Pamplona to home

Today it will all be over again for another year. We said goodbye to Pamplona after another gentle stroll round the impressive ramparts. The city's defenses have been well tested in its long history.By taxi to Bilbao although the taxi driver displayed a disconcerting lack of confidence that he knew where we were going - in particular his intensive study of the map as he negotiated the trickier junctions of the motorway elicited some comments from the back-seat. We stopped for petrol: who would have thought that my mastery of 'necessito gasolina' would have proved so apposite. We will be flying home from Bilbao this evening after a very successful couple of weeks during which we walked another 150 miles. Despite the state of our feet we will spend an hour or two at the Guggenheim Museum.

Zubiri to Pamplona 20k

Spanish greetings all round for breakfast."Hola-Buenas-Dias-Buenas-Dias!" seems to be the form. We shopped for el pan y el queso for lunch in a little grocery shop adjoining the bar round the back of the hotel and took today's team photo on the Rabies Bridge. The route today ran parallel with the main road to Pamplona in the valley of the generous river Arga. As Des said, the essential feature of the day was water. We set off along a muddy path and were glad of our boots. The trees shaded us from the ugly dominance of the vast local Magnesite plant which rather intrudes into every aspect of local life. It seems to be a dull useful product and it must be difficult to get enthusiastic about devoting your life to its production but rather like Homer Simpson's nuclear power station the plant seems to be the only employer in town. Shortly afterwards there is a 'Springfield' equivalent, a bijou modern company town clean and cosy in the sunshine with toy cars running between it and the plant. We walked on and had our first water stop soon on a wall by a fountain at Llarratz, a restored hamlet. We reached the village of Larrasana which John Brierley in his somewhat idiosyncratic style seems to favour. Major drainage works were en traine but with little actual physical activity. Perhaps it was the morning tea break. We in turn couldn't get coffee as the tavern was shut "until later"

So we were back on the muddy/gravel paths by the river and after another hour we were in Zuriáin having a drink of water in the sunshine on the bridge by the fountain in the company of fellow walkers. Their numbers seem to be growing. More hamlets passed, - Zabaldica and Irotz. The route at this stage is simply constructed to give you a pleasant and popular walk as an end in itself. But in muddy conditions it is needlessly tricky underfoot. The churches are massive cruel buildings, seldom welcoming but closely locked. Many of the people you meet drop their eyes shyly.

Lunch was taken at the picnic tables shortly afterwards which serve as a stop on the main N135 road. Two fellow walkers were proudly carrying large flags, one being the Moor's head of Corsica (or so we were told) and the other the more familiar Gay Pride Rainbow. There was a brief burst of energy uphill on the far side of the road and after Arlete we passed through a dripping echoey tunnel back under the road. As we approached Pamplona we stopped in a rather harsh suburb called Trinidad de Arre with lots of aggressive graffiti on every wall, for a cold drink next to the Basilica and the huge pelote court and to watch our fellow walkers hobble by. All the shops had heavy protective shutters - perhaps to deal with disenchanted sports fans? The actual entry into the city of Pamplona was carefully orchestrated to take you through parks and boulevards rather than industrial suburbs. By the old walls of the city we again crossed the Arga, this time via the charming Puenta de los Peregrinos which took us to the ramparts and along the old moat to pass through an elaborate city gate.


The old city is very interesting with traditional tall town houses in good preservation, all hugger mugger. We found the Tourist Office without difficulty and our Hotel (Eslava) nearby in the Plaza d'O. This is a comfortable if somewhat anonymous place substantially reconstructed behind the external facade.

After viewing the impressive cathedral it was getting damp so we had drinks and tapas in a nearby bar. Supper - inevitably difficult to find early - was a cheerful mix 'n match affair in the pulsating Boca Serria Brasserie. We walked around the streets where the annual Running of the Bulls takes place on the feast of San Fermin, absorbing the atmosphere.

Roncesvalles (Orreaga) to Zubiri 24k

Breakfast at 8.30am, and not a minute before - the dining room door of the hotel locked to the last second like a branch bank, despite the champing throng. Bland ham and cheese to supplement the toast and jam - "not French!" On our way by 9 o'clock, with 734 k to go according to Alison, but the village sign more pessimistic. Initially we were in the company of five jolly Belgian men who could well have been auditioning for a francophone version of 'Auf Wiedersehen Pet'. The shaded path took us down to the village of Burguete, a perfectly valid alternative stopping place, more modern and airy than the somewhat gloomy and serious Roncesvalles. Throughout the day it has been noticeable how much money has been pumped into new building and substantial renovation. Is this part of the Spanish property boom? After farmland and unwashed cows we came to Espinall, again neat and tidy and well restored. A shop and a bar were hidden away and we stopped for coffee and to buy our lunchtime sandwiches.


There were some stiff uphills but the walking was pleasant and we put the kilometers behind us. We passed a number of fords over streams and they seemed to conform to all current Health and Safety requirements. The route turned into concrete crazy paving as we approached Viskarret in the company of a young Irishman who was walking solo and relatively unprepared - in trainers. He thinks he is heading for Pamplona today which sounds ambitious. The village houses were notable for their huge wooden balconies and house timbers, each house dated with engraved precision. At what point in its life do you add the date to your building? Immediately afterwards we got very wet in a cloud burst that followed a warning, but ignored, thunderclap.

We walked to the hamlet of Linzoáin where we had lunch at the roofed pelote court which according to Alison is technically a frontón - a variation of the Basque game that requires a side wall and a low back-wall, or so I am informed. We dried our outerwear in the sunshine while being visited by three village cats and a dog. We also chatted to the three Frenchmen last seen up a mountain. They too started in Puy four years ago and are enjoying seeing what you don't see from a car. As we left the village we walked under a high wooden walkway that joins the upper floor of a massive house to its walled garden the other side of the road. There has to be a reason.

Plenty more enjoyable walking thereafter, with lots of sightings of birds of prey as we took a steep climb to the Alto de Erro pass. There we caught up with the Irishman nursing his feet which were in fairly dramatic condition - he will not make Pamplona today. Mind you he had been fortunate enough to avoid the drenching rain earlier by pausing for a coffee in Viskarret. You can't win 'em all. The final 8k seemed a long stretch but we eventually reached our evening destination. Our Hosteria was easily found - on the main road and we will need the double glazing. The owner is most solicitous and amiable, providing plastic bags for our boots and paper slippers to go up the well polished little stairs, which is tricky with heavy bags.

Supper will be modified-Spanish-time (8.30pm) so we have plenty of time to wash and rest and see the sights - a little bar for a beer and the 'Rabies Bridge'. According to legend an animal could be cured by getting it to walk three times round the middle column, or indeed straight across - the surviving instructions are not as helpful as they might be. The adjoining building is a former leprosarium. Nice.We also found the five Belgians who were not at all impressed by the local price of supper - or of the beer. Supper at our hotel was quite ambitious. 13 guests in all.

St Jean-Pied-de-Port to Roncesvalles 26k-8k=18k

Another excellent but potentially complicated day. We woke to the sound of hissing kettles. Looking outside the door of our rooms we saw that the Belgian camp-followers (the two women who were apparently responsible for catering/refreshments, driving the van with the luggage etc. for the cycling party) busy boiling a series of kettles on the electricity sockets down the corridor of the hotel to enable them to prepare thermos flasks in bulk for hot drinks. Over breakfast we saw the rest of their preparations as they polished their bikes and loaded the van. The bikes, perhaps a couple of dozen in all, were stored overnight in the cellars of a range of building around the hotel which obviously caters for this market.

Our taxi arrived promptly at 7.30am to take us to the Refuge d'Orisson and it took no more than 20 minutes to drive us the precious eight kilometers we had enjoyed yesterday on foot. We had a coffee while we waited for our take-away baguettes to be prepared and set off again at 8.15. The climb was steady rather than onerous and interspersed with plenty of breathing spaces. There was the odd fleck of rain but mostly it was overcast, and eventually, after lunch, quite cold. The statue of the Virgin d'Orisson was further (4k) than we expected but the countryside was lovely and open with magnificent views in all directions.


There were a few horses grazing and a lot of sheep. There was much mutual encouragement and cheery exchanges with other walkers throughout the day. We again met the three Frenchmen who seem to be taking it all as a stroll, hands in pockets and with the mock seriousness of "Three Men in a Boat".

After 1240 metres of elevation you leave the road and head up grassy slopes carefully waymarked. In poorer weather conditions such precautions must be very necessary.


We saw many birds of prey circling and passed a nest up in an outcrop from where we could hear the chicks calling. There was a primitive hut near the top to provide emergency shelter in such conditions.








Just before the Spanish border the walking seems to be permanently muddy in the shadow of the ridge for about 4k and indeed on the Spanish side there is equal mud through a beautiful beech forest, the passage of boots turning it to mulch. We had an early lunch, including some refreshing oranges, at 11.30 in the ruins of an old cottage among the beech trees.





We then went above the tree line for some more exposed walking as we worked our way up to our highest point, the Col Lepoeder, from where you can finally see 'the other side' and the village of Roncesvalles surrounded by the trees in the valley far below. There is a direct-ish route down through the forest but we chose the longer route which is on tarmac. This was in deference to the state of our various knees, shins. hips and other bits and pieces that suffer just as much on the downs as the ups.It is also quite dangerous on such surfaces when you are tired. A lone woman walker was resting at the top and deriving much pleasure as each successive party debated the confusing alternatives.

After much zigzagging we passed a modern, and neglected, memorial chapel honouring Roland, at the point where the 'Route Napoleon' meets up again with the main road. The legendary tale of Charlemagne's nephew (son?) meeting a heroic (Christian) death at the hands of alien (Muslim) forces in 778AD had immense medieval popularity whatever the actual facts may have been.

A pleasant flat walk through more trees takes you into the village of Roncesvalles (or Orreaga in Basque), dominated by the immense monolithic Augustinian abbey and the associated buildings catering for the passing pilgrims. The main Refuge dormitory apparently sleeps 160 in close cacophonous comfort "in the bed to which you have been assigned". Our hotel, Hostel la Posada, was frankly more comfortable with big clean rooms. Our bags were waiting for us upstairs ina large sitting room. Their transportation from St-Jean-Pied-de-Port until we get to Leon is now in the helpful hands of the charming Caroline of Express Bourricot, although she does use a little van rather than the animal in question. Both hotels in the village provide meals at an earlier sitting for those staying in the Refuge. The rest of us had to wait for 'Spanish Time'.

The village exists purely to process pilgrims in a reliable, efficient and surprisingly patient way. The vast church with its heavy Spanish imagery is designed to impress. As we had supper, soup, fish and 'flan', Liz texted all and sundry to say we had walked over the Pyrenees. Ben replied to say he had scrubbed up today "to assist at a 'C. Section' and two Ventouse deliveries". So he had a good day too.

It was a full day and you find yourself reliving the various stages afterwards. The uphill was surprisingly manageable after all the fuss in anticipation. We have actually walked up steeper and less pleasant places albeit not so continuously. The bleak open spaces at the top where we had to consciously keep warm were memorable. The beech forests and the accompanying muddy mulch will be easy to remember. As ever there were beautiful flowers along the way but the fauna, particularly the raptors and the wild horses were as memorable as our cheerful fellow walkers.

St-Jean-Pied-de-Port to "Honto+" 8k

A remarkable day. As today is officially a 'rest day' we had a lie in and breakfast was not until 8.30. We looked optimistically at a range of clouds over breakfast but there was little blue sky and even less sunshine. By 9 o'clock we were walking! As we passed a nearby taxi office we arranged with a woman in an upstairs window - or so we hoped - to be collected when we telephoned later around midday from "Honto". We then left town through the Porte d'Espagne and started up a typical morning 'route out of town'.

Des - and all credit to him, it was the right choice - very much wanted to do the "Route Napoleon" option: there are two alternative routes to Roncesvalles, one along the main road and the other over the top "to see the eagles". So we duly followed the markings out of town for the Route Napoleon.

By now there was a steady drizzle. The books paint a fairly daunting picture of the demands of this uphill walk but frankly if you can cope with the demands of the Rocky Valley and the Long Hill up to Calary (as opposed to the uplands of Croghan) it is entirely feasible. It was steady but not excessive and we were on tarmac. The inclinations were of reasonable length and severity interspersed with decent flat bits and even the occasional downward slope. The scenery was increasingly breathtaking.




After a couple of hours we arrived at Honto, a large gite complex of chalets overlooking gardens and with a great view. Until fairly recently these would have been the last accommodation available in France before going over the mountains. We stopped for a quick coffee and decided to press on. The signposts said 5k to the Refuge d'Orisson so we set off for that to see how much we could do before calling our taxi. The girls led the way and we took plenty of breathers. After 10 days walking your recovery rate is much faster and you can be confident of being ready for more after a minute or two.By now the rain had stopped so I was even able to take a couple of pictures that did the potential view little credit. We stopped briefly at a Viewpoint complete with table top plan of the view, but as is so frequently the case with these things it was hard to know what you were supposed to be seeing. While there I rang our taxi. It was answered by the driver who was expecting our call, but not our numbers: when told we were four it was "pas possible" but with that nod to the specifics of his licence he almost immediately agreed to come. So on we walked to the Refuge. This is a new facility and provides food and accommodation in a large wooden chalet building.This is now a much more attractive point to break the journey for those wishing to spend a night between St Jean and Roncesvalles.

I went inside to get the creanciale stamps and to confirm the availability of provisions for the morrow. They would do exactly what we wanted: breakfast from 7.30 and filled baguettes to take away. It was only as we concluded our conversation that the young man behind the bar identified himself as English. C'est la vie.

By then the yellow taxi had arrived and the amiable driver brought us safely back downhill. It was agreed that he would again collect us from the hotel at 7.30 in the morning. In the sunshine the town was transformed and a lot more buzzy and cheerful. We were pleased with ourselves having successfully completed part one of what we had feared and we had a jolly lunch in the same place we had chocolate the previous day.

While the girls took off round the weekly market of Basque essentials Des and I again visited the Pilgrim Advice Centre to make use of their Internet facilities. We then climbed up to the top of the Citadel to enjoy the view before going back to the hotel to sit in the sunshine reading. For dinner tonight the hotel was filled with a large party of Belgian cyclists who are doing the Camino by bike. And very knobbly their knees look in their Lycra shorts.

Larceveau to St-Jean-Pied-de-Port 17k

And a short day's walking it was. We had a leisurely breakfast after plenty of rain overnight. It was dry as we started out walking on pleasant made up tracks parallel with the main road through the valley. It was very noticeable how well maintained the Basque farm houses were - often newly painted with immaculate gardens. The local sheep-farming and cheese production seems to be very profitable, directly or indirectly.

We passed the Croix de Galzetaburu after 5k. This too is a place recognised as a joining of the routes from various directions. Some of the inscriptions are in Basque. So with one loop to the right of the main road and three loops off to the left we arrived at St Jean le Vieux by 11.45. The village was 'en fete' (mothers day?) and the flowers were being transferred back from the Pelote court which forms the village centre to the church. This red sandstone church is considered to be "typically Basque" with two levels of ornate wooden galleries all round the nave. A similar rectangular box to the Vienna Musikverein - I wonder if the acoustics are the same!

As we had a coffee in the square another band of walkers set off refreshed with a rousing chorus of "Ultreia!" Exhibitionists. An hour later like so many before us we too arrived at the Porte St Jacques of st Jean Pied de Port, a suitably specific recognition of our walk so far: 735k to date.


A sense of occasion is generated by your arrival being down a suitably picturesque old street, past the Pilgrim Advice Centre and various hostelries. Someone was checking for advice about their donkey. Over 30,000 passing pilgrims registered there last year. We were chiefly concerned that the coincidence with Mothers day might make it difficult to get lunch so we stopped at the first available Basque place, Iratzc Ostatua, and it turned out to be good - specialising in cider. They were very welcoming, particularly as after 15 miles across country in high humidity we may not have been at our most fragrant. I had a memorable cèpes omelette. The Basque language seems to be a bit like Breton - difficult to get into or to relate to anything else.

The Hotel Camou was duly found on the outskirts of town. It has seen better days. After a scrub up we went for a stroll around but the light drizzle discouraged too much curiosity. the Pilgrim Advice Centre was struggling to cope with a party of 15 Koreans who needed simultaneous guidance. We broached our idea of doing some of the uphill walk tomorrow and then breaking off to complete it the following day and that found favour as being eminently sensible.

After hot chocolates we went back for supper at the hotel. Liz had another hot bath to get warm!

St Palais to Larceveau 22k

There is an exceptional artisinale bakery in St Palais selling a lovely chewy baguette (I shopped for lunch). Our taxi arrived promptly at 8.30am and we were ready to carry on walking from the Chapelle d'Olhaiby by 9am, in light rain. We passed through open countryside and were mostly on minor roads today and the rain brought out large earth worms, up to 18" long (smelly when squashed by passing cars).




The farms were gradually turning from beef/dairy to sheep as the land became more 'Alpine' in character. The sheep were noticeably clean - perhaps washed by all the rain? We pressed on, spurred by guide book promises of a café at Larribar but alas that was not to be and a water stop had to suffice.





A couple of kilometers uphill took us from the river Bidouze (very full) to Hiriburia where the Stèle de Gibralter monument was erected where the routes merge.Coincidentally as we stood there we were joined by a rangy Dutchman who had come via the Route de Vezelay (through Limoges) having started off 1700k ago in Holland, We have done some 700k of our route so far and felt duly humbled. From the monument you can see the direction in which you are pointed - a further stiff 500' rise up a flinty track - in fact quite enjoyable in the breeze. So we were glad to arrive at today's highest spot at the little Chapelle de Soyarza. There was water point which we enjoyed and a ring of plane trees had been severely trained in the French fashion to make a cordon, or halo, or crown of thorns around the chapel. Some comfortable seats encouraged a pause.

Then an equal distance downhill took us to the little village of Harambeltz. The small unused church with the Baroque interior is owned privately by the 4 families of the village, one of them allegedly since 950AD. We met up again with the large French party we last saw in Navarannx who rather took up the available picnic space, so having looked at the church interior through the grill door we moved on.

But that served us well. At the bottom of a grassy track we found a large hut that had been built for the use of a local hunting club for their social activities: two large and very sturdy tables and equally strong benches could cater for perhaps 50 people in relative comfort and gave the impression of many important gatherings having taken place here.

And then it was on to Ostabat which really was a meeting place of the Routes in the middle ages with overnight accommodation, it is said, for 5,000. The village is now a shadow of that but in course of serious renewal. It looks as though it could have lots of snow over winter and the buildings are fairly massive. We had coffee in an excellent bar where 'mine host' in his beret was straight out of central casting as he directed events and chatted with all. Des and I inspected the village while the girls walked on.The South African lady was in the rather ponderous 19c (?) church and is spending the night in the village. Her friend is 10 days ahead of her in Spain from where she reports 'rain'.

Our Hotel Espellet was easily found as we entered Larceveau - fairly spartan and like Ostabat with shades of simple skiing territory. Mine host welcomed us and quickly got the 'pressions' out. There was a washing machine available for guest use in the laundry room to add a sense of purpose to the rest of the afternoon, with elaborate clothes lines arranged under cover but with plenty of wind. I had a long chat there with a man from Lille who had been given two months leave of absence by his wife to walk as far from Le Puy as he could provided he kept his washing up to date. (His washing came out blue).

Supper was delayed while we watched Munster beat Toulouse in the Heineken Cup Final. We were the only Munster supporters but all was well and the staff then coped well with over 50 diners seeking to sit down simultaneously. There were at least two large tables of local families out for their Saturday night sociable gathering.

To bed late as tomorrow is a short day!

Navarranx to St Palais 22k

An unpromising start to the day with light rain falling as we went across to the hotel for breakfast. We were on our way by 8.30 having taken today's team photo outside the pork butchers next door where the portraits of the proprietor and his wife display the French equivalent of saucy postcard humour. It was actually quite hazardous as we diced with rush hour traffic in the rain outside the town walls and over the river bridge. We then passed through an area of upmarket residences making the town even bigger.

We are now in (French) Basque country with its own separate language for signage although apparently learning it at school is not compulsory. It was a day of mostly road walking with some gravelly paths. . We had a few stiff climbs and subsequent descents but this is all good training for Monday next!

Miraculously after a couple of hours the rain stopped and the sun came out for the rest of the day. So we stopped mid morning at Rivehaute to remove the rest of our wet weather gear at a most useful halt provided by the local producer of the ”Jean Haget” range of tinned gastronomic delicacies who combined marketing with altruism - and a seemingly genuine delight in talking to the strangers who stopped to enjoy his sheltered tables and benches. There was much loud conversation and macho stomping of boots, rather like the top of a ski lift, as people prepared for the next phase.

Just before Aroue we stopped for lunch on some convenient tree stumps thoughtfully provided by the commune of 246 people - their nearby noticeboard described a sad litany of inexorable decline : two communities amalgamated into one, 3 churches but no longer their own priest, and a long list of all who have gone - school, filling station, wood workers and other trades etc.

Shortly after lunch we arrived at Olhaiby, a dot on the map with just a little church and a farm. But from there we rang the taxi number we had been given and sure enough within 30 minutes we were duly collected in a nice clean VW to be take to our overnight stop at St Palais. We caused some amusement to some fellow walkers as we got out of our transportation and felt the need to explain that we would be picking up where we left off! Three cheers for the Hotel de la Paix as only for the second time since leaving Le Puy did someone take our baggage up to the rooms. Mind you the hotel has been nicely revamped and now has a lift! Nevertheless the lady on the front desk seems to do the lot - checks us in with charm, brings the bags up, serves excellent cold beers, waters the bushes in the tubs outside and subsequently waits at table for dinner. They do have nearby competitors in their tree lined square and they do try hard. The town council is responsible for the background music in the streets throughout the day.

The St Palais creanciale stamp incorporates the monument erected nearby at Hiriburia to mark the spot where the routes from Le Puy, Paris and Vézélay are thought to have met. We will see it tomorrow.

Excellent dinner, professionally done - they were almost disappointed that we did not take full advantage of the more elaborate menus to which we were apparently entitled but we enjoyed our Beef Bourguignon and veal casserole. Good puds.

Maslacq to Navarrenx 22k

Overcast as we set off at 8.45am. There is a large chatty mixed French group running in parallel with us although inevitably they have problems keeping together. Today is a series of short uphill climbs, a bit like an extended gym session.

On leaving Maslacq and as you climb up you overlook a large power station complex in the valley below and surrounded by pastoral images. Alison Raju describes it as ”one of France’s biggest nuclear power stations” but I think the Usine de Lacq is actually a natural gas complex (or is it all designed to deceive?) She may just be confusing it with the Golfech power station 140 miles away up by Moissac on the Tarn river. We met the South African lady again for the first of a number of times today and she joined us for lunch later under the dripping eaves of a barn. Like us she finds the flat easier than the uphill. We passed some nicely restored holiday homes positioned to take advantage of the beautiful views with the Pyrenees in the distance.

There were no shopping facilities at Maslacq but we stopped for refreshments at the Abbey (little of interest left after various sackings) at Le Sauvelade and we were able to buy filled baguettes for lunch later. Indeed they even filled a bottle of wine for us! Vocabulary note: their menu blackboard included a local speciality, "Ventreche", but nobody was able to explain what it was.


We had a couple more climbs before lunch and then it started to rain. We carried on in ponchos but when it reached 'stair-rod' dimensions we took shelter in somebody's open doored garage. There we were joined by an amiable grizzled Alsatian bitch who - Clare, and indeed the rest of us, was relieved to note - didn't seem too territorial.



We also met again the 'contrarian walker' so we summoned up the courage to ask him for an explanation of how and why we met him each day walking in the opposite direction! It is simple when you know how - he is just doing the walk in reverse! He is walking by himself and sleeping in a camper-van. So he CYCLES the route each day on the nearest road, leaves his bike at the end of the stage and walks back along the route to collect his van which he then drives to the bike to spend the next night.


We arrived in Navarrenx by 4pm and found our hotel at the far end of town. Money has been found to fully restore a medieval gem known as the ’First Fortified Town in France’. It is another place with a history of Cagot 'untouchables'. The Hotel du Commerce is very much in the pilgrim business. Our rooms were on the top floor of the annex across the street, rather like the arrangements in Estaing. We had a cold drink under the heavily pollarded (i.e. mutilated) plane trees in the square while we waited for the taxi which would take Geoff and Sue back to Maslacq to collect their camper van. The idea is that they will use the local campsite in Navarennx tonight and but will join us for dinner at the hotel ( @2x11 euros!). Des, Clare and I then strolled round the ramparts of this well preserved medieval town although it is hard to imagine that the minimal economic impact of seasonal pilgrims justifies the remaining commercial activity about the place. This stag beetle was also buzzing!

Our final supper with Geoff and Sue was preceded by what is becoming Clare's annual treat of "champagne-to-celebrate-Man-U.". And very nice it was. It has been good to have the Todd's company - even if they do seem to attract the rain!

Morlanne/Larreule to Maslacq 27k

I successfully set the alarm on my mobile for 6.45 and we were down for breakfast by 7.30 as agreed. Today was to be a bit longer and merited a prompt start. Breakfast was comfortable and plentiful at a communal table with a Suite by Lully playing in the background to accompany the brioche. Very civilised. We had a prompt transfer back to Larreule at 8am following warm farewells. The morning promised to be fine and it it fulfilled that promise. Despite a little mist we slapped on the Ambre Solaire and set off for what was essentially a long, flat walk. The countryside was the same traditional farmland as yesterday with some early distant views of the Pyrenees. We had phone contact from Geoff and Sue Todd who have arranged to join us again this year for a couple of days and they were now parked outside Maslacq. It was agreed that they would set off towards us and eventually their smiling faces hove into sight near the Chapelle de Caubin, 10k this side of Maslacq. They had thus seen what there was of our lunch destination of Arthez-de-Béarn which is basically a 2k street of houses along a ridge. So we stopped for a drink (where we had a cheerful call from James) and then pressed on out of town for a late but pleasant picnic. When shopping I had admired the 'first cherries of the season' (at 7 Euros a kilo!) so the shopkeeper gave us one each!!

We were then less than 8k from Maslacq. Des identified on his map a pylon line in the distance that we would have to walk under. Someone facetiously said 'we couldn't walk OVER' but by a strange coincidence when we arrived at the spot a team with elaborate equipment were re-newing a pylon like a huge Meccano set and the new cables were at knee height and in fact we did walk over.

We eventually arrived at Maslacq by 4pm where in a quick succession of bridges we had to cross over the hurly-burly of a TGV mainline railway, the broad and big Gave de Pau river and the A64 motorway before entering town and finding the Hotel Maugouber. From the amount of baggage waiting it seems a popular pilgrim stop. Needless to say we had established for football-fanatic Clare that they had cable television to cover the Man.U. v. Chelsea match in Moscow but in fact it was Channel 1. As a bonus our rooms were on the ground floor near reception so there was no lugging of cases upstairs. However there had been blister trouble today so a certain amount of restorative work had to be done. It was decided the swimming pool was TOO refreshing.

The dining room was nice and buzzy. We had agreed with the lady behind the bar (who controlled the TV) that we would be watching the match and so we were seated for dinner first. She was a "Chel-Sea" supporter "as they were French". We had a decent meal of locally cured ham, steak/frites and tarte. And who did we see in the dining room but the mustachioed Belgian gentleman last seen in Conques (two years ago to the day!) and still with his two ladies. We warmly greeted each other: they were spending two nights at this hotel while they shuttled to and fro to cover their distance. They were only going to St Jean this trip but would be back to do the Pyrenees in the summer, so we may well see them in Spain.

The match was most exciting - certainly to a neutral.

Miramont Sensacq to Laruelle (Morlanne) 26k

Breakfast included 'petites viennoiseries' presumably from the bakery up the street. The day looked good as we set off and it turned out to have a distinct 'pilgrimage' flavour. We were escorted out of town by a friendly colley-cross and were reassured after a mile or two of his persistent company that, according to a young farmer we spoke to, 'Il s'arrêtera'. In fact the dog gave up on us and our discouraging ways and dashed off ahead to some other walkers (hauling their bag on a sort of trolley) and was not seen again.

It was much more traditional French farming today. We viewed a virtual meadow - well nearly - of wild orchids left to do their thing. There were lots of cattle on human-scale farms in beautiful undulating countryside. It was lovely to hear cow-bells and cockerels in the distance, mingling with the church bells. We visited the charming isolated little 11c church of Sensacq, silent, with fresh flowers. The old baptism font was for 'total immersion' of infants. The sacristy was converted to a pilgrims' dining room with drinking water and bowls provided. Shortly after we came to, but did not enter, the 'English' bastide 12c village of Pimbo. A more recent source of local pride is the newly developed 'natural park' on the sheltered south facing slope of the valley with interesting Mediterranean flora and fauna. Near Poursuigues a decorative sign on a farm informed us that we have 924k to go but that seems a bit harsh - our guide book seems to think it is about 50k less. Another novelty on this stage was a decorated 'pilgrim tree' by another farm. Some road walking took us for a coffee and provisioning stop at Arzacq-Arraziguet where we sat in the shade on the terrace of the bar overlooking one of the two big open squares This is another place of 12c English fortification where the country of France met the country of Béarn (where the sauce comes from?)

Our picnic was by the old water mill at Louvigny which is being restored. We chatted to a friendly 63 year old South African lady who was enjoying a pear. She was walking alone, in sneakers. A few years ago she had done the Spanish section from St Jean Pied de Port, staying in pilgrim accommodation and carrying her pack, and had so enjoyed it that she was now doing it all again, but this time from Puy. Also resting nearby was a lively and well-behaved class of 8 year-olds in their brightly coloured clothes who were out for a hike with their teachers.


We then became a bit ambitious and instead of following the direct road to Fichous Riumayou we took a newly devised variation on a loop which initially entailed some very steep uphill climbs. the reward was at the top where we were taken along a ridge with delightful views on either side. I suppose it is good training for the Pyrenees. The village of FR had a school where the children in the playground wished to sell us their homemade cookies and some plaster 'scallop shells' they had baked and decorated. We duly invested in both and a little while later reached the equally tidy and sleepy village of Larreule, in pre-revolutionary times the site of an important Benedictine monastery. There we telephoned our hosts and M. Cousin duly arrived to collect us to take us to their house in Morlanne 15 minutes away. By splitting the distance to Maslacq we will have done 26k today and 27k tomorrow. Morlanne is a tiny and pretty place notable chiefly for the Chateau. This was bought post-war by a wealthy lawyer from Alsace named Ritter. He and his wife had no heirs so spent their fortune restoring the old brick-work of the building to its former style before bequeathing it to the Commune. The Cousin house, formerly an auberge is in a dominant position in the village centre in an old fashioned atmospheric garden.The owners moved here six years ago with B&B in mind. With eclectic furnishings and good humour they provide comfortable informal "family" accommodation in big polished rooms. But it is a double-clock-chime village overnight.

Supper was apparantly not included tonight but provided by the "new" Auberge nearby: good soup, followed by our old gesiers friends and then a dish of grilled lamb chops with diced roast potatoes followed by a big piece of cake for those who wanted it.

Aire sur l'Adour to Miramont Sensacq 18k

We were downstairs for a simple breakfast by 8am. The man who served us may well have been the manager as he also produced our bills when we came too leave. However he seemed unfamiliar with the process of payment in advance via Nouvelle Itineraire. But he examined our voucher with interest and then proceeded to telephone them for confirmation. In the absence of any reply he obviously felt he had done all he reasonably could to protect the business and the motherland from foreign fraudsters and we were free to go. We shopped for lunch at the branch of Casino near the cathedral. This did us fine and indeed they seemed to seek the pilgrim trade by opening early from 6.15am to 6.45am specifically for early marchers. That's a bit keen.

Our exit from Aire took us past the ancient church of Ste Quitterie with its splendid Tympanum and then through some miles of suburban villas. We had an encouraging beep from the road by the friendly taximan who had collected us from the airport some days ago. The route then takes a gratuitous if pleasantly shaded loop around a new reservoir which provides a decent walk but doesn't get very far. But that greenery was nice to recall as we then embarked on miles of grain prairies, carved out of the fertile river basin in a style of agriculture best described as 'bio-fuel brutalist' - mile after mile of rolling acres planted with maize to replace whatever was there before, hedges, woods, individuality. I am sure it is all very efficient and in accordance with the current diktats of Brussels but it is not of great beauty other than to those who see dollar bills. The process was called ’remembrement’. Grids of deep drainage ditches have been installed in parallel with underground water pipes for irrigation to maximise the available space in a quasi-industrial way. The ditches have been blitzed with Paraquat to permit cultivation up to the edges. Most remaining trees have been felled to look like the set for 'Armageddon' although the occasional bird can be heard from the few surviving copses to provide some uplift. And then ironically much of the available space has been handed over to 'set-aside' for a different agenda.

We also saw ducks being reared in large commercial units for the local gourmet specialities. But it seemed that incarceration in a fenced compound of bare earth the size of a football pitch was simply treating them as 'this year's crop' for that particular piece of land. In a nice domestic touch it was noticeable as we approached the village of Latrille that wherever cherry trees were fruiting near a house it was customary to leave a ladder up each tree for regular harvesting. Latrille was just as neat and orderly as the surrounding prairies and there was a huge and picturesque corn-cob drying unit nearby for seed production. The church was well cared for and decorated with some of the lilies that seem to grow locally in great profusion.

We arrived at the pretty little village of Miramot Sensacq by 2.30. The local history society documents a population of 900 in the 19c which following ' the flight from the land' in line with the 'rationalization' of agriculture has declined to 370. The maintenance of local schooling is just as much an issue here as elsewhere. In a remarkable feat of pragmatic local planning the charming medieval church has been joined and thus overshadowed on its hilltop by a huge 20c water tower constructed a few meters away. One of the few commercial features of the village is the splendidly restored boulangerie artisinale with the kitchen operating in public view and with a fine line in patisserie viennoise.

We had apparently arrived too early at our hotel but we were granted admission. Our bedroom, which is actually featured in the web page, had somewhat spartan furnishings: 2 single beds, one chair, one small wardrobe and one breeze block (painted white). Des and Clare's room was more from the school of Louis Quinze but also featured breeze-blocks.The village is not strictly speaking on the main pilgrim route and and many walkers will press on for nearby Arzacq-Arraziguet so although the hotel has been there for generations volumes of trade cannot now be huge. However we were right to have stopped as shortly afterwards there was a huge cloudburst which would not have made for pleasant walking. The temperatures plunged. Our bags had arrived safely and this is to be the last day we have the luggage moving services of the taximan who first collected us from Pau. However he has left us his card with the bags and it may or may not be some comfort to learn that he is available to provide an ambulance service and indeed "transportation of the body until the placing in the coffin".

Supper was a revelation. How do the French do it? An excellent broth with vegetables was followed by tasty hors d'oeuvres with local ham and fresh vegetables, choice of confit de canard or fauxfilet, a choice of 3 deserts, cheese, a carafe of red wine and coffee included, and all for 11 Euros. We were 13 eating and friendly Nicole prepared cooked and served the lot in a feat of culinary dexterity.

Luppé Violles to Aire sur l'Adour 12k

Down for breakfast (nice breakfast) at 8am, packed and ready to go. Slight confusion over our bill as our reservation had in fact been recorded for tonight rather than last night and we had been presumed to be additional guests, but all resolved amicably and we were on the road by 9am for this very short day. we are making rather a meal of covering the bit we left out least year but it does give us a gentle start to get us back in shape. But it will be good to have a bit more of a challenge.

A bit of a false start as we sought to rejoin the route (LP is a kilometer off it) without backtracking. The passage from Nogaro to Aire turns out to be a succession of variantes including yesterdays circumnavigation of Nogaro. Initially today we were in mixed farming country with huge pieces of irrigation spraying equipment obviously taking advantage of the readily available river water. We saw even more vines freshly planted, presumably for even more Armagnac. We admired the small, unused and partially restored chapel in Lelin.

Our approach to Aire was also changed from the usual route by the closure of the bridge at Pont sur l'Adour - damaged in last year's heavy deluge which we so much enjoyed. So a fresh route, which actually is a reversion to the traditional medieval route has been carefully baliseed more or less direct into town which makes the walk shorter but less pretty. So after some kilometers of a dull track by a disused railway you cross over the main road to continue in the same direction along a straight drainage ditch, albeit surrounded by fields of some sort of purple vetch, a pure cerise colour. This brought us to Barcelonne du Gers, a dull suburb of Aire - although with an historic cathedral of its own dating back to earlier pilgrims. There were two pluses. Halfway along the railway track, surrounded by unusual poppies, bright and cheerful, we found a restful and fully equipped bench in the shade, kindly provided for pilgrims by 'Elizabeth' of Barcelonne according to the information provided. Indeed in season fortunate travellers are apparently invited by Elizabeth to help themselves to 'seasonal fruits' but alas we were out of season. But we duly sat and drank our water and took a photo and left our thanks. I then had to go back to retrieve the walking pole I had hung up and forgotton.We met more fellow travellers in the 10 minutes in that hospitable spot than for a long time.

And secondly by coming this way we stopped in Barcellone for a beer and then lunch Chez Alainn, a cheerful amiable man who obviously enjoyed his village business. The set lunch was a much bigger meal than we wanted but it was Sunday and everyone was fairly relaxed. An extended local family turned up from some family occasion - I would have thought first Communion rather than funeral, and were notable for the splendid Moorish noses that were following through the generations.

After a dull walk into Aire we found our hotel without difficulty.Les Relais des Landes while modest is a considerable improvement on last year's place and we have a comfortable stay. Our photograph on the bridge this year shows very different conditions from last time.There was a'pilgrims welcome' facility at the cathedral where we were given a very warm reception and a cold drink while we had our creanciales stamped. While examining on a wallchart the implications of our forthcoming hike over the Pyrenees I learnt from the cheerful attendant that the "Route d'Arles" which is the pilgrimage route from Italy which we will link up with in Spain now actually goes under the Pyrenees following the opening of a tunnel. I wonder if that will have any inpact on pilgrim traffic through Aire. We passed the cheap 'n cheerful Maison Itineraire which provides basic overnight accomodation for pilgrims. According to the statistics posted in the window they have about 2,500 overnight visitors per annum of whom 80% are French but dozens of other nationalities are represented.

Later we went back to the cathedral for a lay form of Benediction said nightly for the pilgrims and including a couple of rousing choruses of the pilgrims song "Ultreia" ("Onwards"). This is a somewhat informal version of the same and for those of a more musical disposition this version is bit more melodious! And these are the words if you feel like joining in (Paroles et musique Jean-Claude Benazet) :

Ultreïa

Tous les matins nous prenons le chemin,
Tous les matins nous allons plus loin.
Jour après jour, St Jacques nous appelle,
C’est la voix de Compostelle.
Ultreïa ! Ultreïa ! E sus eia Deus adjuva nos !
Chemin de terre et chemin de Foi,
Voie millénaire de l’Europe,
La voie lactée de Charlemagne,
C’est le chemin de tous mes jacquets.
Ultreïa ! Ultreïa ! E sus eia Deus adjuva nos !
Et tout là-bas au bout du continent,
Messire Jacques nous attend,
Depuis toujours son sourire fixe,
Le soleil qui meurt au Finistère.
Ultreïa ! Ultreïa ! E sus eia Deus adjuva nos !
A chaque pas, nous devenons des frères
Patron St Jacques, la main dans la main
Chemin de Foi, chemin de lumière
Voie millénaire des pèlerins.
Ultreïa ! Ultreïa ! E sus eia Deus adjuva nos !
Mr St Jacques écoutez notre appel
Des Pyrénées à Compostelle,
Dirigez nous du pied de cet autel,
Ici-bas et jusqu’au Ciel.
Ultreïa ! Ultreïa ! E sus eia Deus adjuva nos !

We had supper in town at the Comptoir d'Adour which seems to serve as the local Cafe Sport where cyclists were gathering after their day in the sunshine. Indeed after we walked home in the gloaming our washed socks were nearly dry. What a difference a year makes!

Nogaro to Luppé Violles 13k

The hotel was comfortable and well sound-proofed. Up at 4.15am for hot chocolate and downstairs by 4.50am to check-out. Easy stroll to the terminal with baggage trolleys . Remarkably busy terminal for the time of day but short queue for Ryanair. Security queue systematic but thorough. While Des shopped for sandwiches for breakfast we bought the newspapers and boarded in good time. At least 25% had paid extra for 'priority' boarding.

Arrived Pau 9.20 where our taxi driver awaited with a large Range Rover for the easy drive to Nogaro via Aire. Disconcerted by his tendency to take his hand off the steering wheel at speed while he described the finer points of local bull fighting. We stopped briefly at Luppé Violles to drop off our bags at tonight's hotel, the Relais d'Armagnac and put on boots etc. And very quickly we reached Nogaro, which seemed strangely familiar after twelve months absence!

So we gathered ourselves together in the old routine and set off confidently in the direction indicated by the map. It was a lovely morning as we walked through dappled light beneath the trees. But there were no balises. We came to the conclusion that the local Syndicat d'Initiative had, despite what the guide-books say about avoiding the town, re-routed the route back through the town to capitalize on the picnic trade. We eventually met up with some women who had followed the balises through the town and the route was clearly marked for us all from then on. The route simply took us in a semicircular loop north of the D124 and then in a similar loop to the south. Confirmation that it would have been much quicker, but much less pleasant, to go straight along the road came when we saw a sign to our hotel "3k" as we passed over the road by Pont sur l'Izaute while we were choosing the 7k alternative. But it was a lovely walk through undulating countryside along minor roads and tracks. The flowers are out and the fresh air is scented. The redundant church at Lanne Soubiran is a charming little gem.

New words; "colombages": wooden framework to old houses (like Tudor) in the Landes region. "miradores": platforms with ladders high into trees in the woods used by hunters for game spotting.

The hotel, while modest enough, turns out to be warm and friendly. Supper in the dining room with the green Van Gogh chairs was enjoyed with some nostalgia as we were proudly informed that we would (yet again!) be enjoying the local specialities of gesiers salad and confit de canard. What a difference a year makes, as
a) we were starving after a long day, and
b) following the horrors of the raw Lebanese liver in Paris in March, gesiers, even if they LOOK raw are purportedly "lightly cooked and warm".
We also enjoyed our familiar Basque tart and naturally a glass of the house Armagnac as a "somnifiere".

Note: If you sleep at the front of the Relais d'Armagnac at Luppé Violles you need to make full use of the (good) double glazing and shutters as fast traffic passes mere metres away.