Into The Pyrenees: Mountain Hikes And Marvellous Trains

After a run of apartments we’re now in a middle sized family run hotel in the beautiful Pyrenees mountains in Vernet-les-Bains, a quiet and ancient hot spring spa village nestled among the towering peaks. We arrive with the mountains basking in the glorious afternoon light of bright sunshine, then watch in delight as the evening casts the mountains as yet darker shadows against the darkening sky. Overnight, cool mountain air fills our room through the open door to the balcony – it feels so long since we felt cool air – and by morning the silent giants form a blurred jagged line in the misty light. 

Mountain views from a hotel balcony are so special, they just have a way of making you feel alive. From everywhere in the village you can hear the rushing water of the young river which dashes over the rocks through the centre: at this time of year the sound is a playful chuckle rather than the roar of winter. Great setting, wonderful scenery.

Catalan influences are creeping in, too. The menus here are in French first and Catalan Spanish dialect second, and, joyously, not much English. Town and train station name plates are in those same two tongues, conversational French is laced with Catalan words and phrases. Red and yellow striped flags flutter alongside the tricolour. When one evening a band takes to the stage in the village square and plays sardana music, there is no doubting we’ve entered Catalunya.

Vernet-les-Bains sits 658 metres above sea level but is dwarfed by its surroundings with pine and oak clad mountains towering above the village on all sides. This is terrific hiking country, marked trails leave the village in various directions, so off we go to tackle a circular route rising at its highest point to Pic de l’Alzina at 1,017 metres. The views are, of course, beyond magnificent. It strikes us just how well sound carries in locations such as this: high on the trail more than 300 metres above the village, we can clearly hear the sounds of disembodied voices and barking dogs below.

I’m not a great fan of swimming pools, but as we look down on Vernet-les-Bains from up on the mountain, the bright blue rectangle of the public pool makes the thought of resting in the sun and cooling off in the pool after our hike seem like a good idea. We eagerly change clothes and head off for a dip or two – except when we get there, I’m not allowed in. Michaela’s swimsuit is OK, but my swimming shorts – you know, the kind of swimming shorts worn by men the world over and particularly by self-respecting gentlemen above a certain age – are, apparently, not acceptable. I protest more in surprise than anger, but it’s a very definite “Non!”.

Apparently the only way this stern female gatekeeper will let me in is if I pay 8 euros to hire – HIRE, Godammit ! – a pair of tight fitting speedos. Why on Earth these people think the French public will be happier seeing me in a pair of budgie-smuggling skimpies rather than a decent pair of respectable shorts is beyond me…unless snaring the odd 8 euros from unsuspecting visitors is motivation enough for this obtuse policy. I decline the opportunity and forego the swim, figuring nobody – nobody! – wants to see that.

And so to the event that was the primary reason for choosing this particular part of the Pyrenees, “le petit train jaune” or “little yellow train”. We owe a huge debt of thanks to Helen aka The Venomous Bead for being the first to tell us of this wonderful train journey; until Helen’s prompt we knew nothing of its existence, yet it turns out to be another fabulous day on what is so far a splendid French adventure.

This unusual train which despite being a tourist attraction is still operated by SNCF as part of the main network, has been making its steep journey up into the Pyrenees since 1909. When we first researched the train following Helen’s tip-off, we so wanted to grab seats in one of the open carriages, and despite a bit of a scramble at the start point at Villefranche-de-Conflent, we snare a couple right by the edge of one such carriage. Perfect, just what we wanted.

We opt for the full journey, just over three hours each way – so wonderful are the views, so exhilarating is the journey, that the six-and-a-half round trip never once becomes tedious or pedestrian. You don’t need to be a train enthusiast to be thrilled by this experience, but, if you like me you do indeed love rail travel, it’s an absolutely brilliant day. In the first half of the outward journey, the train pulls up some significant inclines as it moves through spectacular Pyrenees scenery, crossing gorges and clinging to mountainsides with giant drops just at the side of the track.

The views when crossing the amazingly high Pont de Cassagne suspension bridge are akin to the view when taking off in an aeroplane, and catching a glimpse of the rest of the train as it curves over the Pont Séjourné bridge is a classic and dramatic railway snapshot. This surely has to be one of the World’s greatest train journeys.

Starting at Villefranche-de-Conflent at 427m, the track rises to Bolquère-Eyne, which at 1,593m is the highest train station in the whole of France. From here the track descends only slightly, ending up at Latour de Carol Enveitg, where connections exist to both the French and Spanish rail networks, making this the only station in Europe, possibly the world, with three different gauge “standard” tracks at one station. By “standard”, we mean conventional rail tracks rather than rack railway etc.

The return journey is no less exhilarating. Again we snare seats in the open carriage – in the hot sun for most of the trip but boy that air is a LOT colder at the highest point – and soak up all the panoramas from the opposite viewpoint. Incidentally, this trip is amazing value for money, the whole return journey of over six hours costing only 10 euros per person. If that’s not bargain enough, I get a 10% discount for being over 65, and then as yellow train passengers we also receive 10% discount off an already cheap lunch at the far end. You really can’t beat that for value for a fabulous day out.

I have been so looking forward to this day, and it has been infinitely better than even I anticipated. Waiting for the outbound train in the morning sun, I felt full of childlike excitement: on the platform, a German guy of similar age to me was obviously feeling just the same and danced a little excited jig as the train pulled in, much to his Frau’s amusement. I know just how you’re feeling, bud.

Including lunch at Latour de Carol, the trip is more than eight hours in total, yet even after a journey of this length, it still feels like it’s over too soon as we pull back into Villefranche and walk away from the quaint station.

Unfortunately the bus timetable doesn’t quite correspond with the yellow train’s return and we miss the bus by a whisker despite hurrying up the hill. This forces us to wander into Villefranche and suffer the torture of spending an hour drinking beer and wine in its gorgeous little square. This torture is so bad that we end up staying much longer than an hour and order tapas, at least one carafe of the house red and, eventually, grab a seat on the last bus home. It feels like one of those magical days of travel.

A good portion of the evening is spent talking through today’s experience, and how good it can be when being part of the travel blogging world can bring you a day like today. Big thank you again to Helen, without whose tip this day wouldn’t even have happened.