A view into the heart of the Pyrénées! Such splendid country!
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.”*
As the elder brother to the Alps, the Pyrénées represent a massive collision of tectonic plates. The microcontinent of Iberia smashes against Eurasia; the former wrinkles, shears, and protests before plunging into the hot mantle below. Above, crusty folds rise defiantly to elevations of 11,000 feet, where they face the unrelenting wind, rain, and snow.
The Pyrénées form a natural border between France and Spain. Image courtesy of Wikipedia, see here.
This line of deformation runs for 300 miles, from the foam of the Atlantic to the warm Mediterranean. Thruways are few and elevated. It is a choker around the neck of the Iberian Peninsula.
Hiking the Via Traiana: From Roman Legions to Modern Pilgrims
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.
The marked trail followed asphalt and cow path. Fog obscured our vision.
We followed the old Roman route known as the Via Traiana. This road once linked the gold mines of Asturica Augusta (named by Octavian himself) with Roman Burdigela (modern Bordeaux). In those days, the trail carried legionnaires in hobnailed caligae.* Now, the path 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 future of a Spanish chorizo.
The Legend of Roland and the Battle of Roncevaux Pass
Military expeditions are never fond of surprises, which is why they favored this high path. It ascends through open country to a 5,000-foot col on the western flank of the Pyrénées. An alternative route stays in the valley below via Valcarlos, but while the valley is easier on the legs, it is fraught with potential for ambush.
In fact, it was in that valley that the rearguard of Charlemagne was severed in the Battle of Roncevaux Pass (AD 778). This Frankish “Alamo” gave birth to the legend of Roland, the doomed rearguard commander. Recounting his tragic tale was a popular pastime among medieval bards (and we will get to it as well. Stay tuned!).
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.
The Myth of Pyrene: How the Pyrénées Got Their Name
Above the tree line, Bob and I stopped to snack. The cloud curtain finally pulled back, revealing a marvelous vista. Roman soldiers hiking this same saddle might have told a different story—a dark perspective captured by the first-century poet Silius Italicus (and yes, that is a real name!).
In his 17-volume work Punica, Silius describes how Hannibal Barca and his elephants practiced on the Pyrénées before crossing the Alps. He also shares a grim myth regarding how the mountains were named.
According to legend, there was a beautiful woman named Pyrene, the daughter of a local king. The king entertained Hercules during one of his “labors,” a decision that proved unwise. Drunk and lustful, Hercules violated the code of hospitality and ravished Pyrene. Shamed, she fled to the desolate peaks, where she was eventually killed by wild animals.
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).
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!
*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.