Etangs de Carlit

The Etangs de Carlit

The start of the 2-1/2 hour walk around the Etangs de Carlit is not promising. Parking the car under the concrete dam of the Lac des Bouillouses or La Bollosa, the landscape is bleak, and stony. Many gravel paths lead this way and that between the mountain hostels and bars, all unwelcomely closed in this October sun. A few tufts of dry grass shiver in a cool breeze between scattered pine trees, huddled in twos and threes. Vast pipes, and building works create an industrial air, if only there was some work being carried out. Above the cold expanse of a choppy La Bollosa laps at the granite shore.

We have left behind the pleasant drive up the winding tarmac road between the thickets of pine and the alpine meadows, which open out to reveal a winding bubbling stream. The herds of huge cows laden in calf, clanging their way up and down the roadway from one lush grassland to another. The herds of mountain horses roughly chomping at the undergrowth on the edge of the thick forest.

Up a dirt track and leaving the last hostel the path soon creates a torturous climb across enormous speckled granite boulders and between huge pine tree roots. Gasping at the thin air, for we are in spitting distance of the high altitude athletics-training centre at Font Romeu, we trundle upward along our stairway to heaven.

Along a semi dried up riverbank the yellow way marker stripes drag us along a bouldary high path and ominous yellow crosses forewarn the dangers of straying. However, the river is dry and we are disobedient, lazy walkers and take the more direct route. The path flattens and a bright sun burns on a patch of lush grass. We stop for a picnic and drinks. Before long we can lay back and feel the solar blast every inch of bare skin.

But we must away from this peaceful slumber if this two-hour stroll is not to turn to night time return. We glimpse through he trees the first signs of still water, blue and cold through the green pine screen. The path turns away and there is disappointment. However, it is short lived as beyond a sharp turn yet another lake beckons. Huge deep and cold. Shimmering wavelets ruffle every inch of the surface in the bright warm sun. This is “Estany de la Comassa” and she stretches off northward girdled by a granite rockery of mountain pine, and heather.

The path takes us away and another turn sloping down hill to Estany Sec. Sweet Estany, shallow and reedy. Brown spikes dotting up through the cold blue. We cross a dried river valley and climb again to a mile long ridge and the path wends off into the distance. Both left and right drop away rough grass and heather, a few scattered bushes and occasional clumps of juniper.

A short rest on a boulder allows us to spot the first fleck of an Eagle, soaring, circling in the distance. Then as if by accident another appears close to the first, in the clear blue dome above us. How it managed to piece the floor of the dome in the middle and just appear there is indeed wondrous. We would expect it to appear far off and then come closer but by magic Eagles just appear.

Across a dip before us lies the dark overshadowing Pic de Carlit, towering magnificently above us. A couple of ramblers gradually step casually closer. “Bonjour” is exchanged. “Vous ascend La Carlit”, aujourdoui? We are asked.” Non! Mon dieu. J’retorne. La Carlit un autre day”. We look once again with some longing

The ridge ends with a sharp fall down to the river and the junction is signposted. La Carlit another 2 hours. The return an hour and 40. We have been four hours already and the shadows are long and thin. The shallow “Estany de des Dugues” reflects the far mountains. We see our first fish. First a small fry and then further away the unmistakable shape of a small trout.

Around a spur, and away from the lake we are in shadow as we turn south. A cold win whips through the col. Pockets of unmelted ice have survived the warm day in the shadows. The col deepens into another river valley to follow us down to Estany del Viver. High above us a stag and hind take a few quick steps to move away from us. They stop and stare before deciding that their flight should not be interrupted and they stumble up the steep path through the trees.

Down the tree lined wide ravine we can see the flat grassland open out between the thick pine forest. Rivers converge on a flat terrace and our path crosses a narrow low wooden bridge a few feet from the churned up peaty, muddy, rivulates. Across the bridge and we are forced to leap the narrow stream again before the path heads back into pine forest and along the edge of “Comassa”.

We are back on the path leading up to this heavenly beauty and pass our picnic place now deeply in shade, the falling light behind us. We return some five hours later.