There’s
rock, trees and silence. The rock is
the Pyrenees rising from hills to craggy peaks dwarfing the surrounding countryside.
There are castles and ruins of forts from long ago. Turn a corner and high on the skyline, in the most inhospitable places, are old ruins surveying the valley like a silent sentinel. This is the Ariege, Cathar territory – or it once was.
The Cathars did not record their faith in word, they lived it. And were persecuted for it. Wiped out by their own countrymen – but a world apart in religion.
Sometimes the rock and cliffs morph into man-made towers
and defences, now crumbling. Sometimes the old castle
and monastery ruins dissolve into rock until they all look made from the same
material and equally as old.
The place demands a respect of quietness, both for its
natural beauty but more so for the history you are amongst.
There are few people in many of the places we go to
climb. The cliffs rise majestically,
towering a above us. Many of the climbs
are steep and long. We have an 80m rope
as most climbs here demand it or
more. The climbing grades are as hard as
the rock itself.
There’s something magical about climbing in the Ariege. A faint haze covers the valleys – beautiful
fresh air. And silence.
The rock itself rises like a colossus. Hidden gems of caves that burrow kilometres
through mountain, neolithc cave paintings, underground rivers.
“…When history is silent,
myths take over. And myths are also an
art form of the collective memory. Since
these men and women of days long gone have kept their secrets, we should keep
silent about their unfortunate destiny.
Yet legend would have it that the Cathars left a treasure
somewhere. In fact, they did not hide
away a hoard of precious metal, the concealed vague memories which are waiting
to be rediscovered. Seen in this light, a historian’s methods are more
respectful of Catharism’s painful past but, although prudence is wisdom and
probity a safeguard, neither of them can eradicate history. On the contrary, they leave room for dreams.”
Extract from “Discovering the Cathars” by Lucien Bely
People I’ve met and
climbed with along the way here
It’s like I ‘ve ended up in one of the halls of Valhallah
and knocking around with some demi gods – such are the surroundings and people
I’ve met.
“Leave your ego at
the door” – it’s a common reflection from some seasoned and expert climbers here. The grades aren’t a reflection of the
difficulty of the routes in many cases.
My ability compared to those I am lucky enough to climb with is a
reflection of how much more I need to learn.
These climbers are probably in the top 5% of their age group
in the world. With age the vigour of youth, and energy replaced with a calm and methodical
approach. Conserving energy in every
move, reading the climb, attacking when needed. Breathing long and slow. They offer encouragement and advice – the
wisdom of years that has them climbing around 8b (between grades 30 – 32).
Ruth is working on an 8a project at the moment. Despite moving and living here to be close to
the outdoors and rock I sense the day to day business of looking after the kids
and the Gite (French version of a registered B&B) has meant a forfeit of some of the expected outdoor life. That
said, she is very active locally with guiding over the Pyrenees and is
incredibly fit. 
 |
| Ruth Jenkins - British record holder in the 90's for highest female grade climbed. |
Rob is climbing around 8b –preparing for a big wall climb in El Cap with a local legend by the name of Stevie Haston next April.
The hire car I’m returning served its purpose well. I shared the costs of it with Paul, Ruth’s brother, who flew in from the UK for a 10 day break and some climbing and to see Ruth, Rob and the boys. Well, break isn’t the right word for Paul. He is somewhere between captain marvel and Tigger. Paul is in IT as an architect and developer but, at a year older than me, is one of the fittest IT folk I’ve met. After 4 days solid climbing and the “rest” day being spent bouldering, I reflected to Paul that the reason some cars have a rev limiter is so they don’t blow themselves to bits. Paul has no such safety valve. Rob was back in Scotland for 10 days and Ruth had various Gite (B&B) and kid duties so it fell to me as one of my “jobs” to go climbing with Paul (what a chore!).
 |
| Laurence - on an 8b - not in bad shape for being in her 50's! |
We talk about Yoga and I ask if it’s OK to come to a class
of hers later that week. There I meet
Laurence in her other identity of Suri – serene yoga instructor and spend 90
minutes in a wonderful class that focusses on breathing and energy. Thanks to Suri for being patient and
conducting the class bi-linguially for the only attendee there who couldn’t
speak French!
4 weeks of climbing later – humbled and exhilarated, it’s
time to move on for the next part of this journey and adventure. “Where are you going next?” asks Paul. Well, a simple question but an answer I don’t
have fully mapped out. I recall the
advice near the beginning of my journey from a traveller who has lived in Asia
for a year. “Don’t plan too much ahead”
she had said. That’s anathema to my
background and work – but I’m learning my way though that.
Galicia in Spain is my next port of call – that is set and I
am really looking forward to it. Beyond
that I was not sure.
“I’d like to do some more climbing to keep up the focus and what
I’ve learned here,” I reply. “Trouble is
we are heading into winter and short of going back to Asia or the Southern
Hemisphere – not sure if there’s much good outdoor climbing left?”
Paul nods, thinks – in hisa analytical way you can see the
cogs turning. “There’s Kalymnos” he
says. “Where?” I reply
“Kalymnos” – one of the greek islands. Famous for its climbing and weather. You can climb up to Christmas with the
weather there and it’s meant to be idyllic.”
A google search or two later and I’ve booked 2 weeks there –
climbing, diving, beaches, water…sounds like me.
Farewell and Thank-you to the Ariege. I hope I can live up to some of the climbing
I’ve learnt and done here.
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