Pyrenees with the kids
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Summer 2026 · a family diary

Five days in the Pyrenees, with two tents and two kids

Grandma, Grandpa, you could not come this time, so we wrote it all down for you, one day at a time. Here is where we slept, what we climbed and how many sun hats the mountains kept.

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A grassy lakeside camping meadow at first light, two small canvas tents pitched apart under old alders, mist lying low over the still water beyond.

Monday 13 to Friday 17 July

Our five days, in order

We camped below Torla, in the Ara valley, and walked out every morning from the tents. This is how the week went.

  1. Monday 13 July

    The river, before anything else

    We arrived at two in the afternoon after eight hours in the car, and nobody wanted to pitch a tent. So we walked straight down to the water instead. The Ara is so cold it makes your ankles ache, and Sam still went in up to his shorts, twice. The tents went up at seven, the second one the wrong way round.

    A grass camping meadow sloping gently down to open water, a single ridge tent pitched on the turf, alder trees to one side and a low wooded shore beyond.

  2. Tuesday 14 July

    Waterfalls, one after another

    We took the first bus up into the Ordesa valley and followed the river upstream on a path that never seemed to end. Molly kept count of every waterfall in her notebook and gave each one a mark out of ten. The big one at the end got a nine because it splashed her sandwich. Fourteen kilometres, and Sam was carried for only two of them.

    A narrow boardwalk of weathered planks running through low moor grass and heather, leading into birch scrub.

  3. Wednesday 15 July

    The day of the marmots

    A quieter day, up the Bujaruelo valley to the meadows above the old stone bridge. We heard the marmots before we saw them: a sharp whistle, then a fat brown shape running for its burrow. By lunch we had lost count, so Molly started again. There is no photo of a single one, because they were always faster than Dad's phone.

  4. Thursday 16 July

    Over the pass into France

    The long one. We left at seven and climbed for four hours up a path of loose stones to the pass at 2,270 metres, where a sign says France on one side and nothing at all on the other. We ate our crisps standing in two countries at once. Sam asked if we needed passports. Coming down took nearly as long, and everyone was asleep by nine.

    A line drawing of a steep footpath climbing through a wooded alpine valley towards a ridge.

  5. Friday 17 July

    Up before the sun

    Our last morning, and Molly made us promise: up at half past five to watch the sun come over the ridge. It was freezing and very still, with mist lying on the water like a blanket. Nobody spoke for about ten minutes, which has never happened before. Then we packed the tents, wet, and drove home.

    A lake in the early morning with mist lying across the water, reeds and alders in the foreground, wooded slopes pale grey behind.

The pictures

What the camera saw

Six of the three hundred and twelve photos on Dad's phone. Molly chose them.

  • A weathered wooden bathing jetty reaching into a calm lake on a hot afternoon, its planks bleached pale and a towel left on the end, the water glittering beyond.
    Molly's towel, left behind on the jetty. She went back for it on Thursday.
  • A camping terrace on fine grey gravel under old alder trees, a small tent and two folding chairs in dappled shade, a lake just visible through the trunks.
    Our pitch on the upper terrace, and the two chairs everyone fought over.
  • Thick mist standing over a quiet alpine lake, bare alder branches in the near foreground, the far shore dissolving into pale grey.
    Tuesday at six in the morning, before the bus. You could not see the other side.
  • A small dark timber cabin at the edge of a pine wood, a covered bench under its overhanging roof, firewood stacked beside the step.
    The little hut by the woods where we sheltered from Wednesday's thunderstorm.
  • A wooden jetty at a lake bathing place seen along its length, weathered planks and mooring posts, still water either side and wooded hills low on the far shore.
    Where Sam learnt to jump in feet first, holding his nose.
  • A plain campsite washroom with a row of white basins along a tiled wall, morning light falling through a high window onto the wet floor.
    The campsite washroom. Sam says it was the best thing about the whole holiday.

The week in numbers

Counted carefully by Molly

52 km
Kilometres walkedEvery one of them on Sam's legs except two.
11
Waterfalls countedThe best scored nine out of ten.
27
Marmots spottedAfter she started counting again on Wednesday.
3
Sun hats lostTwo to the wind, one to the river.
A view down a wooded valley towards a lake far below, larches on the slope and low sun raking across it, the water small at the bottom of the picture.

A note for you

Dear Grandma and Grandpa

We thought about you on every walk, especially on Thursday, when Molly said Grandpa would have known the name of every flower on the way up. Next summer we want you with us. There is a campsite with little wooden cabins, so nobody has to sleep on the ground, and the waterfall path is flat enough for Grandma's knee. Until then, here is the week as we lived it. Sam wants you to know he was the bravest in the river, and Molly wants you to know that is not true.

With love from Tom, Inés, Molly and Sam

Tell us which day you liked best

Write us a few lines and the children will read them out at dinner.

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Pyrenees with the kids

Five days in the Pyrenees, July 2026, written down for Grandma and Grandpa.

The diary

  • Our five days
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© 2026 Tom, Inés, Molly and Sam Hartley