Le Mont Fourcat is a rather nondescript rounded peak but what it lacks in grandeur, it gains from its stunning 2,001 m summit views.  Throw in a cloud inversion and it becomes quite magical. 

An upside down world! One could justifiably think of this as a pertinent appellation of modern times as extremes gain power and the spectre of war is never far away. 

However, nature has a kinder interpretation whereby the usual distribution of air is flipped on its head, so that cold air is trapped towards ground level by warmer air above.

Many would dismiss this as simply fog but when seen from above it is quite spectacular. The English call it a cloud inversion but the lyrical French term mer de nuages  (sea of clouds) is much more appropriate for an event which can be startlingly beautiful.

Firstly however, as in much of life, one has simply to get through it to rise above it! And as we started our walk from Les Brouges in swirling grey cloud at 1,200 m, one was simply hoping for a clearing day.

Le Mont Fourcat sits to the extreme west of the Saint-Barthélemy massif at 2,001 m, giving superb views over Foix and Tarascon, as well as the chain of the Pyrenees. 

That was the theory anyway, but as we climbed up through a pine forest, the needle strewn floor deadening our footfall, the swirling mist did not bode well.

At least it was straightforward walking, if surprisingly hard work. The wide forest path led us onto a rough vehicle track which simply ascended in a virtually direct line for 5¾ km to the summit of Le Mont Fourcat at 2,001 m.

There were no zig zags to lessen the climb. Emerging from the forest onto ferny uplands after about an hour, we passed a picturesque stone orrey (cabin) and soon afterwards we found a flat rock for our picnic lunch.

Getting our breath back, we had a foretaste of things to come. There was no view of the valleys whatsoever as they were completely lost in the clouds. However, higher up, it was a restless scene as the clouds swirled around, rising and falling and parting to give tantalising glimpses of distant rocky peaks. 

Cloud inversions frequently burn off as the day lengthens and the temperatures increase. However, this one was proving particularly stubborn and I feared for any view at all from the top.

In another hour we reached a modern shepherd’s cabin. The original lay on the other side of the track, a neat grassy-roofed hump in the hillside. There was a welcome seat and we paused to admire the view, which was now clear as we left the clouds below us. 

A glimpse inside showed a plastic wrapped mattress and a little fireplace: basic but a possibly life saving refuge in bad weather. The view looking out the door was breathtaking. 

Ascending the ridge had been thirsty work and we were out of water. I approached an athletic young shepherd who had been hairing around the hillside at speed penning a flock of sheep. 

He pointed us to a cold natural spring 200 m below the cabin. 

‘De rien, de rien!’ he exclaimed when I thanked him, before dashing off to his open air shower. I had not realized that naked shepherds were to be a feature of the walk – we headed on rapidly!

A broad sheep cropped swathe led us to the summit in only another half hour. Topped by a cairn, it was wide open and flat, with lots of handy rocks to sit on.

Falling away ahead of us over a deep valley, one could see the Mont d’Olmes ski resort in the distance. To our right a ridge led tantalizingly away over a series of gentle peaks – and beyond, the endless jagged silhouette of the Pyrénées.

And below: nothing, just a thick carpet of pillowing clouds but one didn’t mind as the higher peaks serenely floating above them looked so spectacular. We actually got a really good view in the end over the eastern mountains and even walked out on a little ridge below the summit to have glimpses of the wild valley below.

The sun slipped quietly into the clouds, tinting all a rosy pink. Swallows arrived seeking evening insects and sped past our heads so closely one could hear the rapid beat of their wings.

We retired to our tent: whilst a relatively short walk, we had decided to camp on top to leisurely appreciate the view.

The clouds didn’t budge but it was a beautiful starry night above. Rising early we enjoyed sunrise over the cloud inversion but unfortunately by 8 am they had risen to obscure the lower peaks below us, spilling over the cols like breaking waves.

The Fourcat summit was finally enshrouded and abandoning plans for continuing our walk along the now invisible ridges, we decided to head for home.

The visibility may have been bad but other delights are created by the swirling clouds: sharply deliniated spiders webs and heather heavy with glistening water droplets, muffled cow bells, heard long before the horns of their owners are glimpsed above the ferns.

Finally back at Les Brouges, we had one more thing to check out: a clunky white monument to the maquis de Croquié. Croquié was home to a maquis school and the nearby forests had sheltered one of the first maquis groups.

The surrounding grassy expanse has plenty of picnic tables, a water tap and a fine view on a good day – but then as I had just discovered, even a bad day is a good day!

Notes

Ascent: 800m

Descent: 800 m

Distance: 11.5 km return

Time: 4.5 hours return not including stops

The parking is above just Croquié, which is reached from Mercus midway between Foix and Tarascon.