We are woken by the clangers who have shuffled up here again for their breakfast. The cooler nights at altitude are enough to make us put the heater on for ten minutes before we get up.

A convoy of 8 MoHo's streams by as we have our muesli [sadly not served by a busty mountain milkmaid like it is on the TV advert]. When we go down to the village to dump rubbish they are all parked in line, apparently on an organised group tour.

We use the mountain spring hosepipe to fill with fresh water and set off to let Mary*Lou ski the red run back to Laruns. The descent is much easier than the climb on Saturday, less traffic and the low morning sun lights up the autumnal trees and bare rock faces. We stop in a couple of lay bys to look at the pure white boulders and rocks in the riverbeds.

There was an option to drive the Col d'Aubisque today, but by the time we get to Laruns mist is building over the peaks and there would be no point doing a scenic drive through low cloud.

Instead we continue north on the valley floor to Louvie-Juzon and start climbing up on the D35. At Mifaget we stop in the church square for lunch. Ali has a peek in the church and finds a 12th C domed crypt, which a leaflet informs us is unique in this area.

The road levels and winds through pretty farmlands until we track the river to Lestelle Betharrin and park in view of three of its ancient gothic spires. The town has numerous sanctuaries, a collage and a large monastery or convent. The Catholic church offers pamphlets in Italian, Spanish and French but not for the naughty Anglicans. Scallop shell symbols are no surprise, somewhere this religious has to be on the PTSDC [Pilgrims Trail to Santiago Di Compostella].

We continue with frequent river views to St Pe de Bigorre, cross a narrow bridge and drive the final mile along a country lane to the France Passion, Ferme Getz.

Barking dogs bring out the owner who shows us where to park, near an apple tree in a field with two mules. The other owner is trying to fix his little white van which, threatened with a tractor and jump leads, judders into life. It reaches the gateway before having another mechanical stroke. Bonnet up, the owner pushes back to the end of the drive and walks away in disgust. One of the dogs pees on its wheel, just in case.

Two more vans arrive, one big one with a clueless and antisocial family aboard.

For half an hour it's chaos, the farm dogs and visitors' dogs sparring, the donkeys screaming out for some WD40, the tractor coming to threaten the little white van again and a litter of puppies squealing.

But eventually things go quiet, Ali goes and buys some Bayonne ham and peppered sausage from the shop. Some of the sausage goes into our risotto dinner.

A lovely spot, surrounded on two sides by the farm buildings, maize on the other and the mountain range to our front.

And a fantastic sunset behind.