This lovely little bivouac had everything to be perfect, or at least a perfect nightmare. The pond water turned out tougher than my filter, which supposedly guarantees pure water. At midnight, I wake up with intense stomach cramps, I shake like a leaf, then I sweat profusely. It’s bad! I spend the next three hours in a feverish delirium, getting up to empty myself into the wild, then coming back to shiver in my sleeping bag, without even bothering to take off my shoes. The deer are quite astonished by the spectacle.

I eventually fall asleep, the worst of the crisis is over. Upon waking, I’m dehydrated. My neighbor, who had the good idea of boiling the water in addition to filtering it, is fine. He helps me prepare a herbal tea then packs up. I drag myself along the trail to Luc, my vision blurry.

At the village, I was promised water and toilets; there’s nothing. I ring at a lodge and they serve me a soda and cake, which I don’t touch. The loud laughter of my hosts when I explain my situation makes me realize how naive I’ve been. “Sorry, but even dogs are forbidden to drink it!”. I zone out a bit, then decide to hitchhike to La Bastide; I have no chance of doing twenty kilometers on foot today. Someone picks me up right away.

At La Bastide, I regain some strength and decide to climb the mere three kilometers that separate me from Notre-Dame-des-Neiges. At least I’ll have the pleasure of having done it myself.

At the abbey, I collapse in the grass and sleep for two hours. When the hikers’ reception finally opens, I rush to my bed to enjoy a bit of comfort.

This time, no more mockery; I get plenty of water, bread, a banana and off to bed! If I’m feeling well tomorrow, I’ll push on to Chasseradès. Otherwise, I’ll stop at La Bastide for a full rest day.