Teaching a dog a new trick while hiking in the Pyrenees

Our two-and-a-half hour hike up a broad glacial valley had brought us to the limit of our energy reserves. We–myself, my wife, our three young sons, and our family dog, a four-year-old, half-Italian, half-English black Labrador named Enzo—were on our second hike, in as many days, in the Pyrenees.

Our base was Luchon, a spa town that was once the site of thermal baths built by the Roman emperor Tiberius and later the toast of Parisians who made a 15-hour train trip to, as they said, “take the waters” and enjoy fashionable salons. We’ve come here the past three winters for the skiing. The ski resorts around Luchon are less glamorous and less well known than those in the French Alps, but what they lack in wow factor they make up in intimacy (they’re less crowded), value (they’re less expensive), and proximity (a two-hour drive from where we live vs. eight or ten for the journey across the south of France).

During our February ski-week we’re both too preoccupied with ski lessons for the children and limited by the snow to explore the many classic walks that are within a short drive of Luchon. Our first ski trip there, three years ago, coincided, however, with one of the worst snow droughts to hit the Pyrenees in decades. We took a break from skiing on the man-made slush that covered most of the ski slopes to hike a section of the GR10, one of the Grande Randonnée hiking trails that crisscross France. Starting at the Granges d’Astau (1139m/3736ft), where we parked our car, we hiked a little over two kilometers (slightly over one mile) to the Lac d’Oô (1500m/4921ft).

What impressed our young sons, however, wasn’t the 40-ha mountain lake or the 300-meter (almost 1,000-foot) waterfall that feeds it. They were entranced by the thousands of frogs that had gathered in several small ponds below the lake to mate and lay their eggs. We glossed over the mating part, but they eagerly gathered up some of the eggs to take home and watch them hatch. Some of these high-altitude, Pyrenean frogs now reside, I’m certain, in our backyard pond.

When we returned to the Lac d’Oô this year in April the frogs were already gone, but we gathered a few more eggs to rejuvenate our local frog population. But we were eager to tackle a hike that didn’t feature, as the relatively easy Lac d’Oô trail does, a steady stream of grandparents, five-year-olds, and poodles. The Vallée d’Oueil, 15km northwest of Luchon, seemed to offer the right combination of difficulty, scenery and solitude. We started at the scenic village of Bourg d’Oueil (1500m/4921ft). The well-marked path wound up through the valley, through meadows filled with freshly-shorn sheep. The French-Spanish border lay just beyond the snow-capped peaks to the south of us.

Streams of melting snow filled the valley floor. We continually crisscrossed them as the path meandered back and forth, gradually gaining elevation. We kept our feet dry by hopping from rock to rock, but our Labrador crazily careened up and down the streams, his mouth open to gulp down the ice-cold water. I know that cold water is his element, so the shivers running up and down his body could only be from the exhilaration of running wild and free through this unspoilt landscape.

As mentioned before, it took two-and-a-half hours to reach our goal—a grassy knoll just below the summit of Mont Né, which rises to 2,147 meters, over 7,000 ft., in altitude. My wife and I, along with our oldest son, reached this knoll, which, astonishingly enough, was topped with a sort of miniature Stonehenge.

While the three of us rested, our two youngest sons were content to rest below us, barricading, using small stones, the steady trickle of melting snow that would eventually find its way to the valley floor. No one risked getting flooded, however, as their dams were the sort that would be kicked over by the first hiker who wandered by. It was interesting to me that these young children were more interested in playing with water than with achieving some artificial goal, such as reaching a grassy-knoll-summit, which had been my motivation to continue the final two or three hundred meters. Personally, I would have been disappointed to have hiked so long, and not to have arrived at this point. But they were happy just to be children, and not to have any goal beyond having fun.

They weren’t the only ones having a great day. We speak of “dog days” and a “dog’s life,” and I am convinced that our Labrador was enjoying probably the best dog day of his doggy life. He had now set himself on a snowy ledge that covered the hillside just below the grassy knoll. From here he could see us and keep an eye on the rest of his “pack,” the two dam builders down below.

Barreling through mountain streams had been fun, but he now discovered that, as he inched forward on his belly, gravity and his wet, slippery fur took over and propelled him like a toboggan down the snowy slope. If he had done it just once, I would say that it was accidental, but he repeatedly climbed back up to the top of the slope to enjoy another ride. If you’ll excuse one last canine cliche—maybe an old dog can learn a new trick.

Les Hauts Pâturages (above), a small restaurant in the village of Artigue (just outside of Luchon), offers amazing mountain dishes, such as freshly caught trout and country ham (photos at right), and a delicious tartes aux myrtilles (blueberry pie) for dessert. We had wanted to eat here during our ski trips to the area, but the restaurant, at 1200m/3937ft, is closed in the winter because of the snow. The quality-to-price relationship of the food served here is amazing (menus range from €9 to €24), and there is a friendly family atmosphere. One stone wall of the renovated bergerie (sheep hut) has been opened up with a wall of windows, giving you a magnificent view of the snow-covered mountain peaks. We enjoyed a half bottle of 2005 Château Bellevue la Forêt with our meal. The red AOC Côtes du Frontonnais, from the Fronton region just north of Toulouse, was light-bodied with the hints of violets, plums and fresh strawberries typical of the Negrette grape grown in this appellation.

Les Hauts Pâturages, open from April through November, reservations recommended. +33 (0)5.61.79.10.47

Here’s a video of Enzo tobogganing. The video camera had a problem exposing a black dog on snow, so the beginning of the video looks like a seal on an ice flow.

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGYGbhvfY98[/youtube]

Photo of Enzo in stream and food dishes at Les Hauts Pâturages restaurant are courtesy of Teodore Fiorina.

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