The day began with some polite shuffling in the dormitory to extricate ourselves, then to trade cash for passport with the warden, and so out into the frosty air. Two of the hardy hikers who passed us yesterday were obviously too mean to pay even the 5 Euro refuge fee, they were still slumbering beneath a rimed up bivvy sheet! A thermometer hung on an outside wall further confirmed that my key-fob thermometer was indeed about 5°C out of calibration; thats what comes of buying cheap!

  Our way led through the ten picturesque granges, rounded a spur, and assumed a customary traverse of the hill flank above the stream. The correct route shortly became unclear as the steep ground had eroded subsequent to minor landslips; animal feet had made their own variations, which gave too much choice. Across on the steep flanks of Posets, the vegetation was undisturbed by trampling herds; the mountain ash leaves were now an amber-rosé, complementing the dark pines beautifully.

  On reaching a division in the valley system, the GR11 led on discernibly to the Refugio de Estos, while our route lay up an untamed hill flank. We had also reached the morning sun, so here was an ideal place to stop for breakfast; Fruit n'Fibre with a big apple that the Norwegians had donated. Karen_comments Bold to view, isard flocks grazed the slopes close by until alarmed by walkers approaching from Estos.

  Our way ahead looked obvious enough as a dashed red line on the map, but here on the ground, no clue. It was not difficult initially however, choosing a course through boulders, bilberries and bracken. Higher up, we encountered rock-fields which demanded some careful foot-work before a steep ravine followed the Barranco de Anescruzes northwest. Screes of all grades alternated with eroded earthy wash-outs, but here at least, regular cairns witnessed passage. The gradient eased and we reached the craggy Puerto de Aygues-Tortes, re-assuringly confirmed with the altimeter. The col had already attracted four or five walking parties at about midday. Somewhere high up towards Bachimala (3174m), another party passed unseen, but an unfortunate dog gave away their presence; the plaintive yickering broadcast its difficulty in following the master. Scrambling rocks is tricky for the digitally challenged!

  After a break, we departed Spain's Parque Naturale to enter France and navigate the steep crags and screes of the valley head. The main path heads straight down slopes which are more easily handled in ascent as they comprise several rock bars. I decided we should take a long shallow 'zig' away from the col, which then allowed safer ground to 'zag' us back onto the main path below the difficulties. From there, the path led on grassier tracks to a dam, too small to appear on the map, where we sat and enjoyed another ration of our (by now) favorite Spanish buscuits and sunbathed.

  Karen set off ahead while I inspected my feet; during the rest day, I had attempted to reduce the corn, but without the correct blade to do it, had cut into some live flesh. It wasn't much to complain about but I had merely traded one malaise for another. I set off, and perhaps was still pre-occupied with this when I slipped on a well polished rock and fell awkwardly bruising an elbow. Caution! It bothered me that I could lose control, even once, but I know from experience that incidents like this usually happen in the less demanding circumstances.

  My attention was in turn soon taken by the sight of a falcon in pursuit of its prey; out came the binoculars and I sighted on a hobby chasing a (house) martin; the raptor was a juvenile, evidenced by its dark brown plumage. What a chasse that was! Both birds were evenly matched and the merlin banked, wheeled and stooped in following, but couldn't quite close that last 1m gap. I held my breath in suspense to see the outcome, hoping the martin would escape, but imagining it impossible. The pair chased high and low until they passed near a cliff, and then suddenly, it was all over. I re-focused on the merlin, now perched, expecting to see it tearing and devouring its prey, but it remained static awhile, before beating to and fro in front of the cliff, searching. I was left to conclude that the wily martin had dodged with alacrity into some small crevice where it found refuge; what a chase, and what an escape, 'Bravo!'

  Continuing, the path entered grass flats which featured prominently a pluviometre; a rather ugly crucible, approx 3m tall set on a metallic tripod frame. During the following stage, some critical route description depended upon recognition of a pluviometre, so this encounter was very useful. The flats also contained a cabane which was occupied by a group of hunters; that of course would explain why we'd seen no isards this side of the puerto, we had once again left the security of a nature reserve.

  The valley angled northwards now, and I caught up with Karen as we entered a zone of rocky bulges which became increasingly demanding. Karen_comments The last of these was a large well defined mamelon which split the valley, creating a lot of interest after the long trudge through the grass flats. The great fissures of this hump had collected enough matter to support pines and rowans, though constraints on root spread had checked growth. It looked like the backdrop for a japanese temple or palace. The path followed the deep cleft formed where the mamelon met the opposing hill flank, and the stacked granite boulders necessitated a hands-on scramble. In waiting for Karen to join me, I suddenly realised that I had not even taken my camera out this day; the scenery hadn't been so bad, but perhaps the memory of Viados' views suppressed inspiration. Voici!

  Soon after that, we stood overlooking Ref Soula. Below and ahead, the ground was sunlit, but it was apparent that this could not last for long, and we were caught between chasing the mission to arrive and pitch in the warmth, or pausing to enjoy what we could then and there. Descend we must and after noseying around the building complex comprising generating station and refuge (closed, no winter quarters), we spotted some terraces suitable for a pitch next to the onward route. There we enjoyed all of 7min worth of sun before the chill shadows pursued us into fleece, hat and gloves.

  We then cooked up a new recipe which was destined to be a favorite; quick rice with roasted salted sunflower seeds added in at the end. Simple to prepare and a great combination in respect of both taste and texture. Down below and now out of sight the power station hummed, and the last of the weekend walkers was exiting the valley; to return to their offices and desks on the morrow? In the most trying moments of the trek, we were comforted by the thought that we had at least escaped this routine for a while. But that night our mood was tranquil anyway, and so were the stars which now twinkled above.