The bulk of 'the Ossau' had shut out the sun early yesterday but there was nothing to stop it streaming in early today waking us at sunrise for an early start. Voici! It had now become an everyday theme to worry a little about the challenges ahead; perhaps the weather would catch us out, just when we're committed on the heights? Today presented a notable crux, the Passage d'Orteig, described as delicate, especially if wet. After that, a double col sequence passing close to 2600m would take us briefly into Spain before the steep descent to Ref Larribet. It was all feasible given the right weather conditions.

  Karen was generally concerned if anything technical was imminent, and now she had the additional worry of her knees gving way. 'Perhaps', she ventured, 'we should pass on the southern variant via Ref Respumoso'. This remained an option for poor weather, but we were here to do the vrai HRP! Karen was increasingly showing herself quite capable, but it was true that this stage held fresh challenges, and we considered another fallback. Ref Arrémoulit was situated between the passage delicat and the double col; we could either stop there or retreat to it if the weather turned foul. This plan boosted confidence to engage with the difficulties before entertaining a soft option.

  The route began with a substantial descent to the east, before climbing up another valley which was apparent opposite; good progress towards the Med', I noted. We had just set out and waved goodbye to the refuge warden when we encountered a whole flock of isards; very tame, they obviously knew they were in the Parc National! The path followed a stream down, plainly at first but then another one appeared on the opposite bank; we ignored it until ours petered out, the confusion corrected by some slippery rock-hopping. A little lower we met a shepherd who asked us if we had seen his brebis? No, we hadn't seen any sheep, or at least, any which were identifiable as his. It seemed a little odd that a local shepherd should ask a pair of tourists where his sheep were, perhaps he had been out late, drinking!

  After crossing the D934 which journeys into Spain via Col du Portalet, we climbed up just above the trees to stop for our 'luxury' breakfast next to the stream; a commendable combination of 'hi-fibre' sugar-free buscuits and prunes, bought in Canfranc. The prunes we noted had come from California! All those bought in France were from Agen (in France), but just over the border, some-one found it cheaper (or was it politics?) to buy them from the USA! Of course they tasted none the worse for those extravagent food-miles.

  Just beyond our breakfast spot, a cow had died right next to the path, and there its remnants lay, skin and bones. Its red wooden bell collar lay snapped open, perpendicular to the neck, but the bell was missing. Doubtless the vultures had taken everything of value, except the bell of course. The path ahead steepened into zig-zags which led to a junction at Col d'Arrious (2259m). There we met a red-bére'd French couple who had used the Fabréges telepherique and train combination to eliminate 800m of ascent and more than a few kilometres, to kickstart their day in the hills. That did seem like a cheat!

  It was an immediate boost for Karen to know they were headed for the Passage d'Orteig ahead of us; they looked ordinary enough! Past the shores of the small Lac d'Arrious (2285m) and around the shoulder of a notable granite peak (or was it a very large mamelon ?), the view opened up with a sweeping drop down to Lac d'Artouste, the largest on the trek so far. There we met our challenge, a rocky groove across the hill-flank, protected with a sheathed cable. In fact, there was an abundance of natural holds which I encouraged Karen to use. 'Look', I ventured, 'you'd always do well to use the rock; supposing the cable is worn and breaks loose?' Her anxious scowl told me just to shut-up! and I continued mutely; the difficulties were brief. Voici! Karen_comments

  We descended steeply on rounded granite slabs to the Ref Arrémoulit which was small and neat; the gaurdienne was preparing in that very hour to shut it down for the winter period. We checked our watches, the weather, and ourselves ... 'all OK, better get on with it!'. So committing ourselves to the big double pass, higher than we had been before on the trek! It was steep, very rocky, and lay through screes and monstrous granite boulders where the balisage took some searching out. There was nothing technical about Col de Palas (2517m) and the mountain flank was a bit steep and crumbly but the passage through Port de Lavedan (2615m) finished via a chimney which involved a bit of scrambling. Voici! There we teetered on the razor-sharp arête between two giants, Palas to the northwest and Balaitous to the east. The former doesn't quite make the title being 26m short, but the latter at 3144m is the first 3000m peak on the trek, with its own little glacier high on northeast flanks. Evidence of our own lofty situation were the gravel-flecked snowfield remnants nearby; a passage earlier in the season would necessitate an ice-axe, but the snow was now avoidable for us.

  'So far so good!', the weather had held despite hints of drizzle from the threatening cloud hanging low over the col, and all we had to do now was descend. I say 'all' meaning effort of course. For knee joint sufferers, its the hardest part. It was also the steepest and trickiest rocky descent we had yet encountered on the trek, Voici! and simply could not be rushed. In pausing for Karen, I noted the scant birdlife of this rocky wilderness. The first birds to be seen at ground level were the black redstarts, followed by choughs, wheatears, and pipits; the vultures were always present, waiting patiently on high. As we progressed, the shallow green Lacs de Mieouliou came into view, followed by the deeper blue Lacs de Batcrabére; these features held me intrigued, as did their names!

  Across the lower of the two Batcrabére lakes we observed three climbers in action working out some thin moves on a top-rope; they must have come from the refuge. After climbing another granite mamelon we saw it finally, welcoming from afar; only then did we begin to relax. On arrival, I attempted to make contact with the warden, as we were psyched to try a full refuge meal this evening. Inside, no-one was apparent but a ghetto-blaster thumped out rock music. A few yells disturbed him from a work-out and he emerged with sweat glistening on well honed pectorals! Would I please return in ½hr? This keen rock-athlete was taking his training seriously! He did just spare a few moments to explain where it was best not to camp; 'Avoid the greenest grass; it may be the flattest, but thats where it floods!'

  We obediently pitched on some lumpy straw coloured tufts next to glacier carved granite, on a rim 100m below the refuge, and with a great view down the valley. Karen_comments Then we took our opportunity to use refuge facilities; even for a hardened camper, writing remains easier at a table! The three climbers seen earlier entered and we all awaited dinner, which was signalled by sounds and aromas emanating from the kitchen. We were not overly optimistic, but as luck would have it, our first refuge dinner was to be a great success. Six great ladels of vegetable soup (not from a packet!), and a huge onion omelette with fresh bread. 'Wow!' We were just about to thank our host for a good meal when the main course arrived, a great casserole of crispy cheese potato and pasta bake, which no-one managed to finish!

  The warden explained ... 'Larribet is a little out of the way, so I always put good food on to attract people. Most people trekking the area go via Ref Respumoso '. Were we ever so glad we had not gone that way?! Then, he brought out his home-made choc-chip cookies, and I wavered only briefly before accepting one, despite Karen's tutting; 'Food rules have to be flexible!' I said grinning. Our host continued to inform us about the Pyrenees and the HRP. 'You surely have higher cols to cross, but you've just done the steepest; however, keep in mind the possibility of snow; on the 15th Sept two years ago, we had 1m of snow in just 24hrs!'

  That set us worrying 'Huh! We haven't even passed halfway yet, and its already the 20th; such a snowfall could happen any day and prevent us finishing'. It suddenly felt as though probation was short, and that any failure of equipment or health would jeopardise our goal. Our host then tried to re-assure us a little; 'Once you're passed Aneto, the Mediterranean influence will take hold and the passes will still 'go' in light snow ...' That seemed encouraging, but Aneto was still ten days away for us.

  During the course of our conversation a storm had built and it was now pouring with rain; angry lightning whitened the night. It was not the hour of our intended bedtime, but we set up watch for a break in the weather. Of a sudden, the refuge visitors were astonished as the main entrance doors burst open and a figure appeared from the maelstrom outside, dripping wet, and bearing rucsac and headtorch. 'The pack mule' said the warden, grinning as his tousled partner produced bread and tomatoes from the sac. Our dinner suddenly leapt in value though the price was fixed. She seemed to be apologising for some of the shopping she hadn't got hold of; surely she would be forgiven!

  Karen spotted a lull in the storm and we fumbled our posessions together. The torch was back in the tent, which seemed a long way off now, but the lightning helped us out. That reminded me to set up one of the trekking poles just outside the tent; 'We'd have even better value from that if it were fused solid by the morning!' I said.