Arans - two worlds

"Solo wandering is often condemned, but no one may truly know the mountains till he has travelled alone among them the day long.  Perceptions are cleaner, there is a fine sense of freedom, the idiosyncrasies of one's companions need no longer be studied"

B.H.Humble.

Eñaut had no discernible idiosyncrasies, that I troubled to study.  Yes he smoked his roll-ups and sometimes with a little Moroccan (resin) in it.  But, as he told me, the trauma of some childhood fear was allayed by it.  Fear, I suggested was often a F.alse E.xpectations A.ppearing R.eal.  I experienced fear in these mountains and argued myself out of it:

Eñaut was going to have a drink in the first bar he came to in Arans.  The quick Basque fox would be writing his notes for the day while sipping an Estrella: El viejo cabra (the old goat) would be along presently.  The dynamic between two walkers is no different to marriage, dating, and partnering someone at something or other, mutual respect and putting the needs of the other before your own.  He went at his own pace but was happy to meet up later where there would be exchanges of information, a sharing of experiences...and beds! Well if Mr Haig can get away with it.  We beat the landlord of these modern 5 star apartments down to 25euros each and reserved a table in the empty restaurant.  We were the antithesis of the expected clientèle here: Two solo wanderers merging briefly for a little spiritual symbiosis, a beer and a meal.  There was less character in that dining room than a blank sheet of paper but some how we helped our little corner break out from the starched sterility of the rest of the room where the waiter stood staring up at a television, plastic flowers managed to droop in shame, while our empty bottles and full glasses, our maps and charts, jokes and banter, beer and wine said less is more, more or less.  While Eñaut sat on the balcony puffing his fears away, I broke the sofa-bed and we both retired exhausted, replete and content, looking forward to tomorrow and the worst climb of my life.

The pictures earlier of us both filling bottles at a well were taken the following morning when we assaulted a hill that would have challenged Sisyphus. So directly up was the path that our various fitness levels soon parted us.  I would next see Eñaut in a cafe bending over a paginas amerillo looking for a local dentist in the next village.