Across the Mountains

My sister Alix joined the team for two weeks. At first, she got seriously bullied by the black mare and the red mule.

Before the first passes, we spend the night under the stars. The songs coming from the Lourdes grotto resonates in the distance. We reach the Andorre pass the next day. Despite the advice of locals, climbing to the pass is very hard, there are almost no path to be found and one of the straps of the pack breaks. After an escala where the mares reveal themselves as skilled as mountain goats, we find the trough of the pass and then the shelter. The all herd is joyful. The mare grazes, the mule frolics with calves, goats, sheeps and Alix and I set camp comfortably in the little shelter and savour pasta with cod liver oil.

The decision to stay at the pass for a day of rest is warmly welcomed, once we see the dense fog waking up with us. Curled up in the shelter, it was a day of silence, lost in the clouds among ghost herds. Some sunny interval are just enough to warm up men and beasts, but, then again, the silence. The next morning, we take off, the fog may be less dense but the descent is still steep and trecherous. We come across people who got themselves trapped by the lack of visibility and could not find the shelter. In the early afternoon, we are at the bottom of the valley, where every one enjoyed the food and the Sun, even brief.

We now set route to Hautacam and the Ourrec lake. Magnificent bivouac clinging to the Mountains, then sunny and merry day at the lake. The descent into the next valley would be extremely hard. The path is narrow, trees are growing without any order, even on the path itself. Once down, every one breath.

High mountain is magnificent, but it must now give way to the charms of Piedmont. Everything is then much easier, the mule and the mare, after the mountainous episode, are insolent of agility. The fog has now became an old traveling companion. Alix leaves. Again lonely. I meet organizers of the festival "Once upon a time in Couserans", they will show me the numerous donkeys, oxen, mules and horses gathered here for the great parade.
We are now close to the end of the Pyrénées episode and the end of August. The red mule shows some white hairs on the back and I decide to put her pack on the mare. These white hairs, after increasing in surface, are now gone.

Only one month of journey left, it is now the time to go back, every scenery will be now stolen to the time that, as it clocks away, takes us closer and closer to the repatriation truck.