Saint-Betrand-de-Comminges not only marked the end of our first week but also the end of the Via Garona, the newly inaugurated footpath from the Cathedral Saint-Sernin in Toulouse. We would now be picking our way for a while on a variety of paths, not always connected.
The morning had dawned grey and there was clearly a promise of rain. So, togged up, we set off and sure enough, within ten minutes, it started to rain turning rapidly to stair-rods! For the whole of the morning.
We followed the cycle path and there was little of interest to see during the morning -particularly the section to Chaum- being stuck close-up to the main road with its charge of lorries heading to and from Spain.
At Chaum, following the advice of our friend Sylvie, a highly experienced outdoor rider (and friend of Sandrine who we met at Estancarbon!), we used the (temporarily) disused railway-line to cross Garonne.
Not impossible to do, but our horses are not used to walking on ballast and were not entirely happy with the experience.
At Gaud, we left the Garonne valley to make our way to Bagnères-de-Luchon (usually known simply as Luchon). On the advice of Sylvie, we had decided to avoid the ‘easy’ route along the main road crossing the frontier at the Pont du Roi; this route is single carriageway, does not afford any protection whatsoever from the traffic and having seen how many lorries pass in both directions, we considered this very wise advice to take!
The rest of the day passed without any particular interest -apart from the usual poor route-markings which actually helped us for once by avoiding a rather unnecessary climb and descent. We finally stopped for the night at Baren where we were joined by Sylvie and her husband Philippe who brought beer, wine, home-raised lamb -and wood and grill to cook it on- and Sylvie’s fabulous home made rice pudding.
On Friday morning we joined the ‘Cavaliers Route’ towards Luchon. We needed to get to Saint Mamet, just the other side of Luchon, before 15:30. We had an appointment with the vet, Dr Yves Quéméner, for the health certificates required for our horses for crossing into Spain. The certificate cannot be issued by the horse’s owner, thus excluding Nathalie, and must be issued not more that 48 hours before crossing the border, precluding having the horses certified at home before starting our adventure. As with most things official and procedural in France, things did not go as expected. 
Dr Quéméner was a great help -we were able to leave the horses in his front garden and he very quickly completed his part of the requirements- but, upon contacting the Animal Health section of the Département de La Haute Garonne, they knew nothing of our enquiries some weeks earlier!!! Happily it all turned out to be something of a misunderstanding and not so much a lack of communication but rather an ‘over-communication’, the person in question having just returned from leave and being snowed under with vast quantities of email…
Unfortunately Luchon, and particularly Saint-Mamet, doesn’t offer much in the way of accommodation for three horses and, after restocking the victuals at the local Spar, we hit the road again at 18:00 hoping to find a convenient place to stop. The rain which had held off for most of the day, now returned with reinforcements. After a good hour, we found a reasonable spot and decided to call it a day. Well, not quite; we still had a tent and enclosure to erect and a meal to prepare, all in darkness and the heaving rain.
Saturday morning dawned dry with snow on the peaks and a promise of sunshine to accompany our ascent towards the Col du Portilhon (±1300m). We had decided yesterday not to follow our proposed route over either the Port de Vénasque (±2400m) or the Port de Montjoie (±2200m) given the unfavourable -and quite probably dangerous- weather conditions and the uncertainty about the suitability of the route for the horses -the Port de Vénasque was originally constructed as a route for horses but has not been maintained for that purpose probably for more than two centuries.
Having been obliged to follow the metalled road from Saint-Mamet, our arrival in Spain (no fanfare, no guards at the gate -we could have entered with a veritable herd of horses and nobody would have batted an eyelid!) also afforded us the use of footpaths again. Not that the markings were any better than in France and the representations on the map were very dubious (the GPS was useless thanks to the woeful inadequacies of the expensive -certainly for what it provided- TOPO V6 map of Spain).
Passing around the Val d’Aran nature park, we came across a wooden bridge which crossed a small, fairly shallow, stream.
Being in the shade of trees and after the appalling weather of the previous days, the surface was rather slippery. We should have forded the stream next to the bridge -it might have meant wet feet but it would have been possible- however, we decided to lead the horses over the bridge instead. Vermeil and Hévéa just managed without any consequences but Fleur slipped on the greasy planks and grazed her leg on the edge. Just when her left leg was almost healed up, she opened up her right leg…happily it was another surface wound, albeit quite extensive, and after cleaning it up and a liberal application of Cothivet, she was able to carry on without any outward signs of discomfort.
We continued our descent to Bossòst where we rejoined what was now the eth Garona. At Bossòst, we lunched in sunshine at the side of the river but, as now seemed to be becoming habitual, the first spots of rain began to fall as we set off on the afternoon leg.
As the bad weather re-established itself, it rendered part of the route very difficult: a rocky section with no way around, smooth and with a puddle in the middle. This time it was Vermeil that came a cropper, his feet sliding from underneath him as he tried to balance both his weight and that of Nathalie. Again, there were no big injuries: Nathalie bruised a finger and Vermeil nicked the inside of a back leg with the hoof on the opposite side; however, had he been shod, the consequences would undoubtedly have been far worse, the nick in the leg quite possibly exposing bone. For Hévéa, there was no other option but to continue and try to balance the dead weight of the pack as best she could. She managed admirably. Fleur, already shocked by this mornings happenings, was less enthusiastic and took quite some encouraging until she plucked up enough courage to find her own alternative route, climbing up the rock and then jumping, putting Tim off balance, and landing with him between her legs… Once again, fate was looking upon us favourably and no one succumbed to notable injury.
This marked the end of the difficult section (for today) and the path continued gently downwards, crossing the main road and finally turning to a badly tarmacked stony track -much to the renewed discomfort of the horses.
The search for a suitable night-stop was once again precipitated by the rain and for the second time, a cemetery, this time at Es Bòrdes, provided for our needs. 
One of our biggest problems was trying to dry clothes when all around is damp; the tent, while keeping the rain out, also keeps the humidity in and anything already damp has no chance of drying out during the night -anything dry is also likely to be damp by morning! Nathalie then had the brilliant idea of stringing the wet things up in a wheelie bin (empty) next to the cemetery thus sheltering them from both the rain outside and the condensation in the tent. And when morning dawned…they were wetter than the night before ?
Nevertheless, morning dawned sunny -well, at least on the mountain-sides; whether it ever shone on the cemetery, we could not be certain…
We were on the road to the Uelhs deth Joèu (Jupiter’s Eye) know as one of the sources of Garonne. In actual fact, it is not -the Jew’s Eye is a mass of rock from which the river appears to spring but fact, the source is some miles away to the Southwest. Nearly four kilometres from Jupiter’s Eye, in Aragon, the river disappears into a hole in the ground (the Forau de Aigualluts, known both locally and in France as the Trou du Toro). In the 18th century, the first ‘pyrenist’ (cf. alpinist) Ramond de Carbonnières hypothesised that the glacial torrent des Barancs feeding the Forau de Aigualluts was in fact the source of Garonne. It was not until the speleologist Norbert Casteret illegally poured six barrels of fluorescein into the Trou in 1931 and several hours later, the proof was seen in the characteristically coloured water springing from Jupiter’s Eye.
Seeing the severity of the Toro valley and the presence of snow, it was decided not to pursue the idea of seeking out the Forau de Aigualluts but to leave it for another time… Instead, we relaxed in the sun, eating our lunch and watching the exploits of a weasel just a few metres away.
The afternoon was nothing to write home about -just the reverse of the morning since there is only one way up to Jupiter’s Eye- although Hévéa seem particularly motivated since ‘going-back-the-way-we-came’ is akin to ‘going-home’! Passing the cemetery that was still in shade (had it seen the Sun during the day?), we made our way through Es Bòrdes again, this time heading further into the Val d’Aran. Our aim for this evening being the Camping de Verneda where we were able to park the horses and rent a chalet for the night.
Whoopee! Dry clothes…