While we were still in the Allgäu of the Pyrenees in the first week, we were in the real alpine mountains in the second. Every day we have between 1000 and 2000 meters of altitude on our plates.

At some point you find your own rhythm, for yourself and for the group. Sometimes you synchronize with your companions, sometimes you sprint at your own pace.

I definitely need to be let go from time to time, but I also enjoy the company when we meet up at an agreed place at lunchtime or in the evening.

Then we sit together, cook, eat or play another round of chess or Yahtzee. For dinner, we have mashed potatoes with lentils and asparagus or mushroom soup. For dessert we have dark chocolate and dragon’s tongues (sour gummies).

Hiking is something very special, because you connect with your fellow hikers and your feelings in a very special way. The time you spend with your own thoughts and those of others opens doors that would otherwise take much more time to open in everyday life.

I don’t know what it is. The infinite expanse that gives you space. The emptiness that wants to be filled. The shared activity, the effort that connects you in a way that gives the depth space to unfold, to communicate.

Modus Correandi

I am completely in the element, wit the elements around me. The world rolls beneath my feet with all its might. The rubber bites into rock, mud and roots.

There seem to be no obstacles. Everything feels easy. The day can be as long as it wants, the meters of altitude that lie behind me no longer seem to have any meaning. It’s just me and the trail, the summit, the path that pours into a torrent in front of me.

It takes a few days for me to find my rhythm again, for my feet and back to get going again. It’s back, the hunger that makes me eat up the kilometers.

In the effort, we show our innermost side. Arriving is not the same as arriving. The day’s efforts don’t just fall away from us with our rucksack and shoes. They take time. You always arrive twice, first with our bodies, then with your mind.

New paths

We more or less follow the Hexatrek or GR10 eastwards over the Pyrenees.

But for me, following the directions is just not enough. You would think that after walking so many kilometers over the last few years, I would have learned which way to go. It shouldn’t be that difficult to follow a line on the map. And yet it happens to me again and again, almost every day, that I go in the wrong direction.

You’d think that walking extra kilometers would frustrate me, but in the end, everyone goes their own way, which leads us to our common goal.

Where the others realize it in time, I have already climbed (false) peaks, explored valleys and discovered new paths. But somehow I always find my way back to the others. All paths always lead back to my pack.

Differences

In contrast to the Andes, hiking in the Pyrenees is less wild in its own way. There is cell phone reception almost everywhere, at least on the summits. The stages are never longer than three days to the next store where you can stock up on provisions. In the Andes, I often had to carry food for 5 to 7 days.

Here you meet different people every day, sometimes whole hordes, mainly French and Spanish, stretching their legs. In Chile, I rarely met a soul for days on end.

Again and again we pass mountain huts (known as refugios) where you can get a hot meal or a cool drink.

The horses and cattle have already kept us awake. Again and again they tramp and trot curiously past our tents, stumbling over the pegs. I was afraid that one would fall on my head. There wasn’t much air between me and the hoof.