Alien to the passage of time, the winding since 1910 by the narrow Franco-Catalan valleys of the Eastern Pyrenees, between Vilafranca de Conflent and the Querol tor. Throughout 63 kilometers, this old perspirraine line crosses postcard landscapes such as the fortified villa of Mont-Louis, which rises to 1,600 meters, thus being one of the highest inhabited municipalities in Europe and World Heritage for Unesco. Once he leaves behind the beauty of the old fortress, the train enters the mountains until you reach Toès I Interalls, a tiny town located at the foot of the Canigó massif. In this remote point of the Gorges of Carançà that, on their way to the shelter located at 1,800 meters of altitude, runs through a deep path that challenges the fear of heights.
Excavated in 1943, the high cornice allowed the transport of materials and workers during the drilling of the tunnel that captures the caudalous waters of the Carançà river to feed the toès hydroelectric plant. Almost a century later, the fissure remains intact and serves the passionate of hiking to relieve their need for adrenaline. Inaccessible in the central weeks of winter due to the high risk of slippers and accidents, in the summer time to travel without the need for technical skills.
As soon as you leave Toès, at 1,000 meters of altitude, a cascade of 20 meters high, which comes and depends on whether the summer rains are abundant, baptizes the beginning of the road. During the first meters, the imposing rock walls suffocate the path that borders the river and looms on the heads of the hikers until they reach a crossing of two paths. In the direction of the clock’s needles, a pronounced starts from the river that traces 500 meters of positive slope along which a panoramic view of the deep fissure can be contemplated on the other side of the throat. Following the chaotic rock formations, the path again descends to cross again with the river course to trace the current through a framework of hanging bridges and high catwalks.
In this section, the forest seems not to flinch at the passage of the stations. The aridity of the stony road becomes a humid moss that invades everything in its path. The vegetation becomes dense and the earth is covered by a thick and yellowish leaflet mantle. In crossing the first bridge, of little confidence for its poor condition, the trail of the path is dissipated between the rocks that must be raffled and after which marmotas and culebrillas de pond are hidden in search of some small dam.
About 200 meters later, the riverbed becomes so narrow that it must be crossed in zigzag for another set of high metal catwalks and endless hanging bridges. Once the steps on the heights are saved, the road becomes evident again and a final three -hour stretch begins that leads in the southern direction to the Carançà refuge. Due to a reasonable price, hikers can spend the night at 1,840 meters altitude and taste dehydrated dishes and the traditional shepherd cake.
When breaking the dawn, the journey continues another five kilometers until reaching the Estany de Carançà, at 2,264 meters of altitude, whose dark waters are guarded by imposing peaks such as the PIC of L’Efern (2,870m), the Pic de la Fossa del Gegant (2,807m) and. The legend appeals to the explorer to distrust himself from the pond. Also baptized as a trucha pond, popular stories say it houses witches into their depths turned into huge fish.
Another myth tells that if the watered walker tries to fish in him, he must avoid throwing stones into the pond because he would trigger terrible frost storms. This story was the one that gave name to the neighbor Coma of L’Ell infern, referring to the highest crest in the Carançà Valley, whose lands are already subjected to the devil.
Gone are the streams and wetlands. The landscape changes radically as the hiker gains height and aridity often accompanies a strong storm. In this Baldío Place, the French writer Émile Pouvillon (1840 – 1906) wrote in his postuma work Terre d’Oc:
It is the top of the valley, the end of the world.
Neither a tree, nor a weed in perspective,
nor the slightest trace of plant or animal life.
The grass is dead, the man is absent,
The mountain itself is nothing more than a decomposition skeleton,
nibbled by the elements.
