Pyrénées, France. 11-15 September 2002
The less written about
this meet the better but, for the record, here goes: The tone was set when six
people cancelled after confirming — this seemed not to impress our French hosts
who had expected 14, not eight.
The meet itself was a
dog's breakfast, punctuated by several "senior moments". This was a
pity because it took a lot of planning, including organisers' pitching up two
days early to do further reccies (in wall-to-wall blue sky), only to be
informed by aforesaid frogs that we were not expected until the following day,
despite their signed faxed confirmation.
Towards the end of the
previous week's Spanish meet, a couple of members
announced they would have a rest day in the middle of the French meet, even
before it had started. Also four people got their dates wrong and had to leave
a day early, after having arrived late.
The first morning saw
a lethargic team setting off late, in low cloud, for Pic de Salfort which was
duly reached in a couple of hours, and electing not to continue. Two of the
party did eventually carry on to the next objective — Pic des Trois Thermes and
stone beacon No 597.
On the second night,
the planned dinner at the popular seafood restaurant just along the coast was
cancelled on the grounds that "we might have had to drive back a short
distance, possibly having had one glass of wine too many" (in
France?????).
On the third night,
after we had finally agreed on a suitable restaurant, the party could not reach
agreemunt on whether to sit inside or outside. The 'OUTS' out-numbered the
'INS' but IN we went. The member with a sensitive nose had to leave the table
in tears after the unwashed waiter had twice leant over him, exposing armpit
odour that made Beldon's secondhand codpiece smell like Chanel No 5.
And so to breakfast on
the final day, which dawned sunny and clear (the sky not the breakfast). Of the
four people remaining, two mutineers decided they couldn't wait until midday for
the leader to convert what remained of the meet into a half-day walk/scramble.
The gang of two decided this wasn't good enough and set a world record for
bag-packing and out-checking — (what was that story about small rodents
deserting a sinking ship?).
The two people (The
Rump), who did remain, had a magnificent walk, starting on the beach below the
hotel, dodging up the cliffs to avoid an incoming tide. Then they climbed 700ft
up to frontier beacon No 601 (the other 600 croix frontières, each with
its engraved cross, and numbered from West to East, appear at c1km intervals
across the Pyrenean watershed to the Bay of Biscay) for a tremendous view down
to the Spanish coastal border village of Port Bou; then a lovely descent back
to Cerbère to our favourite bar for refreshmunt.
What a bunch of
chauvinist(e)s, all wanting to do something different!!
Lessons learned?
1. Don't ever plan two
consecutive meets.
2. Stick to the programme.
3. Non illegitimi carborundum.
©
WDYFO, 2002