Tramping expeditions of even more beauty can be made on the French side of the Pyrenees, in the country of the Basques. Pious Catholics may be inclined to make for Lourdes and will encounter the sick in body going for health, and perhaps coming in the opposite direction, rejoicing cripples who have been made whole. Whether credulous or incredulous, the tramp will find Lourdes a religious curiosity well worth approaching in the spirit of a true pilgrim on foot. A tramp from Biarritz to Carcassonne, across the ankle of the Franco-Iberian peninsula holds many picturesque sights of strange people and of feudal towns. But mountainous Nature will rule the hearts of all those who come under the influence of the sublime. This is delightful country for sleeping out, provided mosquito netting be carried. Inns, however, are not so numerous, and one should be prepared to make one’s own coffee on one’s own brushwood fire.
Spain, despite some pleasant volumes recording walking tours, is really untouched. It is a remarkable country, and the people, the most conservative and delightful in Europe, look somewhat askance upon Bohemians. There are tens of thousands of beggars who are accepted as philosophically as flies in summer, but the man in tweeds with knapsack on his back is regarded as some sort of strange wild animal. One is almost bound to be called upon to explain oneself to the police, and to find oneself described officially as a vagrant. Jan and Cora Gordon, two delightful vagabonds, got over the difficulty by carrying guitars, and they were understood as itinerant musicians. In the end, because they played so well, they won over the affections of many somber Spaniards. Among other tramping friends of mine, I ought to mention Mr. Forse, the tramping vicar of Southborne, who has made several tours on foot in Spain and issues his impressions as supplements to his parish magazine. I often envied him his experiences.
It was my impression in Spain that it is not wise to wear tweeds. Black is the accepted color for all people. All respectable beggars wear black. On the other hand, state visits are also made in black. With regard to the climate of Spain, it is easy to be deceived. It is much colder than most people think. Northern Spain is mostly elevated plateau and is exposed to bitter winds in the spring. Andalusia, however, and the South generally, is serene and warm, hot even, but subject to unpleasant dust storms. Incidentally, it may be mentioned that the easiest way to get to Spain is via Southampton and Gibraltar. The railway journey from France is apt to be very uncomfortable.
After these two countries, northern Italy, Switzerland, and Germany come naturally to mind. Of these, by far the cheapest is northern Italy, and there is more untrodden ground. It is well to take passports for Austria as well, so as to be free of the Austrian Tyrol if you wish to enter. Austria, however, as a result of the War, lost a great deal of magnificent territory to Italy, and there is plenty of room in the latter country. Southern Germany is, of course, very fine, and not inhospitable, though the cost of provisions has gone up prodigiously. Perhaps that will be remedied—as one remembers Germany in the old days as one of the cheapest countries for travel in the world. Bavaria is, however, still Bavaria, and if beer attract, the brown brau is as good as ever. The Bavarians were the only Germans who did not Gott-strafe England, America, and the rest, and they are quite pleasant neighbors. The Germans themselves are good walkers, love rucksacks, and the tramp will attract no unpleasant curiosity as in Spain. Switzerland may best be enjoyed afoot. It is common ground for the walkers of all nationalities—a League of Nations center for those who love God’s handiwork in Nature. It is, however, a rendezvous for the lazier type of tourist, and the “lounge lizard” is apt to set the pace for all. It is dangerous to spend more than one night consecutively in one of the large hotels or tourist round-ups. It is a desecration of one’s opportunities to use them for dancing and gentle promenades. The program of the visitor to Switzerland is apt to be a little unambitious. People go with heaps of luggage and find themselves tied to it, returning inevitably to it even from delightful daily expeditions, like cows from pasture. The end of a happy day should be the stepping-stone to one still happier. A fortnight or three weeks spent going continuously with sunset and dawn joined by your resting place in the hills has a larger content that the equivalent days spent going out to a certain point and then returning to a hotel.
Czechoslovakia is also a country of athleticism, and one encounters good will there at every point. There is a good deal of delightful ground, especially in the Carpathians. It is rougher going than in France, but the people you meet are simpler. More rations need to be carried as villages are further apart and are apt to have less in them than one might imagine. Here are few canned goods. But there is plenty of good fruit. An expedition well worth making is to Ushorod, in the long narrow strip of territory inhabited by the Carpathian Russians.
As regards the rest of Southern Europe, conditions are frequently difficult. The Balkans are bare and sun-beaten, and largely uncivilized. There is plenty of scope for adventure, especially in Albania, where an armed guard is usually required. Dalmatia is extremely interesting, especially the primitive Croats living in the interior. But the country is mostly treeless and subject to the southern sun and the Sirocco. Early morning is the best time for walking. It is often very cool then—but there is little shelter from the noontide ardor. Spalato and Ragusa are excellent starting points, especially the former. Montenegro has very interesting people and the country is obscure enough to please the stoutest adventurer.
I have written considerably in my books concerning tramping in Russia and Siberia. I have been over many thousands of miles of Russia afoot. The happiest times were in the Caucasus, by the Gorge of Dariel road, over the Cross Pass, or by the Rion valley over Mamison, or on the Caucasian shore of the Black Sea. When it is too hot to live in a house in a town, it is heaven on the mountains. Since the War, and the Revolution, the Caucasus has, unfortunately, become much more dangerous for travelers of all kinds. The tribes are warlike, and have been badly treated by Bolsheviks and Europeans in general. Robbers are merciless. Pacification should, however, succeed within the next ten years, and the Caucasus become open again. Weapons are not of much use to a tramp in these parts. If he carry a revolver he should be secretive about it—for a revolver is a great lure. You are almost certain to be robbed if it is known you have a revolver—for the revolver’s sake. It is best to go unarmed and match intelligence against force when necessary. The native horsemen will be found to be of a brow-beating kind, carrying perchance several mortal weapons. It is best to meet them face to face—but smiling—never let them get you scared. They may want to turn you back or force you to work in their fields. But a smiling answer turneth away wrath, and it is well to keep them talking and watch for your chance to escape. It should be remarked that the scope for tramping is not great before the middle of May, or after the middle of October. The passes, the lowest of which is over nine thousand feet, fill up with snow; you get into whirling blizzards and lose the only trail. On Mamison, especially, it is easy to go wrong, as it is extremely desolate. I crossed once before the snows had melted, an experience never to be forgotten or to be repeated.
It is better in the Caucasus to provide for sleeping out. There are inns, dukhans, bedless, dirty, and you can obtain hospitality in the villages. But the guest is scared only as long as he is under the roof. Next morning, after an hour’s grace wherein to hide his tracks, he may become the quarry of mine host.
Villages, the native auli, may be entered by day, but it is safer to keep out of them. They do not possess much which cannot be found in the wayside inn. Provisions are very scarce; such things as tea, sugar, bread, ham, generally unobtainable. Eggs, and a species of bread baked from millet seed, are the commonest fare. The latter needs a good deal of red wine to wash even a small quantity down. It is called churek, and it is good for chickens.
In the summer and autumn wild fruits of many kinds abound; strawberries, plums, grapes, and a number of species not known or sold in towns. The kizil, with its bloodlike juice, is excellent boiled with plenty of sugar. Wild grapes make good fruit but are inclined to blister the lips. There is an endless abundance of grapes upon the slopes of the Black Sea shore. The wine is heady, and is apt to put you to sleep in the noontide. It is better enjoyed in the evening. It is marketed in skins—but is none the less good for coming out of a tight pig.