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“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” – Mark Twain(and Frank, MCMA, Moston)
I passed this rock and perhaps it was the altitude, or the wild mushrooms, but I saw a Zen garden here. It was late in the afternoon and I thought to camp here, with the mist falling there wasn't much to see, but I was so fresh and it was only 5.30 (I guessed) so the garden drifted quickly into the mist and we pushed on (me and my feet) until getting lost no longer looked like an option.
That mist was so thick they must have shipped it over from Ire..er..Belgium! I camped on a mass of deep spongy grass just off the path and next to a big altar of a stone I could burn my stove on, Conversation was thin on the ground over the beef and fried potatoes so I looked around to see if anyone was in a mood. I wasn't. Everything was going so well, it was the cloud that had descended over me that created an eerie atmosphere. Cleaning up and turning in I started thinking about when I could come back here - for good?. Later the katabatic wind paid an unwelcome visit and disturbed my sleep again.
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| Aneto - not. |
In the morning feeling fine the mist had gone and the marmots shrieked the day awake. After Port de Ruis I could see Aneto far off with a neckerchief of glacier under its chin. I knew it was there because some one I passed pointed it out to me. He was wrong I found out later, but it didn't matter, Aneto was there somewhere and I was getting closer.
Port de Ruis was at 2320 metres the refugio was at 1700m about 3 kilometres away. So more knee and heart breaking descent. This section of the path was busy with a big increase in the number of French walkers. Below in the valley was the start of the Tunel de Vielha, an artery from France and there was parking below.
It was about one o'clock, (looking at the sun!) and very hot. The path was steep and dusty. The shade under the occasional pine tree was cool and irresistible. The people were friendly.
The map said the refugio was out of my way above the tunnel's entrance, and it was too hot to make the detour. As I walked through a yard by some buildings a sign saying 'Bar' showed me 'someone' had made a mistake. Cartographer, walker, it didn't matter. The wooden bar area seemed full with only me in it. I ordered a coffee and a sandwich off the manageress, who was at the same time brusque and friendly, then sat down to see how much nearer I could get to Aneto.
The door opened and a young couple walked in: a tall blond man and his girlfriend. They dismantled their gear and ordered sandwiches. Company. After short introductions I ordered 3 beers and we were soon comparing conquests, planning peaks, and talking turkey, well vultures. Martin was an ornithologist, Barbora an architect. After an hour we were old friends. Martin had two more of these half baguette bocadillos, they were very tasty and complimented the beer so well there was a risk of the day stopping there. I think if anyone else had of joined us a would be writing a different story.
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| Starter + main course |
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