Today’s destination is the Refuge d’Ilhéou, a mountain refuge nestled high in the Pyrenees. The route is challenging, with an ascent of 1,600 meters in total, taking me through rugged terrain to the Col d’Ilhéou at 2,242 meters. It’s an uphill trek all the way, a test of endurance and determination, but the promise of breathtaking views keeps me moving forward.
Early in the day, I come across a charming cabane just as I emerged from the forest near Lac d’Estaing. The spot, known as Aireoussec, a hidden gem—perfectly situated for an overnight stop. I wish I had stayed here last night. If I were to repeat this route, I’d strongly consider spending the night there. It would eliminate the less inspiring road walk at the start of the day and shorten todays climb.
The cabane itself had a rustic weathered walls and simple structure spoke of countless trekkers who had likely sought shelter there before me. Standing there for a moment, I imagine the quiet nights it would offer—just the sound of the wind and the occasional rustle of wildlife in the distance.
The mountain today appears deceptively gentle at first, with a path that stretches high into the distance, leading me upwards with a false sense of ease. The early part of the climb is relaxed manageable, as I make my way along the winding track. But by mid-afternoon, the terrain changes. The path steepens, the grade growing more unforgiving with each step. The summit feels like it’s always just out of reach. Why oh why am I not lieing on a beach relaxing?! Why do I always choose physically demanding holidays, often above my physical capacity? Something to be explored – I blame Brian Helsby, a youth leader I knew growing up in South Africa, telling me I could not go on the Gold Coast walk because it was for boys only. I was furious.
When I finally reach the top, the wind hits with fierce force, the cold air cutting through the warmth of the day. Exhausted I realise there’s little time to savor it, it is late in the day and I need to get down to the refuge before dark. The descent is long — a narrow, steep, and relentless path that plunges downward for another hour, each step demanding focus and caution. I have crappy ankles that can turn easily, the last thing I want. In general going up is better than going down for me.
Approaching Refuge d’Ilhéou, it is barely visible against the gray slate of the surrounding mountains. The refuge blends into the landscape, probably built from the stone that rises around it. The harsh, monochromatic colors of the slate make it difficult to distinguish the refuge from the rocky backdrop, creating an almost surreal sense of place. Another day that feels like entering Mordor.
The refuge itself, though a welcoming. A few other walkers, not full at this time of year. One memebr of staff who serves the most wonderful chocolaty hot drink. Aching feet, a very comfy bunkbed in a mostly empty dorm. No snorer’s tonight!