Wild mountain crossing
Yesterday I crossed the crux of the le Puy route in France, Mount Aubrac.
The mountain at 1,300 m isn’t really that high but multiple people had warned me days in advance about its wild nature.
50 cm of new snow had fallen a couple days prior and I sank in knee deep.
The wind was relentless, blowing right into my face blurring my vision and creating grotesque and bizarre pictures on the trail. I was the only one around.
It was wild.
It was alivening.
Half of the way I was able to stay on the official trail, the other half I thought it wiser to stay on the road especially after a local took a look at my trail runners rather disapprovingly. There is adventure and then there is stupidity.
Besides, I was walking in the direction of fog instead of sun. Fog and snow pretty much look the same and one can no longer distinguish between ground and sky which makes path finding difficult. And with the intense wind any precious trail someone else may have made had been erased.
In medieval times these conditions would have definitely put a halt to any pilgrim adventure. The only reason it was possible for me to cross is because I could detour to a road. Nonetheless, it still felt wild, gorgeous and special.