I DON'T normally do mountains.

If the Good Lord wanted us to visit these places he would have equipped them with tarmac roads, pavements, bus shelters, taxi ranks, bars, restaurants, and a Paddy Power betting shop.

It's not the going up but the coming back down that puts me off. Especially if it's all of a sudden, landing on your head. Or in a stretcher strapped to a helicopter.

In search of fitness and health, I am about to have a peek at some peaks. My forthcoming holiday home swap is not to the usual fleshpots of Paris but to the fresh air and green pastures of the Pyrenees.

The main attraction is that almost all of the climbing will be done while I am sitting in a train.

There is a line that runs from Barcelona up through the small towns and villages of the Spanish Pyrenees and into France. It is said to be one of the most scenic rail journeys in Europe.

At one point the train goes into a corkscrew-shaped tunnel inside a mountain. I will need to take my own corkscrew as my whole trip takes about eight hours and a substantial picnic will be required.

The good news is that there is no snow in September at my ultimate destination of Bagneres de Luchon so there will be no sliding down slopes. Most of the climbing can be done by motor car or cable car. The idea is then to walk along flat bits.

I have been gearing up for mountain life. Learning the words of Once on a Hill Stood a Lonely Goatherd, yodel-idel-o. Walking up Gibson Street, Garnet Street, and the lower reaches of Gardner Street, the Glasgow drumlin equivalent of Munro-bagging.

I'm told my standard holiday outfit of shorts and sandals is not fit for Pyrenean purpose. Adventure shopping was required.Did you know you can pay £150 for a pair of mountain boots and they're not even waterproof? You have to buy waterproof socks at £25.

I had a wander down Argyll Street but there was no street vendor shouting "Errzi watterproof mountain boots and the watterproof socks, a fiver the pair." So I had to fork out nearly £100 for mountain footwear. And £10 for a state-of-the-art yellow jaiket from Lidl.

If you don't catch me up the Pyrenees, you may see me back in Partick on the north face of Gardner Street.