Bejeweled Walk

[Ashely Wolfgram]

Babylove, I think I've been a little too kind

Didn't notice you walking all over my peace of mind

In the shoes I gave you as a present

Puttin' someone first only works when you're in their top five

And by the way, I'm going out tonight

Best believe I'm still bejeweled when I walk in the room

I can still make the whole place shimmer

And when I meet the band, they ask: Do you have a man?

I can still say: I don't remember

Familiarity breeds contempt, don't put me in the basement

When I want the penthouse of your heart

Diamonds in my eyes, I polish up real, I polish up real nice

Nice!

Baby boy, I think I've been too good of a girl (too good of a girl)

Did all the extra credit, then got graded on a curve

I think it's time to teach some lessons

I made you my world (huh?), have you heard? (Huh?)

I can reclaim the land

And I miss you (I miss you), but I miss sparkling (ah, hey)

Sapphire tears on my face, sadness became my whole sky (sky)

But some guy said my aura's moonstone just 'cause he was high

I been dancin' all night, and you can try to change my mind

But you might have to wait in line

What's a girl gonna do? A diamond's gotta shine

Best believe I'm still bejeweled when I walk in the room

I can still make the whole place shimmer (shimmer)

And when I meet the band, they ask: Do you have a man?

I can still say: I don't remember

Familiarity breeds contempt, don't put me in the basement

When I want the penthouse of your heart

Diamonds in my eyes, I polish up real (nice), I polish up real nice

Later, after much eager reading on where to go next, I reluctantly bypassed the grand Ordesa gorge for the less spectacular but equally beautiful Benasque valley, drawn in by the highest peak of all, Pico de Aneto.

Despite this, other life priorities took over for many years, and the Pyrenees and I parted company for some considerable time. Yet numerous Alpine explorations over the next two decades, no matter how enjoyable, did nothing to blur the memory of that marvellous first foray into the mountains of Europe.

Over the next few years the comfortable hotel in Encamp became my regular summer home and I trekked virtually every path in the country either with groups of clients or on long day-off jaunts of my own.

More obscure but equally fine summits like crumbling Pic de Medacorba or remote Pic dels Llops offered me long strenuous expeditions for the all too rare free days when I could go AWOHL. On these same days of freedom, I discovered that Andorra also offered a delightful range of testing via ferratas where the frustrated climber in me could find brief respite.

In the intervening years the Cicerone guides to the range had progressed to become a great deal more detailed and sophisticated but still only superficially covered the mountains of Andorra. The opportunity was no sooner spotted than grasped.

I spent a diverting couple of years collating and organizing my now voluminous first-hand knowledge into our very own guidebook. Writing the guide under the friendly professional supervision of the Cicerone team was not only a pleasure in itself. It was another important step in my developing relationship with this superb part of the world.

This area does get into your blood in a unique way. It may no longer be the wilderness described by early explorers, and occasionally glimpsed in that first pioneer Cicerone guide, but it still much more tranquil than the Alps and blessed with benevolent weather for such a high range. It is a sierra of high contrasts in terrain and culture.

In the west the peaks are green, misty and romantic and intertwinedwith the intriguing and deeply rooted Basque culture. In the centre lurkhigh Alpine peaks still (just!) graced with icy white glaciers plunginginto the plains of Spain and France via deep cut gorges: to their souththe dry harsh culture of Aragon; on the northern border thesophisticated greener civilization of Occitania. And then in the eastyou find the warmth of the Mediterranean embracing you as the peaksbecome sunnier and the rich Catalan culture unfolds on both sides of therange.

Nowadays for better or worse, the mountain range also offers easy road access, a convenient network of marked trails, well appointed and comfortable mountain refuges - and do not start me on the sunshine (I am an escaped Scotsman after all.)

Spain tempted first for the simplest of reasons: my Spanish was better than my French, it was cheaper and I was working a great deal in Spain at the time. My first Pyrenean home base proved to be the austere Aragonese town of Huesca where I spent five highly active and contented years.

Firstly, immediately around the town is a stunning wealth and variety of sport rock sport climbing. The well-known gorges of Rodellar are only an hour away while the fine and lesser known cliffs of Vadiello sit just on the doorstep. Only a short distance further away the myriad famous crags of Catalonia sit to the east and fine climbing is to be found in the drier south near Zaragoza at Morata de Jalon.

For five all too short years I climbed regularly with undiminished enthusiasm on dozens of crags either with local acquaintances or with British friends who were only to keen to take advantage of offered hospitality.

But the big issue was even closer: the world class venue of Mallos de Riglos was a mere half hour from my front door. These giant 300m conglomerate walls offer world class climbing with more than a trace of adventure. The climbing is awesomely steep, the rock is often suspect, the bolts widely spaced, and descents can be complicated.

Even more of an attraction was the situation of the town exactly in the centre of the massif with endless options for trips north into famous Spanish valleys or even over the border into France. The intriguing Sierra de Guara, an extensive range of rugged, conglomerate 2000m peaks famous for the best canyoning in Europe but offering a multitude of lonely scenic walks, loomed over the town only a few minutes drive away. But two hours in the car offered a score of magnificent Pyrenean climbing and walking areas.

Here a 3000m diversion may be appropriate: there is an official list, recognized on both sides of the border, of 129 such peaks. By this time collecting them had become more than a passing interest - the youthful Scottish Munro bagging genes die hard.

In terms of challenge the Pyrenean one comes somewhere between the aforesaid Munro list and the internationally celebrated 4000m list of the Alps. It is a technically harder task than the Munros as the summits involve a great deal of F+/PD scrambling (dozens of In. Pinns. to put it another way) but considerably easier then the major challenge of the Alps, particularly as the glaciers recede, ironically making the Pyrenees easier as the summer Alps become more dangerous.

It was a pattern which offered me several splendid trips and excellent summits, though full time work at the time limited my opportunities. Despite this I successfully wooed well over 30 of the said peaks during my time in Huesca, particularly savouring the network of little-known high peaks around Perdiguero, which is the most extensive area of 3000m summits in the range.

However, I found time for several routes on the famous Pombie wall of which the most memorable was the great classic SE Face (5+), another Ravier masterpiece. A glorious long route which rivals Tozal Del Mallo to the claim of my best route in the Pyrenees.

After my five years of northern Spanish life, lurking Francophilia started to itch and after much agonizing I abandoned the tapas for the casse croute and crossed the Pyrenees to explore the world on the other side.

The steep little path up to the prominent cross on the Pech de Foix, with its wide view over the castellated town to the nearby mountains, has become a regular bout of running exercise (and one day I will get it down below 30 minutes from my present PB of 30 minutes 4 seconds!) Just so has the gently green climb of the old railway line Via Vert become a regular run on the bicycle, though as a feeble cyclist I do not compete even with myself. (Those great Tour de France Pyrenean passes I leave to younger friends.)

Just beyond, the hills rear their heads to become true mountains and superb walking is available on imposing peaks like Pic de Saint Bartholomew or Pic des Trois Seignours, topping out above a respectable 2000m little more than half an hour from home. And from these peaceful and modest summits the views extend deep into the truly high Pyrenees beyond.

North of Foix the land flattens as the Ariege river leaves the hills behind and winds across the plain to join the grander Gironne at Toulouse. The rose city offers a wealth of culture and a convenient airport barely an hour distant. In the other direction the valley narrows and steepens as it cuts south, and the sides are littered with steep limestone and granite outcrops extensively developed for sport climbing.

Nearby Genat, once exclusively the overhanging home of mutants, has recently been developed into a true rival by a rich crop of easier routes on the wings. Like many of the Ariege crags these faces catch the sun. Great on mild winter days but purgatorial in summer and even in early spring or late autumn it is sometimes necessary to retire to the shadier granite faces around Auzat or the recently developed north face of Lordat.

Dominating them all just south of Tarascon, the huge crags of Sinsat offer both gentle sport on the lower roadside walls and mega adventures on the giant walls hanging high over the road south. These lovely crags and many others have blessed me with scores of delectable days out for most of the last decade. A mild, sunny day out on the crags of Calames in deepest December with snow scattered thickly on the surrounding ridges is a hedonistic mountain indulgence second to none.

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