We have two friends called Jim, and both of them would have loved this walk from yesterday. One of the strange after-effects of lockdown for me is the strange need for order in the day- which, is, no doubt, something to with trying to stem the chaos of nothingness that floods in sometimes. So I had to be persuaded to come out and do a walk. Of course, once we got out, on a warm and hazy day, I forgot my apprehension. We drove for 40 minutes to the top of the Col de Marie-Blanque, which is at just over 1000m, and then did a meandering 2 hour circuit that took us up and around. Another three friends called Elizabeth, Kate and Shelagh, who, like the Jims, don’t all know each other, would have gone potty at the wildflowers. As did I.
Burning the hillsides is a spring activity in the Pyrenees, I have never asked why. But, here amid the burnt out stubble, the wild Anemones seemed to be on growth hormones, I have never seen such huge flowers, easily 1.5 ins across, with the pure white of the flowers standing out against the burnt backdrop.
And then there were the blues- such a blue. Bluer than blue. Firstly, this little Polygala calcerea. I am pretty confident of this id of the plant, though it took ages and crossed eyes to find it. It looks like a small, fat bluebell that has been scrumpled up, and it was everywhere on the sunny, rocky slopes- so much so that, at first, I didn’t spot the gentians. I blame the sunglasses.
These small Gentiana verna huddle together in groupings, and are very tiny, but brilliant. The blue is bluer than the photograph which blandifies the colour a little. Their perky five petals stand out proudly and there are so many, you need to watch your feet. But then, the big brigade appears. The trumpet gentians, Gentiana acaulis, did really make me think of trombones, but there were many more than 76. Looked at closely, they are almost sci-fi in their construction with deep speckled throats- and again, the colour. These trumpet gentians seem to grow as often singly as in a group. Pollination must work well for them in spreading them around the landscape.
And just one orchid- all alone, nestled in a grassy hollow on the rocky hillside. Andy spotted it before me, as I was way behind with the camera. I am not entirely sure about the id here, but I favour Orchis mascula because the colour was like the deepest burgundy wine. Purple doesn’t remotely cover it.
I love Hepaticas in the spring, and there was a lovely mix of them showing the full range from white to blue to a delicate pink. the latter a bit lost in the sunshine. And for added effect, just a touch of wild Pulmonaria in pink.
We sat looking at the view before coming down the rocky path, waiting for a bit whilst an entire local college group of 11-16 year olds came up the path with several teachers. The school bus was parked at the bottom, the driver no doubt taking a snooze in the sunshine through the windscreen.
We got home and picked up the news on tv, to hear that we are in a third national lockdown, and schools are closed from tomorrow. No more trips to the Col Marie-Blanque for a month. Glad the school kids got their walk in. And how I missed doing and seeing all of this without the friends who would have loved it.