French

We continue with the publication of the micro-stories of the first edition of the competition: High Altitude Storieswe let you enjoy with "The Frenchman", by Fernando Urieta Solsona.

French

-by Fernando Urieta Solsona-

I was sweating, sweating a lot, the afternoon was falling, but that June in Canfranc it was terribly hot. I wiped my forehead and I could see the tip of Aspe peak looming behind me.

With a little more effort, I reached the end of the carretón de ip, at the bottom of the valley, I could see the Raca, with its characteristic reddish colour. I continued walking, now flat after a thousand metres of elevation gain, and after the first bend, Collarada.... appeared. Tomorrow I would try to climb it.

In an hour I arrived at the refuge, the heritage of the dam works, and while I was having something to eat it got dark. I went upstairs to sleep, laid out my sleeping bag and unintentionally fell asleep.

The metal door rattled, there was a loud banging, an animal. I startled, panicking. The sound came from the stairs, my only idea was to place a mattress to cover the entrance, I expected the worst when I heard... bonne nuit monsieur.