Walking with the girls in the mountains, an unparalleled pleasure

Walking with the girls in the mountains, an unparalleled pleasure

Adventurer and feminist journalist, Marie Albert embarked on a walking tour of France in 2020 called Survivor Tour. In this fifth installment of her logbook she recounts her adventures in the company of other women hikers, strangers or close friends.

This article is the fifth episode of Marie Albert’s hiking diary, following her Survivor Tour in the Pyrenees. You can read previous episodes here:

  • Episode 1: Why I Go the tour of France on foot against gender violence
  • Episode 2: How I Survive Male Hikers: My First Month in the Pyrenees
  • Episode 3: I get my period on a hike and it’s hell: my second month in the Pyrenees
  • Episode 4: No, I’m Not Afraid to Sleep only in the mountainsand here’s why

Impossible to sleep. The wind picks up and pushes my sleeping bag into the grass. It chills and terrifies me. Lying on a plateau at 2,100 meters above sea level, I try to sleep under the stars, outside my tent. I’ve been looking at the Milky Way for two hours with the hope that sleep will come.

Read also: Are you interested in hiking? Here are some tips for beginners to start well equipped

A stormy night

But at 11pm I took refuge in the tent I had set up nearby, just in case. I naively think that I will find sleep there. The storm rages and the canvas bends in all directions. This deafening noise keeps me awake for long hours. I panic and imagine that the rims are about to give way.

At one in the morning I make the decision to move. 200 meters away is the Ruhle refuge, where a few hours earlier I had had a hearty dinner in the company of other hikers. I intend to pitch the tent behind the shelter, hoping that the wind will be less strong there. But in my move I take risks. The tent becomes a kite and takes me with it.

Once I reach the refuge I give up on sleeping outside and try to fold the tent to fit it in my backpack. Armed simply with my headlamp, I roughly manipulate the fabric and tear it at the height of the mosquito net. This incident bothers me and brings tears to my eyes. Once sheltered in the shelter, I lie down on my inflatable mattress in the dining room and it takes me a long time to fall asleep, shocked by the storm.

A brotherhood that warms my heart

The next morning, after four hours of sleep, I woke up in a building still buffeted by violent winds. Two English hikers, Safia and Ingrid, have spent the night in the dormitory and are thinking of heading towards Mérens-les-Vals, a village on my route, the GR10.

After sewing the mosquito net of my tent and preparing my backpack, I decide to follow them and use the poles to advance through the storm. Neither Safia nor Ingrid have one but they advance cautiously onto the rocks. With every gust of wind we risk falling into a ravine. At the back of the group I fell a little late, without hurting myself.

Safia, Ingrid and I struggle for several hours up to the pass located at 2,400 m altitude. I ask them to move away from me because they walk fast but they refuse. They are supportive and slow down to wait for me. They want to stay together for the safety of all of us. This sisterhood makes me happy and gives me relief after my night of horror. I leave Safia and Ingrid a few hours later to reach Mérens-les-Vals.

The welcome arrival of my best friend

I have to welcome a friend, Tara, who will walk with me for four days on the GR10. We meet at the municipal campsite. I have known Tara for almost fifteen years. Today I consider her my best friend. Every summer she accompanies me for a few days on my Survivor Tour, my walking tour in France against gender violence that started in 2020.

After a night in Mérens-les-Vals, we climb the mountain and slowly advance through forests, passes and lakes. With Tara, I leave the department of Ariège to enter the Pyrenees Orientales. We bivouack in places I rarely visit, scared of male hikers who choose the most beautiful “spots”. With her I feel strong and I’m no longer afraid of them.

At the Estagnas pond we swim shirtless and the men look at us but we make fun of them. At Lake Lanoux we swim naked but see no one on the horizon. Tara and I share feminist values, so we make naughty jokes and it makes us laugh a lot. We try to speak as loudly as possible and take up as much space as possible to scare others into leaving us alone. We hardly talk to anyone: we are in our bubble.

I will always remember our dinners based on semolina with vegetables, our stops in high altitude refuges, our bivouacs on the edge of a lake and the numerous passes we climbed. Sometimes we have to put down the sticks to climb the rock using our hands. Tara is not trained to hike in the high mountains (she lives in Paris) but she is sporty and she can handle the shock.

On the fourth day we arrive in Bolquère and reach a campsite to finally wash and rest. Tara spends one last night there then she leaves me to take the train home. When she leaves I feel sad and alone. But also proud and happy. Before she arrived, I preferred to walk alone and I convinced myself that it was better that way. I found myself unbearable and I found other human beings unbearable too.

From now on I can appreciate the presence of others and I regain confidence in myself. I feel fulfilled in these days of walking in female company. I hope to renew them in the future. Girls are taking over and will not give it back to the patriarchy.

Where to follow The Survivor by Marie Albert?

While waiting for the next episode of Marie Albert’s hiking diary, you can follow her on her Instagram account, where she documents her Survivor Tour.

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