Our luxury lie-in gave way to wakeful fretting; things to do, places to go ... The first thing on the agenda was washing and on this occasion Karen's hands need not take the wear; a machine was available. After the usual 'swooshing' and chuntering, it had worked its energy-expensive cure as anticipated, but the clothes were still sodden. It should have been a trivial matter to turn the dial to 'spin only', but things all got confused as the door wasn't interlocking properly; when it finally fired, we exclaimed in relief.

  Parzan is but a humble village and we wished for more, so we set off down the road for Bielsa. A Spanish woman answered to the plea for a lift and saved wear on boot soles, so we arrived swiftly to discover shops, bars and even a bank. This rural town was modernised a little but not at the expense of character; its narrow streets were laced through wall to wall casas, poised on the terraces of its little mound above the river Barrosa.

  The correos was not so apparent; Karen installed herself comfortably in a bar where I saw her settled with a cafe solo, before going in search. There was no office as such, just a depot where the post mistress was busy ordering her mail. She would not sell me a stamp without weighing the packet my films were sealed in, but I must hurry, as she closed in 10min. I raced back to Karen, collected the packet and returned to an anxious wait; an aged neighbour informed me that the woman had set off on her delivery round, and that she would return soon, but after expiry of the allotted 10min. The pessimist inside said that the woman didn't want to help a foreignor and that I was cornered, so I had ample time to recall all of the very few Spanish words I could muster in defense and persuasion. When she did finally return, there was no reluctance to weigh my packet and quote its fee, but she then announced that she had no stamps! I must buy these from the supermercado.

  Lunchtime called us away from the main plaza, to the quieter setting of a triangular space bordered by houses and church. The sun's heat was moderated by a cool breeze which eddied and tossed ochre flowers in the boxed-borders by our seats. They complemented the blue sky, pierced on our right by the tall church steeple, and beyond that, the mountains simmering under heat haze. We were alone initially, but presently two women emerged from a studded doorway and shuffled slowly up the steps to join us in the sun. The one (considerably) younger woman helped her aged companion to get seated and shortly, they were joined by others of various ages, but none so old as the stooped matriarch. The passage of years had wrinkled her brown face meaningfully and her hunched back would insist that the high hills be regarded as through a toppled 'portrait' frame. What changes this town must have seen since she walked its streets as a girl 80 years since! Karen_comments

  The long lunch 'hour' was over, and preparations must continue. Karen's attempts to contact refuge management had failed except for Ref Viados where we were booked in; that meant we must carry four dinners plus journey food for the next demanding stage sequence. We filled a wire basket and would soon have been over-stocked, but memory set deep in shoulder joints called for restraint. The shop also presented a choice of 'wool' caps which might replace the loss of my beloved tourquoise. Might. Colour choice was acceptable, but the question of allegiance threw a stumbling-block; Adidas, Nike, or Fila? I quickly rejected the first two on ethical grounds, but then concluded that I would rather not support any of these conglomerates, or wear acrylic. In any case, none of these offerings could have truly taken the place of that lost; I would use a balaclava which Karen held in reserve.

  The afternoon had passed, and we set out back towards Parzan, walking a quiet road out to the highway, where the first car stopped for us; that's luck to savour! Karen engaged the driver, leaving me to ruminate. How easy it is to be critical; I am too quick to complain because she has shorter legs, but when it comes to French, and especially Spanish I owe gratitude for expert negotiation. There's little doubt that I am linguistically challenged by comparison. Her further talent has been apparent on those cold nights, when absence of shared body heat would have denied sleep! Of course, I enjoy her company in a sociable sense, but sadly its all too easy to take that for granted.

  Our driver dropped us beneath Parzan, next to the service station where we shunned a final opportunity to overload the sacs. In the little field opposite, it was warming to see three generations of a local family co-operating in the seasonal effort of hay-making. Grandfather drove the tractor and his wife raked while the parents hefted bales; and what do kids do? They evidently were enjoying the ride, but they did help with the stacking too! The bale type they worked with could only have been the older rectangular variety which are now largely superseded by the giant roly-poly sort; these are indubitably more efficient (their binding string requires no knot) but their considerable bulk necessitates machine handling.

  After climbing the hill up to the village, we entered the appartment and dropped our shopping. We were glad to note our second storey balcony still displayed a full complement of hung washing; otherwise sufficient domestic provision had not kept up with the attrition rate of plastic clothes pegs, which weather and snap so easily. Then we walked the village streets, to observe brown-speckled hens scratching beneath a loaded walnut tree, haricots drying on the vine and apples ripening redly upon spreading boughs. The spinach, leaks, marrows and pumpkins also seemed to be doing well, despite the village exposition in such a deep valley.

  Our supper came finally, a last chance to eat good vegetables and juicy salad which would charge us with essential nutrients; but would it be enough to last us five days? Diet was a constant source of worry and speculation. We did have some fresh food to carry: a daily shared apple, a small carrot each for two meals and two tomatoes which would hold shape in the yoghurt pots. We had little concern for the next stage, for it keeps to broad tracks marked up for the GR11. After that though, the going would get tougher and may need a fighting approach. We would be ready after sufficient rest.