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Day 8: St Gaudens - Ste-Marie de Campan 52 m / 84 k
We wave goodbye to the coach party waiting for their joking guide and leave early to avoid meeting them on the road. The first 34 miles are along river valleys, mostly flat with some hills. Once again we are passing through country settled by the Romans. We take a photograph of a "Pile Romaine" at Labarthe - a tower with a niche, once dedicated to Mercury and holding beacons to light the way. We cycle past numerous Roman ruins but the most impressive are those in St-Bertrand-de-Comminges which includes the exposed foundations of a Roman theatre and extensive thermal baths immediately next door to the modern school. Above these, on a hillock, is the 13th century church built on the foundation of an 11th century religious building. Paleolithic human remains were found near here as well. This must make it easy for the local history teacher.
Then we find ourselves amongst "killer hills", very steep and never ending when you most want them to. We wind our way through small, compact, mountain villages. Each house has a barn attached to it with the whole structure on two stories. The upper part of the barn is used for a mixture of purposes, from the storage of hay to the hanging of laundry. The most unusual display was a collection of old racing bikes. Everything is neat tidy and colourful. Even dilapidated barns are decorated with flower boxes. After two cols - Hountérède and Mazouau - we join the major north-south road (D929) as far south as possible, near Rebouc. Traffic is light (it was Sunday), but the road must be hell when it's busy.
Arreau is very pretty with the Neste River running through it. Its houses have belvederes and are stylishly dilapidated. Narrow foot bridges link houses to the park where we eat some food while admiring the church.
The weather has been good again. The early morning mist cleared to give us a sunny day with a few clouds. This is perfect for our 8 mile ascent and 9 mile descent, up and over the Col d'Aspin. We set off up the quiet D918, past a garage with a friendly sign: "Amis cyclistes, ne pissez pas sur le matériel." Lovely views of Arreau appear and disappear as we round yet another bend in the road. The ascent through this enclosed valley is wooded with birch trees and pretty flowers (e.g. long leaf saxifrage, blue Pyrenean thistle, campion, sisymbrium). It is as though we are going up through a funnel, hemmed in by forest-covered hillsides. Names of famous cyclists and words of encouragement on the road indicate that this route was recently used by the Tour de France! There are also signposts every kilometre to tell us how much further we have to go and what gradient we might expect. It is psychologically useful to have this information. The markers are also good for keeping one going until "the next marker". We stop at the top with other cyclists and hundreds of camper vans. It appears to be a mountain top meeting for all the camper vans in Holland. Donkeys, horses and cows wander across the roads or stand in them, as the mood strikes. This causes no problems going up but can be dangerous going down! As we are pulling on more clothes, we are joined by a horse which tries to eat Graham's panniers, then the clothes he is putting on, then his bike handles. No surprise that Graham is the first to descend.
I follow a few minutes later but have to slow down for a camper van blocked by several cows. As I go around the obstruction, I look to my right and observe a newly born calf on a ledge with its mother eating the afterbirth! But there is no time to linger as the mountain pulls me downward. The landscape is more open on this side of the mountain and we can see valley upon valley far below. After the first hair-raising 5 kilometres, we stop (to let the brakes cool down and muscles relax) at a mountain village, Payolle, selling sheepskin rugs and postcards. The rest of the descent is very easy and pleasant.
We soar through the straggly town of Ste Marie de Campan and finally find our hotel (Châlet-Hôtel) on the edge of the town. Our attic windows give us magnificent views of the huge mountains - especially the looming mass of the Tourmalet - and we are reminded of Pitlochry. An hour after arriving it begins to rain and we find that the restaurant is closed. The hotel owner is unable to find a chef to work in this isolated place. She drives us at racing-car speed, past the plaque on the blacksmith's about 300 metres north of Sainte-Marie where Eugène Christophe repaired his broken forks in the 1913 Tour (our pedal straps bear the name "Christophe" - the same family), to a campsite restaurant where we have a fairly plain but filling meal. It is just as well she has driven us as there is no sidewalk up the steep 2 kilometre climb to the restaurant. The first course is a vegetable soup which is famous in this region. I find it much too watery and dull. Fellow cyclists from Britiain are staying at the campsite and we compare notes of the climb we are going to attempt the next day.
Day 9: Ste-Marie de Campan - Luz-St Sauveur 24 m / 38 k
The hotel is overun by Italians who arrive at midnight but have skedaddled by 8am. We only see the remains of dozens of breakfasts. A large building nearby which sells and rents skiing equipment is closed. Two women cycle past the window: we later see them coming gently back down the Tourmalet through the fog. The day is misty and chilly. We only have 23 miles to go but it is over the Tourmalet, which meant "bad detour" in the local dialect. Until the 17C it was only crossed on foot or by sedan chair.
On TV, we had seen this year's Tour passing the hotel and spinning up the Tourmalet - another Lance Armstrong victory - but they stopped at La Mongie, the weaklings, 4 kilometres before the top! Once again we have markers every kilometre but the gradients are sharper than yesterday. 8.5% and 9.5% come up more often than is comfortable but we are in no hurry. Neither is the mist: visibility gets worse until we can see barely 6 feet ahead. Often, the markers are only seen when we pass them. I suppose it hides the hideous face of La Mongie, a massive ski resort with modern concrete hotels and numerous tacky souvenir shops. We cycle through, after stopping for a quick hot chocolate in a giant café with a nicely warming log fire.
We continue the ascent enveloped in mist until, a mile before the summit, the clouds suddenly clear to expose towering crags of granite, jagged from glacial erosion, looming over us. We stop, amazed at our surroundings. But the cloud closes in again and we continue our upward struggle. Then, suddenly, we are at the top, with dozens of other cyclists and a Soviet style statue of a cyclist. The other side of the mountain is completely clear and it is a sunny autumnal day with a light breeze. We find that we had no company going up because we ascended the harder side!
A note on the Internet suggested that the small road up to the Pic du Midi and the Col des Laquets had been paved and was now cyclable. It is not - at least not on a loaded touring bike - and it is closed by a gate.
We put on more clothes and take a few photos of the roads which are spread out below us. We can now admire the granite peaks, the green valleys and the wooded hillsides which we are about to pass through. The descent is pretty scary and I have to stop a few times to rest my hand and arm muscles when they feel too weak to hold the brakes. Sheep wander across the roads and there is more car traffic than one would like on these narrow roads. On the upper slopes, most cars travel at or below the speed of cyclists, but they seem to feel the need to pass. The towns we pass through are more dilapidated and desolate than those on the Col d'Aspin.
Irritation and disagreement over when to purchase food means that we have no lunch! In worsening mood, I head down the mountain first. I pass a road accident, this one involving a motorcycle and a car. Graham thinks I have been involved but I am safely hunting through the bike bag for any trace of nourishment. Soon after we buy some lunch!
Luz St Sauveur gives us the chance to stay in a 3-star hotel. Our room has lovely views from the attic window. A 12C church, fortified with crenellated walls towers over the hotel. Luz St Sauveur was two towns which faced each other across the Gave de Pau (river), often a torrent. The "fierce and unsociable natives" were brought around by Napoleon III and Empress Eugénie and it became a famous summer resort during the 19th century. It is now a ski resort in winter and a center for walking and cycling during the summer. There are two large cycle shops in this small town.
Day 10: Luz-St Sauveur - St Savin 33 m / 52 k
A beautiful sunrise wakes us to another sunny and warm day. As we are checking out, the hotel owner tells us that during July and August there were only 12 such days. We feel fortunate. We have a fast (and cold) start to the day as we continue our descent from the day before, heading towards Lourdes.
We turn off the D921 and climb steeply for 3 kilometres to Saligos, then down an equally steep descent back to the main road along the Gorge de Luz which is gorgeous with its massive rocks hanging just above our heads and the river running along the other side of the road. Packs of cyclists are going the other way - a fast and colourful band. At Pierrefitte we find the cycle path only because we know it exists and that it is next to the the former railway station. (It is called the
"Voie Vertes des Gaves" and has its own website.) There is no signposting until you are on the path. Why?! Of course, once we are on the path, there are lots of signs and information boards about the towns we are passing near, the flora and fauna, the history of the region, etc. The path is very smooth and a good width, even though roller bladers (lots of these) seem to need the full width of the path. We are encircled by mountains and the views are stunning. We get to Lourdes (very famous Catholic pilgrimage site) in no time and are spat out unceremoniously onto a busy road. The town is not very attractive though we only visit a few of the side streets which are lined with religious souvenir shops. After a quick visit to the post office, boulangerie and fruit stall and we are ready to return to the much pleasanter bike path.
We stop at a picnic table in a nearby wood along a sparkling river to eat our goodies and clean the bikes. Our first truly leisurely day. Idyllic.
We leave the bike path on a tiny road for St Savin and go up an incredibly long and steep hill to the village and then climb further to reach our hotel which is named after, and perched on, "The Rocks". The bikes have their own room, a former pig-sty, while we have yet another attic room. There are many 15th -17th century buildings, including houses with overhanging upper stories. Balconies on the 19th-century buildings don't look out of place. The Abbey church, famous for its mural paintings, is closed but this saves us a steep walk up yet another hill! We admire it from the café.
Dinner reminds us never to agree to "demi-pension" as one has no choice. It is good for the hotel owner but not for the diner. However, Bayonne ham with melon followed by a steak, then cheese, then dessert, is not all that bad!
Day 11: St Savin - Eaux-Bonnes 31 m / 49 k
First to breakfast in this French tourist retreat. Another short day in terms of miles but long in terms of effort. Having climbed all the way up to this village I am loathe to go down again only to have to go up again, so G finds an alternative route via Arcizans-Avant and Bun, which has us joining the main road further up. Having expected continual climbing, it is pleasant to find the road undulating along lakes and beside one campsite after another. We are glad it is out of season! Despite the quantity of holiday homes the area has retained a pastoral appearance. Several hang-gliders can be seen overhead.
We join the main road just before Aucun. There is a lot of holiday traffic as well as cyclists. We stop in Arrens to get the "passeport vélo" stamped (this involves G in a hunt for the office with the stamp as well as a bureaucratic conversation…). By getting a stamp for each col crossed, you can later send off for a brevet Cycliste Haut-Pyrénéen which looks almost as good as a degree certificate and a lot more interesting. Meanwhile, I sit and admire a typical church from this region with its slate-covered conical roof topped by a wrought- iron steeple. After we leave this village we start getting our usual kilometre markers and a sign that the big cols are open.
A lone French cyclist from Bourges (which he glumly describes as "flat") catches up with us and has a conversation with G about gear ratios, chain-wheels, gradients and mountain climbing. I happily sit back and read the markings on the road from previous races. The most unusual is one I saw near the top of the Tourmalet - the name "Armstrong" is repeated several times, then followed by an arrow inviting him to cycle off the mountain into the abyss. Obviously not a fan of the eventual four-time winner of the Tour.
This is a much easier climb than on the previous two days - or maybe I am getting used to this type of cycling. We drink lots of water (5 bottles over a 30 mile stretch). The weather is once again perfect - sunny with blue sky and no cloud so we have clear views over long distances. Amazing. We rise up out of the valley as the grey, cracked and craggy summit disappears from view. We pass Pyrenean houses and barns which are built half way into the ground. At the top of the Col du Soulor, a shepherd brings his flock of sheep across the high meadows. He talks with cyclists as he crosses to the meadows on the other side.
We start on the descent, but only briefly, to the "Cirque du Litor", a narrow ledge which connects two mountain passes, the Soulor and the Aubisque, both legendary for cyclists. Deep precipices to our right and sheer rock rises up to our left. Water leaking from the fissures gleams in the sunshine. Birds of prey soar and hover. I want to stay but there isn't much space in which to linger. Two tunnels carved out of the side of the mountain are long, dark and dripping glacial water which is seeping through the stone. Soon we are starting our ascent to the Aubisque. This is much shorter with easier gradients. We pass the spot where a Dutch Tour de France rider, Wim Van Est, fell 30 feet and was caught by the limb of a tree. G cycles back down towards the spot to try the corner but omits the falling off bit… A plaque on the rock face indicates the site. Three other people have stopped to look at it and a man from Holland tells us that Van Est is still alive and well in his eighties. After this, the edge of the road begins to merge with gentle meadows, descending for miles, with animals in the far distance. However, some cows have not descended and are standing in the road. We cycle through them, repeating the exercise later when a group of horses occupy the road. The sound of thunder under the road must be an underground stream?!
At the top, the moutain peaks surround us and we don't want to leave this beautiful setting too quickly. A cheese omelette gives us the excuse to sit and enjoy the view with lots of other cyclists. More couples than usual are up here. There are even a few camping cyclists with all their gear.
But finally it is time to descend. It is much easier than anticipated as the roads are wider (and we have more experience?). Fantastic views coming down. A quick detour up the steepest road today into the village of Aas (known until quite recently for its whistling language which could be heard over 7000 ft and was used by shepherds to communicate). From the Aas road there is a lovely view of Eaux-Bonnes with its long rows of Second Empire buildings - Tibet meets Leamington Spa - imposing and yet dwarfed by the wooded mountains which surround the narrow town. Despite the air of faded elegance and mostly boarded up hotels (the local café owner serves us while having a nervous phone conversaiton with his bank manager), we find the largest hotel fully booked (coach party). A room is found in the one other hotel where the husband and wife act as waiter, cook and cleaner over dinner, which therefore takes some time. The hotel dog hides under the tables and discreetly offers its snout when its owners are in the kitchen.
Day 12: Eaux-Bonnes - Pau 32 m / 51 k
We continue our descent from Eaux-Bonnes into a very flat valley. Beyond the town of Laruns, we turn onto the smaller valley road (D240), twisting through small villages. The houses are tiny but many of them have monumental stone doorways. At one point, it looks as though we are about to cycle straight into a church, until the road turns a corner. At Béon, the road is blocked by enormous boulders. A man leaning out of a window and then two local cyclists assure us that this is the road to Castet (pronounced like "Casse-tête", which means puzzle or brain-teaser). There are just a few anglers' cars. Even the red road, which we end up taking from Louvie-Juzon to Rébénacq (a total of 10 kms on the D934) is unusually quiet. (Most of the busiest roads in the Pyrenees run north to south, heading along the flat valleys towards the Spanish border.)
The small roads to the East become increasingly hilly. The smaller the road, the steeper the ascent. The mountains behind us to the South are disappearing into the heat haze. We stop for an early lunch at Notre-Dame de Piétat, looking over towards the hills of the Basque country. The descent into Pau on the D209 is quite sudden, followed by a sharp climb into the city by the château. We enter through one of the old gates, now closed to cars, into a crowd of lunchtime restaurant tables.
We stay in an old coaching inn, very English in appearance. Our window looks out onto the narrow courtyard filled with tables for a busy lunchtime trade. (As we find out later, lunch is the main meal. The restaurant is nearly empty when we finally go to dinner and the food is fine but not terribly interesting.)
"Logis de France" hotels - small, family-run hotels with good local food - have suddenly increased in number. This one seems to be an example of the new, inferior variety.
With plenty of time, we visit the Musée des Beaux-Arts which doesn't have a very impressive collection but there is a painting of Eaux-Bonnes as it was in its heyday.
We walk along the Boulevard des Pyrénées from one end to the other. The sun is blinding and the views of the Pyrenees are better on a postcard. Too much traffic, so we find a café in a pedestrianised part and have a drink under poplar trees. Two students, dressed up in black plastic bags are selling sweets to fund travels associated with their studies. Our contribution is welcomed. We ride the free funicular railcar to the other part of town, an eight-storey drop.
Day 13: Pau - Mauléon-Licharre 46 m / 74 k
We leave Pau on the red road (D2 to Laroin) but there isn't too much trouble getting out of the town. Soon we are off the main road and into dense deep green forest which ends in wonderful views of the Pyrenees, layer upon layer of varying shades of blue, each summit clearly delineated against the sky. We are now in the Jurançon vineyards, with yet more views of the Pyrenees. We descend into river valleys with lush farms full of ripening corn. Everyone is friendly - the farmer, the woman working in her vegetable garden, all call out "bonjour" as we go past. Tomatos, squash, leeks and strawberry plants look luscious in the sunshine. In Oloron Ste Marie the church doorway (12-13C) shows Sarrasins being driven out of town. We leave too, after some shopping at the market.
After leaving Barcus we begin to encounter more hills, very steep with verdant meadows on either side, dropping away vertically from the roadside. Each village has a small church with a single tall spire topped by a conical roof. We are frequently following the Pilgrims' route to Compostella.
The hotel we are looking for in Mauléon-Licharre (another example of two towns joined together) is called the "Hostellerie du Château", so logically we head up an extremely steep hill to the 15C chateau perched on top. The road becomes narrower and steeper until we are forced to walk. There is no hotel up here! The confusion is due to the fact that the château is visible from the hotel but not next door. A postwoman gives us directions and then offers to lead us to the hotel, rather flatteringly driving at 15 mph, through the shopping district and out the other side and down another road to the hotel. She asks us all sort of questions about where we have been and where we are going and is most displeased that we are staying in "the beautiful Basque country" for just one night.
The hotel looks a bit dodgy but appears to be the only one in town. It is huge and rambling and has seen better days. We are given a room in the depths with a very nice view of the château we climbed up to earlier - as well as a view of the asbestos roof. The room is fairly clean but the walls are thin and trembly and the plumbing replicates an ancient orchestra playing a modern piece of music. If one ignores the problem of high-decibel snoring, we have had no noise problems on this trip. About 6pm, Oasis is blasting out of the room across the narrow hallway - unfortunately not Noel and Liam but British workmen over to do a job in France.
After winding through the back streets of Biarritz - high-density mansions for gregarious millionaires - then whizzing along a major road, we are in Bayonne by noon. It is very pretty and quiet. Everyone must be at the beach. We eat lunch along the River Nive while we wait for our room to be prepared in a hotel near the station. Tired. Most of the day is spent walking from one café to another where we sit to admire rows of tall, narrow, colourful warehouses along the river.
We go down for a drink in the bar but all the staff are eating dinner and we are accosted by the local drunk who explains the history of the Basques. "The sea used to cover San Sebastian. One day, the waters receded and there were the Basques, speaking their own language." Do we know the name of this Basque province?, he asks. (It's called Soule, which sounds like the French for "drunk".) We extricate ourselves to look for other places to eat but find nothing. The streets are full of hunters in safari-style jeeps returning from the surrounding hills. We return, with a Parisian couple who are also stuck in our hotel. It goes from bad to worse. Hygiene is not a great concern to the staff. A puppy kept in the kitchen (?!) regularly escapes to the diningroom where he is picked up and caressed by the waitress as she delivers our food. Our bread basket, still full, is simply delivered to another table by the dog-smeared hand. Eveyone is friendly and a party of 50 begins to fill the cavernous diningroom. Awards are handed out - but not for the restaurant.
Noise problem has been solved so we get some sleep.
Day 14: Mauléon-Licharre - Ascain 63 m / 101 k
As we go down for breakfast the following morning, we are forced to step over a pile of dog poo which has been deposited very neatly at the bottom of the stairs on an unlit but frequently trodden spot. Clever dog. Time to go!
A fellow cyclist is leaving at the same time and we compare notes and agree that the hills of the Basque country are much harder than climbing a mountain. He asks if it is true that there are no big mountains in Britain. (He once read an article in which the English racer Chris Boardman explained that he had to use a special turbo-trainer to simulate French mountains.)
The first 20 miles are less hilly than the day before. The countryside is very pretty and reminiscent of England. In St Palais while I am buying food I hear my first Basque. More road signs and shop signs are in Basque (which makes it harder to find the boulangerie). Pelote courts are everywhere (so lots of work for plasterers?). All the houses are freshly painted white each year for the Feast of St John. Everything appears clean and crisp. The window frames, shutters and doors are painted a brick red or a dark green. Tumbling boxes of geraniums decorate the balconies. Most of the houses have a date over the door, frequently the 15th century, indicating how long the family has owned the land,
regardless of the actual age of the house.
The Pas de Roland is covered in fine, slippery gravel and is very steep so we have to walk up as well as down but it is very pretty, especially along the river. Itxassou is a tourist spot. Lots of people are there to admire the briskly flowing Nive river. We get through the labyrinthine village and then go up the official col - Pinodiéta - which is much easier than the unofficial Pas de Roland.
Down in to Aïnhoa, another "prettiest village", but not quite so pretty now as it is full of slow moving traffic on its narrow roads and car parks for coaches. There are no modern buildings to mar the view and every structure is decorated in "traditional Basque style". Too much like a Disneyland. However, I wouldn't have minded staying if only there had been a room in a hotel. It is only 3:30 so still time to find a place. A hotel owner preparing for a wedding party washes out our depleted bottles and fills them with ice-cold water. Embarking on the route originally planned for the next day, we head into Spain to Zugarramurdi (famous for witches) but all we find are giant tapas bars.
A secret road (not on the official map, but G saw it on the web and finds it by climbing to the highest point in the village) gets us back into France via a quiet way. The frontier post is now a cheap service station. We arrive in Sare, another "prettiest village" where all the hotels are full - "all the way down to the coast" according to one hotel receptionist. Horse riders mix with cyclists to create a lively atmosphere. I quickly buy some food and drink to keep us going. It is now 5pm on Saturday, with nice weather promised for the whole weekend. Everyone in France is heading for the coast to enjoy the holiday they missed out on because of the bad weather during July and August.
The only way out is up another official col - St Ignace. Thankfully the gradient is good but the traffic is heavy and very unpleasant. At the top is a busy tourist area, due largely to a little train which goes up to La Rhune, a mountain we first see from Spain. We have views of the Atlantic Ocean as we descend but there isn't much opportunity to enjoy this as an endless stream of cars feel they just have to pass us going down these narrow and winding roads. We are already going at 35mph. The descent isn't that long. Why the need to endanger our lives?! I shout at them and manage to confuse and frighten a few. Grrrr.
Tired, irritated, hungry, thirsty and feeling angry with all car drivers, we arrive in Ascain. This is not a "most beautiful village" so we think there is hope but all the hotels are full yet again. Fortunately one of the hotel owners knows of a room, just vacated in a pension down the road. We race there and get the last room. No toilet or towels but there is a shower and a bed. The pension is housed above a wine shop where food is served. The family are very friendly and popular with the locals who come in and out, chatting, buying a drink or a case of wine. Children run in and out. We just sit and enjoy the show, a decent cassoulet and salad followed by what seems to be the only cheese in the Basque country - sheep cheese - is our dinner. The Madiron wine from a small vineyard is the best we have had - as well as the cheapest. Sleep comes before I have recounted the 8 bottles of water we consumed.
Day 15: Ascain - Bayonne 21 m / 34 k
A much shorter day than planned due to the fact that we ended up doing half of it yesterday. It is another gorgeous day. We start along a bike path pointed out to us by the pension owner - along the river Nivelle for less than 1 kilometre. Soon we are on bigger roads. There isn't much choice along this part of the coast. However, there are cycle lanes, which helps. St Jean de Luz and Guéthary, which were once fishing ports, are now just part of the greater conurbation of Biarritz and Bayonne. At Biarritz we stop at Marbelle Beach to watch the surfers. A hot and sunny 27 degrees at 10:30am.
Click here for Part Three
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