Day Fifty Four: Irun to St. Jean de Luz: Happy Birthday Laurie!

May 20, 2017

12 1/2 hours on any sort of a vehicle is no fun, but our ride from Santiago to Irun on the bus was maybe a little less than no fun. Any regrets we had about not cycling the "Norte" were erased as the bus careened through the famous hills of Galicia, in some stretches whining its way up and round and round twisty hills that would have been just killers on a bicycle. It took three drivers in turn to get the bus through to Irun, on the Atlanctic coast just at the French border. All three were kind of wild, but the last was a real cowboy. Sitting at the back of the long bus, we were whipped around as the thing swayed this way and that going through roundabouts.

There was a toilet somewhere midships on the bus and down some stairs, but whenever anyone opened the door to that the bus was suffused with an unpleasant stink. So we avoided trying it. Periodically the bus did pull into a station, but we had no way to tell if it would do a quick drop off or pick up and pull right out again, or if it would linger long enough for us to find a toilet. So we just stayed put.

Irun is the end of the line for this run, so only a couple of other passengers were with us when we swung into the station at Irun, about 7:30 a.m. The driver was in a big hurry to careen off, presumably to the garage, so he hustled us to get our bikes and stuff out of the bus belly. With the things suitably dumped on the sidewalk, he was off like a rocket.

We are pretty expert by now at putting bikes and gear back together after a big shakeup, but it still took a fair amount of time. This was lengthened when we realized we could not find our bike computers, and we pulled everything apart to find them. No luck. Must still be on an upper rack in the passenger compartment. (Update - nope, they were in a nondescript grey bag at the bottom of some pannier!)

We wobbled off, tentatively following the GPS to our pre-planned track. But we quickly stopped at a bakery. This produced a fairly decent croissant and also empanada, which with its meat and salt content is practically an Egg McMuffin in nutritional value. i.e. not bad.

As I waited outside the bakery, I noticed a Compostella directional sign set in the pavement. This is, after all, the start of the Norte. Then two walkers with packs came steaming up and asked if I knew where the albergue was. All I could tell them was were it wasn't (i.e. the way we had come). But then we noticed an A with a yellow arrow on a pole, and off they went.

At this stage we were both feeling nostalgic about Santiago - slow to come down from the high, particularly that of the final pilgrims' mass. On the bus I had listened to the recording I made of the nun's chanting, and thought it sounded very satisfyingly mystical. I will still post this when we get home, but we see there are others who have done a fine job of recording the botafumeiro finale of the mass. To jump yourself temporarily into the spirit of the thing, have a look, for example, at this one:

We still have the shells on our packs, and in any event locals are used to directing pilgrims towards Santiago, not away, so we had to shrug off some well meaning assistance. One municipal worker took particular care in setting us on the right path, in fast Spanish of course. When we did explain we were headed to Francia, he took equal care to put us on a road we did not want in that direction. It makes it a bit hard, because when you circle back around you do not want to run into the same guy and get reinstructed, at length.

We are done the Camino, but these walkers are just starting

Helpful ladies made easy work of the loaded bike

Boats and palms - this could be a good place

We did at last get on the way to Hendaye, the first town in France. And when we got there, did we kiss the ground because now we would be able to understand what people were saying? No, of course not. We simply stopped at the first bakery and bought a sandwich made with a "real" baguette.

Very soon we found the first of what should be hundreds of "Velodyssee" cycle route signs, between here and the Loire. Shockingly, its first instruction was to climb a set of stairs. Do I need this? If I want stairs I will go back to Santiago, I thought. But while I was having these dark thoughts, three ladies grabbed our loaded bikes and hoiked them up the stairs!

They spoke perfect French, but we learned they were from Irun but like many there had gone to French school in Hendaye.

After those first steps we found ourselves on a beach path, with palm trees and moored sailboats. Then there was a small market - cheese, olives, preserved fruits, BBQ chicken!

And of course, Basque Cake. By the magic of the bus we have returned to the Basque area of Spain and France, and this bit is the Basque Coast. It runs roughly from San Sebastian in Spain to Bayonne in France, and includes the Basque towns of Hendaye, St Jean de Luz, Guethary, Biarritz, and so forth. Each of these places also have Basque names, making for some confusing signage.

We continued on the beach, surprised to be watching surfers after having so recently frozen in the Galician hills. We slowly began to shed our Camino nostalgia and to congratulate ourselves on moving on to this gracious land of palm trees, surf, and BBQ chicken.

But of course, our thoughts were premature. With a single arrow, Velodyssee moved us of necessity off the beach and onto a road that skirted steep headlands. OK, we are used to roads that rise to skirt stuff, but this one also offered heavy car traffic and no shoulder.

We put up with it on the right side, eventually switching to face traffic on the other. For a while we pushed on a walking path (which we have also become good at), but somehow found ourselves sealed away from it by a railing, for a goodly distance. It was a strange thing to be included in an official "Eurovelo" cycle route, but no doubt there was no option.

One light touch along the way was a sign offering Practice Golf, in a field of sheep. I felt I would select a 3 iron, and just chip them into the next field.

We judged these pies too difficult to carry, bought Basque cake instead

The beach bike path we expected to go for 20 km - not

We expect to see these signs for many 100 kms

Road over the headlands - we felt we should face the traffic, which can be a scary way to do it

We finally did enter the coastal towns of Socoa and Ciboure, with outdoor restaurants and a fort that once guarded the entrance of the bay that is home to St Jean de Luz.

Now we were back to the state of sun and enjoyment. This would intensify in St. Jean de Luz. This is a place of beautiful buildings in the Basque style, traffic free streets, bakeries galore, specialty food and other shops for local Basque products, many outdoor restaurants, beaches, a fishing harbour, a pleasure boat harbour, etc.

Where we are now. Do you see St Jean de Luz?

Another look at the road and the headlands

Lots o cyclists on the road, increased the danger

Dangerous, but at least four legged, sheep

Some huddled houses in Ciboure, near St Jean

We know a street named for this guy in Montreal, but we will need to loook up his story

Helpful Netherlanders make sure Dodie is ok after slow motion crash

We found a place at the Hotel de Paris. This is one of the cheaper ones in town, but at 70 euros is quite a bit more than the equivalent in Spain. Then we set off to see the main sights of St Jean de Luz. Aside from the harbours, bakeries, and other great stuff already mentioned, St Jean has a major claim to fame. That is, Louis XIV slept here.

Well actually he did a little more than sleep. On June 6, 1660 in order to seal a new peace between France and Spain he married Marie-Therese, the daughter of the Spanish king. He did this in Saint Jean Baptiste church here in town. To achieve this, he lived from the 7th of May to the 15th of June in a nearby house. So now people (like us!) go to see the house, and the church, not to mention the miniature statue of Louis XIV on horseback, copied from the one at Versailles.

The church is interesting in its own right as well. The Basques along this coast were fishermen, as well as pirates, and generally lived a maritime life. With the matching expertise in boatbuilding, the church was done with a barrel, boat like ceiling, and rows of wooden aerial pews.

With our recent experiences about Les Saintes Maries, we were also interested to see a cruxifiction statue that included two ladies, presumably Jesus' mother and wife.

Dodie added to the day's excitement with one of her spectacular slow motion bike crashes. We were just leaving the Tourist Information and were still on the sidewalk when a slightly loose paver stone and 1 inch unlevel bit sent Dodie for a loop. Her bike pitched over and she cracked her head on the pavement. She credits her helmet for no damage there. And miraculously her knee was not too unduly wrenched. We do expect a big bruise on the leg. Lots of kindly people jumped to assist her, nice to see. I of course jumped for my camera, but did not really get a good shot of the disaster.

Back at our room I tried my own crazy stunt. Since it is our darling daughter Laurie's birthday, I just tapped the photo link to her on my phone. I really did not expect it to connect from here to the States just like that, but wow in seconds Laurie was on the line. For her it was 8:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning - a fine time to get a call from St Jean de Luz. So again, happy birthday Laurie!

In a few days it is birthday time for our other beloved daughter Joni, in Belize. I have her photo queued up, and maybe that will work too!