Life on the Trail: It’s just one foot in front of another
I used to think of walking as pretty straightforward, easy exercise. Something that anyone could do as long as they are reasonably fit. This was before we set off on our month-long, 400km trek on the GR-11 trail in the mountains of Spain.
Indeed if you weren’t fit when you started this hike, it would be possible to take it slow and build your fitness along the way. My own fitness sure increased, along with my general strength (I like to think: from carrying my huge pack); and my flexibility (thanks to yoga and the musculoskeletal benefits of not sitting at a desk all day).
However, it turns out that danger is lurking around every corner of the long-distance hike. It doesn’t take much to knock you out of the trek completely. We have met 9 long distance hikers on the trail, and for various reasons there are only 3 of us left at the time I’m writing this. Thus far we have survived, so we must be doing something right.
This is my survival guide to long distance hiking, based on our experience traversing the Spanish Pyrenees for 25 days.
Danger #1: the sun
On the first day of our hike I knew that our biggest problem was going to be the sun. It was 38 degrees in the village of Ochagavia where the bus dropped us off in the middle of the afternoon. We topped up all our water bottles (about 4L between the 2 of us) and headed up the gravel road which marked the start of our trail. All uphill, no shade, no water points along the way.
But, ultimately the sun is no match for us sunsmart kiwis. We came prepared with sunscreen, lightweight t-shirts, hats, and cheese and crackers for dinner: no water needed. For the next few days we adopted a Spanish siesta into our routine. We’d hike in the morning, stop and rest/read/swim for a few hours, then continue on in the late afternoon. We soon adapted to the heat…or the heat became slightly less hot…or both.
Danger #2: night noises
Our first night on the trail we camped at a picnic spot right by the road, not 100% sure if it was OK for us to stay there, which is never good for calming the mind. However we’d had a late start so this was our best option.
We struggled to sleep. I had read a thread on an online forum where a woman asked what precautions she should take about bears on the GR-11. Bears?! “No precautions necessary!”, was the response, and I thought no more of it. Until now. As I lay my head down onto my pillow (aka my bag of clothes), it suddenly occurred to me that there’s no reason bears in Spain should be any different to bears in Canada/the US, where you take pretty extreme precautions against bears when camping. Should we have hung our food up from a tree rather than leave it here in my pack, in the vestibule of the tent, separated from my head by just a thin layer of mesh?
I woke up at 1am to see the shadowy silhouette of Rowan, perched up on his elbows next to me in the tent, alert and listening, the whites of his eyes shining through the dark. Every sound we hear, and there are many, is sinister. It could be footsteps, or a large animal rustling in the forest. Then I hear what has pricked Rowan’s attention: a cow bell. We saw horses and horned cattle earlier in the day wearing bells around their necks, so that’s what it must be. The noise is close.
Suddenly whatever it is lets out a loud roar like some psychotic were-donkey. I’ve never heard anything like it and it’s terrifying. “A bull,” declares Rowan, adding, “it sounds like it has been mauled by a bear.” He goes outside to see, but can’t see anything. This happens every time we hear mystery night noises on the trail (that is to say, most nights) and it’s never reassuring.
I curl up in my sleeping bag reasoning that a hungry bear would be satisfied with the bull and therefore not tempted by the delicacies on offer inside our tent – food or human.
Danger #3: blisters
If you don’t get your boots sorted out within the first few days of the hike, you’re not going to make it much further. Day 3 for me was absolute agony towards the end of the day. We’d hiked 26km before stopping to camp, so it also ended up being one of the longest days. By the end of it I was walking as slowly as a snail on a salt lake. It wasn’t until lunchtime the next day that I took desperate measures, over and above blister bandaids and walking cautiously: I removed my extra footbeds.
Earlier in the year whilst hiking in Britain I had become convinced that my boots were at least a size too big, and had bought extra footbed fillers to go under my footbeds and take up all that extra space, cursing the sales person who had convinced me these cavernous boots were my size. But sure enough, I took out the footbeds and my problem was solved. My feet may have been a bit swollen from the heat, or they just like to have some space. Either way removing the footbeds changed my life. Happy feet, happy hiker.
Danger #4: infection
We had no way of knowing that this curve ball was coming our way. If it weren’t for the villages enroute this could easily have knocked us out of the walk. One of Rowan’s wisdom teeth chose this inopportune moment to make its appearance, irritating his gum and jaw and causing an infection and an agonising level of pain.
We spent a morning in a village we were lucky to have arrived in the night before, first waiting outside the medical clinic for the doctor to arrive, then waiting outside the pharmacy for it to open so Rowan could pick up his prescribed antibiotics and painkillers. Then, we continued on hiking.
Danger #5: too much, or too little, weight
I was happy to see some hikers with bigger packs than me on the trail. In the end, the weight of my pack turned out not to be an issue, even though it was the one thing I was most worried about before we started. After about day 5 I wasn’t even thinking about my pack at all.
There were some days where the pack felt really heavy – usually after we’d freshly stocked up on food or needed to carry extra water and go uphill for several hours. But overall I think our pack weight was okay. Having too heavy a pack can seriously affect your balance and your general enjoyment levels. But there is also a danger to packing too light.
It comes down to a balancing act of what you can and can’t do without. One ‘ultralight’ couple we met was only carrying 6kg each, but had to take a bus down into town to replace a pair of light trail shoes that fell apart. I really missed my puffer jacket when it snowed on us, and Rowan missed his gloves. Who knows how the ultralight couple would have fared in the snow if the were still on the trail. One hiker we met during the snow storm was worse off than us as she only had short shorts with her and no long pants at all.
Danger #6: nutrition (or lack thereof)
It’s possible to eat almost all your meals at refugios along the GR-11 route, which means you don’t have to carry any food. This could save you 2kg of weight in your pack, but I wouldn’t necessarily recommend it.
I would suggest at least carrying your own muesli because refugio breakfasts usually consist of a cup of tea or coffee, a packaged muffin like you might get on an aeroplane and some biscuits. Lunch and dinner weren’t so bad, in fact the one refugio dinner we ate was really quite good (noodle soup, lentils, fish, and chocolate mousse), but we did save a lot of money catering for ourselves.
At first we ate mostly dried food like pasta, rice and packaged mashed potato, as well as chorizo, cheese and bread. We staved off scurvy with a vitamin C tablet each morning. Later we added a few canned or fresh items to the mix, such as tuna and Spanish omelette. Finally towards the end of the hike our priorities had changed and more and more fresh fruit and vegetables are coming with us in our packs, despite the extra weight this added.
Danger #7: downhill
The downhill is not something to look forward to. This is a common misconception.
We lost 3 fellow hikers to one now notorious downhill section of the trail. This 4km/1,250m-vertical descent from the mountain top was steep; it was rocky, it was on an avalanche path, now in summer it was littered with fallen trees that you had to climb over or under, and it just went on forever.
A young Spanish couple who had started hiking 15 days earlier on the west coast of Spain and planned to hike the entire trail had to pull out due to a hurt ankle. One half of a Dutch team had to pull out for the same reason, as well as a German couple that we passed on the way down. Downhills are not to be underestimated.
A day earlier, after a side hike up to the summit of Mt Perdido (which we aced), we were energised and amped on the way down, discussing the possibility of continuing on to the next stop rather than spend another night at the base of the mountain. By the time we were 3/4 of the way down we knew we weren’t going any further that day. Rowan had fallen once and I had fallen 3 times – each time all the way over, which is normal for me when wearing a pack; I tip a little then I’m right off balance and I go all the way. By the bottom of the mountain we were exhausted – going down was much harder than going up. Which is another important lesson: always save energy for the downhill!
Danger #8: rocks
There are many potential incidents waiting to happen where rocks are involved. And rocks are always involved in the Pyrenees.
You could get caught in a rock slide while traversing a boulder field or scree slope. Someone could dislodge a rock from a switchback above you and send it flying your way.
Once we walked across a trail that crossed along a sloped, smooth limestone shelf protruding from a cliff high above a valley. There were chains at points along the way to help hikers like us stay on the track. To our left the sheer cliff up to the mountaintops held the chain; to our right the rock shelf sloped down on a slight angle for 2 meters overlooking the valley floor some 200m below. This sheer rock shelf was covered in small rocks, not unlike marbles…one wrong move and we would have been toast.
Concentration is key. The worst rock incident I faced was on a fairly flat descent. I fell (all the way over as is my style) front-first into a mud puddle, hitting my head on a rock. It could have turned out badly if I wasn’t so thick-skulled. A bruise on my left eyebrow reminds me of this incident daily. And a bruise on my elbow is a souvenir from a different slide.
Danger #9: snow
Just as we were getting used to the extreme heat, the weather gods decided to mix things up and sent us snow. For 6 days in the high mountains we had to contend with freezing temperatures, snow, sleet, rain and strong winds.
Walking on through this was when I regretted most my decision not to bring my puffer jacket or fleece pants, and had decided to bring my light foam mat (which doubles as a stretching mat) rather than my warmer inflatable mattress. Luckily for us (and even more so for shorts girl and one kid wearing jeans) the refugios were available for us to seek shelter and warmth so we didn’t have to camp, and we were also able to shorten our days a bit, aiming for a nearer refugio than we otherwise would have.
Another danger posed by snow is on the high mountain passes. According to everything we read online before our trip, snow is usually present on these passes until mid-July, and an ice axe and crampons are necessary to complete some of the higher passes. Due to luggage restrictions we had left our ice axes and crampons at home figuring we’d find a way to bypass the passes if needed.
Luckily for us it turned out to have been an unusually warm winter, followed by a very hot June and by the time we arrived the passes were passable even without any gear. We got through no trouble. But this was not the case for everyone.
We heard first-hand about 2 of our trail friends taking 50–60m slides down the snow covered slopes. And they did have ice axe and crampons. Then we heard a wild rumour about someone else that same day who took a slide on the same slope and sliced open their calf muscle.
Danger #10: nettles
Here in the Pyrenees even the plants may be out to get you. For me nettles were hardly a problem – if I brushed up against the underside of the leaves they’d leave me feeling a bit burny and tingly for a few hours. No big deal. At least this was my attitude until I chose the wrong spot for a wilder-pee...
Danger #11: mood swings
When you spend every waking (and unwaking) moment with just one other person, the occasional bad temper is inevitable. Particularly when every little daily decision has to be made together and someone else’s every move effects you. The constant stopping, which direction to walk in, what to eat, when to eat, where to pitch the tent, when to pitch the tent, when to get out of bed…etc. To exacerbate this, you are often too cold, too hot, too tired or too hungry to deal with life like an adult.
Danger #12: real life
To be honest most of the hikers we met along the way may have overcome their injuries and gear failures and continued on if it weren’t for real life getting in the way. Most hikers were lost to the dangers of work and limited holiday leave.
For us, after 25 days living the trail life, we will emerge from the mountains tomorrow and take a bus to Barcelona. We may not have hiked the entire GR-11 from coast to coast, but we achieved what we set out to do: the most mountainous section of the trail. We got a taste of what long distance trail life is like and hiked up and down through valleys, passes and villages exploring some of the most beautiful and impressive landscapes in Spain. Overall we ascended 20.046 vertical kilometres, descended 18.9 vertical kilometres, and hiked 427km in total. Now it’s time for us to meet up with our rock climbing gear once more and find something to climb.
Sleeping on the trail could be in a tent, a hut, a refugio or a village. But sooner or later it’s back to real life.
Epilogue
Our arrival in Barcelona could not have been more of a culture shock for us. After nearly a month of seeing very few other people each day, we hopped off the bus in one of the busiest tourist cities in Europe and lugged our packs a final 3km to our hotel on the most touristy street in the city.
There were people everywhere and they weren’t wearing hiking boots. Unlike us, they also weren’t wearing smelly, stained hiking clothes that had only been hand washed in the past month.
There were shops and tourist vendors galore and you could buy whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted from whomever you wanted.
Ironically, after a shower and nice meal, we didn’t want any of what one of the world’s most popular and beautiful cities could offer. We had become accustomed to living with just a few sets of clothes and only the possessions we could carry on our backs.
What we really desired was a return to the spectacular scenery, reflective solitude and simple routine of surviving in the mountains.
