Basque-ing in the mist

Aside from my mumblings in 'Living the dream part 3,' we are at the foot of some small hills in a place called St Jean Pied du Pont. An investigation was needed about this place. So to the bikes it was (another 4 easy miles notched up for the family riding) and we made our way into town. This seemed to be quite a busy little place. One road in to it leads to Pamplona, one roads leads to Bayonne and Biarritz, and the other is an eastern bound road eventually heading to Pau. So a proper little junction of a place. Compared to some of the lower Pyrenean villages and towns we have passed through, this did have a busier quality about it, but more akin to Chard busy rather than Taunton busy. The architecture has changed hugely again. Please remember that we are novice travellers, so it's all new to us, so certain things do stand out. But this seemed to have its own style about it. Apparently it's citadel was a place that was the centre of French and Spanish spats about ownership. The citadel itself is now a school,

(Maya trying to get a sneaky peak of what's going on inside the citadel)

which happens to look mostly like a Colditz school for the naughty, but is in fact a genuine college. The whole place though was bustling with two main themes. One was the Basque colours; berets, flags, scarfs, and strong sense of regional identity. The other was that it was an absolute haven for walkers. Loads of walkers with legs like mountain goats and looking like extras from a walkers catalogue. I can't remember the name of the Saint, St Jacques possibly, but many of the people are following a trail on a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. It's 490 miles from here to there split over 34 sections. The many gites and hostelries in the town were testament to the volume of the walkers.

Clare and I purchased some local pottery from an art gallery, and we then went and bought a Gateau Basque. A beautiful cherry pie thing, with a crispy pastry and full of loveliness. Nice! 

(doesn't look like much I know, but it didn't last long)

We returned home, I went back out to get some shopping (functional cycling), and I then returned to find the children damming the babbling brook behind us once again, a still and gentle upward rising plume of smoke from the farm next door giving off a fabulous bonfire smell, another lovely supper being prepared by Clare, and once again, even though the weather was lacking in jollity, things were good.

Ed