I had been looking forward to a weekend in Vall de Núria ever since my girlfriend had announced her intention to visit London for three days. I went straight onto the internet and searched for how far Renfe trains could take me into the Pyrénées. Ribes de Fresser was the answer, where I could catch a mountain train to Vall de Núria, standing at just under 8000ft.

 

I purchased a guide book and map of the area and then set about persuading a friend to act as a contact, who I could call in case of an emergency. Someone who would be able to contact a mountain rescue team should the need arise. A week before my trip I met with my friend to give details of my intended route and agree on times of when I would message her to inform her of my whereabouts.

 

Everything was set, I said goodbye to my girlfriend as she headed off to England and then finished my packing. Warm clothes, first aid kit, head lamp, compass, walking boots and snow shoes all went into my Rucksack, along with food and appropriate camera equipment.

 

I awoke early on the Saturday morning and commenced at a slow pace for my local Renfe station, realising immediately that the first thing I would need to do when I reached Ribes de Fresser would be to stop at my hotel and drop off unrequired belongings. Perhaps I had gone a little overboard with my safety measures.

Boarding the train in the early morning darkness, I found I was unable to sleep but had nothing to look at through the windows. I read a while and listened to music but lacked the concentration as I became lost in my own world. To be honest I must have been tired as I fell to sleep and the next thing I knew day light had disturbed my rest and I found myself looking at the distant snow-capped mountains of my intended destination slowly growing bigger and ever more threatening.

 

There was no fanfare for my arrival in Ribes de Fresser and to be honest there was no reason for one, just a greeting from a miserable, unfriendly member of Renfe staff who I had approached to enquire about the timetable for the return trains to Barcelona for the next day. I honestly do believe that being a miserable bugger is a job requirement for Renfe train staff, as well as the ability to give as much false information to passengers as possible. Renfe is also the only rail company I have come across who need to employ people to help passengers discover the correct arrival/departure time of their pending trains, as the electronic information boards are never correct.

 

I found my hotel with relative ease and emptied my rucksack of unwanted items before setting out for the mountain train, run by FGC. The customer assistant at the station greeted me with a smile and was more than prepared to answer all of my questions in perfect Spanglish. I then boarded the train and took a seat amongst excited children, screaming babies and parents discussing which were the better cliffs to throw their children off.

 

We reached Queralbs in a relatively short period of time, where some of the screaming children were deposited, I think without their parents as I did not see any adults leave the train. We then progressed slowly up the track where the snow line was greeted by deep in takes of breath and loud “wows” from parents as the remaining children finally fell silent. It seemed everybody’s attention was fixed on the windows, taking in the stunning scenery and the rather large drop that had suddenly appeared on the one side of the train. This was a clear reminder to me of the rather peculiar paradox relationship that exists between me and mountains. I love walking and photographing mountains, but I´m extremely frightened of heights. The end result is that I often find myself clinging for dear life to some rock after suddenly realising how high up a mountain I have climbed.

 

The train exited the final tunnel and Hotel Vall de Núria greeted us with a strange whistling noise and an armoured cloak of snow. It seemed the hotel was trying to warn the train to turn around whilst we still had chance.

 

The train doors opened and one of the ever restless children stepped onto the platform only to be blown over and along the ground in a whoosh of wind. The child’s parents stood watching the scene, refusing to leave the train, as a member of the FGC staff recovered the upset child. The rest of the passengers stood speechless, refusing to move until the FGC staff member, child under his arm, encouraged us all to get out and enter the hotel. One by one we ran for the shelter offered by Hotel Vall de Núria before going our separate ways.

I stood by the hotel’s main entrance watching the world outside, wondering exactly how I was going to be able to take any photos. I ventured outside only to be blinded by swirls of snow, forcing me to retreat. A warm drink was what I needed to give me encouragement to venture out again and so I headed to the hotel café where I sat drinking coffee, considering my next move.

 

I looked at hung photos of the hotel during better weather conditions, somewhere out there was a lake, dam, mountain peaks, trees and animals. I thought I would be lucky to see my hands in front of my face let alone anything else.

 

Forty minutes passed and I found myself standing back at the hotel door, telling myself not to be a wimp. After attaching snow chains to the bottom of my boots, I again ventured out into the world of snow and wind where I stood firm and raised my camera to my eye, trying very hard to convince my camera to focus onto something that my eyes could not even manage to focus on. Gusts of wind knocked me off balance but I continued to try and photograph.

 

I noticed a small chapel that sat by the lake a short distance away and slowly made my way towards it. I had put sun glasses on to protect my eyes, enabling me to see a little clearer and avoid walking straight onto the ice covered lake. The chapel door stood open and offered perfect cover for me to survey my surroundings and think a little clearer about possible photographs. Once I had spotted a possible photograph I was able to quickly go outside, take the image and reverse back into the chapel, with speed, to clean my camera lens and think about the next photograph. The sun occasionally threatened to make an appearance but never got more than a faint glow in the sky. Lighting conditions were interesting to say the least.

 

A short while later a male voice asked “Would you take a photograph of me?” in perfect English. I turned to find a smiling man, camera in hand, waiting for an answer to his question and I happily obliged.

“Do you fancy a walk around the lake? It´s better if there are two of us!” This was my moment, a golden opportunity to try and record the area a little more than I had been. Without any thought I agreed and promptly followed him as he made his way towards the dam at the far end of the lake.  

 

As we moved forward our speed slowed as we sank deeper into the snow, ankle deep turned into knee deep and my companion decided it was easier to crawl over the snow. He paused for a photograph, allowing me to catch up with him and take a few shots of my own. I then volunteered to lead and took my first tentative steps forward, aware that I was nowhere near the lake, but unaware as to the snows deepness. One second I was trying to make my way across snow of varying deepness and the next I suddenly found myself in snow up to my chest and unable to move.  My initial reaction was one of shock, my personal belongings forgotten about. Then reality hit home, I could not move or breathe as the wind and snow battered my face. Suffocation is one of my worst fears and in my mind it was going to happen. My girlfriend´s last comment sprang into my head “DON´T DO ANYTHING STUPID!!” and with that I felt two arms wrap themselves around me, just under my armpits. With my companion pulling and my lower body struggling frantically, I found myself back on top of the snow, rucksack in place on my back and camera still around my neck. I looked at my companion and he at me, we never passed comment on what had just happened, he just said “I think it´s going to be easier if we continue around the lake, the path looks easier on the other side” I looked and agreed.

 

We reached the dam and paused so I could clean the snow off me, as well as take some photos which my companion was already doing. Then we set off back to the hotel, heading directly into the wind. The route was easier, but occasionally we found ourselves knee deep in snow again. I struggled to breathe normally as the wind and snow continued to batter my face, occasionally pausing which allowed me to regain my breath. Thoughts of photography techniques went out of the window as I stopped looking for the perfect camera setting to suit the situation. I took a number of images, checked for exposure and continued on my journey as quickly as I could.

 

Up on reaching the hotel I sat down on the first seat I arrived at and then looked for my companion. He had gone, disappeared back to his own life. I needed to talk to someone about what had just happened and found myself sending a message to my Facebook page via my mobile, but that provided no sense of satisfaction. No matter how much technology advances and offers new experiences, it can never make up for actually experiencing a situation for real with other people.

 

I took the next train back to Ribes de Fresser, changed my clothes and fell asleep on my bed,  exhausted mentally and physically from the day’s events.

 

The next day I returned to Vall de Núria at first light, the train journey being the opposite to the previous day. There were no screaming children, only hotel workers. I once again entered my own world as the train climbed higher into the valley. I remembered reading a book by Laurie Lee called “A moment of war”, where he wrote about passing over this mountain range alone at night, during winter, in order to fight with Republican forces during the Spanish civil war. I wondered just how he managed to do it.

 

At hotel Núria there was a blizzard, throwing fresh snow around in the air, making any attempt to scale one of the local mountains impossible. I ventured outside again and returned to the chapel I visited the day before, where I took more photos of the previous day’s scenes. I tried to think more carefully about photography techniques but once again the weather forced me back to the hotel where I decided to retreat back down the valley to Queralbs. From there I took a mountain trail back towards Vall de Núria which was easier than I expected. I was able to take my time and consider every photograph in detail. Occasional blasts of wind threw me off balance but it was nothing like standing outside at Vall de Núria.