St. Jean-Pied-de-Port
St. Jean-Pied-de-Port
Day
6 (54 km): It was misty and cool as we left in the morning, heading
south. Salies-de-Béarn was a pretty little town along the way.
Carol started to have problems with her knee, an omen of things to
come for the next decade. We decided to stop in
Sauveterre-de-Béarn. Our hotel was high above the river and
the view was impressive. We walked down to the Pont
de la Legende, the remains of a bridge across the river. (Here is
the legend of the bridge: it was from this bridge that in 1170 Queen
Sancie, widow of the recently deceased Gaston V of the Béarn,
was submitted to the judgement of God and thrown into the river,
hands and feet tied, after being accused of the murder of her newly
born and malformed son. Tough odds! However, she survived and was
declared innocent!) There's a tower on the bridge. Heather and Carol
decided to climb up the staircase inside. Carol entered first.
Heather asked, "Does it smell bad?" Carol responded "Are we in
France?" It was a quiet day, typical of a Sunday, even though it was
Bastille Day.
Day 7 (47 km): We continued south in a slight mist. Near St. Palais a 16-year-old German boy named Gunther joined us for a few km. He enjoyed the opportunity to try out his English. We stopped in St. Palais to pick up lunch stuff. Although the mountains of the Pyrénées-Atlantiques were close by, the ride was surprisingly easy. The sun came out for the last 20 km and we rolled into the turista town of St. Jean-Pied-de-Port at about 2:30. Heather and Carol braved the crowds to tour this interesting old town. Peter and I were satisfied to relax with a beer and watch the world go by. Carol had to ice her knee before we went out for dinner. It was surprising that the throngs of tourists disappeared by nightfall. Everyone returned in their cars or tour buses to the nearby coastal resorts at St. Jean-de-Luz and Biarritz. An easy, relaxing day.
Day
8 (25 km): We decided to stay an extra day in St. Jean-Pied-de-Port.
Carol wanted to rest her knee so she stayed behind in town, casually
exploring, while the three of us cycled to the nearby quaint little
village St. Etienne-de-Baigorry. Every town or village in the Basque
region has a fronton - a vertical
wall in front of a paved court where they play pelote, a game
similar to racquetball or squash. However, instead of a racquet, they
use a chistera, a curved wicker "basket" worn on the hand. If
you've seen jai alai, you know what a chistera looks like. In
St. Etienne we watched some kids playing pelote at the village
fronton. One of the youngsters who were playing showed us this
"sling shot", explaining how it works. Carol had bought a collection
of delicacies while we were touring the countryside: foie gras (the
rich, decadent goose liver paté for which France is justly
famous); a couple of other patés, one with cèpes (wild
mushrooms), the other with olives; three excellent cheeses
(Roquefort, of course, Chaumes, a ripe, pungent soft cheese and
brébis, the flavourful, firm sheep's milk cheese of the Basque
region); and all accompanied by sweet late harvest Jurançon
wine (a wonderful wine of the southwest, similar in style to
Sauternes or Monbazillac, but, sadly, virtually unavailable outside
the region). So we had a wonderful picnic supper on the Starks'
balcony.
A pottok
Day
9 (58 km): We stopped in St. Martin d'Arrossa for breakfast. I think
we caught the patronne by surprise - the village is a bit off
the main road. She had to rush out to pick up a couple of
baguettes before she could offer us anything. We had great
views of the nearby mountains and a wonderful 29 km ride, mostly
downhill, to Espelette. We cycled through the beautiful little
village of Ixtassou. The Basque language is quite unusual, completely
unlike either the French or Spanish of the area. There are many
unpronounceable names like Ixtassou. We saw our first pottok,
the short, stocky, bristly-maned horse of the Pyrénées,
which was originally (and perhaps still is) bred for meat! Another
long climb and descent brought us to Ainhoa which is, according to
the sign posted as one enters the village, "un des plus beaux
villages de France" ("one of the most beautiful villages of
France") We booked into a hotel there, dropped our panniers and then
cycled a 3 or 4 km to Dancherinea, a village just over the Spanish
border. There was nothing much there, just a few shops selling junky
turista stuff, but we had never been to Spain! Carol wanted to
get a picture of something identifiably Spanish. She chose the
building that housed the Guardia Civil, the
national police. As she took the picture one of the police came
striding out of the building shouting "No photo!" We thought for a
minute he was going to confiscate the camera but he let her go with
an uncivil (for the Guardia Civil) reprimand in Spanish. We escaped
back across the border and returned to Ainhoa. Although we cycled
surrounded by small mountains it was a surprisingly easy day.
Day
10 (25 km): We cycled to Saré for breakfast and then, after a
long climb and equally long descent, through the pretty town of
Ascain into St. Jean-de-Luz. The two women set out to find a hotel in
this busy resort town and after 11 tries found one with available
rooms. We looked into the church where King Louis
XIV married Marie-Thérèse. The door through which
king and bride entered was sealed up after the ceremony so that no
one could use it after the king. Any comment I could make on that
display of arrogance would be unprintable. The interior of the church
was ornate with a lot of gold at the front and three tiers of railed
seating on the sides (a Basque tradition). There's a fabulous, if
crowded, beach in St. Jean - in fact, the entire Cote Basque has
beautiful beaches. There was a busy, festive ambiance that evening as
we went out for dinner - lots of people, wide and interesting
selection of restaurants. St. Jean is a place we'd return to. (I did
return with Peter and 2 other friends a few years later but we were
unable to find any hotel rooms so we had to press on. It's a popular
spot!) It was a fun day despite the limited cycling.
The beach at St. Jean-de-Luz
Day 11 (33 km): We were headed for the Dordogne region by train because the Landes, the area between the Basque region and the Dordogne, is a large, flat pine forest with no towns to speak of - not really suitable for cycling. Unfortunately, there were no trains from St. Jean-de-Luz towards the north so we had to go to Bayonne, about 30 km away to get a train. We cycled to Biarritz, resort of the "beautiful people", with its casino and gorgeous beach, where we had our breakfast. We continued along the coast for a while, stopping at La Barre where Heather had a short swim in the ocean and then on to Bayonne by noon. We found a hotel near the station and after unloading our stuff we shipped the bikes on to Bergerac by train (crossing our fingers that they'd be there when we arrived). This cost 100 francs per bike and now costs even more. That's why we now always plan our trips so that we can use the trains that allow us to load our bikes as bagage à main (carry-on luggage) at no cost. Carol and I spent the afternoon touring the vielle ville (the old centre) of Bayonne and met the Starks later for a very nice supper and a pleasant walk along the river afterwards.