You hike up, out of a ski area at the very end of the road, over a ridge and into this rounded valley, hemmed in all around by a high ridge of jagged mountain peaks. The biggest peak at 9440 feet is Pic de Tristaina.
The top of the ridge half-way around is the Andorra-France border. So you are not “looking into France” on the hike. You could go up on the ridge and look over into France. But you are looking at Andorra, rising right up in your face.
Even the lowest pass into France is a climb up. You can see why Andorra retained its independence.
Kind of like Donald Trump’s wall. But natural and beautiful.
We ate breakfast at Topic, the only open bar. The waitress/bartender spoke rapid French, no English but fair German, so we conversed and ordered in German. I had a great croissant, fresh OJ, and bacon on toast. That was a new one. Kind of a tomato puree on a huge piece of crisp toast, with slabs of bacon on it.
To get to the Tristaina lakes, we followed the CG-3 to the very top of the Ordino Valley, switchbacking up and up to the Arcalís ski resort.
We parked our car at the La Coma restaurant (there is a huge parking area) and started to walk.
The trail leaves right behind the restaurant, and works up over the pass into the bowl. One web site said it is about a 5KM hike total, yet we recorded over seven miles (and the iPhone never lies!).
You could just hike into the bowl, then sit at a lake and picnic and swim, which is what a lot of people do. That was pretty tempting by the end of the hike. But we were going to do the circuit, along the ridge.
The high point of the hike is on a cliff, overlooking the entire bowl at, 8200 feet.
It was a beautiful hike, of spectacular views and lots of wildflowers. We were high above the lakes, above the snow, walking along edges of cliffs and the sides of the mountain ridge.
There were some great photography opportunities, and areas with nice drop offs. I felt like the hike was pretty easy, with no hard sections, but Gail was a little more fatigued on the uphill sections, a little more nervous by the drop-offs.
It was a fairly-used trail, maybe twenty other people we saw. But the lakes were crowded.
The best part is the cold beer at the ski-restaurant when you finish.
We spent about four hours on the hike, including time to sit and enjoy the view.
You can read more about the Tristaina Lakes hike here.
Good photos below.
“Soup Of Our Grandfather.”
How can you not like a place like that?
And then there were the “Specials from pep’s kitchen.”
Most intriguing of all were the meals listed under “Our embers of carbon” which I figured must mean these were the barbecued meat dishes.
These selections included the “Last four sausages of my friend, Santacreu.”
We decided that we would stop here on the way down from the hike.
The restaurant was filled when we arrived, with one last table open near the door. We are met by the owner, ask if we can stay and eat (it is late) and he shrugs, smiles and seats us. Turns out we are it for the day.
Everybody else is already done when we arrive, yet they all are sitting, talking and laughing. Though they have paid, (or are just now paying) no one leaves. The owner keeps bringing around a bottle of champagne (?) and everyone keeps drinking. It is obvious that this is where the town gathers on a Sunday afternoon.
We ordered.
Though I was pretty tempted by the Medio Bunny tender in house of Tolo, I settled on the Onglet Agen (for my little made) simply because the owner/chef recommended it as his specialty.
What was it?
Perhaps I should not tell you, make you go find out for yourself!
Gail had the cod. Not adventurous, but reliable.
We ordered a bottle of his recommended (and at €10, very affordable) wine, and it was perfection with the meal. A started of white asparagus, with some sauce, was really tender and tasty. My Onglet Agen was the best I had ever had, and Gail’s cod was good. The food was done simply, yet presented well, and the portions were huge.
Meanwhile, nobody left.
The locals talk louder than French.
Andorran: not Spanish, not French. We had no understanding except for the occasional word. But, we got the furtive smile, the sideways glance, and so we smiled back. When something obviously funny happened, we did the knowing laugh. And somehow, we fit in.
I had the creme brûlée and coffee espresso for dessert. Gail ordered the flan with brandy. "Ahh yes, the brandy…" and a big smile from the owner.
Gail loved the flan with brandy. Maybe the brandy, mostly. “The best ever.”
She won’t leave me alone about it. “Try it!” she insists.
I hate goopy food. Creme brûlée is creamy, not goopy. I take just a token dip of the flan, but I am not impressed.
After, as we settled back for a pause, we knew we were “in” when the owner arrived to pour us flutes of champagne.
And as we slowly drink that, he returns for a refill.
My final coffee arrives and I am looking at that, plus the half glass of great wine AND a refill of the champagne and I am thinking, "I am in a lot of trouble now."
We stayed another hour or two, just savoring the moment, and as everyone finally left in twos and threes, they bid us “buon giornata” or “buen’dias” or “bonsoir.” A couple simply patted me on the shoulder.
I drove us carefully back to the hotel, and we spent the remaining couple hours reading and walking.
By the way, Onglet Agen was beef.
Chunks of medium rare beef.