humorous travel writing – IJM Photography

From Lourdes to the mountain.

Lunch Before the Climb

The children walked ahead through the Sanctuary, as usual. Why is everyone in such a rush? Is it really that important to be first?

We’d done God. Now, God’s creation. But first: lunch. We stopped at Leclerc — secular, efficient, French. Cheese and chutney for me, sardines for Killian, pâté for Kate — and a baguette each, because of course. Beer for him, ginger beer for us. And diesel for the car.

Driving Hairpins and Dodging Ravines

We would eat on the mountain side, and it would be amazing. Back to the Pont d’Espagne — still in France, we checked. In Cauterets, we stopped for ice cream. Sat on a bench. Looked at the mountain. Said nothing. Then I herded them back to the car. “Souvenirs on the way down,” I promised.

It was much the same as last time, lots of first and second gear. Praying all the way not to go off the road and die at the bottom of a ravine. I wasn’t dying in a ravine today… Around the hairpin bends we went, but since I had driven there last month I was slightly less panicky, and even started to enjoy the drive. At last, we arrived at the car park, still in one piece and happy to be alive. We were guided to a parking spot by staff.

Killian got his day sack out of the car and as foolish as I am, I decided to rough it and not wear my hat. I didn’t want to lose it. When we got to the official entrance we found out that the télésièges and cable car were working. I took my stick anyway — just in case. And if I needed to beat any small children on the way up? Well, it might come in handy. We bought our tickets to go right up to the Lac de Gaube, Killian would see it at last…. And, I wouldn’t have to walk 500 metres further up in altitude. This was turning out to be quite the civilised way to go up a mountain. I could get into this.

The Cable Car: A Snug Fit

The cable car, well, to do it justice, could best be described as a snug fit, but the three of us piled in. Up till that point, I was fine — just panicking when phones were poking through windows to film.

Some children were very nearly beaten!

Nearly…

A very close thing…

Mostly because I’d be the poor bugger having to replace thephones if anything happened.

Nothing did happen. Thank you Lord!

Surviving the Télésiège

At the top, we faced the télésiège — a bench on a wire, a bar that barely keeps you in. I took my stick. Just in case. And if I needed to beat any small children filming while rocking the thing? Well, it might come in handy.

My legs shook. Not from height — I’m fine above a certain level. It’s the low heights I hate. The ones where you fall and get impaled by trees. Or worse — have to explain it to their mother.

I survived. Stepped onto solid ground. The more-a the firma, the less-a the terror!

Lunch with a View at the Lac de Gaube

The “short” fifteen-minute walk up to the lake was fine and we passed those coming down, and were overtaken by those going up. I didn’t care. I would get there eventually. Killian spotted a couple of boulders that would do very nicely for table and chairs and we sat down for lunch. I joked that my dark brown chutney, squeezed from the container, looked — and sounded — alarmingly like something it really shouldn’t. The children did NOT find it as funny as I did. No sense of humour these youngsters! But with a baguette and a view? Near perfect. He’d regret the beer later.

Kate in the Water, Me in Awe

Kate paddled in the lake. It was amazing. I’d heard of someone bivouacking up here. Now I understood. Mountains inspire awe. A glimpse into the glory of God’s creation.

The Descent: More Civilised This Time

The descent was a more civilised affair. Kate and I shared the télésiège, Killian took the one just behind us. We got off and I told Killian to stop hanging around… The “children” — Killian (26), Kate (nearly 16) — filmed the river, even under the water. I was impressed. Back at the car, Killian dumped the rubbish, then sneaked up and went “boo.” The little shit scared me half to death. Much to his merriment.

A Perfect Drive Home

The drive home was perfect.

God is, indeed, good.

The Lourdes trip.

The Plan: Stress-Free or Bust

I wanted the trip down south to Lourdes to be a quiet one—especially for Kate. Stress-free, as much as possible. I can do this. No stress. Who needs stress anyway? My wife? Definitely not! No shouty-shouty, nothing.

There was an era in French driving when people thought nothing of a five-hour dash. I am not of that persuasion. Not my thing. If I want to stop, I will stop. We had one goal: get to Lourdes—and not die on the way. If that happened… my wife would kill me!

On the Road: Wine, Pines, and a Good Co-Pilot

The only thing I insisted on was that Killian, my son, be my co-pilot on the Bordeaux ring road. His support on our last trip had been invaluable. He has a knack for staying calm and guiding me gently. As we went past Cognac, Jonzac, Saint-Émilion, and Blaye, I could almost taste the wine on my lips—but no, just keep driving, as Dory might say.

South of Bordeaux, other names began to appear: Graves, Cadillac (the wine, not the car), Sauternes, and eventually the Landes, with their towering Pins Maritimes. Then came signs for Madiran—a nice little tipple!

First Sight of the Mountains

Kate was in the back seat, seeing the mountains for the first time. As soon as the Pyrénées appeared on the horizon, we told her, “Those aren’t clouds—they’re mountains.” She seemed to share our awe. She was also amazed that I didn’t say no to snacks, especially the chocolate chip cookies. Killian got me a coffee to keep me going until we arrived. Good man.

Saturday Morning in Lourdes

Saturday morning would be for God, and Saturday afternoon for the mountains.

We set off relatively early—or, in my fifteen-year-old daughter’s eyes, the crack of dawn. We parked where we had during our last visit and walked gently down toward the Sanctuary. I didn’t even have to stop the children from entering each shop, intent on burning a hole in my bank card. The majority were still shut. And there might be some of you thinking I did that on purpose!

We popped into the café: Killian and I had espresso with croissants, while Kate enjoyed hot chocolate and a tartine of bread with unsalted butter. I felt so bad for her—we live in a region where salted butter is almost sacred! We thanked our waiter, amused by the children speaking French to me while I replied in a different language.

Faith, Water, and Candles

The morning was for God. I went to confession, half-hoping the nun from last time—the one who had made such an impression on Killian—would still be there. She wasn’t, but that was fine. We drifted toward the grotto and said a quiet prayer to Our Lady. Kate seemed less impressed than we were, and I secretly hoped she might feel something. We asked about the baths, but they had reached the daily limit. I still managed to have them sprinkle the healing waters of Lourdes on their faces.

As we crossed the bridge, we spotted a fish—Kate was delighted. She lingered, fascinated by the enormous candles left by pilgrims, each wrapped with prayers. We lit our own candles and said “our” prayers. I checked the mass times for the next day—and found them! No idea where the mass would be, but Kate got us there. Today was Saturday… not Sunday yet.