The Great Apollo Hunt. Epilogue

James Mann

Oh no not again I hear some of you saying but it is 4 years since I used the ‘A’ word in my article ‘What I did for my birthday June 25th 2005’ TEMPUS FUGIT. My thoughts came back to this lovely butterfly when I read the write up in ‘Butterfly ’ showing concern as their habitat decreased due to global warming. My thoughts were reinforced during what I could call my birthday randonnée of 2009. At the end of our June 14th randonnée it was agreed next week meet 6 a.m. for the ‘petit Train Jeune’ .

Nine of us met at 6 a.m. and set off on the one hour twenty minutes drive to the car park at Thues-Entre-Vaills, the car park for the Carança gorge, the only changes in four years was the parking fee was now two euros. We left the car park and quickly crossed the Carança torrent by means of a wooden foot bridge. We turned left and after climbing 20 or so metres crossed over the Little Yellow Train line by another footbridge. Then came a hard bit, climbing a steep zigzag path 200 metres up the steep Cliffside arriving at an S.N.C.F. (French Railways) building from which protruded a one metre diameter pipe taking water down the 200 metres cliff as motive power for the hydro-electricity power station generating electricity for the railway. We took the level but fairly winding path cut into the mountainside above the River Tet, not recommended for those who suffer from vertigo, and after about 40 minutes the path started a slow descent into the trees. We came to a thinning in the trees and found ourselves above the Sejourné bridge. This is an impressive composite granite bridge built at the beginning of the 20th century taking the railway line over the Tet river valley. The deepest part of the gorge, over the river itself, is spanned by a segmented arch on top of which are four large semicircular arches, the lower side is approached by three smaller semi-circular arches, and on the upper there are ten matching arches under which passes the main road to Andorra. We spent some time taking photographs from this unusual angle, most are taken from the road below.

We continued on the wandering slowly descending path through the woods finally arriving at the river and the camping site at Fontpédrouse, a wonderful place to get away from it all. Up in the village itself we met up with four of the less intrepid randonneurs who did not feel up to the full walk. We partook of our coffee and cake and intrigued them with the account of the walk so far.

As we left the village following the sign Prats-Balaguer/Saint-Thomas-Les-Bains, Gehart, our German representative, dug me in the ribs and said “James, Apollos?” and sure enough drifting over the meadow to our right were half a dozen Apollos. Out came our cameras, but these Apollos were not into the foreign photographers and kept their distance. Giving up in disgust we saw the rest of the group just starting up a steep path through the trees and after a 20

minutes climb we arrived at Saint-ThomasLes-Bains, the site of one of our many thermal baths. The entry fee to the baths is 4-50 euros, stay as long as you like. Dress restrictions: women one piece full length costume, men black trunks, Not shorts. If you forget to bring them you can hire. The pool is open air, the water is COOLED to 37°C from the source temp of around 50°C. In the winter lots of people brave the roads and bathe in the hot water as the snow falls around them. Out of the bath, a quick dash to the changing rooms and the glass of beer tastes the best ever.

We passed round to the back of the baths and started to climb again, looking back with envy at the bathers we thought next time. Just in front of me Gehart started jumping up and down and shouting something. I grinned to myself and thought the ants are attacking the German pants, but no, he had spotted more Apollos. These ones were much more co-operative and we settled down to take some good photos. A shout came from the top of the slope where the group were taking a rest among the flowers, “James come and tell us what these butterflies are” . “I am photographing Apollos. ” “Yes but come and look at these, there are masses of them. ” Knowing when I was beaten I climbed up to see. I was gobsmacked, after ten years of looking there they were, several hundred pairs of mating Silver-studded Blues. I was down on my knees with my camera. Everywhere I looked there were more pairs asking to be photographed. When the others got fed up with waiting they almost had to drag me away screaming. Well at least Gehart could have encountered black ants. The path entered the forest leaving us only Speckled Woods for company, coming to a fork we took the right hand path which descended into the valley passing under the Pont Gisclard. This is an impressive suspension bridge 80 metres high and over 200 metres long. It is classed as an historic monument. The dates cut into the top of one of the granite piers give the date of building 1905-1907. The official opening of the Little Yellow Train line is 18th July 1910. The date has been delayed because on a test run on the 31st October 1909 the brakes failed causing a derailment resulting in six deaths including Albert Gisclard, the designer and builder of the railway. The redesigned brakes were so good that the same system is still used today.

After following the river for some time we came to a Roman bridge taking the ancient road over the River Tet. I think in England it would be called a pack horse bridge. Here we spread out around the bridge in the dappled sunshine for our lunch. We were well provided, I had brought my birthday bottle of Banyuls, Gerhart had a bottle of German Hock and Francois his usual bottle of red, today Andre had a few takers for his Pastis. With the sunshine, the tinkling river, the birdsong and the conversation an hour and a half quickly passed away.

We pulled ourselves together and climbed up the opposite side of the river coming out of the trees at the refuge La Cassanya, the worn date cut into the door lintel stating 1711. We chatted to a grandmother who stayed in her house here during the summer months for the grandchildren’s holidays, she confirmed this was the original route up the valley but as the gîte had now closed