When you´re hiking in Spain but then you´re in France
Borders. This trip reminded me once again how arbitrary they are, and how so often they´re just lines on a page. Hiking in the Pyrenees is a great example. One minute you´re walking around in Spain, the next thing you know the grass is greener and you´re looking at a sign that says vente de fromage. Mmmmm!
french sheep eating french grass, for some french cheese
The Harpy´s Cave is a hike that, while listed on our Irati Park map, is actually in France. We drove on the narrowest mountain road (goat track, really) I´ve been on, pulling aside and backing up oh so carefully several times to let other cars by, and once we thought we were good and lost, arrived at the end of the road. We got out, Tall Guy took a work call (how his phone works in the actual middle of nowhere, I´ll never understand), and then we took a narrow path downhill.
It was only about a 15 minute walk, but it took longer as we had to stop to admire the absolutely stunning colours. The afternoon sky was so blue, the grass such a rich green. Like velvet. So green I almost had to look away. We had a lot of impressive views on our trip, but this one was heart-wrenchingly beautiful. We passed a small cottage that could not have been quainter, and then arrived at the cave. The inside of the cave is, as they say, ni fu ni fa (not that impressive), but the wavy rock that forms it is spectacular.
We headed back, uphill, to the car. It wasn´t overly steep, but Baby wanted to stop to admire each mountain flower on the way. So we did. They were beautiful, and what better way to teach him to remember to stop and smell the fleurs than stopping to smell the fleurs?