Tonight, I feel supremely virtuous, having trekked – yes – I use the term with some confidence – round the Parc d’Isalo for (at a conservative estimate) 18 kilometres. That’s about 11 miles, but in rather less conciliatory conditions than I lead Les Girls round Derbyshire. Par exemple, despite the sentiers being extremely well-maintained, with steps and flat areas cut into banks and rocks, and paths partially paved etc., at one point we had to wade to thigh height for a couple of hundred metres down a river, having negotiated the first section sidling along a ledge clutching a steel hawser nailed to the canyon wall. Such is the stuff of (relatively tame) adventures, but at my age, it feels risky! Héry, our guide, although he passed the test to be on the official list of 62, didn’t know what the type of rock was in the massif, nor that tadpoles became frogs. Nonetheless, he led us to Le Cascade des Nymphes (not a dragonfly in sight, nor yet a naked water sprite), La Piscine Noire and after our meagre luncheon, La Piscine Naturelle. Our bread and cheese was in stark contrast to a party of French tourists, outnumbered 2:1 by porters (30,000 MFr per day) who carried coolboxes, tables, chairs, hampers etc. 3 kilometres from/to the Parking. Even after our long day, we declined a lift (25,000 MFr!) back to the village, feeling very intrepid. But tomorrow we move on: one day is ‘une épreuve’, two days is masochism. Also – I don’t think my boots will make it.

At the first bar into town (er – correction, only bar) we treated Héry and ourselves to a couple of beers, besieged the while by charming little female urchins with whom we made instant friends by donating our empty water bottle. “150 francs”, she vouchsafed. I fetched our spare too. As I showed Souluf the video of the day (yes, he tracked us down pronto) a gaggle of 20 or 30 collected round the screen to watch and just as quickly, evaporated when it ended. Throughout, they were shouting identification of everyone on the video from the five minutes I’d just shot. It appears that I have captured the entire population by sitting at the junction bar. The hotel has very little we can eat so it’s time to move on, Only yoghurt left for pudding, preceded by spaghetti and fried veg. Yum.