The real-life events which inspire the Tunesmith novels take place far from the cosy bubble of a computer-screen.  Cutting no corners to achieve authenticity, researching the books can sometimes be highly dangerous.

'One afternoon, preparing the ending of Feeding the vultures in my head a few kilometres north of the Spanish Border, I had been aware of a high-altitude haze since early morning, which can be a sure warning-sign in the Pyrenees.'

'The haze was followed by a friendly-looking tuft of candy-floss cloud which seemed to be tickling one of the peaks a few hundred metres above me.  I hastened towards a gap in the crest, without stopping to admire the views.  There beside the path was a middle-aged couple in gymn-shorts and tee-shirts, enjoying their picnic in the sun.  She was painting a picture!

'Shortly after I had climbed half a kilometre of hard-packed snow, a chill breeze brushed my face and immediately a dense, cold mist blanketed the narrow pass, at nearly two thousand five hundred metres.

'When I reached it a few minutes later, the pass was entirely blocked by over a metre of snow, with no chance of seeing the official path.  Ahead of me I could see nothing at all, other than the slope dropping away into nothingness.'

'There was clearly a possibility of avalanche, or simply sliding down to an unseen crag and being unable to stop.  Many of these late-spring snowfields end with a high waterfall!

'Another very high risk is the snow simply giving way, where it has been undermined by a meltwater stream.  This is one reason why June can be the most dangerous month, when late snow has piled up on top of warm rock.

'I realised that this was the most perilous situation I had ever faced in the mountains, partly because I was already tired after a very long, hot ascent and didn't entirely trust my own judgement.

'The last few hundred metres had been the most difficult climb I have ever made, covering only fifty metres at a time by counting my steps, almost blind with a strange running sweat which felt as if it might be altitude-sickness.  I was well-acclimatised and very fit from over two weeks of solid walking in the mountains, but you never know!'

'For about half an hour I sat to patiently wait for the mist to clear enough for me to confirm the beginning of the route down into the next valley.  I had two extra layers in the rucksack and could have pitched the tent in the col.

'If the weather had deteriorated as it threatened, I would have philosophically accepted the need to retrace the last ten miles back to a village where I could buy food and camp in safety.'

'Then as the couple reached the col, I made the error of admitting to being English.  I should have known better!

'This mistake could easily have cost my life, because these two were ill-prepared for a full-blooded Pyrenean thunderstorm.  In their panic to get down before the storm broke they were running across steep, hard-packed snow in trainers instead of cautiously kicking footholds with mountain-boots and poles.  Their rucksacks were minimal, considering the altitude and the time of year.

'If either of them had slipped, all three of us could have died.'

'Later, below the snow-line, the light was very moody so she stopped to do a watercolour painting, while he rested his sore knees.  It had been an interesting challenge crossing a raging torrent, me in my high walking-boots which kept out the water, with two good poles to keep my balance, and they in their sopping-wet trainers which had to be squeezed out afterwards.'

'When I left them in the valley, they didn't thank me for using my local knowledge to find the path down through mist which cut visibility to a few metres.

'After around two hundred miles of following several of these long-distance paths, I had learned a pretty reliable method of finding the next pair red and white stripes.  They are very well-positioned, once you apply common-sense...without relying on mobile data!'

'Following the riverside path, I walked on for a couple of miles and pitched my mountain-tent with thirty seconds to spare before the storm exploded above their unprotected heads.

'They did make it to the safety of a hostel, which he rather begrudgingly called 'a bit rustic' when I met him outside a ski-resort café next morning.  Even standing miserably in the rain, he was fiddling with his phone.

'And guess what?  He was cursing the unreliable wifi reception!  I'm not even sure that they had had the decency to pay for a coffee...none of the tables had been used when I walked in.'

'In hindsight, I should have simply left them to take their selfies, when I knew that the only intelligent thing to do was to follow a local young couple's footprints straight down a steep snow-field, instead of stopping again and again to check a map on a mobile phone whose battery was about to give out.'

'A couple of hours earlier I had had a long chat with the young couple.  They knew exactly where they were going, so I knew that their footprints in the snow were completely reliable, even in the mist which preceded the storm.

'On a phone you can only take in a bit of the map at a time...with a dying battery you might as well have no map at all!

'Mountain-rescue men have told me various horror-stories, and my Pyrenean friends who have lived all of their lives in the mountains know well that the only really good knowledge is local knowledge.'

'My own near-disaster gave me some unexpected first-hand experiences which could make a good story, with a suitably dark ending which you may take any way you wish!

'I find that it's best not to plan too much, but to let real life happen and then simply fictionalise those elements which need to be fictional.'

'When I come to it in Feeding the vultures, hopefully in early September, Jacques' storm experience might have evolved into something quite different to what actually happened to me. All of the necessary details are already embedded in my memory, so that all I have to do is find the right plot-line to link important elements which are currently developing within the context of the complete trilogy. It really is like painting a huge canvas in oils, or composing a symphony.'

'The editing is in many ways what defines these novels, sensing all of the little changes which gradually bring a coherent picture together, while leaving enough to the reader's own imagination.

'With all three novels I have begun editing right from the first draft of the first page, and then reconsidered how various elements relate to each other as the book grows, just as a good landscape painter does. This is something I learned from my father over sixty years ago, watching him paint.'

'Years later, as a professional photographer specialising in food, I learned the patience needed to achieve a polished result where everything looks entirely natural and spontaneous, but where every element balances every other.

'I must have read Tunesmith and Pilgrim at least twenty times before the final version went to press. A few pages may have been read thirty, forty or fifty times, if I sensed that something was out of balance. In the final version, I can no longer see any of the edits, but if I read the novels again in a year or two, no doubt something will stick out like a sore thumb.

'In all three novels, the mountains are utterly real to me, with no imagination needed. Writing about them is largely a process of intuitively selecting the right details to include.

'Having lived in those mountains, even walking at night with temperatures at minus twenty or so over six thousand feet up, completely alone, miles from anyone in December, I know their moods well.  I know what you can do with reasonable safety in a pair of heavy Alpine boots, and what you certainly should not risk in a pair of trainers.'

'You have to respect the Pyrenees.  The ending which I had originally intended for the whole trilogy prooved simply far too dangerous to research this June...so Feeding the vultures is taking an unplanned direction.

'In order to stay alive, I had to accept this philosophically, knowing that the ONLY reason why Jacques could not reach his favourite summit...the goal of the whole of his long journey through three books...was this thing which my French, Italian, Dutch and Spanish friends were all laughing about....England deciding to leave Europe.

'Without Brexit, I would simply have continued walking, and taken time to enjoy the company of the wonderful people who became my friends along the way.  Jacques' journey would have been very, very different!

'Thankfully, unlike many of the politicians involved in that particular bit of brainwashing, the majestic mountain in question will still be there another year, for another book.  And a good friend has promised to teach me how to ski when I eventually return to live in the mountains, on condition that I take some musicians to perform a concert in her village!

'In the Tunesmith Trilogy, Art seems to have a wonderful, magical knack of turning into reality.  Writing these books has been the single best decision of my whole life!'

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