OSSAU TEMPO
3 days around the Pic du midi d’Ossau like an echo.
«Into the forest I go to lose my mind and find my soul.»
«The mountains are calling and I must go.»
John Muir.
All the photos in this book were taken with a Rolleiflex T f3.5 75mm Tessar and UV, red and infrared filters.
Films (Kodak Tri-x 400, Bergger Pancro 400, Fomapan 400, Rollei Infrared 400) were developed at Ilford Ilfosol 3 and scanned with an Epson V750 pro, in my shelter.
You don’t have to cross the globe to experience an adventure.
Sometimes you just have to leave your home.
So imagine when we drive four hours to find ourselves in the heart of the Pyrenean mountains ...
In a time of global respiratory problems, it was necessary to go and breathe the fresh mountain air. After several lockdowns and its share of restrictions, walking through the door of your home instantly transforms us into a John Muir treading the Sierra Nevada and, like a Jack London, I was about to immortalize on film my trek, or «my walk», in the snow-capped heights of this rocky line about 70 million years old.
15kg on my back, my Rolleiflex slung over the shoulder creating an uncomfortable imbalance. A tent and the survival kit in order to be independent. Two trekking poles and 7 films should I hope to bring me satisfaction, ecstasy, serenity and happiness in pain.
Like a retired monk, I leave to fade into nature, empty my mind and get closer to the essential. The organic self being one with the elements.
Well, without wanting to spoil the story. If you hope to clear your mind when you go on a photo hike, forget it. I thought of framing a 25 km walk in two days and one night. And the next night, then the next day ...
So here we are, left at 5am from Tarbes where I had made a stop at my aunt Kiki, known throughout the region for her famous croque-monsieur with Kiri cheese with Spanish sparkling wine, I arrived in the light of day crossing the fog on the parking lot of Bious-Artigues, after having crossed a couple of rowdy young foxes and a Patou lying in the middle of the road.
The time to equip myself and I started walking on the path along the lake which was revealed modestly under a dress of mist.
I’m not Jack London, I’m not John Muir, I’m my father’s son. The one who introduced me to this path through which I have already been accompanied and who, several times, took me past this house, this refuge «Array d’Aüssaü» which borders the lake.
Finally, the second version of the refuge. The first is in the lake.
Well, find out, eh, I’m not a search engine.
I’m an adventurer who writes his own personal caption, not a tour guide!
Damn, where was I? ...
I plunge into the woods, following the «gave de Bious».
The first kilometers are decisive for the rest. You have to calm your enthusiasm and try to find a cruising speed as quickly as possible, otherwise you get tired from the start and you are not immune to minor injuries.
We’re not going to take a break right away!
In addition from the start it climbs. And when I say «it climbs», it is one of the climbs with the one after having the most vertical drop.
So the first hour is very important but also very physical.
Ah and I was going to forget ...
It’s nice !
No, it’s not a toilet, it’s a shelter.
«The exterior is a toilet, the interior is a refuge».
What ?! So we hike in a basin?
The «Ossau basin»? Hmm, I prefer the «Ossau valley» anyway. I find it cleaner.
And then it smells good here. It smells of nature, it smells ... What does it smell like? It’s weird this smell tells me something.
Ah damn, I just walked in a dung.
At this point for the uninitiated, it’s a bit like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. The release of the weight of his body and the world on his shoulders.
Yes ok, the awareness of the lack of training and the weight of his bag in fact!
It is later that one becomes aware of being either in paradise or in hell.
But then, I who have been there before and come back. Am I undead?
It is true that the last kilometers of the return can turn us into a zombie, thirsty for rest, beer and a good shower ...
The future will tell us, we’ve only just left ...
I arrived on the first plateau after the first big climb and I take this opportunity to change the film.
There are two paths. One crossing the plain, the other, the woods.
Take the second.
We go back one square and turn right.
Recto
I step out of the forest, leaving the fog behind. All around, the peaks are revealed like the outline of a silhouette on a canvas.
Verso
And the world from which I extricate myself for a few hours.
In the distance up there, the snow.
At the top :
Here is the Roumassot lake (Altitude 1845m), the first of the three lakes of Ayous.
On the left:
Living and dying in the mountains.
So here we are not in the heart of Yosemite national park, we are in the Pyrenees national park.
I told you, I am not John Muir. I’m just one little ant among many, carrying a bag that doesn’t even weigh several times its weight. And that is already enough.
But beware, this is a protected site. Please do not crush the insects, they do treks.
A few minutes of walk after the lake of Miey I see the refuge of Ayous (Altitude 1980m) overhanging the lake Gentau (Altitude 1965m). Still closed for the moment, a winter refuge is still available.
It must be 10 am when I arrive at the refuge. And the guards are busy preparing for the next opening.
At the same time, my stomach tells me it’s noon and I listen to it blindly.
Here it is not the finish, it is only a stage of the day.
At least I hope so because the path going up in the rocks is completely snow-covered.
I make myself a sandwich with my big part of sheep’s cheese, which will accompany me throughout the stay, with ham. Dehydrated meals will wait.
Sheep’s tomme is good, it can be eaten at any time.
I chew it all while listening to people discuss the cold of the night and I understand that I made a very bad decision by leaving my mattress in the car in the parking lot to gain a few grams less charge.
The experience is also done thanks to the bad decisions that one makes. And I have a feeling that tonight I will acquire a little more.
I look at my sleeping bag which is not made for very cold weather: «I’m counting on you, don’t let go, man».
Anyway, I talk to one of the guards and I take this opportunity to ask him if the path going up to the «col des moines» is accessible.
«It’s doable, you have to cut along the stream. Then you have to go along the lake but be careful, you must not slide on the snow and fall into the water».
Indeed, better not.
We got into the saddle, and Mr. Fridriksson sent me with his last farewell this verse which Virgil seemed to have written for us, uncertain travelers of the road:
Et quacumque viam dederit fortuna sequamur. (1)
Jules Verne - Journey to the Center of the Earth.
1. And whichever road fortune takes, we will follow it.
The Ossau sets its pace and I turn around. Many times one will return to the other like a voice in an echo.
It is after crossing large snowfields that I arrive safely at Lake Bersau. I didn’t fall, my legs didn’t go through the snow because of a hole underneath.
At least for now!
I see @yunxiao_photography taking pictures of the lake.
In fact I wonder if she takes selfies of herself in front of the lake or if she does a long exposure by the lake.
Besides, I still don’t know. But we must always keep a part of the mystery ...
Meeting and discussing with a photographer colleague is always pleasant and in a charming place like here is even better.
Okay, I’m on a mission, so stop talking. We exchange our Instagram nicknames and I continue!
May 24, 2021.
It has been 25 days now since our plane crashed and we are marching east.
Yesterday we almost finished eating John. No one grimaces anymore when it’s time to eat. On the contrary.
May 25, 2021.
Helen fell earlier.
I noticed she was limping. Mathieu and the group too. He came to see me to tell me that she will slow us down and that her condition can only deteriorate anyway.
I feel like the rest of the group are already looking at her with drooling lips and I find myself dreaming of small vegetables to accompany the meat.
A cairn marking the passage.
The Castéreau peak observes me from the top of its 2227 m.
The Pic du Midi D’Ossau seen from the Col des Moines.
It was after descending towards Lake Castérau that I took the GR108 again towards the Col des Moines (Altitude 2169 m), where I have just arrived. Here, the terminal symbolizes the Spanish border.
I immortalize this passage to sheep (?) And I take the opportunity to change the film. The leather of the device has suffered a little because of the cold and a small aesthetic piece has just let go. He sticks his tongue out a bit as my bag starts to pull on my shoulders.
Let’s take the opposite route towards the refuge in order to pitch the tent and rest a little.
