Stuart Butler on why he’s charmed by the rugged diversity of the Pyrenees – and the best places to explore there
From the foot of the Brèche de Roland, a 100-metre-high, 40-metre-wide tooth-like gateway piercing an otherwise sheer mountain wall, it’s easy to understand why UNESCO made this landscape one of only a handful of places on Earth to be declared a World Heritage site, a biosphere reserve and a geopark. Spread out below me was the whole diversity of the Pyrenees.
To the north, on the French side of the range, I could peer across the steep, ice-slicked slopes to the giant mountain bowl of the Cirque de Gavernie, one of Europe’s most impressive glacial cirques. Turning to face the south, and Spain, my gaze swept across a sunburnt, rock and ice plateau that led gently downwards to the huge, serpent-like chasm of the Ordesa canyon.
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Meanwhile, just to the east and rising up over an army of giant peaks, was Mount Perdido (French: Mount Perdu). At 3,355 metres it’s not the highest mountain in the Pyrenees (that honour goes to Aneto which rises up to 3,404 metres above sea level), but, thanks to the multiple cirques, gorges and canyons that spin away from it like the legs of a geological spider, it’s certainly the most iconic.
Straddling the border of France and Spain and stretching around 430 kilometres from the storm-tossed Atlantic to the shimmering Mediterranean, the Pyrenees, which are Basque-speaking in the west and Catalan in the east, aren’t just scenically superb, they’re also a climatic, biological and cultural dividing line. While the north and west of the Pyrenees are green, densely forested and often shrouded in waves of mist and drizzle, the east and south spend much of the year basking in warm sunshine and are covered in aromatic Mediterranean brush.
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This diversity means that almost every valley can seem to be a world unto itself, with wildlife, weather, people, scenery, stories and traditions that can be totally different to those in the next valley across.
I’ve lived within eyeshot of the western end of these mountains for close to 30 years and although I’ve been lucky enough to have hiked and travelled in mountain landscapes the world over, the Pyrenees continue to leave me charmed. I might be biased, but for me, there’s simply no more beautiful mountain range. It’s not just the scenery, the wildlife and the hiking that leave me entranced. It’s also the rich layer of myth and legend.
From doomed covens of witches to mountain gateways carved by long-dead knights and the secret caves where angry pre-Christian goddesses whip up vicious storms, every outcrop, every stream and every cave seems to have a fantastical tale to tell, Even the very birth of the mountains isn’t as simple as mere geological upheaval.
While scientists might tell you that the Pyrenees were created when the Iberian tectonic plate smashed into France, local legend gives the Pyrenees a far more romantic birth.
It’s said that once, long ago, the Pyrenees were not a high mountain range at all, but a large, flat lowland forest. The whole area was ruled over by a powerful king who had a beautiful daughter known as Pyrene. Many suitors are said to have tried their luck with young Pyrene, but none were quite good enough. Then, one fateful day, Greek demi-god Hercules passed through the kingdom and met Pyrene. There was an instant spark between the two.
However, in proper Romeo and Juliet fashion, the match met with great disapproval from Pyrene’s father and so when Pyrene discovered that she was pregnant, she fled deep into the forest to escape the wrath of her father.
Unfortunately, however, a giant bear attacked her. Hercules heard her screams and came bounding to the rescue, but it was too late… A heartbroken Hercules buried his love under a giant pile of stones that he made so high that they became a mountain range to rival the beauty of Pyrene. Talking of bears, the Pyrenees are also a place where wildlife is not just surviving but, in the case of many species, is actually thriving.
The brown bear is the largest and most controversial resident of these mountains and the history of bears in the Pyrenees mirrors that of many other Pyrenean creatures. In the Middle Ages, there were many bears living in forested areas of the mountains, but decades of persecution meant that by the 1990s, there were only seven or eight left. It was at this point, when the bear was on the verge of extinction, that the authorities in France took action. In 1996, an ambitious re- introduction programme was launched and three brown bears were translocated from Slovenia.
Since then, further re-introductions, as well as an increase in the number of wild-born bears, meant that by 2023, the brown bear population stood at an estimated 83 – up from 76 the year before. The majority of the bears live in the wild, forested hills and mountains of the French region of Ariège and northeastern Catalonia in Spain, but there’s also a small number in the far western part of the range.
Despite this increase in bears, I was highly unlikely to spy one from anywhere in the vicinity of the Brèche de Roland. But, there were other creatures – both big and small – that could easily be seen close to the brèche. Follow the faint, stony trail down from the brèche and into Spain and it’s only an easy hour or two walk until the ground suddenly and dramatically falls away into the dizzy cliffs that form the northern wall of the Ordesa Canyon.
This 11-kilometre glacially formed gash in the planet isn’t just one of the longest canyons in Europe, it’s also home to large numbers of prehistoric-looking vultures. There are three species present in the Pyrenees: the griffon vulture, which is by far the most common, the Egyptian vulture and the bearded vulture (formally the lammergeier). Known for its habit of dropping bones from a great height in order to get at the marrow within, the impressive bearded vulture has become something of an ornithological poster bird of the Pyrenees.
Like the bear, the population of bearded vultures was once perilously low, but thanks to recent conservation efforts, its numbers have risen considerably. Juan Antonio Gil Gallús from Spanish conservation group Fundación para la Conservación del Quebrantahuesos (Foundation for the Conservation of Bearded Vultures) told me that today there are an estimated 200 pairs across the entire range and that the population is growing by 3.5 per cent annually.
There’s no overall population count for the other to species that takes in all of the Pyrenees, but statistics from the French side show that the population of griffon vultures grew by 51 per cent between 2007 and 2019.
Vultures, the undertakers of the mountains, play a crucial role in the Pyrenees by cleaning up animal corpses. And there are, of course, plenty of wild animals up here for them to feed on. The chamois, which in the Pyrenees is known as the izard, is a type of goat-antelope that’s commonly seen above the tree line throughout the Pyrenees, and the carcasses of these, alongside those of deer, wild boar and even marmots (a non-native introduction from the Alps that is now very common) help keep the bellies of the vultures full.
But, not all the animals in the Pyrenees are as wild as the izard and the vulture. Every summer, shepherds move thousands of sheep, cattle and horses up to high pastures in order to take advantage of the rich grazing before descending back into the valleys at the first sign of autumn snow.
In the Pyrenees National Park (which comprises a great swathe of the central French Pyrenees, including the slopes leading up to the Brèche de Roland) alone, there
are at least 32,000 free-ranging cows, 15,000 sheep and 2,000 goats. This transhumance lifestyle, which after years of decline is now attracting a new generation of shepherds (some of whom are harnessing the marketing power of social media to sell the famously earthy-tasting brebis cheese), is actually one of the big reasons that UNESCO declared the Mount Perdido area a World Heritage site.
In its description, UNESCO says that the pastoral landscape of the Pyrenees reflects ‘an agricultural way of life that was once widespread in the upland regions of Europe but now survives only in this part of the Pyrenees. Thus it provides exceptional insights into past European society through its landscape of villages, farms, fields, upland pastures and mountain roads.’
Standing at the Brèche de Roland, surveying the mountain kingdom of Pyrene and listening to these tales of conservation and cultural success, it’s easy to believe that all is well in these blessed mountains.
Sadly, however, that isn’t necessarily the case. The Pyrenees are home to some of the most southerly glaciers in Europe. Climate change means that average temperatures in the Pyrenees have already risen 2°C, and the glaciers are melting rapidly.
In 1850, there were 52 glaciers in the Pyrenees; today, there are only 19, and almost 90 per cent of their entire glacial surface area has been lost. In 2022, the UN published a report that stated that the glaciers of the Pyrenees will likely have completely disappeared by 2050. Naturally, this will have negative knock- on impacts on water tables, plants and wildlife, as well as on the people who call these mountains home.
Shouldering my backpack, I turned to stare one last time at the final vestiges of the glaciers on the slopes of Mount Perdido. As I did so, I couldn’t help but wonder how Hercules would react if he knew how we had killed the ice atop his beloved Pyrene.
The best ways to explore the Pyrenees
Ibex Rebirth
While most wildlife stories coming out of the Pyrenees bring good news, there’s one creature that will sadly never again clatter across the highest scree slopes. The Pyrenean ibex, a bulky kind of wild goat notable for the males’ huge sweeping horns, was once common throughout the range. Sadly, though, over- hunting meant that by the close of the 20th century, only a single individual – a female named Celia – remained.
Her end eventually came when a tree fell on her as she sheltered from a storm in January 2000. And with her inglorious demise, the Pyrenean ibex became extinct. Or did it?
A year before Celia’s untimely death, scientists took skin biopsies from her ears and placed the tissue into a freezer for safe keeping. Three years after her death, scientists took DNA from these samples and were able to create a clone of Celia, which made the Pyrenean ibex the first animal on Earth to be brought
The Battle for Canal Roya
Wide-scale development, dam building and ski resort construction have all had a serious impact on the Pyrenees over the past 50 years or so. One of the more controversial current projects is the proposed linking of Spain’s Astún and Formigal ski resorts via a four-kilometre-long cable car that will traverse one of the wildest and most beautiful valleys in that part of the Pyrenees.
The initial plan was for the project to be part-funded by EU money intended for ecological transition, but the EU has now blocked this funding. The project’s supporters say that linking the two resorts will create jobs, reduce carbon emissions and create the largest ski resort in Spain.
Opponents – and there are many – warn that the project will cause environmental destruction in a valley that until just a few years ago was earmarked for protection and that the project is actually the result of speculative interests in the construction industry.
Opponents have also made the very valid point that snowfall in the Pyrenees – and in particular on the warmer, sunnier Spanish side – isn’t reliable enough to make the project a long-term financial success.
Basque Witches
Geraniums spill out of pots hanging from wooden balconies, every window shutter is painted in a distinctive red or green and the streets are scrubbed in a meticulous fashion.
All this leads the casual visitor to assume that the village of Zugarramurdi, in the Spanish Basque Pyrenees, is the kind of reassuring place where nothing scandalous ever happens. But walk just a few hundred metres out of the village and a long, deep series of caverns tell a different story. It’s said that back in the 16th and 17th centuries, these caves were a popular meeting spot for legions of witches.
So rife was the rumour that in the end, officials from the Spanish Inquisition came here to rid the countryside of the black cat and broomstick brigade. Thousands of women were accused of witchcraft.
The vast majority confessed to their sins (often after being tortured) and, after denouncing their actions, they were pardoned and released. Some, though, who refused to confess, found themselves strapped to a stake and burnt alive.
Hiking
The Pyrenees offer some of the finest mountain hiking in Europe. There are several long-distance trails, including three – the GR10, the GR11 and the HRP – that traverse the entire length of the range, from sandy Atlantic beach to rocky Mediterranean cove. While not all of us have the time, or stamina, to walk all day for the six weeks it takes most to complete any of these trails, there are plenty of shorter, multi-day hikes (including an increasingly popular five-day circuit around Mount Perdido) and a near limitless number of day hikes.
The classic, summer-only route from the Col des Tentes in France to the Brèche de Roland takes around five hours return.
Guide Book
Cicerone (cicerone.co.uk) publishes a range of English-language hiking guidebooks to the Pyrenees, including the GR10 guidebook, which was authored by the writer of this article.
