Refugio d'Anglos.

 “When we get out of the glass bottle of our ego and when we escape like the squirrels in the cage of our personality and get into the forest again, we shall shiver with cold and fright. But things will happen to us so that we don’t know ourselves. Cool, unlying life will rush in.” – D. H. Lawrence

The birch trees were like old friends: shading me from the sun; easing my knees with a carpet of russet leaves,  I nodded at them obligingly and breathed in the oxygen rich air amidst the sun dappled bark.  This walk just got better and better.
My euphoria was dampened a little by the ground steepening and before long I was out of the wood.  Not before harvesting a thicket of raspberry canes though, where I noticed the white pith of recently picked berries, Martin and Barbora probably.  The trees thinned out to almost nothing as the path wound up the side of the mountain.  It cut across boulders and up onto the raised basin that held Lake Gran.  Behind the lake was the refuge.  I couldn't see M & B and headed for the wooden hut.  It was empty which was a nice surprise.
Inside was a table, two benches, some candles and half a bottle of vodka.  The back third of it  was a raised section for four or five sleeping bags.  I sat on the step while my water tried to boil and heard laughter and splashing.  After a swim they came up and we put together a loose plan for tomorrows assault on Aneto.

Lake Gran with the refugio a speck centre left, and below.

Martin and Barbora wanted to sleep outside under the stars, so I had the hut to myself. I slept like a log until the petulant winds nudged the door open.  I wondered how the lovers were fairing outside and went back to sleep.
In the morning the muffled jangle of sheep bells entered my consciousness, and I sprang out of bag to see a blanket of blue sky spreading out over the new hills.  Down to the lake for a freshen up I dived into the clear, cold water and felt my lungs contract.  It was bracing but bearable and it felt good for my bag-weary shoulder and back muscles.  By the time I got back to the hut  M & B where packing up, I wished them luck and said I'd see them by the lake under Aneto.  They took off about an hour before me an hour to quietly meditate, drink tea and tidy up the cabana.  There was an acre of recessional moraine to test my ankle supportless walking boots on, just around the corner.

The only way out of one of three valleys like this was straight up the middle!