The Camino Gypsy Chronicles: Misty Mountain March

You know the saying, 'What goes up must come down'? Well, sometimes what goes up just keeps going up and up and up with no end, or should I say 'no mercy', in sight. Although today's trek from Le Bousquet d'Orb was only 15.5 miles, a whopping 11 of it was uphill. The first 11 to be exact. Continuous. Unrelenting. Grueling. Higher and higher and higher we climbed through the mist laced mountains until it seemed as though we'd stumbled into the Camino twilight zone. How could the uphill grade just keep going? Was this the M.C. Escher parallel universe of hiking? I can see now why this is a religious pilgrimage - because you literally walk your way right up to Saint Peter's pearly gates. "Hi, Saint Peter? Yes, do you perhaps have a room we could rent for the night on a cloud or something? Our feet are simply killing us... And is there a washer and dryer available?"

This has literally been one of the hardest days of hiking ever for us, and this coming from two women who have successfully climbed the beast that is Mt. Whitney. I will say, however, that 'what goes up, must come down' is true in a more figurative sense, as exemplified in our lodging transition from exquisite to disheartening. When mom and I arrived in Le Bousquet d'Orb yesterday afternoon we found ourselves in a quaint and adorable converted barn with the most comfortable bed and comforter we've so far come upon on the Camino. So comfortable, in fact, that we spent the rest of the day, all 8 hours, in bed. The only thing worth tearing us away from our quilted sanctuary was dinner. The proprietors of La Borio, Victoria and Ray, served up warm salmon quiche atop crispy butter lettuce, Kiev cocktails, curried vegetable, olive and chickpea stew (for me) and tandoori curried chicken (for mom) and couscous, with a martini glass of strawberries, fresh whipped cream and meringue for dessert. Other than being delicious, it was a reminder that we have to remember to bring the camera to dinner.

Breakfast was equally inspired, filling us with fuel and a positive outlook. The room we have found ourselves in this evening, on a lower note, is the most expensive so far, yet holds the record for the dustiest and most bizarre decorating sense. I have included pictures, of course, so you can see fully the contrast. [I do want to note that the owner was a gentleman and made us a sweet meal, despite the fact that the only two colors in in were white and yellow. He also arranged a ride for us the next day to get our hike down to a more doable 10 miles.]

Thankfully, the mist did not turn to rain on our hike other than a few scattered sprinkles. Yet, as we dragged our weary bodies up the insatiable mountainside, using our trekking poles as crutches and our water tubes as I.V.s and listening to the constant ironic chant of the cuckoo birds that inhabit the forests of France - "Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo" - I realized their taunting might hold some grain of truth. Are we crazy to be doing this? As I write, mom is looking for a shorter route for tomorrow as another "Hard" day, as the guide refers to today and tomorrow, may take us so far down, we may never come back up.