Camping in the snow

Camping in the Fresh Snow

Big snow falls overnight - in the morning the snow was the lowest on the surrounding mountains we have seen and deep, so deep. The weather prediction is for the clouds to clear in the afternoon and clear skies but cold for the rest of the week - absolutely ideal for a few nights in a mountain cabane. We put together some provisions, packed our packs, borrowed snow shoes and off we went to the Cabane de Cherue - a shepherd's cabin that is also used by walkers. It is just above the tree line, beside a little creek and just below the Crete de Lavigne (Crest) from which you can see pic du Midi and the Valle de Magnabeight.

Sue drove Skye, Hadley and I to a little car park where ordinarily the track can be seen winding up the mountain. Today the snow is so thick there is no track in sight and everything is covered in beautiful white snow. We fit our snowshoes, wave goodbye and up into the trees, the track is a little difficult to follow but the indentation can be seen and with care we can follow it. We are the first to walk through the new snow - so exciting, fresh, clean, pure snow. The ground is covered in over two feet of snow, all the trees are covered, even the bare branches hold snow all over the upper surface - all is white, pure white except for the occasional rock and the trunks of the trees which are black and grey. It is as if the world is now in black and white. Everything is muffled and still - another world - white and silent. Branches weighed down with snow block the track and if you bump them going under there is a mini avalanche of cold snow. The snow is soft and for the leader it is very hard work, even with the snow shoes with big packs we sink up to 10 inches into the snow - going up steep slopes is difficult and we change the lead regularly. It is not too bad for the second person and for the third it is possible to stay on the surface for most of the time. Slowly and steadily we zig zag up the slope - it takes about 2.5 hours to do the walk Sue and I did in 1 hour, 10 days earlier with no snow.

We cleared the tree line, up one more steep slope and there is the cabane in a protected valley deep in snow, the mist is beginning to roll in from the valley so we are just in time. Izard bound away up the slope as we approach, quickly gaining height through the deep snow, then they pause on a rock outcrop or ridge to gaze at us - their favourite position, looking down from a position of height. How do they survive when any feed is covered in snow ? We watch while an Izard digs at the snow with a foot and nibbles on the bush it uncovers - a tough life. As it gets colder they descend into the trees but obviously they think it is still ok in the open mountains for now.

The cabane is a stone structure with a concrete floor - one room, two beds, a triple bunk, a table and benches and a cast iron stove - a couple of old saucepans and a fry pan and a small supply of wood. The windows leak a little and there is a wind rattling the shutters - cold !!!! We get a fire going and search for more wood. Smoke is a big problem as the wood is green and wet and to get rid of the smoke we need to open the door - outside it is well below zero with a cold wind, so our choice is smoke, or cold. We opt for variations and spend a cool night having dinner and playing cards until it is time to hop into our very warm sleeping bags and listen to the mountain mice scratch around the cabin all night.

The next morning is clear, blue and cold. The sun hits the hut about 10-00 am and warms it for a couple of hours before disappearing behind the mountains. Sue and Ash climbed up with snowshoes for a quick picnic before returning through the snow with Skye. Ash is light and with the snowshoes floats on top of the snow - he is having a ball, for Sue it is a bit harder but the snowshoes are wonderful, without them it would be impossible. The snow is just spectacular, there is so much and it is deep, soft, clean and so, so white.

Had and I spent the afternoon collecting firewood and spent another night in the cabane. The next morning, clear and still, we walked through the snow to the Crete de Lavigne. The deep snow makes it possible to go anywhere without the need of a track - it is impossible to find the track anyway, all features are muffled, rounded and disguised. We know roughly where to go and find our way to the crest reasonably easily. It is possible to use the snowshoes like crampons and we climb up some very steep slopes, slow work but exhilarating. The snow breaks up as we climb and pieces fall and slide down the slope 100 - 200 metres without stopping - time to take care !! The view from the crest is stupendous - we can see across the Vallee de Magnabeight to the Pic du Midi in all its winter glory - black and white against the dark blue of the sky. Beyond the Pic du Midi is the Pic d'Ayous, the Col d'Ayous, then the peaks of the Vallee d'Aspe and beyond that the Pyreneean mountain chain runs all the way to the Atlantic. A clear, clear morning, we stand on the crest and look across the peaks, everything is still and very, very quiet, no wind, no people, the bears are asleep. There are Izard moving slowly across a ledge below. The landscape is sleeping under the snow, beautiful, cold, still and resting - a time of repose, of rejeuvenation and regeneration, absorbing moisture and light in preparation for the growth of spring and summer. We sit, eat mandarins and absorb the peace and subconsciously some of the energy as well. Eventually and reluctantly, but refreshed we turn and follow our tracks back to the cabane.

It is important to have the beers cold

Some people will go to any lengths to ensure the beer is cold.

Winter is here

Sunday afternoon in Castet

We sat one Sunday afternoon on the little hill that rises above the Plateau de Castet, in the afternoon sun of a perfect still blue November afternoon. Below the small green fields gradually whiten towards the northern edge of the hillside and the tree lines until at the edge of the trees it is pure white and frozen as it must have been all day where the sun doesn't reach. Above the green and white fields rises the dark forest. In full shadow the grey and white trunks standing out now among the bare trees, the occasional dark green of a pine, grey of rock. Above the forest the white snow and black rocks with the pure blue sky above that and floating in that perfect blue is a clear white half moon. A wet moon, standing on its side, so the water could flow out across the sky - more snow or rain coming soon. The sound of cow bells drifts up from the plateau below as the cows move trying vainly to keep ahead of the lengthening shadows and the cooling afternoon.

A late autumn landscape with a little colour left in the trees, the white frost, bare trees and long shadows have a distinctly wintry feel, the air is clear, still and sharp. The high landscape, the ridges and the peaks appear perfectly still in the distance, immovable and eternal against the blue.

The Plateau de Castet drops in the western sun into the Vallee d' Ossau, across the valley is the village of Bilhere catching the late sun and above the village the Plateau du Benou with a snow capped ridge above the plateau. Many of the trees have lost all their leaves and their shadows are skeletons marching across the fields, browns, greys and blacks, the colour in the landscape is provided by yellow left in the birches and blue smoke rising from a chimney. A very still quiet afternoon, time to reflect on the changing season, the coming winter.

Laruns - livestock in the village

Laruns and the Vallee d'Ossau

We have been very fortunate to have landed in Laruns or we have followed powerful, accurate instincts which have lead us to a valley of spectacular natural beauty with a very strong regional culture and an intact local community. Our observations need to be tempered naturally by the fact that we are outsiders, from outside the village, outside the valley and even outside France. Our ability to understand and observe is therefore limited.

Laruns (popn 1700 ) seems however, to be a strong functioning community and the inhabitants of the valley lead lives that are less complicated by material desires and wants than many others we have encountered in Australia and other places. We have encountered many acts of generosity in our time here - the boys at the Auberge left us with the keys and said we could stay while they went away for a holiday, Gi Gi and Jean Luc from the Hardware shop have lent Ashur a bike and add little gifts when we buy things, Emily from the Real Estate Office has lent Sue and I a very good bicycle, Jean Pierrie regularly won't let us pay for saucisson or cakes we buy from his shop and introduces us to everybody, Anna, the shepherd sells us beautiful cheese and under charges massively, Marco offers walking shoes to Ashur and snowshoes to us, Bernard managed to fit twelve rowdy Australians into his tiny kitchen for a wonderful Pot au Feu. People don't appear to be materially needy or greedy and are happy to give generously when they can and what they can. There are hardly any big flash cars in the village and we have seen no widescreen TVs in French houses, the goods in the shops are basic and the food is simple. Perhaps other more important needs are being met and there is no great gaping hole clamouring to be filled with material goods or wealth.

The community is strong and supportive, families stay in the valley so family networks are intact. The whole community is very proud of the schools and a number of the teachers including the Directrix are local people. Hadley, Ashur and I helped at the market one Saturday morning cooking chestnuts to raise money for a school expedition to the beach. The interaction was wonderful - everyone was having a good time and we ate fresh roasted chestnuts.

The valley abounds with spectacular natural beauty, clean and fresh. The incredible power and majesty of the mountains are a constant reminder of scale and of the place of human beings on this planet. The closeness and the very real significance of the elements - snowstorms, avalanche, sudden changes in conditions ensures everyone is aware of the power of forces non-human.

The closeness and everyday encounters with animals are also a powerful influence. There are sheep walking through the streets every day, so there is manure everywhere and the whole place smells of livestock. One shepherd waters his sheep in the village fountain every afternoon on their way back to their warm shed, probably below his house. It is lambing time now and there is a small window low down in the street past the church that we can peer through and see new born lambs and their mothers in the warm straw. There are little paddocks throughout the town and the valley with cattle in them and from our terrace we can generally see at least five mobs of sheep grazing in terraced fields in the valley and the mountainside. We know when the shepherd decides it is time to head for the warmth of the grange because we can hear the bells ringing as the sheep trot along behind. We can hear sheep bleating to their lambs and the lambs replying, dogs barking and horses whinnying. At any time in the village you can hear, smell or see livestock - there is no way the people of the village are going to grow out of touch with their roots, where their food and fibre comes from of with the very soil itself.

All this, we believe leads to the maintenance of a strong community where other things are more important than material goods - a community we are very fortunate to be able to join for a brief moment.

Autumn - final stages

Autumn continues to amaze and delight us all here in our little house in the Vallee d'Ossau. Every day is a little different as the vegetation, the weather and the climate all change, interact and produce a continuing display of altering colour, shape, shadow, light and atmosphere. Leaves are falling quickly now, each snow fall and windy day brings them down in masses of colour. Consequently the colour is lower down now - on the floor of the forest and it is brown with a deep layer of soft leaves. The trees are skeletons and the forest is becoming transparent, other colours appear through the bare trees. Frost and snow add another dimension. The fresh, cold weather has ensured that frost keeps the ground white all day on the northern slopes and close to the edges of tree belts. The sun is lower now all day and the light on some days is soft, edges are indistinct and shadows are long.

The shadows of the trees are lines on the ground, well gone are the full dark shadows of summer that so delighted us on warm days. The autumn shadows are colder and longer, traces on the ground of the bones of the trees. The sun follows the peaks across the sky, staying low and ensuring the bases of the northern slopes never see the sun. The frost stays here all day and in the late afternoon as the sun is setting the frost here is still glowing white - cold places, the northern slopes. The stock naturally move to the southern slopes.

The sheep are only in the fields during the middle of the day now, they are taken out in the morning and return to their warm granges in the mid afternoon. A large mob of horses came down from Col d'Aubisque and through the streets of Beost across the valley yesterday. The horses are the last to leave the mountains as the snow settles.

Shearing on the Plateau du Benou

There is plenty of time to talk and discuss.

Shearing on the Plateau du Benou

In with the lambs ewes and all

Shearing on the Plateau du Benou

Ash blissfully played with the lambs and pups all day.

Shearing on the Plateau du Benou

Each sheep is a joint effort

Shearing on the Plateau du Benou

Men, women and sheep in the straw

Shearing on the Plateau du Benou

The day of the shearing at Jusef and Anna's, we have been invited to come and participate if we like and are very much looking forward to another new experience - It is a beautiful clear, cold morning in the valley - we had to wash ice off the windscreen before we could go anywhere. A quick stop at the Boulangerie for bread for our picnic and off up the white, white valley floor, frost on all the bushes and fence posts, all the pastures white, the air still, sky blue. As we wound our way up to the plateau we left the white valley below and climbed into the sun, warmer already but still cold and frosty in any shaded spot. At Jusef and Anna's place there were already a few cars and from outside the shed we could hear the click of shears and a quiet murmur of voices. We walked into the warm wooden shed and a completely different shearing scene greeted our eyes. A long wooden feed trough runs along the middle of the shed and on each side of the trough is an open area covered in straw where the sheep live in winter. In varying positions all over the straw were about eight men and women cradling sheep, lying on sheep, standing beside sheep, clipping the wool with hand shears, chatting, laughing and calling across the shed. There is no great attempt at speed, plenty of conversation and discussion, time to talk and provide encouragement and advice. The variety of positions and holds is enormous - sheep sitting on their tails, lying on their sides with the shearer spreadeagled all over the sheep, sheep on their backs, legs in the air while someone clips off a bit of belly wool, some just lying peacefully on their sides chewing their cud while a shearer clips wool off a hind leg, one sheep standing on all fours while the shearer quietly works away. All is very quiet, no struggling or complaints from sheep or shearer, no swearing, no cuts, no blood, no engine noise. A moving mass of men, women and sheep rolling around in the straw in a warm old wooden shed while the frost stays white on the ground outside. The wool is long and stringy with very little weight and when the fleece is all off it is dumped in a wool pack - no skirting or classing, no pressing and Jusef says it is sold for very little.

There is a range of dogs outside, little black and brown Labris all spikey and cheeky, enormous white mountain dogs, happy looking Border Collies, every now and then there is a ruckus and a bedlam of barking breaks out. Smoko arrives and everyone stops to eat, drink and smoke - there are baguettes, cheese, saucisson, pate, beer and wine. The people are an interesting mix, about half men and women, long hair, beards and berets, an alternative feel. This is the traditional way of shearing the Brebis, all the Bergers gather at one person's place and shear the sheep and another day at another place. It is a social time, an opportunity for exchange as well as a practical way of getting a hard job done. There are also a number of young people who come in at smoko time, take up a pair of shears and slowly but surely shear a sheep. The young people look rather urban and alternative. We talk to one young man as he watches us, he is a cabinet maker from a nearby town and is training to become a mountain guide, mid to late twenties, he says he had an earlier life in marketing but left that in order to work with his hands and to be involved in something truthful and real. He is a friend of Jusef's daughter and will come back next year, attracted perhaps to an authentic way of life. The mix of traditional rural and urban, old and young must promote sustainability of a way of life that every one here is working to maintain.

We watched for a while, then Jusef handed us a pair of shears and we started. I catch a ewe, not difficult as they stand quietly at one end of the shed. I have selected a very big sheep, heavily pregnant and have some trouble tipping her over, but manage eventually to get her into position and start slowly. The shears are sharp and cut well, the ewe is in good condition with a bare belly and there are no wrinkles, the wool comes off easily. She doesn't struggle and is content to lie down quietly for the long blow and any other blow for that matter, a milking sheep, she is accostomed to being handled. The old techniques come slowly back, it is a logical process, a sort of a slow dance, moving constantly with the sheep. As my back gets tired Sue takes over, then Hadley and between us we finish the job without too much hassle. There are rather odd tufts and lumps of wool left all over her but she doesn't stand out particularly as a pink skin ad no second cuts are not so important in this shed. We watch the others and talk with them and they are very happy to help and give advice. They do as little bending as possible, hence the sheep is often lying on the floor and the shearer lying on the sheep. As I catch my next Brebis and attempt to tip her up I stumble backwards and fall flat into the straw to everyone's amusement. A young woman is struggling so Had goes to help, they all end up on the floor in the straw, calls of encouragement from every quarter. After smoko we get a bit organised and there are six or so shearers on our side and a catcher who brings the sheep to us. The cabinet maker has a go as well - we are flying through them and do another three, a grand total of five for the morning - this is not Jackie Howe type speed ! One of the girls is consistently doing two or three to our one. While we are shearing, Ashur has spent the morning in the lamb pen, blissfully playing with the lambs, carrying them, cuddling them, sitting with them. When he wasn't playing with the lambs he was having wild chasing games with the little black dog or talking to the big white mountain dog. The lambs are all healthy looking, with curly white coats, big roman noses and bellies full of milk.

All done except for a few in the lamb pen, two shearers are working away in there so we hop in and catch the last ewe, tip her up and begin. This really is different, as soon as she is tipped up a couple of lambs dive in for a free feed, there are lambs milling around, nibbling on our jeans, sucking and nuzzeling our legs, when we we lie down in the straw with the ewe, there are lambs climbing all over us and the sheep, chewing and nibbling on everything. Here we are, rolling around in the straw with a huge tranquil Brebis, lambs climbing all over us and the ewe while we slowly clip her wool with a pair of handshears - a little unorthodox for a couple of Australians who grew up with merinos in western Queensland !! Eventually they are all done and the shorn sheep let out of the shed. The shearers wash under a tap outside in the frost and stand around in the sun talking - the same as shearers anywhere.

A lovely relaxed atmosphere to the entire day, many things remniscent of the shearing sheds of Sue's and my youth - the smells, the sounds of sheep and dogs, the feel of greasy wool, men standing around at smoko talking and smoking but at the same time so different with the relaxed pace, the co-operative approach, the sound of shears clicking, conversation and laughter, a complete lack of struggling or swearing, smoko of baguettes, cheese, saucisson, pate, wine and beer, men and women shearing. The image of men, women and sheep rolling around in the straw in a warm wooden shed with the frost on the ground outside will remain with me.

Autumn feelings

There is a feeling which comes over me on autumn days - days with clear blue skies, cool breeze, puffy white clouds, warm sun on my face, soft light and lengthening shadows. A sort of an aching melanchology, a sense of loss or losing perhaps, something is slipping inexorably away. Is it a primeval understanding of the death of summer, the loss of warmth and sun, growth and the simple living of warmer seasons ? A sense of valuing the time I am within, a knowledge deep inside of the brevity of the seasons, the brevity of the moment. Is it a gift from a time before, when winter was indeed a primeval force to contend with, a commmunication with the plants and animals for which winter is a very real threat to survival, or a matter of growing to understand the Vallee d'Ossau where the seasons determine all activities.

Whatever the reason, I appreciate it on these glorious autumn days as a gift, a gift that helps me to appreciate the beauty of the moment.

I sit in the high Pyrenees with a gurgling stream beside me - pure, cold, clear, water running through mountain pastures shortened by the summer grazing, warm sun on my face, a light breeze through the valley. Purple crocuses carpet the glades along the stream, snow on the high peaks and soft white clouds in a blue, blue sky. This won't last forever, winter is fast approaching, but it is wonderful now.

We walk on the steep side of a valley with a stream running noisily at the bottom, terraced pastures across the valley, cow bells ringing. The steep mountainside is multicoloured with dark green pine, bright yellow birch, golden, brown and red beech, brown oak and the odd bright red of an unknown tree - (perhaps Ash), grey rocks and white peaks in the distance. As we move up the valley we can see the floor brown with leaves, a splash of silver water running through the middle. The bracken on the hillsides is brightly coloured - red, orange and yellow - a wide mass of colour against the blue as you look up. The sun drops and the light through the leaves is golden and soft, the air is cool and so, so crisp

Autumn colours

The colours of Autumn are absolutely stunning, we are continually amazed as we walk or drive through different parts of the valley - the variety of colours and the different stages of autumn, the varying effects of altitude and time provide a constantly changing show for us all. The locals say some autumns are more colourful than others and this autumn is a colourful one - we are lucky.

First Snow

First snow in Laruns for the Autumn - we are absolutely entranced by snow - the way it falls and appears in the morning, the way it transforms the landscape in appearance and in the dampness of the soil, the growth of the plants, the water in the streams and rivers.

We had Hadley and his mates Elliott and Harry with us, fresh from a camel safari in Morrocco, so we went straight up into the snow - up to Bious Artige and walked up the Valle de Bious. As we drove higher our excitement mounted - we reached the snow line and snow is everywhere - on all the trees, the ground, the rocks, the logs - the entire landscape is softened and rounded. The outlines of the rocks are smoothed, rounded and whitened with inches of snow, the leaves on the trees are laden with bright, white snow, hanging low, every now and then a large soft lump falls to the ground and blends with the thick snow on the ground. Sounds are muffled - a soft white world, clean, clear and cold. We could see a little bridge over a creek all white with snow, the stream running clear through the white.

As we came into the valley we came across a shepherd coming down with a troupeau of sheep - it turned out to be Anna, the shepherd we walked with on the transhumance in July - time now to descend. I spoke with her for a while and the sheep moved on and grazed, I said do you need to go with the sheep and she said no they will stop and feed, they follow me. A little further on we came across Joseph with his lyre horned Bearnaise cattle also descending - time to move lower down into the valley.

We walked up the valley all covered in snow and climbed the little hill at the top of the valley, following the tracks left by Anna and Joseph's sheep and cattle. On the edge of the gorge an Izard leapt out and bounded through the snow up the hill, a few bounds and it was well away and watching us, just as we exclaimed and excitedly followed its progress another appeared and we watched them both move quickly and easily up the slope, both with short summer coats, dark and shining. Is it my imposition but I imagine the Izard surprised by the deep, fresh snow.

We had a cold lunch in the snow with swirls of hard sago snow flying around us, by the time we had eaten patches of blue were appearing above the mountains and there were shadows on the bright white snow - white snow, grey rock, green and brown trees with patches of yellow, red and gold, blue sky above - moments of beauty, spellbinding, indescribable - the power, wonder and pure magnificence of raw nature.

The snow was already melting as we walked back across the valley floor and when we reached the trees large lumps of snow were dropping from the tress, the entire forest was dripping with melting snow, mossy rocks and logs were reappearing, pools of snow melt on the track.

patches of blue
sharp shadows on bright white snow
grey rock rising straight
trees green and brown
with patches of autumn - yellows and reds
white snow, deep, clean and pure

The landscape is completely transformed in shape, texture, colour and sound by the snow and as the snow melts it is transformed again, not quite back to the way it was as the memory of the cold remains as the onset of winter, the loss of another fragment of summer.

Autumn - Amazing Autumn

What can I say about Autumn ?? Except that for an Australian the experience is entrancing, absorbing, awe inspiring. We have been watching the trees gradually change colour, the flocks descend, snow fall and the days shorten, but nothing can quite prepare us for the experience of walking in the forest on a sunny day after snow on the peaks and rain in the valleys. A brilliant blue day, with the air so sharp and clear it hurts your eyes, distances are shortened and colours brightened, hard against each other, stark in relief. The forest - beech, pine, oak and ash, an awesome display of colour - yellow, gold, brown, russet, red and green, the ground covered in a deep, soft layer of leaves. Rocks and logs, covered with moss, bright green, almost iridescent in the sunlight, appear through the omnipresent leaf fall, every now and then through the trees silver water appears shining in the sun as it tumbles down the mountain. All the time, through the trees the peaks stand clear, white and close. If you stand or sit still you will see leaves falling softly and ever so quietly through the forest, leaving the branches high up, fluttering and floating silently to the ground.

High up above the tree line, where we walk the snow has melted and frozen again to cover the grass in clear cold ice. Izard are bounding above us as always and today, below us as well, they are moving down toward the forest as the snow arrives.

We come down later through the trees, the forest floor and the sound of our passing softened by the deep layer of leaves, afternoon sun slanting through the coloured trees bathing all the forest in a gentle golden light, long shadows, green, green rocks, water falling noisily through the trees - the whole forest is alive with the rain, the sun, the fresh, cool air and the change of autumn. I can feel the change as well, somewhere deep within and part of me is hurrying, seeking acorns to stash somewhere or at least firewood to store for the winter, attempting to take advantage of the dying light and the warmth.