This summer, I had the incredible opportunity to hike parts of Le Chemin de la Liberté, also known as the Freedom Trail. Before I get into my own experience, I’d like to pause and share the history of this journey.
The Freedom Trail has its roots in World War II as the pathway to freedom for those escaping persecution from the Nazi army. The trail leads from France to Spain through the Pyrenees mountain, and is a treacherous journey at times. Those who used this trail to escape were those facing discrimination of many kinds, including Jewish people, resistors, and foreigners. The need for this journey came following a deeper Nazi presence in southern France, meaning people needed to reach Spain to find safety.
Many people lost their lives on this trail seeking freedom, and others face great hardship. I carried this history in my mind as I walked some of the same paths as those in history.
I was pleased to be joined by a wonderful group of friends, both old and new. Allow me to introduce the team:
The group chose a variety of trails, each challenging and dangerous with lots of vertical climbing and extremely rocky terrain. There were two routes and each individual decided which trail they’d take.
The first day was a celebratory merging of experiences and lives as we settled into our group. We enjoyed a meal filled with each other’s best stories as we broke the ice. We were all feeling very optimistic about the next few days ahead of us.
This was the first day on the trail, and we were fortunate to have the assistance of three incredible guides—Anne, John, and Dave—and we all got to know them almost like family. Each guide was an accomplished, award-winning climber, having participated in and winning many competitions. The input and guidance of these individuals was completely invaluable as we navigated extreme and unfamiliar terrain.
We broke up into two groups to start the day: one made up of myself and two guides—Anne and John, and the other including John, Paul, Carl, Mike and Dave, the third guide. I was the eldest hiker in the group, so I opted for the slightly less challenging trail. We had to drive a short distance to get into the Pyrenees Mountains to make our start.
This first taste of the trail was strenuous for both groups. We gained hundreds of feet in elevation and hiked for almost six hours. Our spartan lodgings for the night were called ‘the refuge,’ a simple structure equipped only with small rooms with bunk beds (4-6 to a room), hot water, and a roof to keep the weather out. After a long day of hiking we enjoyed a simple but hearty meal, a shower (though I missed out on the hot water), and a solid sleep in our bunks.
This wasn’t the most luxurious night of our trip, but it was all part of the experience. And it was certainly more comfortable than a tent on the ground.
This day of trail included a mix of both downhill and uphill climbs. The downhill was as treacherous as uphill, but with the added danger of the potential to fall. Unfortunately, at the bottom of the first major downhill climb I started to experience shortness of breath. Luckily, I had my Cardiologist friend, Carl, with me. He was able to use John’s handy Smartwatch to take my pulse and obtain a somewhat accurate EKG, gauging the seriousness of the situation.
The results were irregular, so the group climbed down to a rendezvous point where Carl and I were picked up by a friend of Anne’s and taken to the nearest town. Luckily, I didn’t need to see a doctor (other than Carl), so we enjoyed a beautiful day in this alpine town while the rest of the group endured the most challenging portion of the entire trail with high winds, nasty rain, and every other bad weather you can experience in the mountains.
So, this day came with an unexpected surprise, but it all ended up just fine in the end. In fact, after hearing about the day the rest of the hikers experienced, I was almost grateful for the chance to rest—we joked that it was self-preservation! I was grateful to Carl and the guides for helping me through the scare, and I was pleased to be able to continue the next day.
Day four was a flatter day of hiking, taking us far above the ski resort where we’d spend the night. It was a beautiful and scenic day, with views we’ll never forget.
The ski town was a charming place, known as a ski destination in the winter and a challenging hiking spot in the summer. This time, we got to stay in a real hotel—a fair bit cushier than our last accommodations.
We hiked through several towns, each with a ski resort that connected to the next town and resort. Each town had its own personality, and this was such a unique way to experience them.
On this day especially, I thought a lot about the people who escaped through here so many years ago. They didn’t have the luxuries of technology, supplies, and guidance that we relied upon to make this journey.
This day’s journey ended with us hiking down into the Capital City of Andorra, Andorra la Vella. We arrived at around noon, following a steep downhill climb into the city.
That night we enjoyed a dinner that was the perfect bookend to our trip. We had a delicious meal and recapped our hike. We spent more time getting to know one another, shared our trip highlights, and marvelled at the history of the trail again.
There was something about this trip that transformed five essential strangers into close friends by the end. As the night wore on, we started sharing personal stories, family tales, and even our problems. The energy stayed high and we lasted until midnight. By the end of this trip and that dinner, we were teasing each other like lifelong pals.
This was our last day, and we spent it exploring the beautiful capital city. We enjoyed our time, taking in the contrasting historic alpine architecture and modern steel and glass buildings side-by-side.
From here, we went our separate ways. Carl and I headed to Barcelona, him to fly home and myself to fly off to see my son race in the famous UTMB race.
The entire trip was a humbling and worthwhile experience, and I feel privileged to have had the chance to make it happen. While I didn’t experience the true nature of the trail—walking for days on end and camping near the path—I do feel as though I got a taste of the history and perseverance of humankind.
My son best described the terrain we both encountered on this trip, him while running the UTMB race and me while hiking the Freedom Trail. In his recap, he mentioned “It felt like a friendly climb…but it was downright hot, steep and slow as hell” Now, I may not have been running this extreme race, but I certainly encountered moments like this in my own experience with this terrain.
Thank you to each and every one of the friends who joined me, the guides who helped us make the journey, and everyone else we met along the way.
