Well bless my cotton socks, not a lammegeier
but an Egyptian vulture
but an Egyptian vultureAt one point I saw 20 of these little rascals swirling on the thermals above me, which was a sight indeed. If you're not a twitcher, apologies but that place up on the Pyrenees gave me one of the best feelings ever. Alone on top of the world in perfect weather, trust me, I'm going back there sometime soon. All around me I could see peaks with wisps of clouds winding through them. And! oh joy!! I was at the highest point of the day and it was only 9.30! The hard work yesterday had paid off.
The only downside to this perfect day was that I had run out of water, still there would be plenty of streams when I dropped below the top.
These were the rocks the path went over. The white marker replaced the red and white one because this wasn't the GR11 I'd been following up to now. It was a short cut Augusti had told me about - a little local knowledge!
I found water after I dropped over the edge, but it was a very hot day, a great day, I must have been 2 kilos lighter and I'd sent 2 kilos home! Put 4 bags of sugar in a Tesco bag, and see how much it is, oh boy! As I walked along the grasshoppers danced about my feet in welcome, the butterflies prettied themselves up, the vultures swung left and right and put distance between us effortlessly. So today my theme was down, down crossing streams and weaving down between ancient hazel coppices, down through young birch trees and rowan. Down to Taviscan an altar to tourism where the place to gorge my mountain appetite lay and the bar to quench a fathomless thirst stood. Down.
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