Doing the Pyrenees by bus

Some time ago, the editor of a travel magazine gave me an assignment. I'd just published a story about biking across the Transpirenaica, the legendary route that cuts across the Pyrenees from the Mediterranean to the Cantabrian. "Doing the Transpirenaica on a bicycle is fine, but anyone can do that," said Sergi Ramis. "Would you dare write an article about the Transpirenaica.... by bus?"

Why not, I thought. An adventure of a non-sporting type, from bus station to bus station, to confirm the difficulties of transversal travel in a country whose radial transportation system ignores the small, isolated communities.

There were two rules: I could only use public transportation and I couldn't drift south to the larger urban hubs, from where it would have been easy to complete the adventure in under 24 hours.

And so I embarked on the most absurd and unlikely trip ever attempted by a human beinG

And so I embarked on the most absurd and unlikely trip ever attempted by a human being. It took me six days to cover 760 kilometers. It would have been faster by bike.

Day One: Llança-Puigcerdá (Girona). I fill a bottle with water from the Mediterranean to fulfill the ritual of pouring it out in the Atlantic. The commuter train takes me to Figueres. There are 14 passengers on board the 1.30pm bus to Olot, all retired folks, students under 18 and immigrants - a recurring social mix on every bus I took. The first thing the other social groups in Spain do as soon as they can is to buy themselves a car. In Olot I am told there is a 5.15pm bus to Puigcerdá. One day, three easy connections, 172 kilometers. This trip is going decidedly well.

Day Two: Puigcerdá (Girona)-Puente de Montañana (Huesca). I take the 7.30am bus to La Seu d'Urgell. At 10.15 I take a "taxi on demand," an efficient, subsidized communications system that solves the problem of isolation in the lonely mountain areas. In Sort I take a bus to Tremp, and that's where the trouble begins: changing regions in Spain is an unresolved problem for public transportation. There is no bus linking the villages of Catalonia with those of Aragon without descending to one of the provincial capitals. I have no choice but to take a taxi to Puente de Montañana.

Day Three: Puente de Montañana-Barbastro (Huesca). I take the 7.05am bus to Benabarre, and that's where it all ends. If transportation between the valleys is difficult, on weekends it is simply nonexistent. So I decide to hitchhike. An hour and a half later, two youngsters in a Peugeot 306 pull up: "We're going to Barbastro, is that OK?" "To the end of the world, as long as you get me out of here," I reply.

Day Four: Barbastro-Aínsa (Huesca). The only bus to Aínsa leaves at 8.45pm. Oh well, 12 hours should go by fast. Once in Aínsa, I take stock: in 48 hours I've done 90 kilometers. It would have been faster on foot.

Day Five: Aínsa (Huesca)-Pamplona (Navarre). I take a 2.30pm bus to Sabiñánigo and get there just in time to change to a coach going to Pamplona.

Day Six: Pamplona (Navarra)-Cabo Higer (Guipúzcoa). The coach crosses Bidasoa Valley and its thick beechwoods lead me towards the Cantabrian sea. In Irún I take a local bus to Hondarribia, where a taxi drives me to the lighthouse at Cabo Higer. There, I pour out the Mediterranean water into the docile sea. The rite is complete. I suppose there's a spot for me in The Guinness Book of World Records, for I doubt anyone ever before crossed the Pyrenees in such an absurd yet interesting manner.