Basquing in the French Pyrenees
I left Andorra Saturday the 14th bound for Saint-Lary Soulan in the French Alps. The plan was to stay there for five more days of mountain hiking. So much for plans.
The guy who rented me the ski condo on line showed up an hour late. He opened the door and ushered me into a space that would have made a monk feel claustrophobic. No bed, only two couches. Next time I'll read the fine print. It did have an impressive view. The building which had many many many units was perched atop a cliff and you got the expansive view out the window of the valley that dropped away below. The good news was that you could not open the window and tempt fate. The bad news was you couldn't open the window to get any air in the Lilliputian dwelling. But, let's not dwell on it any more other than to say it was non refundable, so goodbye Euros.
I got back into my trusty Ford steed and drove on to Pau (pronounced like Edgar Allen's last name) where I was welcomed by two lovely ladies behind the desk of the All Suites something or other hotel. The next day, Sunday, was a banner day. About noon a long anticipated stage of the Tour de France kicked off, or I should say bounced off.
The route incorporated a number of sections of cobblestone roads made famous by the annual Paris to Roubaix race. The hpye turned out to be true - pure bedlam. There were crashes that took a couple of contenders out of the race. And the stars were lined up against the Frenchman Roman Bardet, himself a contender for the crown. He got no less than three punctures along the way effectively trashing his chances of a win this year.
The finish of the Tour stage was followed in a matter of minutes by the kickoff of the World Cup Final between France and Croatia. (Yay France!) I went for a walk after the end of the game. Lots and lots of horns tooting while cars paraded up and down the street with people waving the tricolor out their car windows. Some more adventurous souls were hanging out car windows holding a flag.
That was a Sunday to remember.
Now, what's this business about 'basquing' in the French Pyrenees? I am in a B and B, near Saint-Etienne-de-Biagorry which is a stone's throw from Irouleguy. It is two stones throw from Saint-Jean-Pied de-Port which is the start of the famous ancient pilgrimage route to Santiago de Compostela which ends in Galicia Spain some 500 miles later.
I am not tempted to set foot on that trail and do even a few miles of it. IMHO, it is a touristy walk of faith. I prefer to set foot outside my B and B perched on the hillside of a valley echoing with the tintinnabulation of bells from a 100 or so sheep grazing nearby, watch the morning mist rise from the low mountains across the way and set foot on a path few have trod.
It's funny how things work out in life sometimes. I have that cell-like room in Saint-Lary Soulan to thank for sitting here tonight writing this blog post in my bedroom, the size of which would be classified as a junior suite in some places, with its rough stone walls and massive hand hewn ceiling beams in a B and B built in the early 1700s.
The guy who rented me the ski condo on line showed up an hour late. He opened the door and ushered me into a space that would have made a monk feel claustrophobic. No bed, only two couches. Next time I'll read the fine print. It did have an impressive view. The building which had many many many units was perched atop a cliff and you got the expansive view out the window of the valley that dropped away below. The good news was that you could not open the window and tempt fate. The bad news was you couldn't open the window to get any air in the Lilliputian dwelling. But, let's not dwell on it any more other than to say it was non refundable, so goodbye Euros.
I got back into my trusty Ford steed and drove on to Pau (pronounced like Edgar Allen's last name) where I was welcomed by two lovely ladies behind the desk of the All Suites something or other hotel. The next day, Sunday, was a banner day. About noon a long anticipated stage of the Tour de France kicked off, or I should say bounced off.
The route incorporated a number of sections of cobblestone roads made famous by the annual Paris to Roubaix race. The hpye turned out to be true - pure bedlam. There were crashes that took a couple of contenders out of the race. And the stars were lined up against the Frenchman Roman Bardet, himself a contender for the crown. He got no less than three punctures along the way effectively trashing his chances of a win this year.
The finish of the Tour stage was followed in a matter of minutes by the kickoff of the World Cup Final between France and Croatia. (Yay France!) I went for a walk after the end of the game. Lots and lots of horns tooting while cars paraded up and down the street with people waving the tricolor out their car windows. Some more adventurous souls were hanging out car windows holding a flag.
That was a Sunday to remember.
Now, what's this business about 'basquing' in the French Pyrenees? I am in a B and B, near Saint-Etienne-de-Biagorry which is a stone's throw from Irouleguy. It is two stones throw from Saint-Jean-Pied de-Port which is the start of the famous ancient pilgrimage route to Santiago de Compostela which ends in Galicia Spain some 500 miles later.
I am not tempted to set foot on that trail and do even a few miles of it. IMHO, it is a touristy walk of faith. I prefer to set foot outside my B and B perched on the hillside of a valley echoing with the tintinnabulation of bells from a 100 or so sheep grazing nearby, watch the morning mist rise from the low mountains across the way and set foot on a path few have trod.
It's funny how things work out in life sometimes. I have that cell-like room in Saint-Lary Soulan to thank for sitting here tonight writing this blog post in my bedroom, the size of which would be classified as a junior suite in some places, with its rough stone walls and massive hand hewn ceiling beams in a B and B built in the early 1700s.
Wish I’d known you were there among the cobblestones of the Tour as I would have kept an eye out for you instead of watching all the racers crashing along the sides.
ReplyDeleteReading of your adventures is a breath of fresh air.
ReplyDeleteKeep having fun on your quest while writing and living in your "mini suite".