We were not out early today, reluctant to leave our luxury stopover. Furthermore, we knew that the day was not technically demanding though rather long and with much ascent. First we must tidy the appartment and dump glass for re-cycling. No sign of our hosts, we gave our fees to a man who seemed to know them ... everyone is so trusting. Our departure today committed us to the crux section of the whole trek; glacial terrain and passes at close to 3000m. For this, we needed five days food (excepting that which we could get from the refuges) and good weather; we certainly had the food, and the forecast promised well.

  The busy A138 leads northwards to France via the Bielsa tunnel; we joined it for a short stretch before striking off to the right on a track which acts as service road to forestry and the Embalse de Urdizeto generating station. It was cool, being in deepest shade, but its gradient soon warmed us up. Wayside blackberries furnished a welcome vitamin C supplement; they were so profuse that we removed our packs and 'set to' properly. Meanwhile, the squirrels had 'set to' on the abundant crop of hazels. They were so dark here that it made me question 'Are they really red squirrels?' Otherwise, they had the same tufted pointy ears and thistle-down light tails. They paused to chatter at our intrusion, tails twitching in agreement with utterance before 'nimbling' inter-tree, floating light as blown bubbles.

  Broken sunlight ahead tempted us to shed clothes, but we only reached consistent warmth at the little dam by the generating station. The track now saw passage from a couple of jeeps, so we were glad to follow GR11 markers onto a smaller 'trod'. At the col Paso de los Caballos (2326m), we debated the extra 80m ascent necessary to view the dam of Lago de Urdizeto, but our prime interest was breakfast. To the north rose Pico de las Tres Bogas (2592m), while up to the south, the dam was overlooked by Punta Suelza (2972m); even the latter is little known in a region where the 3000m peaks call so much attention. We settled between them on the east side of the col. Four walkers passed us; they were not casual strollers, but seemed too lightly clad to be trekkers. At Viados we later learned that they were trekking a section of the GR11, and consistent refuge use allowed them to travel light.

  Resuming course, we traversed open grassy slopes before gaining a descending ridge with scattered pines. I always liked this transitional zone, the sub-alpine stage where pin a crochet trees have battled characterfully with the elements. A mineral rich spring had painted the rocks ochre-rufous, or was it rather the rocks which leached and coloured the spring? I pondered this, glad to let Karen get ahead, she could simply wait if she wanted me; our troubles of the Barroude stage had blown over, and we had learned a little.

  Further interest came from flowers which brightened the clearings; the browned stalks of the dwarf iris told us that their season had passed but the ubiquitous colchique were in full bloom. Tiny pink carnations punctuated the cone-scape beneath the pine trees. Voici! The path here was narrow and sometimes ill-defined. It began to flirt with a dirt road whose evident ease had further reduced passage until the little path lost itself in obscurity. Then, on passing the hill Las Collás (1851m) we entered cow country; picture postcard beasts with clonging bells. However, the few had strayed from the many and they soon became too much; their bells created too much din, the beasts attracted too many flies and they left too much muck everywhere.

  That phase didn't last too long; we passed a hamlet, then gained another track with views into the lower Chistau valley, now framed with autumn colours; browning bracken, reddening haws, and yellowing maples. We arrived at the valley road which led us by the river and grassy bays among the pines. Ideal for camping, but prominent notices forbade this, directing campers to the official campsite which we shortly came to. Closed; it was of course out of season. We had no interest in camping tonight anyway, for we were to sample full board in our second mountain refuge. That necessitated a final steep climb to complete the day's 1500m ascent.

  The contours of this climb had not been apparent earlier, being obscured by map inscriptions, so we had not been psyched and resented it a little. Huffing our way over the final crest however, we felt amply rewarded on viewing the Granges de Viados scattered in the meadows below the bulk of Posets (3369m); this massif presents whorled rock striations on a gigantic scale, Voici! and boasts a small glacier or two, high in its jagged corries. We dropped sacs gratefully, stripped sweaty boots and clothes, and strolled bare-foot on soft green grass.

  My wandering brought me to a curious menhir set off by the pouce of Puntal de Barrau beyond. Voici! It was inscribed thus:

SILENCIO, OBRA DONADA PAR JAVE SANCHO AL SENDERO GR11

Silencio, a work donated by Jave Sancho to the footpath GR11

  Karen_comments Sunset came, accompanied by a chill breeze which sent us inside for warmth. Only 5 Euros to stay in this refuge! But what would the food be like? That remained a couple of hours distant, so we settled to planning and diary writing in the dining room. It seemed the refuge would be very busy tonight, as more and more folk filled the room, drinking beers, playing cards, and planning routes. Then as a final wind-up, we were evicted so that the tables could be laid. How strange; the French refuge wardens co-opt their clients into helping, but here, the warden does the lot!

  The skulking in the dormitories finished and we sat down to dinner with two Norwegian women. A vat of vermicelli soup, a platter of potatoes and green beans, an oversize omelette with tasty sauce, bread to suit, and a large fresh apple to finish; excellent value for 13 Euros 50 cents. The Norwegian's conservative appetite advantaged us nicely as we cleared the dishes, and warmed to their company! This was the first Pyrenean walking holiday they had chosen, since they are spoiled for choice at home; there, they also have way-marked trails and refuges (expensive!), but its much easier to obtain museli in the shops! They had five days here now, and hoped to bag a few of the peaks; Posets tomorrow. In between peak-bagging these hardy Nordic women anticipated some tarn-dipping in the lacquets; we too had hoped for this, but for us it was invariably too cold.

  A late arrival to the dining room drew attention with his find of the day, a large cep, perhaps the warden would cook it for breakfast? Although we found and ate a lot of fungi during the trek, we never found a cep, let alone one of this enviable size. Size always matters! The tables were cleared noisily (still done by the warden), and people resumed their card-games and chatter, while supping teas which they had ordered. Karen retired early and I spoke to a French woman who had completed the east half of the HRP beginning at the Mediterranean and finishing at Ref Portillon. She discussed the refuges available ahead, and expressed surprise at our late-seaonal attempt; yes, it certainly was getting cold now and snow must come soon ...