Well it was a mildly eventful night in the gite at Ainhoa. A member of one of the parties there - four young French guys from Hendaye who were out walking for the weekend - was taken ill around 05:00, which is why there was some shuffling about in the early hours. I hope he's okay. But since I was awake (and having slept well) I got up and started preparing to depart. I moved all my things into the kitchen to avoid disturbing anyone, and by 07:00 I'd had a breakfast of sorts and repacked my rucksack and was ready to go.
I left Ainhoa as it got light.
Having learned from the couple in Ordiarp that the GR tends to always pass by the local church, I simply headed to the church and looked. Sure enough there it was and I headed out of town - hopefully for an easy day's walk. After the exertions of the previous couple of days I didn't feel much like climbing today. Here are good examples of the building style I wrote about yesterday:
It was a gentle walk, much of the early stages in an ancient forest beside a stream. Look at some of these gnarly old chestnuts. Amazing:
I passed through a number of small hamlets, all of them very neatly kept and all of them build in this style I learned about only yesterday. The red colour denotes, along with a deep green, the Basque colours and so one finds everything painted red. Very charming houses and very different to what I've seen elsewhere in France.
I passed through Sare, with its Roman bridge, but since the bridge wasn't actually on my route I wasn't interested enough to detour to find it. There was an extensive cobbled stone pathway that ran for several kilometres through the village and into the woods. It looked very pretty but to be honest it was far more difficult to walk on than earth or grass.
Outside Sare was the only real incline of the day. A 230 metre climb up something called the Col de Suhalmendi. It struck me that this was certainly not a Basque name. It clearly belonged to the time when all of this part of Spain was occupied by the Moors. Anyway, it seemed straightforward enough - a 30 or 40 minute hike up the col. But about halfway up I seemed to hit some sort of wall (obviously not literally!) Suddenly I felt as if I couldn't put one foot in front of another. Suddenly I felt I had absolutely no energy at all. It was strange to feel this descend on me so suddenly and so completely. I wondered if I'd got ill? Maybe that chap last night who got taken to hospital, maybe it was something contagious? But I plugged on. There's nothing else to be done really.
I was soon enough at the top. Here the GR8 (I had been on) turned to the left to complete a circuit back to Sare but my destination lay almost due north. I picked one of the smaller cycle tracks that headed downhill and started walking. My energy picked up once more - it seemed that was a temporary episode - and I strode off downhill, enjoying the shade of the pine and eucalyptus growing all around.
I made it into Ascain around 12:30 and wandered into the town centre. I realised that now I was off the GR10 and that while this might be a starting point for a number of walks, it certainly wasn't really a stopping point on a particular route.
Thus there was a choice of hotels and, located some kilometres away, a campsite. Having only camped once on the trip thus far I will do so again only when there are no other options available. I stopped at a small bar and had a beer and made myself a cheese sandwhich with food I had purchased earlier.
I studied my map and realised that my plan to stay in Ascain and then walk to Irun might not actually be the best one. There were no footpaths from Ascain that lead directly to Irun. Instead it would be lots of walking on the road. I had an idea. I asked in the bar how far it was to St Jean de Luz. I'd decided that if it wasn't some impractical distance I would go there for the evening and set myself on the "Camino del Norte" one day early :0) I was pleasantly surprised to be told that it was only 7km (you wouldn't think I was sitting there holding a map!)
After my beer and sandwhich I was much refreshed. I think my temporary loss of energy was a reaction to the previous couple of mountain stages. I was determined not to overdo things today but 7km was perfectly achievable.
I set off on the main road. I didn't care - this is my camino and I think I'll just walk where I jolly well please! I put on some Stevie Wonder and found myself roaring into St Jean to "Boogie On Reggae Woman" less than 90 minutes later. What a nice walk, and how nice for once not to be feeling that I've walked further than I should have.
I wandered into the centre of town via the various footpaths and cycle paths that the council have kindly created. Along the side of the Nivelle and up towards the port
Something that confused me at first was that as I crossed the bridge over the river, I appeared to enter a different town. Ciboure (as it is called) seems to be the Western half of the settlement that bridges the Nivelle. St Jean de Luz is on the Eastern bank. Hmm.. not that it should matter either way, but I found a tourist information office (that was closed) that listed available rooms and that were all in St Jean. I crossed back over the bridge and after wandering around for quite a while, happily enjoying the late sun and the crowds.
I did also see my first new signs for the "camino del norte" - here it's called the "Voie de la Côte"
I realised that finding a gite or anything vaguely connected with pilgrims was going to be time consuming and involving a lot of footwork. So in the end, and with a need to access the internet on my mind, I found a two star hotel not far from the beach. The lady was kind in understanding that I would have taken a gite had I been able to find one, and she upgraded my room to a small 'villa' facing the gardens. Charming. A bit down at heel (it was a two star hotel) but I had privacy and a window looking into mature gardens of palm and yucca, with a small fountain.
After the necessary shower I headed out to the hotel lounge to produce some updates to the blog (which are now some days old). After that I wandered into town to find some food. I was aware of the relatively large expense of a hotel in comparison to both my budget and to the prices I had been paying, but in fact once I was in my room having showered, I felt really content with my choice. Just over three weeks on the road and I had a room to myself. Nobody getting up in the night and tripping over things, no need to make conversation (which has all been in French) and thus a total rest. I realised that despite feeling very fit I was quite tired really. I now felt it had been quite an intense three weeks getting this far and I was determined to make the most of the relative luxury of a quiet room and some solitude.
The light on the beachfront was dramatic - clouds gathering for rain, and the sun setting against the dark clouds cast a fantastic golden glow. I'd left my camera behind - determined for once to just sit and eat, but I was tempted to go back for it.
I found a nice restaurant in town (there were dozens to choose from) and ate well. I chatted to a friendly Australian couple who were seated at the next table. They'd been touring Europe and had just arrived from San Sebastian (where I'll be in two days' time).
So, that was my day. I found a well read copy of a John Grisham novel in the hotel lounge and decided I'd borrow it. Nice to have something to read actually.
I left Ainhoa as it got light.
Having learned from the couple in Ordiarp that the GR tends to always pass by the local church, I simply headed to the church and looked. Sure enough there it was and I headed out of town - hopefully for an easy day's walk. After the exertions of the previous couple of days I didn't feel much like climbing today. Here are good examples of the building style I wrote about yesterday:
It was a gentle walk, much of the early stages in an ancient forest beside a stream. Look at some of these gnarly old chestnuts. Amazing:
I passed through a number of small hamlets, all of them very neatly kept and all of them build in this style I learned about only yesterday. The red colour denotes, along with a deep green, the Basque colours and so one finds everything painted red. Very charming houses and very different to what I've seen elsewhere in France.
I passed through Sare, with its Roman bridge, but since the bridge wasn't actually on my route I wasn't interested enough to detour to find it. There was an extensive cobbled stone pathway that ran for several kilometres through the village and into the woods. It looked very pretty but to be honest it was far more difficult to walk on than earth or grass.
Outside Sare was the only real incline of the day. A 230 metre climb up something called the Col de Suhalmendi. It struck me that this was certainly not a Basque name. It clearly belonged to the time when all of this part of Spain was occupied by the Moors. Anyway, it seemed straightforward enough - a 30 or 40 minute hike up the col. But about halfway up I seemed to hit some sort of wall (obviously not literally!) Suddenly I felt as if I couldn't put one foot in front of another. Suddenly I felt I had absolutely no energy at all. It was strange to feel this descend on me so suddenly and so completely. I wondered if I'd got ill? Maybe that chap last night who got taken to hospital, maybe it was something contagious? But I plugged on. There's nothing else to be done really.
I was soon enough at the top. Here the GR8 (I had been on) turned to the left to complete a circuit back to Sare but my destination lay almost due north. I picked one of the smaller cycle tracks that headed downhill and started walking. My energy picked up once more - it seemed that was a temporary episode - and I strode off downhill, enjoying the shade of the pine and eucalyptus growing all around.
I made it into Ascain around 12:30 and wandered into the town centre. I realised that now I was off the GR10 and that while this might be a starting point for a number of walks, it certainly wasn't really a stopping point on a particular route.
Thus there was a choice of hotels and, located some kilometres away, a campsite. Having only camped once on the trip thus far I will do so again only when there are no other options available. I stopped at a small bar and had a beer and made myself a cheese sandwhich with food I had purchased earlier.
I studied my map and realised that my plan to stay in Ascain and then walk to Irun might not actually be the best one. There were no footpaths from Ascain that lead directly to Irun. Instead it would be lots of walking on the road. I had an idea. I asked in the bar how far it was to St Jean de Luz. I'd decided that if it wasn't some impractical distance I would go there for the evening and set myself on the "Camino del Norte" one day early :0) I was pleasantly surprised to be told that it was only 7km (you wouldn't think I was sitting there holding a map!)
After my beer and sandwhich I was much refreshed. I think my temporary loss of energy was a reaction to the previous couple of mountain stages. I was determined not to overdo things today but 7km was perfectly achievable.
I set off on the main road. I didn't care - this is my camino and I think I'll just walk where I jolly well please! I put on some Stevie Wonder and found myself roaring into St Jean to "Boogie On Reggae Woman" less than 90 minutes later. What a nice walk, and how nice for once not to be feeling that I've walked further than I should have.
I wandered into the centre of town via the various footpaths and cycle paths that the council have kindly created. Along the side of the Nivelle and up towards the port
Something that confused me at first was that as I crossed the bridge over the river, I appeared to enter a different town. Ciboure (as it is called) seems to be the Western half of the settlement that bridges the Nivelle. St Jean de Luz is on the Eastern bank. Hmm.. not that it should matter either way, but I found a tourist information office (that was closed) that listed available rooms and that were all in St Jean. I crossed back over the bridge and after wandering around for quite a while, happily enjoying the late sun and the crowds.
I did also see my first new signs for the "camino del norte" - here it's called the "Voie de la Côte"
I realised that finding a gite or anything vaguely connected with pilgrims was going to be time consuming and involving a lot of footwork. So in the end, and with a need to access the internet on my mind, I found a two star hotel not far from the beach. The lady was kind in understanding that I would have taken a gite had I been able to find one, and she upgraded my room to a small 'villa' facing the gardens. Charming. A bit down at heel (it was a two star hotel) but I had privacy and a window looking into mature gardens of palm and yucca, with a small fountain.
After the necessary shower I headed out to the hotel lounge to produce some updates to the blog (which are now some days old). After that I wandered into town to find some food. I was aware of the relatively large expense of a hotel in comparison to both my budget and to the prices I had been paying, but in fact once I was in my room having showered, I felt really content with my choice. Just over three weeks on the road and I had a room to myself. Nobody getting up in the night and tripping over things, no need to make conversation (which has all been in French) and thus a total rest. I realised that despite feeling very fit I was quite tired really. I now felt it had been quite an intense three weeks getting this far and I was determined to make the most of the relative luxury of a quiet room and some solitude.
The light on the beachfront was dramatic - clouds gathering for rain, and the sun setting against the dark clouds cast a fantastic golden glow. I'd left my camera behind - determined for once to just sit and eat, but I was tempted to go back for it.
I found a nice restaurant in town (there were dozens to choose from) and ate well. I chatted to a friendly Australian couple who were seated at the next table. They'd been touring Europe and had just arrived from San Sebastian (where I'll be in two days' time).
So, that was my day. I found a well read copy of a John Grisham novel in the hotel lounge and decided I'd borrow it. Nice to have something to read actually.
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