The Pyrénées do not look imposing on a map. But don’t be fooled. The mountain chain between France and Spain is ancient, steep, and full of whispered stories.
“Darkling are all the summits and very great and high,
And deep are all the valleys and the streams run swift thereby.”*
The Pyrénées form a natural border between France and Spain. Image courtesy of Wikipedia, see here.
As the elder brother to the Alps, the Pyrénées represent the collision between two plates of the earth’s crust. The microcontinent of Iberia smashes against Eurasia. The former wrinkles, shears and protests before plunging into oblivion beneath the latter. It is a deep dive into hot mantle. Above, crusty folds rise defiantly to elevations of 11,000 feet and beyond. There, they face wind, rain, and snow.
This line of deformation runs for some 300 miles between the foam of the Atlantic (Bay of Biscay) and the warm Mediterranean. Thruways are few and elevated. It is a choker around the neck of the Iberian Peninsula.
The marked trail followed asphalt and cow path. Fog obscured our vision.
Bob and I choked and sputtered as we trudged upslope from Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, France (see post here). We had a head-start on the sun, but as it caught up with us, there was little to see. Everything was swathed in white.
We followed the old Roman route known as the Via Traiana. This Via once linked the gold mines of Asturica Augusta (named by Octavian himself) with Roman Burdigela (modern Bourdeaux, France). In those days, the trail carried legionnaires in hobnailed caligae.** Now the trace is worn by peregrinos in Salomons and spandex.
Bob and I were surprised twice. The first time was by cows. Because of the fog we heard their bells before we could see them. They chewed cud as we tiptoed through their ranks.
We crossed the path of many sheep. They provided little surprise or entertainment.
The second surprise worked both ways. We heard a startled snort. A huge hog stuck his head through the cloud curtain. Our eyes met. We jumped. He jumped. He squealed and crashed into the brush. We listened to his protests as they died in the distance. His fear was greater than ours; he sought to avoid the fate of a Spanish chorizo.
Military expeditions are never fond of surprises. For this reason they favored the path we were walking. It ascends through open country to a 5,000’ col on the western flank of the Pyrénées. A alternative route holds to a valley below (via Varcarlos). While the valley is an easier go, it is also fraught with potential for ambush. In fact, it was in this valley that the rearguard of Charlemagne was severed in the battle of Roncevaux Pass in AD 778. This Frankish “Alamo” gave birth to the legend of Roland, the doomed rearguard commander (more to come on this). Cooing his tragic tale was a popular pastime among medieval bards.
Localized map showing paths between St-Jean-Pied-de-Port and Roncesvalles. Note the ridge above (east) of Valcarlos that we are following (Via Traiana) and the gentler pass occupied by Valcarlos. Modified image courtesy of Google Earth.
Above the tree line Bob and I stopped to snack. The cloud curtain obscuring our vision was drawn back. We were served a marvelous vista.
The fog began to clear.
Roman soldiers hiking over this same saddle may have told another story. It is a different perspective altogether, one that twines the traverse with the perverse. It is captured by the first century poet Silius Italicus (and yes, that is a real name!).
Silius describes details of the Second Punic War in his 17-volume work titled Punica. In it we discover that before Hannibal Barca and his elephants crossed the Alps, they practiced on the Pyrénées. It is ripe moment for Silius to describe how the mountain chain received its name. His version (and there are others) goes something like this:
A view into the heart of the Pyrénées! Such splendid country!
Once there was a beautiful young woman named Pyrene. She was the daughter of Bebryx, a local king. Bebryx entertained the hero Hercules during one of his “labors.” It was a decision that proved unwise. Characteristically drunk and lustful, Hercules violated the code of hospitality and ravished Pyrene. After giving birth to a serpent (the dark side of Hercules), Pyrene fled and exchanged the home that she loved for the desolate places. There, she was killed by wild animals.
When Hercules returned and found her scattered parts he “turned pale, distraught with grief. Then the high mountain-tops, smitten by his cries, were shaken; with loud lament he called Pyrene by name; and all the cliffs and haunts of the wild beasts echoed the name of Pyrene.” He buried her there “and time will never eclipse her fame; for the mountains retain for ever the name that caused such grief” (Punica III.435-441).***
The Pyrénées are breathtaking but full of whispered stories.
¡Buen Camino!
Néstor Martín-Fernández de la Torre, “Hercules Gathering the Stones of Pyrene’s Tomb amidst the Flames” (1909). Image from here (accessed 8/5/2018).
*From The Song of Roland (laisse140) as rendered into English verse by Leonard Bacon. Find the online publication here. For a starter, see Gerard J. Brault’s The Song of Roland: An Analytical Introduction (University Park: Pennsylvania State, 1978).
**The caligae are the heavy openwork boots worn by Roman infantrymen. Ordinary soldiers are sometimes called caligati, “booted ones” or perhaps “groundpounders.” See the article by J.F. Gilliam here.
***I have drawn my quotes from an online version of Silius’s Punica found here.
Join Mark and Vicki for a Mediterranean experience May 25-June 5, 2022. We'll be cruising aboard the luxurious Celebrity Infinity. See the link here for details. Onboard lectures will provide focus for the group as we visit the ports of Olympia, Santorini, Ephesus, and Athens among others. Optional add-on visits to Venice or Rome are possible on either end of the trip. Contact me at markziese@gmail.com.