Day 82 – to Col de Serra (1384 metres)

By the time I’d lazed around with the next chapter of Crawford’s book on Borders (a wonderful section about Hadrian’s Wall) the clear skies had darkened. I looked up from my book and was shaken into action.

First stop was the epicerie to pick up some bread, a slice of cranberry flan and a strong local beer. Roja waited outside as ever, and these days, is even tolerant of the resident cat. He has embarrassed me several times in this regard before..

There was just about a view of Puy Mary spectacular peak directly ahead as we headed up the pass, and the conical and conspicuous Puy Griou to the east, though by the time we got to the pass, Peyrol, at 1589 metres, all had disappeared, and we were enveloped in cloud. At least the rain kept off.

I had in mind a longer circuit than we actually undertook. Conditions weren’t great, the steep rock coming off Puy Mary was slippery in places, to which my hip doesn’t respond well. I was keen to do the narrow ridge, the Brèche de Roland, but decided against it for now. That can join the ever-lengthening list of routes to undertake once bionic.

I’ve seen such ‘warning’ or ‘prudence’ signs many times in Europe when approaching something challenging. I always compare it to the UK where, despite quite frequent debates, we choose not to warn anyone. Think of Crib Goch, Y Gribin, the Càrn Mòr Dearg Arête, Striding and Swirral Edges for examples.

The track was quite busy, mainly with trail runners. It seems this is a very popular area for the sport, with the National team training here this last week. I chatted to a few, one was a guy guiding a group, another just a couple of women out for the morning. I also chatted to a young Australian woman and her partner, who was French. They live in Perth, but travel to France each year. Incredibly, this, just the simple ascent of Puy Mary, was her first ever mountain hike, which might explain why they were as slow as me. Roja and I hike on mountains every day, sometimes more often than that, and it serves to remember that many people must lead their whole lives without going anywhere near a mountain.

I was out for a couple of hours, and just as we returned to the van the rain started with ferocity. We drove slowly down to Col de Serra, only ten kilometres, at 1384 metres, and found an excellent place to stay at the (closed) visitor’s centre car park, and settled in for a long lunch, and some sport.

At 6:30 pm the rain eased enough to step outside, and we wandered an hour or so on a grassy ridge with a gentle ascent, encountering some wild horses, friendly as ever. These are Cheval d’Auvergne, used to the rugged terrain and the weather. Easily identifiable by their thick, often blonde, mane. After the heavy rain of the afternoon the rising mist and cloud conjured up a special atmosphere.