Chapter III: Preface: To the Fourth Edition (1)

I write this Preface to the Fourth Edition after five years.

My last note upon this book was written, as the reader will see, for the Third Edition, in September, 1922. These lines are written in November, 1927.

When I wrote my Preface to the Third Edition, Europe, its currencies, and the rest, were still under the heavy disturbances of the Great War. But things are now more settled, notably currencies. Also a few more years of peace have given both French and Spaniards the opportunity for building new roads, and for extending the railway system.

In the notes I am about to add here I ought to make it clear that I am writing principally by information rather than by direct personal experience, and anyone who finds that some point ought to be corrected or something added, and who will communicate with the publishers, or with myself care of the publishers, will be doing the future readers of this book a great service. I am sure to be making some mistakes, and the less there are in any future edition the better.

I humbly beg the reader to remember that the book was written in the old days of peace, “before ever the sons of Achaia came to the land.” It was also written when I was a young man and could go over any number of miles on foot in any weather and over pretty well anything—even the worst steeps of the Canal Roya, though I have no claim to climbing. To-day I can do none of these things, and have to go by hearsay. I propose to divide what I have to say into (1) general remarks, (2) additions to the road system, (3) the (comparatively slight) changes in the railroad system (including the change in the value of money and present prices of tickets), (4) changes in inns (here I shall have to be very tentative, for I have to go mainly by reports), and (5) maps.

(1) GENERAL

The political situation has so developed that it is no longer advisable, as I formerly said, but _necessary_ to have one’s passport _viséd_ for Spain before starting for the Pyrenees, even if one has no intention of crossing the frontier. For, as I said when the book was written, there are occasions when the traveller on foot in the mountains may cross the frontier unwittingly, and have to deal with the authorities on the farther side. To this must be added the consideration that a stricter central government in Spain, coupled with occasional plots against it, has made the frontier authorities particularly vigilant. They may take from a traveller anything which looks like an offensive weapon—an acquaintance of mine was deprived, for instance, of a very large stick, and he might have fared worse with a very large knife. It is well to remember that when you enter Spain by this frontier you are coming in by its most remote, least peopled, and most difficult area, and that one must have nothing to explain if one can help it. I mean, of course, when you enter over the main range; for the two main roads and railways at either end of the chain by the sea-coasts of the Atlantic and the Mediterranean are common international highways.

Another point to remember, which is a small one but now and then, though very rarely, important to the traveller, is that the variation in the compass has changed since this book was written. It was written twenty years ago, and was published nearly nineteen years ago, and since then the variation of the compass has lessened (for this part of the world) by something like three degrees. The traveller must further remember that (though it is not very strictly enforced) there is a new law in France both for travellers proposing to reside a certain time in the country and (this is strictly enforced) a daily tax for travellers using foreign motor-cars in the country; while all the Spanish corresponding regulations have been tightened up. The wise thing to do, therefore, if you mean to spend more than a fortnight in these hills on either side of the border, is to inform yourself thoroughly upon arrival of what is required of you. You can do it in France easily enough; but as on the Spanish side the main towns are a long way from the range, you will do well, if you intend to spend any number of days to the south of the frontier, to find out at the Spanish Consulate in London or at your nearest large town what formalities may be needed.

On the effect of the change in prices I deal elsewhere. But there are two things to be remembered here, with one of which most people are familiar, but the other of which most people have not as yet appreciated. The first is that on the French as on the Spanish side, but much more on the French side than on the Spanish, the old unit of currency does not mean, in gold, what it meant when this book was written.

In France it means _in gold_ only _one-fifth_ at the present apparently stabilized rate of what it meant when I first put these pages together. We are on a gold basis in England. A franc used, before the war, to be nearly 10_d._ It is to-day almost exactly 2_d._ On the Spanish side the peseta fluctuates somewhat, but at the moment of writing it is well below thirty (twenty-eight odd), which means that the peseta, once nominally equal to the franc, is between 8_d._ and 9_d._, or rather more than four times the present value of the franc.

But the second point, which is much less generally appreciated, is even more important to retain. _Prices in gold have changed._ There are all sorts of views as to the real amount of the change; but I think we are not very far wrong in basing any calculation of expense upon a basis of doubling. At any rate, if you do that you will not be disappointed. The gold franc or gold peseta buys in 1927 more than half as much, but not much more than half as much, as it did before the war. In other words, the franc to-day is not in practice half of a fifth, that is, one-tenth, of what it was before the war, nor is the peseta in practice as little as fourpence halfpenny compared with prices before the war. You get more for your money than such a rough rule of thumb would warrant. But remember that you are getting things cheaper than the strict gold basis would allow. For instance, I know of one particular inn on the French side of the frontier, high up in the valleys (it is a very good one and a typical one), where they charge for food, including wine, and lodging, fifty to sixty francs a day. You would not have got the same thing for five or six francs in 1914; but you would have got it for seven or eight. My object in emphasizing this is to prevent the traveller from thinking that under modern conditions he is being bled. It is rather the other way. He is getting things somewhat cheaper still in these mountains than world prices would warrant. He must expect to pay on the very different scale I have indicated.

Lastly, let me add in connexion with prices that, for a variety of reasons which it would take too long to go into, he must expect a very distinct rise in general expenses as measured in English exchange when he passes from French into Spanish territory. He must allow for something like an increase of a third, and perhaps in the larger towns of a half of what he pays on the French side.

Further, when he is looking for anything like luxury, even in the humblest sense of that term, he must be prepared to pay (e.g. for foreign wines, or for well-appointed travel by car) nearly double on the Spanish side what he would have to pay on the French.

The traveller should remember that there has been a very great expansion of good roads on the Spanish side compared with what there was when this book was written, and with that has gone an almost universal system of motor-buses, which have quite changed travel on the southern side of the range. He will do well always to ask before trying to go by the slow and few trains what the motor-bus services are. Thus, in the old days when this book was written, a man had either to go on foot or by slow horse vehicles across Roncesvalles to Pamplona. To-day there is a first-rate service of rapid motor-buses, and he will find that to be the case pretty well everywhere between the Mediterranean end and the Atlantic.

(2) ROADS

In the matter of new roads a great deal has been done since this book was written. First and most important, one can go by a good road now over the Bonaigua. I regret it, but so it is. The road does not, indeed, follow the old track of adventure from the Noguera to the Upper Garonne. It goes somewhat to the north of it. But it constitutes, what did not before exist, a proper crossing supplementary to the two roads of Sallent and Jaca. It leads down through the hitherto impassable centre of the range to Lerida, and makes of the Val d’Aran, which used to be a most secluded pocket, a thoroughfare.

Next, there is now a road which a motor car can follow from Seo de Urgel to Andorra the Old. In my time no wheeled vehicle had entered Andorra. They used to boast also that no man had ever been put to death there by process of law. I hope that progress has not changed that.

Next note that there is a road for motors now through Bourg Madame, through Puigcerdá to Seo, and so down into Spain, and further a first-class road from Puigcerdá to Barcelona over the Pass by Ripoll, which I think did not exist when I was a younger man. The main road from Burguete to Pamplona, cutting off the great corner at Aoiz and passing through Erro and Larrasoaña, has long been completed; it is now served by a good service of motor-buses.

Of secondary roads that up the valley of Salazar reaches as far north as Izalzu; that up the valley of Roncal as far as Uztarroz. So if you are crossing the Basque ridge anywhere between St. Jean Pied de Port and Tardets you will find the beginning of a road on the southern side at either of these points.

On the French side there are few important changes. I am afraid that the very difficult road overhanging the precipices between Argelès and Larunz has not been made less difficult. It is well called Mount Ugly. If you care for the experience, it is exciting enough. Nothing, I fear, could make this road easy without a high parapet at its worst stretch; and that might be a danger of a new kind, by giving the driver too much confidence.

There is some secondary extension of the road beyond Gavarnie up to the frontier. I see it marked: I have not myself tried it. You can get up from Tardets nowadays by a road both to Ste. Engrace and Larrau, and there is something of a road up the Arette from Aramitz. For the rest, I believe there is on the French side no change, but developments were proposed some little time ago, and if there have been any quite recent changes which any of my readers can acquaint me with they will oblige me by mentioning them for a further edition.

(3) RAILROADS

The railroad system is, for the practical purposes of travel, what it was when I wrote the book so many years ago. But we are on the eve of very important changes. One cannot yet travel by train under the Pass of the Somport and so directly to Saragossa from Toulouse or Bordeaux. But the tunnel has long been completed, the rails are being laid—indeed, perhaps at the moment of writing they may be already in position. I cannot find out from the authorities when they think the first train will go through. Perhaps they do not know themselves. It is amusing to hear that the tunnel is now continually used by foot-passengers, who are escorted in a gang and who (so I am assured) have their passports examined in the bowels of the earth, some thousands of feet below the summit of the main ridge.

The railway from Ax over the Hospitalet is in a more backward state—hardly more than surveyed—and I know not when it is designed to open. On the other hand, the through railway by the Cerdagne is now virtually completed; there are only a few hundred yards to be finished; one still has to go in a vehicle or walk from Puigcerdá station to Bourg Madame, a matter of a mile or so; but whenever the authorities choose one can have through traffic through this very fine piece of scenery round from Perpignan to Ripoll and Barcelona.

I append what may be of use, though of course it is a changeable thing, a note on the main trains for approaching the Pyrenees as the time-table now stands, with the prices under the new currency and their equivalents in English money; this time-table changes of course, and inquiry must always be made, but the main trains (e.g. the Sud Express) are much the same year after year.

The three main lines of approach to the Pyrenees remain what they were when this book was written, the western one by Bordeaux, the central one by Toulouse, the eastern one by Lyons, Nîmes, and Perpignan. Of these the first is the most rapid; and of the two routes to Bordeaux—the State Line and the Orleans Line—the latter is the quicker. The day train leaves at 8.8 in the morning from the Quai d’Orsay, and gets you to Pau, which is the jumping-off place for the Western Pyrenees, at 10.45 at night. The distance is a little over five hundred miles; the cost, with the franc apparently stabilized at 124 at the time of writing, is just over 250 francs second class, just over 370 francs first class, and not quite 165 third class, that is, about £1 7_s._ 6_d._ to £1 8_s._ English third class from Paris, about £2 2_s._ second class, and about £3 2_s._ first class. If you are making a very short stay in the Pyrenees it may pay you to take a return ticket, the duration of which varies on the French lines with the length of your journey. In this case it would give you about ten days, counting the day on which you leave Paris. There are all sorts of arrangements on the French lines for round trip tickets, family tickets, etc., at reduced prices, but on these one must get information specially from an agency or the French tourist office in London or the main stations in Paris.

Going first class and paying a supplementary price of about £1 4_s._ to £1 5_s._ and changing at Dax, into an ordinary first class, one can go from Paris by the Sud Express leaving the Quai d’Orsay at 10 a.m. and get to Pau at 8.30 in the evening.

If you are making for the extreme west of the range at St. Jean Pied de Port, the same trains get you, the one to Bayonne, where you must sleep, at 9.45 at night, and the other, the Sud Express, without changing, at 7.45 p.m.

Next morning there is a train on at 8, and another at 11.30, for St. Jean, the first getting in at 9.45, the other at 1.15. The distance from Bayonne to Paris is about 485 miles, and the cost therefore, rather less to Pau, being 350 francs (about) first class, 235 or 236 second class, and 154 third class.

The night trains by this line are the 7.10 (which has no third class), which gets you to Pau at 7.20 the next morning; there is a luxury train with supplementary payments for sleeping berth which gets you there no earlier, but has the advantage of giving you time to dine in Paris. It does not start till 8.40; however, it costs nearly £2 more than the first class fare to Pau. Another night train with third classes in it starts at 9.50, gets you to Bordeaux at 7 in the morning (where you have nearly half an hour for coffee) and to Pau for lunch just after noon.

The Central Line leading to Toulouse is a very slow one because it has to go over the central mountains of France. You start from the Quai d’Orsay also at 10.20 in the morning, and you do not get to Toulouse till just on 10.30 at night. The fares are 142 francs third class, 218 second class, and 324 first class.

The two night trains are, one at 7.50, the other at 9.15—the latter with sleepers if required; the first gets into Toulouse at 8.30 the next morning, the other at 9.15.

From Toulouse you have a choice of three ways: to the Central Pyrenees, to the Valley of the Ariège and Ax, which is to the west, and to Narbonne and so to Perpignan on the Mediterranean at the extreme east of the range.

The first is a distance of about 100 miles to Tarbes, or another 12 miles on to Lourdes.

The second, about 75 miles, but with only one fast train a day, a morning one, at 9, getting you to Ax at 11.40, in time for lunch; while the third one is the main through line with plenty of trains, but a distance of 125 miles. On the other hand, it has the fastest trains. For instance, you can leave Toulouse at 9.30 and be in Perpignan by 1.30.

As for the line by Lyons, it is a long way round and not to be taken unless you want to see anything on the way. On the other hand, it has the best service of fast trains. The best morning train is the 9 o’clock from P.L.M. station in Paris, which gets you to Avignon at 7.45 in the evening, and there you must sleep, going on next morning to Perpignan. You usually have to change at Tarascon. It is the better part of two days, for save in the case of one train, there is another change at Narbonne. There is no need to dwell on this line, as no one would take it for the Pyrenees unless they were visiting other places on the way, such as Nîmes or Narbonne. The cost also is about thirty per cent greater than by the more direct line.

(4) INNS

The little I have to say on the changes in the inns since the first edition of this book was published must be very tentative, as I have to depend upon reports of others, save for a certain amount of recent travel at the two ends of the range. Most of the old recommendations still stand. Gabas is what it always was, and the Golden Lion of Perpignan as admirable as it has been for these thirty years and more. The inn at Burguete and that of Val Carlos have been somewhat modernized since the new motor-bus service began, but they are still excellent. An inn I did not mention in the first edition on the Spanish side of the range, in Catalonia, is that of Ribas Prattes, standing over the torrent, and one where I, at least, have always been very comfortable. Since the opening of the new road and railway over the Sierra del Cadi it has become unfortunately rather famous, and it is not cheap; but the people treat you charmingly, and that is a great thing.

At Bourg Madame I have quite recently found myself very comfortable at Salvat. I am told that the principal inn at Andorra is rather more sophisticated since the motor road has been built to the town, but is still as good as it was in the old days. Of course the cooking and everything else is Catalan; and I am talking from hearsay, as I have not been to Andorra for many years.

As you stop at Bayonne on your way you will find good meals at the Grand Brasserie facing the end of the bridge, while the hotel for sleeping is the Capagorry; at least that is my favourite, though there is also the rather more expensive Grand Hotel.

Nearly all the places on which I have made inquiries seem to have maintained the old service intact. You still have the Mur in Jaca, and the more primitive but hospitable inn of Canfranc; and the little inn at Urdos, where I stopped some years ago, is passable enough, though I still recommend as a base the Hotel de la Poste lower down the valley at Bédous. By the way, if you do stop at Urdos, beware of the drinking water which for some reason is not very safe—or was not.

Before leaving these very brief notes I should like to emphasize again for travellers the change in prices. On the whole, they are lower, reckoning the real purchasing value of money, than they were in the old days.

Thus, the place I know best, and where I have stopped most often, is charging now as a regular _pension_ per day in francs including wine, and counting in francs, six times what it charged before the war. Now the nominal value of the franc in gold is only a fifth of what it was before the war, and the purchasing power of gold is very nearly half, so a multiple of six means that you are getting your board and lodging really cheaper than you did in 1913; but I know it is difficult to persuade people of this, just as it is difficult to persuade people in England that railway fares and postage at home are really less than they were before the war. At any rate, those who may have had experience of the Pyrenees before the war may roughly multiply by six for the present price, at least in modest places; and in some cases by less. Of course in the very large hotels in places like Bagnères you may be charged anything. But they are places which I never go to and on which I therefore can give no advice.

It remains, by the way, as true as ever that on the French side of the range you must always ask the price of your room before taking it, and on the Spanish side be quite clear as to whether the price quoted is for the room and all the day’s meals including wine (as is the national custom) or for only a part. On both sides of the frontier service is usually included in the bill nowadays at 10 per cent on the total, and it is foolish to pay anything more.

(5) MAPS

The war interfered with map-making in France so much that recovery is only beginning, and the revision of the main surveys is still in arrears. What I have said, however, in this book still stands for the most part.

I append a list of the maps recommended, with their prices, to be obtained from Messrs Sifton, Praed & Co., The Map House, 67, St. James’s Street, S.W. 1.

With regard to this list I would make the following comment:

(1) This is the standard French ordnance map, the one most necessary for the pedestrian, especially if he is dealing only with a limited area.

(2) This is the map for motoring and road work.

(3) This is the map for climbers, but unfortunately the first three sheets have been allowed to go out of print. I hear that there is some hope of a reprint being made, and on my next visit to the publishers I will urge them to advance it. The map was made years ago for Messrs. Barrere, and is very useful on account of its numerous contours.

(4) is to be reckoned with (3).

(5) This is the general map for a conspectus of the whole range.

(6) I have not seen this map, but it can be obtained from the firm mentioned above. It is I believe detailed and exceedingly useful, but as yet only applies to this small section of the mountain.

(7) The Michelin map is a motoring map, but contains a great deal of useful information, and is very accurate as to motoring roads.

(8) The Taride is a much rougher map, with general indications; not so accurate as the Michelin, but useful for long tours.

With this said I append the list.

(1) 1/100,000 France, covering the Pyrenees in 27 sheets. Price
1_s._ per sheet unmounted; mounted on cloth to fold for the
pocket, 2_s._ 6_d._ per sheet.

(2) 1/200,000 France. 7 sheets. Price, 2_s._ each unmounted;
mounted on cloth to fold, 4_s._ 6_d._ each. Sheet 69 mounted
on cloth to fold, 4_s._

(3) Schrader’s map of the Pyrenees Centrales par F. Schrader.
Sheets 4, 5, 6 only available. The three northern sheets 1,
2, 3 are out of print.

(4) Schrader’s map “Massif de Gavarnie et du Mont Perdu,” Scale
1/2000. Paper, folded in cover. Price, 2_s._ 6_d._

(5) Touring Club de France. Scale 1/400,000. Two sheets cover
the whole of the Pyrenees. Mounted on cloth to fold for the
pocket, 5_s._ each.

(6) Mapa Militar de Espana. Sheet 86 and part of 62. Seo de Urgel.
This is the only sheet published so far of the Pyrenees.
Price, 2_s._ 6_d._ unmounted; mounted on cloth to fold, 4_s._
6_d._

(7) Carte Routière Michelin. Scale 1/200,000. Two sheets cover
the whole of the Pyrenees on the French side. Mounted to fold,
4_s._ each.

(8) Taride Road Maps. Scale 4 miles to 1 inch. Two sheets cover
the whole of the Pyrenees. Paper, folded in cover, 2_s._ each.
Mounted on cloth to fold, 5_s._ each.

CONTENTS

CHAP. PAGE

I. THE PHYSICAL NATURE OF THE PYRENEES 1

II. THE POLITICAL CHARACTER OF THE PYRENEES 36

III. MAPS 59

IV. THE ROAD SYSTEM OF THE PYRENEES 79

V. TRAVEL ON FOOT IN THE PYRENEES 106

VI. THE SEPARATE DISTRICTS OF THE PYRENEES 144

i. The Basque Valleys 145

ii. The Four Valleys (Béarn and Aragon) 155

iii. Sobrarbe 167

iv. The Tarbes Valleys and Luchon 179

v. Andorra and the Catalan Valleys 187

vi. Cerdagne 199

vii. The Tet and Ariège 204

viii. The Canigou 210

VII. INNS OF THE PYRENEES 217

VIII. THE APPROACHES TO THE PYRENEES 234

INDEX 239

LIST OF MAPS

FACING PAGE

GENERAL SKETCH MAP OF THE PYRENEES 1

THE BASQUE VALLEYS 154

THE FOUR VALLEYS 166

THE PASSAGE OVER THE COL DE LA CRUZ AND THE COL DE GISTAIN 174

THE SOBRARBE 178

THE TARBES VALLEYS AND LUCHON 186

THE CATALAN VALLEYS AND ANDORRA 198

THE CERDAGNE 202

THE ARIÈGE AND TET VALLEYS 208

THE CANIGOU 216

THE GATE OF THE ROUSSILLON _Frontispiece_

THE PYRENEES

I

THE PHYSICAL NATURE OF THE PYRENEES

To use for travel or for pleasure a great mountain system, the first thing necessary is to understand its structure and its plan; to this understanding must next be added an understanding of its appearance, climate, soil, and, as it were, habits, all of which lend it a character peculiar to itself.

These two approaches to the comprehension of a mountain system may be called the approaches to its physical nature; and when one has the elements of that nature clearly seized, one is the better able to comprehend the human incidents attached to it.

From an appreciation of this physical basis one must next proceed to a general view of the history of the district—if it has a history—and of the modern political character resulting from it. At the root of this will be found the original groups or communities which have remained unchanged in Western Europe throughout all recorded time. These groups are sometimes distinguishable by language, more often by character. Changes of philosophy profoundly affect them; changes of economic circumstance, though affecting them far less, do something to render the problem of their continuity complex: but upon an acquaintance with the living men concerned, it is always possible to distinguish where the boundaries of a country-side are set; and the permanence of such limits in European life is the chief lesson a deep knowledge of any district conveys.

The recorded history of the inhabitants lends to these hills their only full meaning for the human being that visits them to-day; nor does anyone know, nor half know, any country-side of Europe unless he possesses not only its physical appearance and its present habitation, but the elements of its past.

These things established, one can turn to the details of travel and explain the communications, the difficulties, and the opportunities attaching to various lines of travel. In the case of a mountain range, the greater part of this last will, of course, for modern Englishmen, consist in some account of wilder travel upon foot, and the sense of exploration and of discovery which the district affords.

Such are the lines to be followed in this book, and, first, I will begin by laying down the plan and contours of the Pyrenees.

* * * * *

The first impression reached by modern and educated men when they consider a mountain system is one over-simple. This over-simplicity is the necessary result of our present forms of elementary education, and has been well put by some financial vulgarian or other (with the intention of praise) when he called it “Thinking in Maps,” or, “Thinking Imperially”; for the maps in a man’s head when he first approaches a new range are the maps of the schoolroom.

Thus one sees the Sierra Nevada in California as one line, the Cascade Range as another parallel to it. The Alps and the Himalayas alike arrange themselves into simple curves, arcs of a circle with a great river for the cord. The Atlas is a straight line cutting off the northern projection of Africa, the Apennines are a straight line running down the centre of Italy. Such are the first geographic elements present in the mind.

The next impression, however, the impression gathered in actual travel, or in a detailed study, is one of mere confusion, a confusion the more hopeless on account of the false simplicity of the original premise. Deductions from that premise are perpetually at variance with the observed facts of travel or of study, the exceptions become so numerous as to swamp the rule, and an original misconception upon the main character of the chain prevents a new and more accurate synthesis of its general aspect. Thus, the conception of the Cascade Range upon the Pacific Coast of the United States as parallel and separate from the Sierras, confuses one’s view of all the district round Shasta, and of all the watersheds south of the Mohave where the two systems merge; or again, one who has only thought of the Alps as a mere arc of a circle misconceives, and is bewildered by the nature, the appearance, and the whole history of the great re-entrant angles of the Val d’Aosta with its Gallic influences; the anomaly of the Adige Valley will not permit him to explain its political fortunes, and the outlying arms which have preserved the independence of Swiss institutions upon the southern slope will not fall into his view of the mountains.

This confusion, I say, is not due so much to the multitude of detail as to the permanent effect of an original strong and over-simple conception remaining in the mind as it continues to accumulate increasing but sporadic knowledge of a particular district; and it is a confusion in which those who have formed such an erroneous conception commonly remain.

In order to avoid such confusion and to allow one’s increasing knowledge a frame wherein to fit, it is essential to grasp in one scheme the few elementary lines which underlie a mountain system, and such a scheme will be a trifle more complex than the too simple scheme usually presented, but once one has it one can appreciate the place of every irregularity in the structure of the whole chain of hills.

In the case of the Pyrenees the common error of too great simplicity may be easily stated. These mountains are regarded as a wall separating France from Spain, and running direct from sea to sea. Such an aspect of the range will more and more confuse the traveller and reader the more he studies the actual shape of the valleys. Another picture should occupy the mind, and it will presently be seen that with this picture permanently fixed as a framework for the whole system, an increased knowledge of its details does but expand the sense of unity originally conveyed. The Pyrenees must not be regarded as a sharp heaped ridge forming a single watershed between the plains of Gaul and those of Northern Spain, and running east and west from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean. They form a system, the watershed of which does not exactly stretch from one sea to the other. The axis of it does not consist of one line; the general direction is not due east. The axis of the Pyrenean chain is built up of two main lines, of approximately equal length: the one running south of east from a point at some distance from the Atlantic, the other north of west from a point right on the shores of the Mediterranean. These two lines do not meet. They miss by over eight miles, and the gap between them is joined by a low saddle.

The first of these lines starts from a point (Mount Urtioga) 25 miles south of the corner made by the Bay of Biscay at Irun, and some 15 miles west of its meridian; it runs about 9° 15′ south of east to the peak called Sabouredo, the last of the Maladetta group, the direct distance from which to Mount Urtioga is precisely 200 kilometres, or 124 miles. The second runs from Cape Cerberus on the Mediterranean to a peak called the Pic-de-l’homme, which stands a trifle over 12 kilometres, or 7¾ miles, north of the Sabouredo; its direction is 9° 25′ north of west, and the total length of this second line is just over 190 kilometres, or 117 miles.

The simplest scheme, then, in which we can regard the Pyrenees, is as a system of not quite parallel lines of equal length, running one towards the other, but missing by not quite 8 miles; the gap or “fault” joined by a zigzag saddle on the watershed. The westernmost of these lines splits into several branches before it reaches the Atlantic, so that the true western end of the chain lies well to the south and east of that ocean (at Mount Urtioga); the other starts from, and forms a projection in, the Mediterranean. The full distance as the crow flies from Mount Urtioga to Cape Cerberus upon the Mediterranean is 390 kilometres, that is 241 miles. And there is but 10 kilometres, or 6½ miles, difference in length between the two halves of the chain.

If U be the point called Mount Urtioga, S the Sabouredo, L the Pic-de-l’homme, and C Cape Cerberus, these two lines and the gap between them will lie precisely as in this plan.

With this main guide by which to judge the structure of the chain, all details will be found to fit in, and the two first variations which we must superimpose upon so general a view, are to be found in the “step” or “corner” formed by the watershed round the Pic d’Anie. The southward turn of the range is here not gradual but sharp, and the Somport, the pass at the head of the Val d’Aspe, lies almost a day’s going below the Port St. Engrace, which is the Pass near the Pic d’Anie. Next, one should note the two re-entrant angles, one to the north of the chain, one to the south, which distinguish the Spanish valley of the Gallego and the French valley of the Gave de Pau respectively. These features modify the simplicity of the first or western branch of the chain; one exceptional feature only modifies the second or Eastern branch, and this is the deep re-entrant wedge of the Ariège valley upon the French side. We may therefore regard the elements of the watershed somewhat according to the sketch plan B on the preceding page.

The details of the watershed when they are given in full are of course indefinitely more numerous and complicated, and it may be of advantage for those who would understand the structure of the Pyrenees to glance also at the plan opposite where the dotted line represents the exact trace of the watershed, the dark lines the simple structure described above.

The watershed then should be regarded as the chief feature in the range, and as the backbone of the whole system. Geologically, it is not the foundation of the range. Geologically, the range was piled up by the junction of a number of short separate ranges, each of which ran with a sharper south-eastern dip (about 30°) than does the present long line of saddles which has joined them and forms the existing watershed, and probably the process of the formation of the Pyrenees was upon the model sketched in the following diagram.

But for the purpose of understanding the Pyrenees as they now are, it is the existing watershed which we must consider, and that runs as I have said.

Next, the rule should be laid down that the Pyrenees must be separately considered on their northern and upon their southern slopes. It will be seen later that the physical and historical contrast between the two sides of the mountains is sometimes acute and sometimes slight, but the contrast between the general contour upon either side is such as to make it impossible to unite both in one similar system.

The Northern slope of the Pyrenees is narrow and precipitous. The plains are for the greater part of its length clearly separated from the mountains; the easy country in some places (at St. Girons, for instance, and in the Flats between Lourdes and Tarbes) is not 20 miles as the crow flies from the highest peaks.

On the Spanish side, on the contrary, the mountainous district will run from two to three times that distance. Its extreme width between the open country at the foot of the Sierra Monsech and the Salau Pass is over 60 miles, and it is nowhere less than two days’ good journey on foot from the summits to the plains.

This differentiation between the northern and the southern slopes is not merely one of width, it is due to profound differences in the contours which make the Spanish side of the system a different type of mountain group from the French. For, on the French side the Pyrenees consist in a series of great ribs or buttresses running up from the plains perpendicularly to the main heights of the range, and it is between these ribs or buttresses that the separate and highly distinct valleys which are the characteristic habitations of the French Basques and Béarnais lie. On the Spanish side the main structure is in folds _parallel_ to the watershed; the lateral valleys descending from the watershed run southward for but a very short distance, they come, within a few miles, upon high east-and-west ridges which sometimes rival the main range itself in height and which succeed each other like waves down to the plains of the Ebro. The contrast in structure north and south of the watershed may be expressed in the formula of this plan. A man looking at the Pyrenees from the French towns at their base sees in one complete view a belt of steep rising slopes, and a long fairly even line of summits against the sky. A man looking at the range from the Spanish plains can only in a few rare places so much as catch sight of the main range. In far the greater number of such views he will have before him a high ridge which masques the country beyond. If, then, the reader or the traveller regards the French slope as being essentially a series of profound valleys parallel to each other and running north and south, he will have grasped the main aspect of this side of the range. If he will regard the Spanish slope as a series of parallel outliers which begin quite close to the watershed, and which, though falling at last into the plains of the Ebro, are, even the most southern of them, of considerable height, he will have grasped the structure of the Pyrenees upon the side which looks towards the sun.

To these two main aspects the reader must again admit considerable modifications, the first of which concerns the French side.

This Northern slope and its valleys, of which the sketch map over page indicates the general arrangement, may be divided into two sections: the first a western section, the second an eastern one, and these two are separated at A-B by a division roughly corresponding to the “fault” between the two axes, which, as we have seen, determine the lie of the range.

From the first, or western axis, descend with a regular parallelism, eight valleys. Each valley bifurcates in its higher part into two main ravines, and a whole system of minor streams, spread over an indefinite number of tortuous dales and gullies, attach to each valley.

There is a mark or limit for each of these western French valleys, which is the spot where it debouches upon the open country. Thus the Gave d’Ossau falls into the Gave d’Aspe at Oloron; nevertheless the two valleys must be regarded as separate, because the meeting of the two streams takes place in the open plain. On the other hand the valley of Baigorry, and the neighbouring valley of St. Jean, though containing two large separate streams, must be treated as one system, because these streams meet at Eyharee near Ossés, and the open plain is not reached before a point some miles further down beyond Canbo.

The test, though it may sound arbitrary upon paper, is quite easily appreciated in the landscape, and the separate valleys are more clearly marked, perhaps, than those of any other European mountain chain.

These eight valleys (see plan G over page), going from west to east, are first that of the Nive (the bifurcations of which give St. Jean and the Baigorry), next that of the Gave-de-Mauléon (Larrau and Ste. Engrace), and both of these are Basque; next comes the valley of the Gave d’Aspe (with the bifurcation of Lourdios and Urdos), up which went the main Roman road into Spain and which is the first of the Béarnese valleys; next is the Val d’Ossau (with the bifurcation of Gabas and the lac d’Arrius), next the valley of the Gave de Pau (with the bifurcations of Cauterets and Gavarnie), next the valley of Bigorre, a short valley bifurcating in two minor streams at its head. Next, or seventh, comes the Val d’Aure, with Vielle upon its western bifurcation and Bordères upon its eastern; and lastly the bifurcated valley of the Garonne, whose level and deep floor comes nearest of all to the main chain, and holds on the west Luchon, on a branch called the Pique, on the east Viella in the Val d’Aran.

Once past this point, the structure of the hills along the eastern run of the broken Pyrenean axis changes. The mountains here are penetrated by only two valleys, but each is much longer and more important than any of the eight just mentioned, and these two great valleys run, not parallel to each other, nor north and south as do the eight western ones, but at a steep slant: the one (that of the Ariège) goes westward, and the other (that of the Tet) eastward. Save for these two main valleys no regular features can be discovered in the eastern portion; all is here a labyrinth of dividing and subdividing lateral ridges, and the only thing giving unity to the group is this system of two great trenches which run up towards each other, the one from the Plain of Toulouse, the other from that of Perpignan, to meet on the high land of the Carlitte group. Strictly speaking, the western valley is not wholly that of the Ariège, but those of the Ariège and Oriège combined, and it is further remarkable that no regular passage exists from the one depression to the other, but by a curious topographical accident, which will be described later in the book, the crossing from the Ariège to the Tet has to be made by going over on to the south side of the range, and then back again on to the north side.

The importance of these two main valleys upon the eastern half of the northern slope of the Pyrenees is sufficiently evident from the historical fact that each determines a great historical district: the one, that of the Ariège, was the country of _Foix_, the other, that of the Tet, was the _Rousillon_. And while the eight small western valleys running parallel to each other separate local customs and dialect alone, the ridge of the Ariège and the Tet may almost be said to have separated two nationalities, and owed ultimate allegiance for a thousand years, the one to a Gallic, the other to an Iberian lord.

Beyond the valley of the Tet and eastward of the Canigou runs the little fag end of the range, which falls into the sea at Cape Cerberus, and is called the “Alberes.” Here there is but little distinction between the northern and the southern side, the general shape of a sharp ridge is maintained throughout, but the height lowers more and more as the sea is approached. These hills are everywhere passable; the ancient road into Spain which crosses them, should count, geographically and historically, rather as a road crossing round the Pyrenees at their sea end, than as a road crossing the chain.

* * * * *

A Pyrenean valley upon the French side always presents the same main characteristic, and this is true not only of the main valleys, but of the innumerable lateral valleys which ramify from the main valleys in all directions.

The characteristic of these French Pyrenean valleys is that they are sharply divided by very narrow gorges into two or more level basins. These level basins in the smaller valleys and on the high levels where there is pasturage and no habitation are called “Jasses”; the large and low ones are called “Plains” or “Plans”; but they are the same in their essential feature, which is a level floor more or less wide, bounded by the steep hills upon either side, and ending and beginning with a rocky gate through which the valley stream cascades. The whole formation suggests the former existence of great and small lakes, which burst their way through the gorges at some remote time (as in plan I below).

These gorges are very rarely of any length, a point in which the Pyrenees differ from the Alps. Here and there, especially in the limestone formations, you do get long and difficult passages. One, the Cacouette in the Western Pyrenees, in the upper waters of the Gave-de-Mauléon, is not only very profound but absolutely impassable, like the Black Cañon of Colorado, but it does not lead from one part of a valley to another. It occupies the whole of the upper valley; and in general, you will not find a Pyrenean stream running, as do the Alpine streams, for some miles between precipices.

Each main valley has a clearly marked mouth where it debouches upon the plain; by this I do not mean that perfectly flat land comes up to and meets the hills in every case; on the contrary, at the mouth of most of these valleys are moraines left by old glaciers, but I mean that the character and aspect of the hills visibly and immediately changes, and that each of the valleys has a distinct final “gate” where it meets the lowlands, just as a river will meet the sea at a definite mouth. Now each of these openings has its characteristic town. Mauléon, for instance, is at the mouth of the last Basque valley, Oloron at the mouth of the Val d’Aspe, Lourdes at the mouth of the valley of Argelès, etc.

Further, these towns at the mouths of the valleys have invariably chosen for their site, whether they be prehistoric or mediæval, some rock on which to build a citadel; and in every case a castle is still to be found holding that rock. Lourdes, Foix, Mauléon are excellent examples of this.

Higher up the valley, the first plain above the mouth will, as a rule, contain the first mountain town. Thus Argelès lies above Lourdes, Bédous and Accous above Oloron, Laruns in the first flat of the Val d’Ossau, etc.

According to the length of the valley and the number and size of the Jasses, there may be one or more such towns enclosed by the mountain sides; thus in the valley of Lourdes we have Argelès, and above it Luz; in the valley of Soule we have Tardets above Mauléon, and higher still we have Licq. But all the valleys, whether they contain one or more of these upland towns, have, just under the last watershed, a hamlet or village usually giving its name to the Port or Col—that is _the Pass into Spain_—above it, and the reason of this is evident enough; habitations were necessary as a place of departure and arrival for the crossing of the mountains. Of such are Gavarnie, Urdos, Morens, and the rest. These high villages have least history, least wealth, and until recently had the worst communications. For much the greater part of the year they are lost in snow, and there was an interval between the making of the great roads and the beginning of modern tourist travel when they were in peril of destruction. The new great roads drew away wealth and visitors from all but a very few, and but for the beginning of modern mountaineering they had hopelessly decayed. Even so famous a place as Gavarnie, the best known of all the valley heads, was dying in the middle of the century. There are days now when it is at the other extreme: fine days in August when, for the crowd of rich people, you might be at Tring or at some reception of the late Whittaker Wright’s. Even to-day, one or two of them, however clean or kindly, are odd in the way of poverty. I have known one where they had no butter and never had had any butter, and another where I was charged 8_d._ instead of 5_d._ for a bed because it was the season.

The typical Spanish valley differs, in the centre of the Chain at least, from the typical French valley. With the exception of Andorra (which reminds one in all features of the French side; for it has the same enclosed plain, the same steps and rocky gorges between, the same Jasses, and the same arrangement of towns and villages) the greater part of the valleys, whether Catalan or Aragonese, are not only broader and their streams larger than on the French side, but their arrangement also is different, most of them lack wide pasturages, nearly all of them lack enclosed plains, and there has been no motive to penetrate them since the building of the new roads, for travel upon this road is rare. The Spanish valley, therefore, often many days’ walking in length, never direct, and forming a sort of little province to itself, will have towns and villages scattered in it, haphazard and thinly. Very often a considerable town will be found at the very end of the valley, as Esterri in that of the Noguera Pallaresa, or Venasque in that of the Esera. The lateral communications from one Spanish valley to the next are usually more difficult than those between the French valleys; for many months they are impossible, and there is no such general arrangement of towns on the plain holding the approaches to the valleys as in France, for the reason that the whole plan of the mountains on the Spanish side is far more troubled and irregular.