Serious engineering

Tiny noises of compression sounding through her skull. She'd been alarmed, the first time she'd heard them, over the noise of her breathing and the tinny wheezes of her scuba gear which sat on her back, wrapping its plastic limbs round her and ramming rubber and metal into her mouth.

The wind has subsided somewhat by morning. I pack up and ship out - the going pretty much on the level all morning. Around lunchtime I decide to treat myself to a hot meal. The place is open 7/7 .., sauf Lundi ... so I retrace my steps to a clearing with a picnic table, a toilet, and a sink for my usual cheese and apple lunch. Very convenient.

Not long after that I get to the gorge of the Navacelle. As I arrive a walker is coming out. He looks tired and is grateful that there's still some wind. I dive in and the going is all downhill, easy traverses at first, followed by steep rocky, gravelly steps.

After 300m of vertical descent, I hit a wide trail, roughly level, that winds along the side of the gorge, still several hundred metres above the river. I pass a deserted three story mansion house, front door jimmied open, windows broken, rotting mattress in the hallway. There's a story behind that one, I'm sure.

The next surprise is a massive stone built channel hugging the cliff wall. Man-made, it's littered with signs saying how dangerous it is to fall into. I climb a ladder and peer in - it looks lovely - cool, clear flowing water running gently downhill. I'm not tempted. Some googling tells me it's 10km long, supplying a hydroelectric scheme in Madières and dates from 1908.


At the other end of the gorge is a delightfully rustic village whose only reason for continuing to exist must be the tourists coming to see the falls and the old bridge. I take a coffee, sitting under a canopy of vines and charge my phone. While I'm there tourists from the UK, Holland, Germany and elsewhere pass through. The waffles with Chantilly seem to be popular.

The climb out of the gorge is arduous, but I think the south end would have been harder. At the top there's a choice between walking on the road or taking a steep, off road route via the Corniche. I take the latter, passing through Blandas, and decide to head for Montdardier.

The signs on the path don't correspond to the lines on the map. I'm tired, my ankle is sore, and I've got 7km of tarmac to tread. I put my thumb out and, within minutes, I'm at my destination.

I roll into the municipal campsite. I'm the only one there. It has the best shower & toilet I've seen in a campsite. Ever. White tiled. Glisteningly clean. Endless hot water. If anyone ever turns up to take my money, it's only 5€ a night.

I put up my tent, do my washing, eat my tea, and go to bed. My ankle is swollen - no walking tomorrow.