigou, whichever way one looks at it, is a separate district and
must be separately approached and separately travelled in. It stands
apart from the rest of the range, it has a different character, and
travel in it is of a different sort from other Pyrenean travel. It is
not only physically cut off from the rest of the Pyrenees, indeed, its
physical isolation has been a good deal exaggerated by people who have
looked up to it from the plain and have not carefully noted its plan; it
is rather morally cut off by the way in which it dominates one particular
province and one famous plain to the exclusion of every other peak; so
that when you are going through the Roussillon, especially along the
sea coast, the only thing you can think of is the Canigou, which seems
to be as much the lonely spirit of the district, as Etna does of the
sea east of Sicily, or as Vesuvius does of the Bay of Naples. It will
perhaps sound surprising or unlikely to those of my readers who know the
Pyrenees, when I say that the Canigou is not physically isolated from
the chain, it is indeed less isolated in its way than is the Pic du Midi
de Bigorre, or even the Pic du Midi d’Ossau, for it is connected with
the south by a high ridge which one can hardly ever see at full length
from the plain, and which is, I think, only clearly observable from
the frontier heights south of Arles upon the Tech. How thorough is the
connexion, however, what follows will show.