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View June 2003 in a larger map |
This month involved some very beautiful scenic drives, through the Spanish Pyrennees towards the coast and further north to Arcachon on the west coast of France. We then headed south again to Pau so that Mike could fly back to the UK. |
I’ve just reviewed the last letter and we were about to climb a mountain in the Spanish Pyrenees. We had varying success, as you may imagine. As soon as we started I realised that this was not a walk for the faint hearted. It certainly wasn’t a rambler’s footpath either. We set off at a cracking pace; our guides (Carmel and Eugene, as mentioned in previous despatches) are extremely fit walkers and had had this climb in their sights for some time. I lasted for 1 ½ hours and was not sorry to throw in the towel. Mike and Eugene tried to persuade me to carry on but it didn’t take much verbal from me for them to realise I was in no mood for persuasion. I gently meandered back and enjoyed wonderful views, just me and the eagles soaring above. It was so peaceful you could actually hear the air rushing through their wings. I got to the bottom, and made my way back to Carmel and Eugene’s jeep and had a very nice sleep! Mike returned about 3 hours later. He had very nearly made it to the top but with only half an hour to go had used up every last ounce of energy. He really couldn’t manage another step. Carmel and Eugene made it back having conquered the mountain!! We were all pleased with our individual efforts, I know I could have tried harder but I really was not enjoying it and decided I’d rather be assertive than trying to confront the walk. We went back to the campsite for celebratory beers. Part of the post climb discussions centred on our poor planning as we had broken all the rules by splitting up. ‘WHAT IF…?’ Anyway with all ‘what ifs’ to one side we were fine. We did a couple of other walks before we left the national park which were beautiful but not in that highly advanced category, thank goodness.
We stayed in Ainsa for a week and then headed for a small village called Torla, high up in the mountains. Absolutely beautiful. Quite a lot of the drive was on single road. Breathtaking views and very glad there wasn’t much in the way of traffic. We did have a (thankfully) not too close encounter with a large pink coach. The next day we slowly drove through to a very pleasant town called Jaca. This had a very beautifully restored military museum which looked like some sort of fortification. It had deer in what would have been the moat. We didn’t have a chance to have a tour. We walked on to the medieval cathedral which houses some fine gothic paintings taken from other churches in the area to be preserved. We decided we wouldn’t bother with this when a priest stepped into our paths and quite literally charmed us in. So round the paintings we went and into a beautiful closed courtyard full of wild thyme and mint. He did his best to charm more money out of us for postcards but we managed to find our assertiveness skills again and got away. We had a super evening meal in a bar and decided that we wouldn’t be adverse to another visit-any time of year. This town would also be a great base for a ski-ing holiday although you’d have to take a bus to the slopes.
The next day we motored through to Pamplona. We stayed on a campsite just outside in Oricain. We took a bus into Pamplona from our site. It was only 7km and we knew we were on a busy route when a bendy bus turned up. It very quickly filled up and the noise!! Every single Spaniard was chatting at the top of their voice as if on a school trip. Certainly much livelier than British public transport and much better subsidised. Pamplona was another great place for a wander through very picturesque side streets in the old town. We traced the bull running route through to the bull ring. We have since heard that the bull running festival is no fun due to the huge crowds and uncontrolled drunkenness.
After a couple of nights in Pamplona we headed up towards San Sebastian-heart of Basque country. We couldn’t find anywhere to wild camp so we continued westwards, staying in a very quaint fishing village called Getaria. The views are apparently ‘stunning with cove after cove stretching west and verdant fields suddenly dropping away in rocky shafts to the sea.’ That’s how The Lonely Planet Guide described it, sadly for us it was shrouded in mist but we have no reason to disbelieve them. After one night in Getaria we decided to turn round and head back towards France.
Taking the coast road we arrived in a town called Hondarribia, just opposite St Jean de Luz in France. This was a very pleasant spot. Plenty of bars and restaurants, a marina, and some nice shops. Many of the houses were traditional Basque style. Some of them flew Basque flags off the balconies surrounded by countless window boxes full of red geraniums. This type of house had a chalet style roof, were several stories high and whitewashed with brightly painted external beams. One night I decided I wanted a traditional meal. This consists of a starter of cod omelette, followed by a beef chop and accompanied with cider. Well I had a traditional meal but I won’t be heading the stampede to have it again. I enjoyed the cider though; it was like the stuff we enjoy at beer festivals.
We thoroughly enjoyed 3 nights in Hondarribia and then made our way up into France. Our first stop was Biarritz. We parked in a car park for motor homes (Le camping-car) which was about a mile from the town centre. Biarritz was also a very nice part of the world. Lots of narrow winding streets, lovely shops, cafes and restaurants. We thought it would be a perfect spot to be a teenager (if you were into surfing) Sadly the oil spill last year has meant that quite a lot of oil is still being washed up. Many of them are surfing through it, which can’t be very nice. We had 3 nights in Biarritz then motored northwards along the Atlantic coast to Mimizan Plage.
Disaster struck. The first in what did turn out to be a run of three for poor Mike. He reversed into a lamp post. We have been incredibly lucky on this one. He hit the ladder at the back, which is dented, no damage to the bikes or the actual body work. The rear plastic housing for the lights is cracked but no damage to the lights themselves. Apart from the huge dent in Mike’s pride it could have been far worse. But sadly our van is no longer pristine. But these things do happen. The next day we continued north to Biscarrosse. Neither of us had been to this part of France before and we liked it very much. The long sandy beach (approx 200kms worth) with huge rolling waves off the Atlantic and fine golden sand. Last year I could have said pristine but sadly the oil has put an end to that. Inland is covered with the largest forest in Western Europe (ref. Rough Guide to France). It has been made into a national park and consists of literally miles and miles of evergreen trees. Just inland from the sea are a series of large freshwater lakes, which used to be part of the sea years ago. They also have lovely fine golden sand. Running through the forest are networks of many miles of cycle paths. Many of them are actually marked out like roads. I want to go back and do some cycling, especially as it’s all so flat. Whilst we were on the way to Biscarrosse we had a phone call from Robert, a friend from Norfolk to say that he was on ‘the way to Biscarrosse-where are you?’. We knew that Robert, his wife Tina and their beautiful daughter Esme were on holiday in nearby Arcachon so we just met up with them a couple of days earlier than planned.
Robert’s parents have a holiday home just off the beach in Arcachon. We ended up staying for a whole week. Arcachon is a great spot for a holiday. It is on the inside edge of what is virtually an inland sea. Across the bay is Cap Ferret, one of the playgrounds for the rich and famous. We took the ferry across there one day but there were no sightings of Sir Paul McCartney and his wife Heather who were there at the same time, (it’s true, the British press said so!). Also in Cap Ferret we took a little train across to the other side of the peninsular. Whilst sitting on the beach a running race went past ON THE SAND. Can you imagine a more arduous and dreadful way of stretching the Achilles tendons. What made it worse was that they didn’t even look tired or particularly sweaty after such a challenging run (we were sitting next to the 16km marker but we don’t know what the total distance was)-anyway I would have been reduced to a blob of grease. I guess it’s down to training and having a desire to put yourself through it- rather like climbing mountains unprepared.
Other good days out included Bergerac, about two hours inland from Arcachon. If you remember the last newsletter we spent a night in a wonderful vineyard overlooking Bergerac on our way to the Spanish Pyrenees. Bergerac is a medieval town, lots of old preserved buildings. Always quite a wealthy place thanks to wine production and the river. It was incredibly hot but we still enjoyed a good stroll around the old town and a visit to a wine exhibition.
Another land mark that Arcachon is famous for is the Dune de Pyla. This is an unbelievably huge dune, roughly 100 meters high and I don’t know how long. Luckily there were steps up to the top and then we had wonderful slippy, slidy, sandy run back to the bottom. The views from the top were stunning; Cap Ferret across the bay, the sandbanks of the Atlantic below and the endless forest of Les Landes inland, an excellent 360 panoramic view. There was paragliding from the top and I chose this as my birthday treat.Sadly there was no answer on the phone, although we tried all the numbers in the tourist information guide. I thought this would be a good place to try as jumping off 100m onto sand or sea isn’t as intimidating as jumping off a mountain.
If any of that has wetted the appetite for Arcachon as a holiday destination the house we stayed in is available for holiday rents, just let me know.
We left Arcachon on the 19th June and arrived near Pau, near the French Pyrenees. This is our base as Mike has had to go back for 5 days to sort out a project. I asked Mike to check my bike was still working after the bump at Mimizan Plage. It pedals fine but unfortunately he snapped the starter motor handle off, whilst checking to see if the motor was still functioning. So it’s a push bike now. That was number two on the disaster list. The final thing of his three disasters (just in case you are interested) was the spillage of about ¼ pint of red wine on the CREAM upholstery. EEK. Managed to get it off though, thank goodness I picked up a bottle of 2001 at the Co-op in Dover.
The day Mike left I ordered him a taxi for the airport in my very rusty schoolgirl French for 12.30pm. I was more than 50% sure that I had got it right. We walked up to reception and the lady at the desk said he’d already left, ‘I said half past 12’ I cried out in dismay. Mike then knew my statistical evaluation was cruelly wrong. Straight away without saying a word reception lady was on the blower. Mike and I waited uncertain outside, who was she phoning? She stepped out of reception and said (in French) ‘My husband will take you.’ We didn’t realise he was a taxi driver, how fortunate. It turned out we were wrong about his profession but our good fortune was ensured. He explained to Mike during the journey that he OWNED the campsite, he saw a taxi driver drinking in the bar, sent him away with a flea in his ear as taxi drivers should not drink and drive. He did not know he was our driver but had no regrets about sending him off. As it was his fault that the taxi was lost he refused to take any money from Mike. What a turn up for the books!
I am here literally roasting in the unseasonably high temperatures. It’s 40 degrees in the van, 31 degrees in the pool and who knows how hot in the sunshine. There is very little in the way of breeze and it’s too hot to sit out in the day. I’m not complaining though, much rather this than the slog back home. I’ve run out of gas but I am undaunted as I was planning on eating salads and who needs hot drinks anyway?
So that’s all for now folks, I hope you enjoy the ramblings. Our next instalment may include photographic evidence as Mike is very kindly buying me a digital camera for my birthday. Lets hope I can figure out this next piece of technology!
We stayed in Ainsa for a week and then headed for a small village called Torla, high up in the mountains. Absolutely beautiful. Quite a lot of the drive was on single road. Breathtaking views and very glad there wasn’t much in the way of traffic. We did have a (thankfully) not too close encounter with a large pink coach. The next day we slowly drove through to a very pleasant town called Jaca. This had a very beautifully restored military museum which looked like some sort of fortification. It had deer in what would have been the moat. We didn’t have a chance to have a tour. We walked on to the medieval cathedral which houses some fine gothic paintings taken from other churches in the area to be preserved. We decided we wouldn’t bother with this when a priest stepped into our paths and quite literally charmed us in. So round the paintings we went and into a beautiful closed courtyard full of wild thyme and mint. He did his best to charm more money out of us for postcards but we managed to find our assertiveness skills again and got away. We had a super evening meal in a bar and decided that we wouldn’t be adverse to another visit-any time of year. This town would also be a great base for a ski-ing holiday although you’d have to take a bus to the slopes.
The next day we motored through to Pamplona. We stayed on a campsite just outside in Oricain. We took a bus into Pamplona from our site. It was only 7km and we knew we were on a busy route when a bendy bus turned up. It very quickly filled up and the noise!! Every single Spaniard was chatting at the top of their voice as if on a school trip. Certainly much livelier than British public transport and much better subsidised. Pamplona was another great place for a wander through very picturesque side streets in the old town. We traced the bull running route through to the bull ring. We have since heard that the bull running festival is no fun due to the huge crowds and uncontrolled drunkenness.
After a couple of nights in Pamplona we headed up towards San Sebastian-heart of Basque country. We couldn’t find anywhere to wild camp so we continued westwards, staying in a very quaint fishing village called Getaria. The views are apparently ‘stunning with cove after cove stretching west and verdant fields suddenly dropping away in rocky shafts to the sea.’ That’s how The Lonely Planet Guide described it, sadly for us it was shrouded in mist but we have no reason to disbelieve them. After one night in Getaria we decided to turn round and head back towards France.
Taking the coast road we arrived in a town called Hondarribia, just opposite St Jean de Luz in France. This was a very pleasant spot. Plenty of bars and restaurants, a marina, and some nice shops. Many of the houses were traditional Basque style. Some of them flew Basque flags off the balconies surrounded by countless window boxes full of red geraniums. This type of house had a chalet style roof, were several stories high and whitewashed with brightly painted external beams. One night I decided I wanted a traditional meal. This consists of a starter of cod omelette, followed by a beef chop and accompanied with cider. Well I had a traditional meal but I won’t be heading the stampede to have it again. I enjoyed the cider though; it was like the stuff we enjoy at beer festivals.
We thoroughly enjoyed 3 nights in Hondarribia and then made our way up into France. Our first stop was Biarritz. We parked in a car park for motor homes (Le camping-car) which was about a mile from the town centre. Biarritz was also a very nice part of the world. Lots of narrow winding streets, lovely shops, cafes and restaurants. We thought it would be a perfect spot to be a teenager (if you were into surfing) Sadly the oil spill last year has meant that quite a lot of oil is still being washed up. Many of them are surfing through it, which can’t be very nice. We had 3 nights in Biarritz then motored northwards along the Atlantic coast to Mimizan Plage.
Disaster struck. The first in what did turn out to be a run of three for poor Mike. He reversed into a lamp post. We have been incredibly lucky on this one. He hit the ladder at the back, which is dented, no damage to the bikes or the actual body work. The rear plastic housing for the lights is cracked but no damage to the lights themselves. Apart from the huge dent in Mike’s pride it could have been far worse. But sadly our van is no longer pristine. But these things do happen. The next day we continued north to Biscarrosse. Neither of us had been to this part of France before and we liked it very much. The long sandy beach (approx 200kms worth) with huge rolling waves off the Atlantic and fine golden sand. Last year I could have said pristine but sadly the oil has put an end to that. Inland is covered with the largest forest in Western Europe (ref. Rough Guide to France). It has been made into a national park and consists of literally miles and miles of evergreen trees. Just inland from the sea are a series of large freshwater lakes, which used to be part of the sea years ago. They also have lovely fine golden sand. Running through the forest are networks of many miles of cycle paths. Many of them are actually marked out like roads. I want to go back and do some cycling, especially as it’s all so flat. Whilst we were on the way to Biscarrosse we had a phone call from Robert, a friend from Norfolk to say that he was on ‘the way to Biscarrosse-where are you?’. We knew that Robert, his wife Tina and their beautiful daughter Esme were on holiday in nearby Arcachon so we just met up with them a couple of days earlier than planned.
Robert’s parents have a holiday home just off the beach in Arcachon. We ended up staying for a whole week. Arcachon is a great spot for a holiday. It is on the inside edge of what is virtually an inland sea. Across the bay is Cap Ferret, one of the playgrounds for the rich and famous. We took the ferry across there one day but there were no sightings of Sir Paul McCartney and his wife Heather who were there at the same time, (it’s true, the British press said so!). Also in Cap Ferret we took a little train across to the other side of the peninsular. Whilst sitting on the beach a running race went past ON THE SAND. Can you imagine a more arduous and dreadful way of stretching the Achilles tendons. What made it worse was that they didn’t even look tired or particularly sweaty after such a challenging run (we were sitting next to the 16km marker but we don’t know what the total distance was)-anyway I would have been reduced to a blob of grease. I guess it’s down to training and having a desire to put yourself through it- rather like climbing mountains unprepared.
Other good days out included Bergerac, about two hours inland from Arcachon. If you remember the last newsletter we spent a night in a wonderful vineyard overlooking Bergerac on our way to the Spanish Pyrenees. Bergerac is a medieval town, lots of old preserved buildings. Always quite a wealthy place thanks to wine production and the river. It was incredibly hot but we still enjoyed a good stroll around the old town and a visit to a wine exhibition.
Another land mark that Arcachon is famous for is the Dune de Pyla. This is an unbelievably huge dune, roughly 100 meters high and I don’t know how long. Luckily there were steps up to the top and then we had wonderful slippy, slidy, sandy run back to the bottom. The views from the top were stunning; Cap Ferret across the bay, the sandbanks of the Atlantic below and the endless forest of Les Landes inland, an excellent 360 panoramic view. There was paragliding from the top and I chose this as my birthday treat.Sadly there was no answer on the phone, although we tried all the numbers in the tourist information guide. I thought this would be a good place to try as jumping off 100m onto sand or sea isn’t as intimidating as jumping off a mountain.
If any of that has wetted the appetite for Arcachon as a holiday destination the house we stayed in is available for holiday rents, just let me know.
We left Arcachon on the 19th June and arrived near Pau, near the French Pyrenees. This is our base as Mike has had to go back for 5 days to sort out a project. I asked Mike to check my bike was still working after the bump at Mimizan Plage. It pedals fine but unfortunately he snapped the starter motor handle off, whilst checking to see if the motor was still functioning. So it’s a push bike now. That was number two on the disaster list. The final thing of his three disasters (just in case you are interested) was the spillage of about ¼ pint of red wine on the CREAM upholstery. EEK. Managed to get it off though, thank goodness I picked up a bottle of 2001 at the Co-op in Dover.
The day Mike left I ordered him a taxi for the airport in my very rusty schoolgirl French for 12.30pm. I was more than 50% sure that I had got it right. We walked up to reception and the lady at the desk said he’d already left, ‘I said half past 12’ I cried out in dismay. Mike then knew my statistical evaluation was cruelly wrong. Straight away without saying a word reception lady was on the blower. Mike and I waited uncertain outside, who was she phoning? She stepped out of reception and said (in French) ‘My husband will take you.’ We didn’t realise he was a taxi driver, how fortunate. It turned out we were wrong about his profession but our good fortune was ensured. He explained to Mike during the journey that he OWNED the campsite, he saw a taxi driver drinking in the bar, sent him away with a flea in his ear as taxi drivers should not drink and drive. He did not know he was our driver but had no regrets about sending him off. As it was his fault that the taxi was lost he refused to take any money from Mike. What a turn up for the books!
I am here literally roasting in the unseasonably high temperatures. It’s 40 degrees in the van, 31 degrees in the pool and who knows how hot in the sunshine. There is very little in the way of breeze and it’s too hot to sit out in the day. I’m not complaining though, much rather this than the slog back home. I’ve run out of gas but I am undaunted as I was planning on eating salads and who needs hot drinks anyway?
So that’s all for now folks, I hope you enjoy the ramblings. Our next instalment may include photographic evidence as Mike is very kindly buying me a digital camera for my birthday. Lets hope I can figure out this next piece of technology!