A straight shot to Arreau

The nearest town with something more than a post office and a place to buy cigarettes during my month of July was Arreau. I had been anxious to explore, and so I did, with the presence of my glittermuffin Marie. 

Marie, ever so camera-friendly

Fisherman happily awaited their possible dinner, the river gushed on by, and flowers bloomed.

We had stuffed our picnics specially packed for us by the camp owner Guy into our sacs, and with bare feet, crossed the tinkling ice-cold river lined with overhanging greenery. 

I of course stubbed my toe. Feeling like true adventurers, we then stumbled through a thickly weeded field to find a sun-warmed grassy patch. After munching on cheese and paté, a siesta was in order. 

Then a bit of meditation. Because, when the Pyrenees surround you and the rays of the sun are absorbing into your midday dreams, a cross-legged position is then assumed quite naturally.