Refuge - noun. A shelter or protection. A place that provides shelter or protection. Something to which one has recourse in difficulty. All of the above?
Words by Tom Reynolds
Refuge comes in many forms.
Over the years coffee has been many things, in many places.
A morning ritual, enjoyed in the early light, back against a radiator - easing quietly into the day.
A pre-run espresso pick-me-up - a short, quiet moment and some functional, fast-acting energy.
An ice-cold sanctuary - the perfect cold brew contrast against a hot sun.
One thing it always provides whatever the weather, location or brew method is a moment of refuge. A quiet moment of calm - a reliable pocket of time to take shelter in.
Usually that shelter is a figurative one. Finding comfort in the familiar.
When you’re on an adventure in the high mountains, however the figurative becomes literal.
It was certainly the case on a big day out in the big mountains of the Pyrenees as summer turned to fall earlier this year.
Energy levels were starting to dip as fast as the French sun.
Talk amongst our running trio had stopped almost completely.
Earlier in the day when energy levels were high, our chit-chat was as constant as the ding-ding of the ringing bells around the necks of the cows grazing on the Alpine grass.
But now, talk was anything but cheap and plentiful - it had become an unnecessary luxury as we trudged up the French terroir.
Coffee was the only way out of this petit moment of difficulty.
And then, round the corner we saw the perfect spot for the literal/figurative moment of refuge we all craved.
A Pyreannean refuge, a mountain hut open to everyone and anyone who needs either a short pause or a rustic place to sleep for the night.
For us it was the former. Short pause, short coffee. Grinder out, stove out. Mokka pot in position and a trio of Tartes taken out of packs.
The power of that coffee-focused moment of refuge never fails to surprise.
Pretty soon the conversation was bubbling along in tune with the Mokka pot.
The head down heads from a few moments earlier were - with coffee now in hand - suddenly looking all around, celebrating the colours of the Alps in early autumn and the bright, red fruit on the tarte aux framboise on our makeshift table.
Chit-chat was back. Conversation flowed again. And once again, the power of coffee to provide a pocket of refuge was illuminated.
This time it was in the low sun of the high mountains.
Where next? Who knows - but it will be back.
Returning to deliver a daily moment of refuge, wherever and whenever it's required.
