A Pyrenean Lullaby

Hello and welcome to the latest blog from The Olivia Rose Diaries on October 20^th 2024.

A day out in the mountains is always a good day, but after two weeks battling with a nasty dose of Covid, during which even staggering out of bed to put the kettle on seemed a challenge of insurmountable proportions, the thought of doing something as simple as putting one foot in front of the other and breathing clean mountain air was an intoxicating thought.

We were hitching a ride with friends on one of their regular trips into the Pyrenees and, given that all four of us were recovering from the dreaded virus, it would be a gentle walk. As we left the valley floor behind us and the car climbed ever higher up the narrow mountain road it seemed to me that the sky had never looked so blue, and that the sun had never shone so brightly. The trees were resplendent in their autumn colours, a shawl interwoven with green and gold, flung with casual elegance around the shoulders of the mountains. I stared out of the window, mesmerised in the way of someone who has never seen such a wonderful sight before, which sounds a little melodramatic, but you know how it is when you start to feel better after any illness that keeps you bed-bound for a while. There is an overwhelming gratitude and appreciation for all the little things you took for granted and the world feels as if it has been born anew.

By any standards though it was a grand day to be out. We parked the car, grabbed our rucksacks and picnic lunch, and headed off. Our walk began in the woods, a narrow path criss-crossed with roots and rocks that climbed gently up towards Lac de Suyen.

The dense canopy created a landscape of shadows: branches stretched tapering fingers across the trail, their mottled outlines weaving a tapestry beneath our feet, and a stream raced with single-minded intent over rocks, other-worldly, etched in black and silver.

I stopped for a moment and let my eyes wander deeper into the woods, trailing my fingers over a blanket of soft damp moss that had draped itself over a boulder. Both sound and colour was muted and yet it felt at the same time as if the forest was pulsing with life. It would be so easy to believe that leprechauns huddled over their pots of gold, hidden far from prying human eyes, and that wood faeries with gossamer wings might peer from behind tree trunks as we humans lumbered noisily through their world.

Leaving the woods we came out onto open terrain and suddenly found ourselves face to face with the mountains. Ahead of us the softest of breezes caressed the surface of Lac de Suyen, sprinkling diamonds over the vivid turquoise and green water.

If we were to carry on walking for another three hours we would cross the border into Spain, but today we had no such ambition and instead picked a stopping point on the far side of the lake, finding some comfortable boulders close to the stream, a perfect place for a picnic. We sat quietly, not saying much, comfortable with our silence. From time to time other walkers passed us by, raising a hand in welcome. They might have said something but if they did we couldn’t hear it, the sound of the stream gushing over the rocks blocking everything out. It was soothing, a Pyrenean lullaby, albeit a noisy one.

Time spent in the mountains is good for the soul. They are so large and we are so small and I find it helpful at times to be reminded of my place in the world. The thoughts that tumble and jumble around in my head become equally insignificant in the face of something so majestic. As I sat by the stream, I could feel myself emptying out, the frustrations of the past few days fading away. To be in the mountains is to be in the now. They demand our complete attention and who can argue with them?

And that is it for this week. Given that there is so much Covid about I hope you are managing to avoid it, although I know that some of you are also suffering. Big hugs to all who need one!

MJ