I camped here in 2009 but lower down and beside a path. After dinner at the refuge it took me ten minutes wandering in the dark to find my tent. It was difficult but I could follow the path which led to a large boulder. I forgot that experience and this year pitched in the middle of a boulder field. A terrible night followed. I lost my tent in darkness and mist and had to retreat to the refuge for sleep. Before the mist appeared the skies were clear and starry. Even that was worrying however, because of lightning. Flashes lit up the sky. It was far away but could have been approaching as forecast, while I couldn’t find my tent. There was no thunder. It was a lazy display of power, reminding me who was boss. About a week before this I’d had a bad night at the Candanchu hostel. I’ve been there three times and never sleep well. I’d had a rest day with a day trip to a town called Jaca. Jaca was bright and sunny but Candanchu was higher at the base of the mountains, enveloped in cold dreary mist. Visibility in the town was about a hundred metres. You couldn’t see the mountains. I got up from bed around four in the morning fed up with sleeplessness and the weather. The black skies were clear, magnificently starry, with a clear bright moon. It felt like a promise. The moon is there, the skies are clear, perhaps tomorrow will be good.


Pyrenees Photography: Le Vignemale Wild Camping

Sunday November 9, 2014