It's mid-October, 81 degrees with 30-40 mph offshore winds and no surf.  What should we do?  How about a visit to the Chateau-Observatoire d'Abbadia, a spectacular edifice overlooking the ocean near the border town of Hendaye, France? 

After a great tour where we learned about its former owner, Antoine d'Abbadie, a 19th-century scientist/scholar who spoke 14 languages and built the observatory, Karen and I decided to take a hike on a part of the Sentier Littoral (Coastal Trail) we hadn't seen before.  

The Sentier Littoral runs about 25 km (~15.5 miles) from near Bidart in the north to Hendaye in the south.  And actually, it continues in Spain as a different set of trails.   Most of the Sentier Littoral is wild untamed single-track along the high cliffs overlooking the Atlantic, though there are some parts that require you to traverse village streets. For more on this remarkable trail, check out my previous posts: No Surf - Time for the Sentier Littoral and Sentier Littoral - North through Bidart. This  new (for us) part just north of the main beach in Hendaye may be the most spectacular and   least travelled section.  ​

Starting on the trail on the south west end of the  Abbadia estate (see Vous êtes ici  on the map above), the trail is flagstone for the first half mile or so.  From that point on, you can choose one of numerous single-track trails which lead you to and along the cliffs or across open fields or through small forests on the property.  We chose the first possible left next to a former farmhouse, and reached the edge of the cliffs above the main beach after a few minutes of walking.  Continuing along the cliffs we passed several WWII bunkers.  While most of the bunkers along the other parts of the Sentier Littoral are tightly closed up, on this part, if you want to see the interior, you can certainly enter.  Surprisingly, while they're crumbling, you don't see any tagging or detritus.  

If you follow the trail along the cliffs, you'll note the impressive rock formations called flysch.  This is a sedimentary rock which in many parts of the coastline has been twisted and turned into unusual shapes.  Along this stretch, they're much more uniform (see the picture of Les Deux Jumeaux at the top).  

​Looking inland you get occasional glimpses of the Chateau d'Abbadia along with verdant pastures sprinkled with small forests.  ​

The main trail ultimately leads to the road which runs from Socoa (near Saint Jean de Luz) to Hendaye along the Corniche, another part of the sentier littoral which while beautiful, is too close to the road for us.  We decided to turn back and took alternate trails for our return.  

Overall, we walked a bit less than two hours, largely because we did a fair amount of exploring and picture-taking.  My guess is that the loop along the cliffs, then back along the road, would be about an hour and a half.  I'll update this blog if we decide to do it before we leave.  

The only other people we saw on our hike were a few runners.  If you're in the area and would like a non-strenuous hike,  this is a great one.  You can make it as long or as short as you like.   I'd have to say that this is our favorite part of the Sentier Littoral.

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​On a hike to the summit of Jaizkibel (see my blog Jaizkibel - Hike from a Ruined Spanish Parador), a mountain/ridge overlooking the Bay of Biscay in Spain, we almost continued the extra 6 kilometers to Pasaia, but with the rain intensifying, we decided to go another time. Unfortunately, years passed without our ever visiting what was reputed to be one of the most picturesque coastal villages in Spain. 

On Wednesday, our Basque neighbors, Koro and Christian, who have taken us to some excellent restaurants in nearby Spain, suggested lunch in Pasaia.  

Pasaia is located across the border from France between Hondarribia and San Sebastian.  It was built at the beginning of the 13th century.  Lafayette launched his voyage to help the American revolution from Pasaia and Victor Hugo spent time there in a home which is now a museum dedicated to the author. 

Pasaia served as the biggest whaling port in Europe up until the late 18th century.  In the 16th century, long before the French and British laid claim, the Basques formed partnerships with the Inuit people of Newfoundland and ultimately became the major suppliers of whale oil for all of Europe.  Many Basques settled in Newfoundland, which in the 16th century was actually known as 'the Land of the Basques'.  Today, Pasaia and Red Bank are sister cities.   
    
Approaching the village, we drove past the main port which housed massive cargo ships.  Christian told us about his experiences watching them enter the narrow entrance to the port with just a few meters on each side and when we ultimately saw the entrance, it was hard to believe these huge vessels could make it through. 

We continued up to a parking area and then entered the village on foot.  The streets were cobblestone and the passages included extremely narrow tunnels.  We had to step into doorways several times to allow vehicles to pass.  

We followed the road through the xirimiri (Basque for drizzle, pronounced chirri-mirri).  The narrow road becomes a pedestrian path, passing colorful homes, many of which were built into the faces of the cliffs bordering the entrance to the port.  

The path continues to the Bay of Biscay, then turns into a trail leading to the top of Jaizkibel and beyond to the east.  

There's a water taxi which you can take to the other side where there are trails leading to the spectacular Camino de Santiago, past view points like the  breathtaking Senokodulua lighthouse, and ultimately to San Sebastian.  

The other side is also home to Albaola, the Basque Sea Factory, which does restoration and replication of ancient boats and ships.  You can take a tour and see the process they're using to build a replica of the NAO San Juan, a 16th century whaling ship, using only the tools and techniques of the time. The local Basque fishermen are planning  to sail this replica to Newfoundland once it's completed.   ​

With the heavy xirimiri, we cut our hike short and made our way to Txulotxo, a restaurant overlooking the water where we shared appetizers of grilled calamari, a Spanish salad that brought tears to Karen's eyes as she remembered salads from when she lived in Spain, and a remarkable dish of eggs scrambled with cepes, a local mushroom delicacy which I think we call porcinis.  For mains, Koro had the mixed grill of all sorts of seafood, Karen and I had a brochette of lotte (monkfish) and prawns in a mildly spicy garlic sauce, and Christian had cod in pil-pil sauce, an unusual Basque garlic concoction.  The day's special dessert was Copa de la Casa: layers of flan and ice cream with a fruit compote (ours was peaches)  and Chantilly.  It's apparently an intermittently popular dessert in Spain.  In spite of numerous visits over the years, this is the first time we've seen (and eaten) it.  

During our superb meal, we were entertained by the fish dancing just below our window.  I'm not sure what they were, but they were 12-16" long and kept swimming with their heads out of the water, mouths open.  I ran into a school of hundreds of these some years ago surfing, but no one has yet identified these bizarre fish.  

After lunch we took a leisurely walk back to the car.  Christian decided to take the scenic route on a small road that leads from Pasaia to the top of Jaizkibel then down to Hondarribia. Unfortunately, with the xirimiri, visibility dropped to near zero as we climbed the 1800' mountain so we missed most of the spectacular views up the French coastline.

As for Pasaia, we will go back.  There's so much to discover and so many spectacular places to hike (and to eat)!

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Most of our visitors to the Pays Basque come to see the spectacular coastline.  They spend time in our little village of Guethary, explore San Jean de Luz, Biarritz, and Bayonne, and do some hiking in the Pyrenees.  Before they leave, we always recommend that they take a drive along the  beautiful Nive River through the foothills of the Pyrenees to Saint Jean Pied de Port, about an hour away.  

This drive epitomizes the old saying that "It's not about the destination; it's about the journey." 

Taking D932 and D918, you'll pass through numerous Basque villages worth visiting.  The most well-known are probably  Espelette, Cambo Les Bains, Itxassou, Louhossoa, and Bidarray, but there are many others where you can spend an hour or two visiting the local churches,  tasting the local  cheeses, honey, sausages, and other artisanal products.

Since it had been a few years since we'd done the drive ourselves, Karen and I decided to revisit the area.  Our first stop was Espelette.

The village of Espelette is world renown for its peppers.  In our part of the Basque region, you find Espelette peppers in most dishes.  The peppers are dried and ground and have a rich flavor that complements most seafood, vegetables and meats.  The spice is not terribly hot until you heat it or add garlic, which we often do.  While the French tend to avoid spicy (hot) foods, in small quantities, Espelette pepper seems to be acceptable to their palettes.  

The village of Espelette sits atop a hill with views of the Pyrenees.  In the fall, most of the buildings in the village itself and all of the nearby farmhouses are covered with Espelette peppers, hung to dry.  You can buy the ground pepper itself, or sample countless products ranging from spiced wines to spiced ice cream.  In late October, thousands of people from all over the world descend on Espelette for the Fete du Piment d'Espelette - Espelette Pepper festival.   With limited access and parking, we tend to avoid the Fete, but Espelette is a great place to visit the rest of the year.

Cambo les Bains is world-famous for its thermal baths and therapies for a variety of muscular skeletal and respiratory ailments.  It's the largest village along our route and aside from the baths is known as the home of Edmond Rostand, the author of Cyrano de Bergerac.  His home, the Villa Amaga, is a national heritage site with museum and spectacular gardens.   There are excellent cafes and restaurants in the main part of the village.  

Roland was Charlamagne's nephew and comanded a force charged with protecting the Franks from the Bretons.  Later in his career, in 778 AD, he led an army into Spain conquering countless villages.  However, he met his death at the Pas de Roland where Basques ambushed the Franks in this narrow gorge carved by the Nive River.  Several legends try to explain the creation of the arch.  Most claim that Roland himself carved it with his sword to escape the Basque attacks.  But the Pas de Roland is recognized by the Basques as proof of their resilience against invading armies.

In my previous post Ainhoa et La Chapelle d’Aubépine – a spectacular hike in the Pyrenees,
I mentioned the GR10, the 538-mile trail from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean.  If you continued on the trail from La Chapelle d'Aubepine, you'd reach Itxassou, one of many stops along the GR10.      

Leaving Itxassou and continuing on the D918, you'll pass Bidarray, which is known for its white water rafting on the Nive River, and Louhosoa, a cute village with countless places to try local cheeses, the Biscuiterie Basque, where you can sample Basque baked goods, and the church with its amazing acoustics - perfect to hear Basque songs during a Mass.

From here, the D918 runs very close to the river.  You can stop and picnic at several spots.  Ultimately, you'll come to Saint Jean Pied de Port.  Arriving, it doesn't look like much.  You should park and make your way into the walled city.  ​​
        

Saint Jean Pied de Port is best known as one of the main stops on the Camino de Santiago de Campostela - the Way of Saint James.  Most of the French routes for this pilgrimage pass through Saint Jean Pied de Port and as you walk through the cobblestone streets, you'll see numerous hostels where pilgrims can spend the night at no charge if they have a credencial - a pilgrim's passport.  Saint Jean Pied de Port is also the most popular starting point for the pilgrimage.  It's a bit over 500 miles to Santiago de Campostela in Galicia, Spain.  People have been doing this pilgrimage since the 8th century and now, thousands of pilgrims and non-pilgrims hike the trail as a physical, mental and spiritual challenge.  

The medieval city of Saint Jean Pied de Port is dominated by the Citadel.  Once a fortress designed to spot invading Spanish armies, it's now a school.

In the past, Karen and I have climbed up the hill to the Citadel and then returned via a narrow path with very steep steps on the south side of the Citadel.  

Since we'd been to the Citadel several times before, we decided to walk around the back of the edifice before descending back to the city.
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As we were about to take the rugged steps down on the south side, we spotted a single-track trail on the left that seemed to head east above the river.  We followed the trail and were pleased to find that it ultimately came down to the river a mile or so above the main part of Saint Jean Pied de Port.  We followed the river back, stopping regularly to admire the views, look for trout in the river, and marvel at the hatch of thousands of water spiders.  

Back in the village, we found a small creperie and took a table overlooking the Nive.  After a leisurely late lunch, where we reflected on our enjoyable hike and reviewed our photos, we made our way back to Guethary just as the rain began.  

If you're in the Basque region, take a day and explore these inland villages.  You won't be disappointed.

After a week of spectacular fall weather with temperatures in the mid to upper 70s, the beginning of November began with a rainy forecast - for at least a week.  Seeing a brief break before heavy precipitation began, Karen and I decided to see if we could sneak in a hike before returning to shelter from the incoming storm at our place in Guethary.

Our friend Dominique Pasquier Biansan had recently posted Sebastien Carnet's spectacular sunset picture above, taken from La Chapelle d’Aubépine near the small Basque village of Ainhoa about 35 minutes from here.   In spite of all the hiking we've done in the Pyrenees, and although we've come across prehistoric cromlechs, dolmen, and megaliths out in the middle of nowhere (see my post Pays Basque: Sare, Zugarramurdi,  (witches!) and a Hike into Prehistory), we had yet to come across Basque steles - ancient burial markers found along trails in the mountains.  We decided to brave a few residual showers and make our way to the chapel.

We parked in Ainhoa, which sits right on the Spanish border.  The village is well known as a stop for pilgrims on on the Santiago de Campostella or the Way of Saint James.  It's also a stop for those hiking the GR-10 - the 538-mile trail that runs from Hendaye on the Atlantic, through the Pyrenees to the Mediterranean:  157,000 vertical feet of climb in what, for most, is a two-month hike.   

Heading out of the village, we started up a paved road which soon turned to dirt - no motor vehicles allowed.  After the first turn, we read the warning sign about Betizu - wild cattle that roam this section of the Pyrenees - in a nutshell, avoid them if at all possible.  Fortunately, we didn't see any on this hike (we'd seen them on others and they were pretty aggressive), but we did pass a few groups of Pottuk - small semi-wild horses also native to the Pyrennes.  

We continued up the steep road/trail and were stunned by the beauty in spite of the numerous showers limiting our views. 
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And, over the course of our 50-minute hike to the chapel, each turn revealed even more amazing vistas. 

​After climbing about 1000 vertical feet, we were a bit disappointed by the chapel itself.  It was built on a site where a shepherd saw the Virgin Mary who appeared above a hawthorn bush (aubépine in French).  It was closed today.  Perhaps the inside is impressive, but my photos of the exterior weren't worth posting.   Then again, it wasn't the chapel we'd come to see.  It was the steles and the views from the top.  
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While many of the steles are reproductions, several are originals, dating from the early 1600s.  They are intricately carved on both sides unlike headstones we see in the States.  On the originals, most of the designs remain, but nearly 400 years of exposure to the elements has made the text illegible. 
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The showers stopped, and our photos improved.  We considered continuing on the GR10 a bit further.  Past the chapel, it turns into a single track trail and there's a loop back to Ainhoa, which would make a nice 6-mile hike.  However, given the incoming weather and our limited experience with the area, we decided to be conservative and head back down the way we came.  

This, like most parts of the GR-10 is well worth the hike.  We're looking forward to longer forays into this area once the weather improves.

As many of you know, especially if you've looked through my France Category, we have a small apartment in an old Basque house in the little village of Guethary, France.  

We usually come here twice a year, once in the spring and again in the fall.  We try to avoid the summer when tens of thousands of French and other European tourists descend on this little fishing village of just 1,000 people.  

Guethary is located on the Atlantic just a few kilometers from the Spanish border at the foot of the Pyrenees.  The village and the surrounding Basque Country (or Pays Basque in French) have become the surf capital of Europe.  And for most of the year, the surf is even more crowded than in California.  

Still, there is much to do here other than surfing.  Water sports abound and include stand-up paddling, white water kayaking, kite surfing, wind surfing, diving, catamaran racing, and many more, but there's also the amazing food, which is a mix of French, country French, Basque, Spanish, and seafood.

Hiking in the Pyrenees and along the rugged coastline is spectacular, and you'll also find golfing, sailing, disc golf, and countless outdoor activities. 

The area is rich in history and even prehistory (see my post about a hike into prehistory). And the Basque culture is fascinating.   The excellent regional wines rival those of Bordeaux to the north, and ah, did I mention the food?  

But in spite of enjoying most of what the area has to offer over the past several years, we were surprised to discover that our little village is now doing a Soap Box Derby every year.  The first derby was two years ago and the organizers tried to duplicate the U.S. version with similar rules.  There weren't many entrants that year and publicity was limited.  We heard about it after the fact.  Last year it rained, making the somewhat steep course with two significant curves a bit  dangerous.  But this year?  Well,  this year was exceptional.  

The race was to start at 2 pm, but the festivities began at 10:30 am.  We made our way to the fronton.  In the Basque Country, every village has a Pelote Basque (or Jai Alai) court in the center of town called the fronton.  Most are adjacent to the town hall.  In addition to the dramatic sport of jai alai, these huge courts serve as places for farmers' markets, community shows and exhibitions, and celebrations.  

The village and its merchants had set up a bouncy castle along with a miniature driving course for little kids.  Several three-year-olds were trying to navigate tiny electric vehicles around the cones with very little success.  Parents tried vainly to get their kids to turn the cars, but in general this just resulted in slow-motion collisions and smashed (parents') toes. 

There was an exhibit of electric vehicles (cars, scooters, bikes, and skateboards), and of course a large concession area for food and wine.  

 
The roads through the village were closed to traffic and barriers kept pedestrians and spectators off the streets.  Village workers set up inflatable barriers on the curves to protect both the spectators and the drivers from injury during potential crashes.  We noticed that they had also attached high quality speakers to the lamp posts along the course.  

The course itself starts about 200 yards above the fronton, continues down a very gentle slope to the first curve, then down a much steeper slope to a very tight curve, with the finish line a few hundred feet beyond.

I suspect they eased the rules somewhat this year.  Although there were safety and brake checks, since a few of the 'soap boxes' were three-wheelers, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't have met international standards for official soap box derby races.  And in this case, it wasn't all about the speed of the 'cars'.

Instead, prizes were awarded for most ecological, best decoration, loudest, most crowd pleasing, best costume for the drivers, and of course the fastest car. Here are a few of the racers:

Before the race started, Karen and I made our way to the last curve so that we could see the steep descent, the treacherous turn and the finish.  A DJ and an announcer joked around as they played an eclectic mix of rock tunes and eventually got down to calling the race.  Most of the racers were adults though there was one group of teen-aged boys (15 years old) and a single girls team who piloted the Eco racer.  One of the cars that did well in last year's race died on the speed bump on the steep hill and had to be towed away.  But the rest ran the course several times.  

After crossing the finish line, ATVs towed the racers back up to the starting line.  

​  

Karen's son Victor and his wife Lee Ann were invited to a medical conference in Barcelona.  Their flight arrived the eve of October 1st, 2017.  For those of you who don't know the significance of that date, this was the day that Catalonia, the northeastern-most province of Spain, voted to secede from Spain.  There were violent demonstrations, clashes with police and the Guardia Civil, and general strikes as Spain tried to stop the vote.  Fortunately, Victor and Lee Ann caught a pre-dawn flight to San Sebastian to spend a few days with us in the Basque country of France before we drove them back to Barcelona for the conference.  We hoped things would settle down by then. 

After two weeks of gorgeous weather here in the Pays Basque, that Sunday morning dawned cool, cloudy and drizzly.  Of course!  I had told them not to bring rain gear since the forecast was for continued beautiful weather.   Luckily, they were wise enough to ignore my advice.  We had reserved a room for them in a hotel near our apartment with spectacular ocean views and views of the Trois Couronnes and La Rhune.  I think they caught a brief glimpse of the Pyrenees just before they left.  

After we showed them around our little village, they took a quick jet-lagged induced nap before we headed for dinner at the always wonderful Txamarra near the port and Les Alcyons here in Guethary.

We had originally planned to take them to the Guggenheim in Bilbao on Tuesday, but with heavy rain forecast, we decided to visit Bilbao on Monday in spite of the fact that the museum was closed.  Actually, it wasn't so much Bilbao they wanted to see, it was San Juan de Gaztelugatxe.  They're both Game of Thrones fanatics and wanted to see the location that was a big part of this past season.  

After touring the outside of the museum, we walked along the river and found a nice bar for lunch.  Then we made our way to San Juan de Gaztelugatxe for the arduous hike from the mainland to the island and then back.  We had warned them that the hermitage at the top was not Dragonstone; that Dragonstone was a CGI enhancement.  But even with the missing castle,  they  appreciated the beauty of this part of the Spanish coastline.  See my previous post on San Juan de Gaztelugatxe for more.  

As the rain broke up on Tuesday, we did a hike along the Sentier Littoral into Saint Jean de Luz and back.  Wednesday morning, it was raining again but it started to clear a bit by the afternoon, so we decided to show them a bit of Biarritz on their last day in the the Pays Basque.  We walked along the Grande Plage, then made our way to Rocher de la Vierge.  

With the sun finally out, we caught the sunset (but no green flash) just before dinner at Tantina de la Playa in Bidart.  Victor commented that it was one of the best meals he'd ever had.

Thursday morning we got up early for our drive to Barcelona.  From everything we had read and heard on the news, things were relatively calm there.  Still, we were a bit nervous.  

We headed south and followed the Bidasoa river as we entered Spain.  Karen and I have gone stand up paddling in its spectacular river canyon just below the French village of Biriatou.  We'd occasionally caught sight of a highway far above us, but this was the first time we'd driven along the river that serves as the border between France and Spain near the Basque coast. 

As we reached the south side of the Pyrenees, the terrain and weather changed.  Low clouds and drizzle gave way to sunshine, and the lush green of the Basque coast became dry high plains, much like you'd see in eastern Colorado or Wyoming.  

We skirted Pamplona, and continued through the uniformly flat and dry plains on our way to Zaragoza, Victor's birthplace.  Karen, her children, and their father spent four years there as part of an Air Force assignment nearly  forty years ago.  Karen wanted to visit their former home and see how the city had changed.  Of course, it's much bigger now.  The population was 150,000 when they lived there and is now nearly 700,000.   

Entering the grand plaza in front of the spectacular cathedral downtown, we discovered a pro-Spain Unity demonstration just breaking up.  In spite of major police, army, Guardia Civil, and ambulance presence, it was apparently a peaceful demonstration.  

We strolled the plaza and then had an excellent lunch at Asador La Forja, not far from the Cathedral.  

After lunch we managed to find their former home, but not after a bit of confusion because they'd changed the house numbers on the street.  The home is located in a well-developed area of walled and gated homes which now includes elegant hotels and apartments nearby.  Apparently the surrounding areas were quite rural years before.  

We got back on the road heading east and three hours later faced tremendous traffic jams as we entered downtown Barcelona.  

After checking into our hotel, not far from the conference center, we made our way down the Carrer de Blai, a pedestrian mall with dozens of excellent restaurants.  We picked Boca Oreja (word of mouth) and had a sumptuous meal that began with my first patatas bravas (roasted potatoes with a mayonnaise and pepper sauce) and included the best octopus dish I've ever eaten.  

Over the next few days, we visited many of the tourist sites in Barcelona - the Palau National art museum with its commanding views of the city, the botanical gardens, the Gothic quarter, the Picasso Museum - if ever you had a doubt about Picasso being a genius, just check out some of the work he did as a young teenager - and countless other places that we could reach on foot.  We also encountered some demonstrations - crowded but peaceful.  Of course that would change soon after our departure from Barcelona.
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We also found some notable restaurants: the Juice House with great organic and vegetarian dishes - super lunch; Mino in the Gothic quarter where I had my first paella - loaded with scallops and seafood; and the Restaurant Amfora  where we had a grilled vegetable appetizer followed by sea bass smothered in cepes (exotic mushrooms now in season in Europe).  

​Before leaving Barcelona on Sunday, we had to see some of the Gaudi architecture.  Our first stop was the Sagrada Familia.  They began construction on this somewhat bizarre basilica in the 1880s and don't expect to complete it until 2026, the hundredth anniversary of Gaudi's death.  

From there, we made our way to Park Guell, a fantastic park designed by Gaudi with unusual buildings, exotic structures, and great views of the city.  Unfortunately, to get into most of the buildings and the most exotic parts of the park, you need to reserve (and pay) several days in advance, so we just toured this magical place.
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After strolling through the park, we dropped Victor and Lee Ann at the airport and started our six-hour drive back to Guethary.  This time we decided to cross the high Pyrenees on a 'new' road.  The somewhat mundane, barren flatlands of the Spanish plains gave way to rolling hills as we approached the Pyrenees.  We stopped for lunch in the tiny town of Yequeda and had a superb meal at the Hotel Fetra.  
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Winding up into the Pyrenees, the south side was mostly dry and treeless.  We passed through many tunnels, but I wasn't prepared for the 8 kilometer (5 mile) long Somport tunnel that joins Spain to France.  

Exiting the tunnel, we found ourselves at 5300 feet of altitude in lush green France.    The trip back to Guethary was uneventful but much more scenic than northern Spain.   
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There's apparently some controversy surrounding this pass through the Pyrenees.  Spain is extending their Autoroute/Toll Roads in Spain to climb up the Spanish side of the pass into the Tunnel.  But on the other side, as you can see above, the road narrows.  

Overall, we enjoyed our trip to Barcelona.  The politics are interesting if unstable.  My personal belief, as a relatively uninformed foreigner, is that the independence movement was an attempt to negotiate to regain the autonomy that Catalonia experienced several years ago, to become an autonomous region within Spain, much like the Basque region is now. 

From what I can see, Catalonia could never have stood on its own economically.  They could never have become part of the EU and since most of their revenues come from Spain, losing that income with a separation could be fatal to the region.  Unfortunately, it was a tough game of cat and mouse and as I write this, it's not looking good for Catalonia.  Carles Puigdemont is under arrest in Belgium and Spain has charged him and his associates with treason.  There is a lot of support for Catalonia's independence or perhaps autonomy here in the Pays Basque with demonstrations today.  Hopefully cooler heads will prevail before something disastrous happens.

We're about to head back to France and I realize that I neglected to do a post on our stop in southern Brittany from our last trip. Hopefully you saw my post on Spectacular Northern Brittany.  That was our destination for the trip.  But since it was more than a seven-hour drive from our place in the Pays Basque, we decided to spend a couple of days in Damgan, a small village on the southern coast of Brittany not far from the medieval town of Vannes.  With my fascination for Celtic prehistory, I was hoping to see the Ile-aux-moines and the nearby Cairn at Gavrinis.  

We picked the village of Damgan because Sylvianne, a good friend from Karen's Santa Cruz Speaks French Meetup, lives there.  We stayed at the Hotel de la Plage which sits just across a quiet one-way street from the beach.  Each room has spectacular ocean views of the coast to the south.  We dined with Sylvianne at the amazing Latitude 47 restaurant in the hotel, so named because the hotel is located at that latitude as are two other places the owner had lived, Quebec City in Canada, and Budapest in Hungary.

The next morning we drove around the medieval city of Vannes to catch the boat to the Ile-aux-moines (the monks' island) in the Gulf of Morbihan.  The bay itself is spectacular featuring hundreds of islands, many with prehistorical sites.

Arriving on the island after the 5-minute boat ride, we rented bikes and started touring. The island is small, only about 4 miles long and a mile and a half wide, easily covered in a day on a bike.  Our trip into prehistory began with a stop on the way out of the village at a famous cromlech.  If you recall from my previous posts, a cromlech is a circle of stones (like the more famous Stonehenge). They appear to have had some religious, probably funereal significance to the ancient Celts, but no one knows for sure.  While almost all the cromlechs found in Europe are circular, those in Brittany are not.  This one was very large and oblong with a central stone (called a menhir) named Le Moine (the monk) as its focal point.  We arrived at Le Moine to find several people lying at its base trying to receive the energy from the stone.  This may sound a bit strange, but when you visit Brittany, especially the more remote parts of the granite-lined coast, you really do get an almost spiritual sense of 'groundedness' and permanence.  But back to the Ile-aux-moines.

After visiting the small museum, we continued south towards the far end of the island where we visited one of the larger dolmens - an ancient burial tomb.  We spent the day exploring the remote beaches on the island, often leaving our bikes to hike beautiful single-track trails around the island.  In addition to the dolmens and cromlechs, there are also ancient springs/wells.  Apparently there is an underground river on this tiny island.  

Returning to Damgan, we showered and met Sylvianne who took us on a walking tour of the village of Damgan.  The next morning we went to the medieval walled city of Vannes.  

Vannes was founded during the Roman conquest in about 56 BC.  It became a fortified Christian city around the 3rd century.  Its imposing cathedral and walls dominate the Gulf of Morbihan and what was once a moat around the city is now filled with ornate gardens.  We walked the walls of the city, visited the cathedral and several art galleries, then made our way to the boat launch for the 15-minute ride to visit the Cairn de Gavrinis.  

Similar to the Cairn de Barnenez described in my previous Spectacular Northern Brittany post, the Cairn de Gavrinis is about a 1000 years more recent.  It's estimated that it was built around 3500 BC, still well before the pyramids of Egypt.  What makes this Cairn unique are the intricate carvings which line its interior.  

The trip to the island is a bit expensive, and in peak seasons, you need to make reservations, but it's worth it.

The next day, we made our way to our ultimate destination in the north of Brittany.  

If we've learned anything about Brittany, it's that there is huge variation in the climate, terrain, and even the culture.  From the warm sunny beaches Morbihan in the south,  to the stark, austerity of Finistere, to the striking beauty of the northern coastline of the Cotes d'Amor, Brittany is a region of great contrasts that you don't want to miss.

We were reluctant to leave Brittany with its spectacular coastline and its peaceful grounded atmosphere, but Karen had never seen the Loire Valley, so we headed east, leaving the rolling hills of Brittany for the flatlands surrounding the Loire.

We decided to break up the nearly four and a half hour drive from Plougrescant to Amboise with a stop at  L'Arche de la nature park near Le Mans for a quick round of disc golf.  Surprisingly, Le Mans has 8 disc golf courses - the highest concentration of disc golf courses in France.  The temperature was in the low 80s (around 28 degrees C) with a light breeze.  We found the very wooded course well marked, challenging, and beautiful.  Highly recommended for any disc golfers passing through the area.

It was only an hour's drive from Le Mans to Amboise and we easily found our hotel, the Hotel Clos D'Amboise.  We pulled into the narrow, gated courtyard, parked, and checked in with the very welcoming staff.  At first glance, we were quite pleased with our room in the former carriage house of an old estate with its double french doors looking out onto a small garden at the side of the courtyard.  The bathroom was a bit strange - about 4 feet wide and perhaps 15 feet long - very narrow and hard to move around in but the room itself seemed charming.  

After reading reviews of the hotel's restaurant, we had made reservations for a table on their patio next to the garden.  The food was excellent, the service impeccable, and the location next to the gardens ideal.  Our only surprise was that every table around us was occupied by Americans.  

We're used to spending time in France but we hadn't ever encountered so many Americans in one place.  During our entire visit to Brittany, we hadn't heard a word of English.  In the Basque region, we occasionally hear British English and rarely encounter Americans, so it was a big surprise to be completely surrounded by English speakers.  As we would discover during our off-season stay here in the Loire Valley, most of the people we would encounter were American tourists.  
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We had a nice conversation with a couple at the next table, but couldn't help being disturbed by a classic 'ugly American' a few tables away.  In a very loud voice, this investment adviser was trying to convince his clients to turn the rest of their portfolio over to him to manage.  Fortunately, the obviously wealthy client wasn't having any of it.  Unfortunately, the over-the-top high pressure sales pitch went on for nearly two hours.  

But I diverge.  After dinner, we strolled on the banks of the Loire taking in the peaceful river and the looming Chateau d'Amboise (more on that in a bit).  Returning to the hotel after the late sunset, we strolled the beautiful gardens of the property and then went back to the room just as they were closing the front gates.  

As we discovered during the rest of our stay, our room was not situated in the best place.  The double French doors didn't insulate us from the outside noise of people gathering or passing through the courtyard to their rooms.  If the gates were open, road noise was substantial and being on the ground floor, we were subject to the pounding of the elephants occupying the room above us.  Overall, in spite of the friendly, helpful staff, and great restaurant, the room was a negative for us.

For our first morning we had visions of doing some stand up paddling on the Loire, sort of following up on the paddling we'd done near Plougrescant in Brittany.  As we learned after an extensive search of places to put in, the current is much too fast for stand up paddling (unless you have someone to pick you up downstream).  We would have been better off renting kayaks for the day. There are numerous small outfits that will pick you up wherever and whenever you want at very reasonable rates.
 
We enjoyed a light breakfast at a bakery not far from the hotel, then made our way to Clos de Luce - the former home of da Vinci.   While the house and its history are interesting (including da Vinci's relationship with King Francis I - perhaps familiar to fans of The Tudors), It's the basement and the adjacent building that captivated our scientific and historical interests.  In both places you can see da Vinci's drawings, the history of the deployment of his inventions (many of which were not actually built for hundreds of years), and many modern constructions of his more interesting inventions.  Clos de Luce is definitely worth the price of admission.

After a couple of hours there, we were hungry and walked back towards the center of the old town along the walls of the Chateau d'Amboise which dominates the entire village.  We spotted an interesting sign pointing down a side street and had an excellent lunch at a restaurant called Le Parvis.  Almost all of its dishes were prepared in a wood-fired oven.

That afternoon we took a ride to Chenonceau, one of the most famous Chateaux in the Loire Valley.  In addition to the spectacular gardens and a labyrinth/maze, the chateau itself is worth the stop.  New since my last visit in 2000 is a hall where the history of the chateau is recounted on story boards in multiple languages.  We spent a lot of time here learning about the intrigues in the courts of Francis I and others and how the chateau was a pawn in sensitive political negotiations.  It also appears to have been the home to the roots of the feminist movement in France started by Louise-Marie Dupin de Chenonceau (1706-1799!), who hired Rousseau to write a an encyclopedia about the second sex, proving their equality to men.  

The great halls, tapestries, and bedrooms were fascinating, but I think Karen was most intrigued by the kitchens and, of course Louise-Marie Dupin.  ​

The next day, with record temperatures forecast (104 degrees - 40 C), we decided to visit the Chateau d'Amboise as soon as they opened, then to stop at Loches on our way back to Guethary.  

The Chateau d'Amboise was Francois I's castle.  Over the centuries it has undergone many changes, most of which are depicted both inside and outside the castle.  As I've mentioned, it really does dominate Amboise and looking downward, you can see the many homes and shops built during the 15th century.  Looking up from the village, you can't help but be a bit intimidated by the castle's presence.  I'm sure that was a calculated effect.
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After visiting the Chateau, we checked out of the hotel and made the 45 minute drive to Loches.  I had been there in 2000 and remember being quite impressed.  This time was a bit different as the site is much more developed with a souvenir shop and more historical signage, much of it focused on disabusing us of the notion that the torture chambers were used extensively. Nonetheless, the chateau and in particular, the dungeon were worth the visit.

Built in the 9th century, little remains of the main fortress.  The block-shaped building in the picture is largely an empty structure inside.  You can see where the floors used to be and signs document what each of the many levels was used for.  Still, the best part is the underground dungeons.  Across the path is the entrance.  You begin to descend a spiral stone staircase and after a minute or two, you encounter the first of the cells where prisoners where kept and tortured.  After continuing downward past more and darker cells, you eventually enter a subterranean cavern from which you will ultimately exit.  Apparently, the area is riddled with these caverns and for centuries, they were quarried.

We left Loches and the Loire Valley heading south towards the Pays Basque as the temperatures started to soar.  

Will we go back to visit the Loire Valley?  Probably not.  We learned about the history of the area, saw the chateaux, and enjoyed our visit, but largely because it's a major tourist destination, it's not what we think of as the most inviting region of France.  While we do cycle, we didn't cycle the Loire Valley.  However it's worth noting that many of the  roads there have large, well-maintained bike lanes, perfect for those who want to do bike trips which include visiting chateau and sipping the wines of the Loire Valley.

Returning home to our little village in the Pays Basque, we were pleased to find that the ocean breezes had cooled that area.  After a quick shower, we made our way to Tantina de la Playa where we were warmly greeted by the always very cool staff and had an excellent dinner to wrap up our trip.  

For most Americans, France is either Paris, the Loire Valley, or the Riviera.  But France is much more.  And while we haven't fully explored the entire country, we have found some hidden gems.

Sometime back I did a post entitled Dare Brittany! Finistere, Morlaix, Perros Guirec.  In it, I described the relatively short visit we did to Brittany as part of our drive up the west coast of France.  I said we'd be back, and two weeks ago, we decided to visit Brittany again with the goal of hiking more of the GR 34 - the 1200-mile Grande Randonnée (Great Hike) that runs along the coast of Brittany.  We had heard that our previous hikes along the Sentier des Douaniers (Customs Agents Trail), part of the GR with its immense pink granite formations and hidden granite structures which allowed the customs agents to surreptitiously watch for smugglers, would pale in comparison to parts of the trail to the east.  We were a bit skeptical, but excited to see this more remote coastline.  

To break up the 7-hour drive from our place in the Pays Basque to the north coast of Brittany, we stopped in southern Brittany along the Gulf of Morbihan where we visited Vannes and the Ile aux Moines - one of several hundred islands in the picturesque gulf.  More on that in an upcoming post.    

The next day we headed to  Le Manoir de Kergrec'h, a restored 15th century manor house on a huge, park-like estate that borders the GR-34 in the area of Plougrescant in northern Brittany. This part of Brittany is called the Cote d'Armor.  On our way to the manor, we had to pass through the town of Treguier.  And while it was only 15 minutes to our destination, the impressive cathedral merited a stop.  

Parts of the Cathedral were built in 970 AD, but most of what you see today was built beginning in 1339.  In addition to striking stained glass, and gravity defying architecture, the cathedral is home to the remains of Saint Yves - the patron saint of lawyers.  Every year on May 19th, lawyers from around the world come to Treguier to pay hommage to St. Yves and to carry his skull from the cathedral to nearby Minihy, where St. Ives had built an asylum.  ​We left Treguier with the plan of returning on foot from the manor the next day.
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Arriving at the manor, we were struck by the beauty of the spot.  We checked in, settled into our well-appointed room that was almost as large as our apartment, and decided to do a quick hike along the GR from the manor to the north then back through the village of Plougrescant. The mostly single-track trail ran along the banks of the Baie d'Enfer (the Bay of Hell), so named because of the strong currents leading from the estuary to the south into the English Channel to the north.  In spite of the drizzly day, the scenery did not disappoint. 
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Since we indicated we wanted a light meal, Pierre, the owner of the manor,  suggested a couple of local restaurants.  We walked back into the village where we had a surprisingly good dinner in a small, unassuming restaurant called La Maison Bleue.  It has a small menu, but most everything is organic and the preparation and presentation were worthy of a high-end restaurant.

The next morning we started our hike into Treguier, intent on having lunch there and returning by late afternoon.  The weather was spectacular: sunny, low 70s, and a light breeze.  

The GR south from the manor continues as mostly single track along the water for a couple of miles.  Then, as you reach the village called La Roche Jaune, it moves onto streets.  A kilometer or so later, the GR offers a choice - turn down towards the estuary, or take the high tide route. Since the tide was low, we decided on the estuary.  This adds a few kilometers to the hike, and it's a much more challenging trail, but we thought the scenery would be better than on the roads into Treguier.  Unfortunately, we were just wearing running shoes, so we weren't prepared for the mud.  The views were mostly worth it, though often, the going was very slow as we tried to rock-hop our way.  Our guess is that the path that was supposed to be about 15 minutes longer added well over an hour to our hike.  

Exiting the estuary, which is formed by the merging of three rivers - Le Jaudy, Le Dossen, and Le Guindy, you're back on country roads which run through artichoke fields dotted with wild red poppies.  Although we were on roads, it was a pleasant hike through the countryside and we made it to Treguier before the restaurants closed for lunch.  

After lunch we took the easy way back, avoiding the estuary, which was quickly becoming submerged with the rising tide.
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One of the fascinating things about Brittany is its wealth of prehistoric cromlechs (circles of stone like Stonehenge), menhirs (large standing stones), dolmens (ancient burial chambers), and cairns.  One of the most famous of the latter is the Cairn de Barnenez.  Dating from over 6500 years ago, long before the pyramids, it is also one of the largest prehistoric structures ever found.  It's located just north of Morlaix in the Finistere (end of the world) part of Brittany, about an hour away from the manor.  

After a leisurely morning, we made our way to the Cafe du Port in Plouzouc'h, just north of Morlaix near the mouth of the estuary there.  There is a part of the GR 34 that leads to the Cairn of Barnenez from the port - a distance of just under 4 miles each way.  We had a superb lunch which included fresh mussels that had just come into season and then started out on the trail which again, is mostly single-track.  It is somewhat overgrown in places, but offers spectacular views of the estuary and the islands just beyond as it climbs the cliffs bordering the estuary.  

The Cairn was worth the visit and the small museum was informative, describing the construction of the Cairn, the peoples of the time, and their lifestyles.  

We stopped at the Cafe du Port and watched the tide come in as we re-hydrated.  Karen sipped a local dark buckwheat-based beer while I downed a huge bottle of sparkling water.

On the way back to the manor, we stopped for bread, cheese and wine, and enjoyed a light dinner and Scrabble on the manor's patio.  
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​​We lunched at Chez Constance, an eclectic restaurant/bookstore/live music venue on the edge of the village of Plougrescant where we sampled gallettes - giant savory crepes made of gluten-free buckwheat.  They were excellent.  All the food at Chez Constance is local and organic.  It's definitely worth a stop if you're in the area.

​We reluctantly prepared to leave the manor and Plougrescant the next morning to spend a couple of days in Amboise in the Loire Valley.  We mentioned to Pierre that we would be stopping near Le Mans to play disc golf, and then had to explain what disc golf was.  He and Sabrina threw a few discs on the spacious grounds of the manor and were completely intrigued.  It turns out that Pierre has been looking for some activity to add to the manor property.  Several friends had suggested a golf course, but Pierre felt the upkeep and environmental impact was too great.  It looks like he may be installing a disc golf course instead.

In parting, he suggested we pass through Paimpol, a town to the east, and take a quick look at the port that leads to the Ile de Brehat where he'd owned his previous hotel.  And one more time before leaving, we were blown away by the beauty of this stretch of coastline.  

​One last note:  we were in northern Brittany during and after the first part of the legislative elections in France. The France Insoumise party was campaigning everywhere.  As we learned, the people of Brittany are very environmentally-oriented.  Hence, Brittany serves as home to this eco-socialist party.  They have limited industrial development and have have preserved what may be the most beautiful areas in France.

We'd had a couple of days of light rain in the Pays Basque region of France, but the forecast was for fair weather with temperatures rising into the upper 70s.  A perfect day for a bit of exploring on the Spanish Basque coast.  

We had originally planned to do the seven or eight mile hike near Itxaspe to see the spectacular Flysch (wildly twisted rock) formations in the cliffs along with caves, deserted beaches, and possibly some interesting surf spots.  Unfortunately, after mentioning this plan to some friends over lunch, we were informed that the cast and crew of Game of Thrones had taken over this stretch of coastline for the next week.  They had also recruited hundreds of extras for the shoots - but you had to be big, tall, hairy and ugly.  Clearly I didn't fit the bill.

Our next choice was San Juan de Gaztelugatxe, a medieval Hermitage built in the ninth century by the Knights Templar on a tiny island just off the Basque coast.  It is connected to the mainland by what our friend Elaine calls 'the great wall of China'.   

We awoke to light rain, but trusting the weather forecast (a crazy thing to do in the Pays Basque), we picked up Elaine and her significant-other, Jean-Luc, and headed into Spain.  Half an hour into our drive, the skies cleared.  It was going to be a fine day.

To get to San Juan de Gaztelugatxe, we took the A-8 towards Bilbao - about 90 minutes away, then headed north to the coast passing through the beach resort town of Bakio.  We drove past the entrance to the parking area, thinking there might be another trail down from further up the road, and quickly discovered that the road was closed because the cliffs had fallen in.  We had originally thought that after this hike, we might continue up the road to Bermeo, one of the largest Basque ports, but that wasn't going to be possible.  Also, any alternative trails were long gone with the slides.  

We parked in the mostly deserted parking lot and made our way to the trail noticing that in spite of the fine weather in late October, the nearby restaurants were closed.  Fortunately, we'd brought a picnic lunch which we planned to eat once we reached the Hermitage.  

The sign on the trail indicated it was only about 1.5km (about half a mile) to the Hermitage.  I found this hard to believe because we were at least 600 vertical feet above the ocean, and we had to then climb an additional 300 feet up to the Hermitage.  

We started down and discovered that the trail was wide but quite steep.  ​No one was looking forward to the climb back up.

Nearing the bottom, we crossed a service road and shortly thereafter came to the wall/bridge that leads to the island.  The coastline to the east and to the west (remember, the Spanish coastline here faces north) is spectacular with small islands, imposing cliffs and numerous 'natural bridges'.  The 'wall' is even more impressive. Between the mainland and the island, at high tide, water passes through large arches in the bridge. Surprisingly, there are steps down the side that lead to these arches if you want a more impressive view.  Fortunately for us, the tide was high and there were a few workers cleaning the rough stones on the steps down.  With the heavy surf crashing below, we weren't tempted.  

Instead, we began the climb up the 237 steps to the Hermitage.  

It's a challenging climb up the steps and ramps, but there are handrails and numerous flat places to stop and take pictures (or to catch your breath).  

Arriving at the top, you round the main building and you see the huge wooden doors to the Hermitage, along with a rope that leads up to the bell tower.  

Legend has it that once you've made the trek, you should ring the bell three times and make a wish.  

Although there aren't many people who live nearby on the mainland across from the island, I have to believe that the neighbors get pretty tired of the ringing bell, especially during the summer tourist season.

We toured the top of the island looking for a good place to picnic and finally settled on a sun-sheltered structure on the side of the church.  Unfortunately, the church doors were locked, so we were forced to peek through the crack in the doors to see the interior.  
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Gaztelugatxe comes from two Basque words - gaztelu which means castle or fortress, and gatxe which means tremendously difficult.  

Historians aren't clear exactly when the Hermitage was built. However, there are nearby graves dating from the 9th century and historical records showing its existence in the 10th century.  It was apparently built by the Knights Templar and became a monastery during first part of the 11th century.

Interestingly, this small island and its Hermitage were the site of several strategic battles.  Its access was challenging so the site was easily defensible and over the course of its history, several notable figures made successful 'last' stands here.

Seeing its strategic importance, Sir Francis Drake successfully attacked and conquered the site in 1593.  Since then, the site has changed hands numerous times.  

The history is interesting. The short though challenging walk down the cliffs, up to the Hermitage, then down from the Hermitage and back up the cliffs can be exhausting.  Still, the views are worth the effort.  If you're in the area, it's definitely worth the short detour from Bilbao to see San Juan de Gaztelugatxe.  

​By the way, apparently the cast and crew of Game of Thrones will also be using San Juan de Gaztelugatxe in episodes this next season.  Watch for it!

Who knew that megaliths, menhirs, dolmen, and cromlechs lay just a few minutes away from our place in the Pays Basque?  I described some that we saw in Brittany in my post A Brief Trip up the West Coast of France - Quiberon.  Those were certainly impressive as were the associated museums that explained how they came to be.   But yesterday, we came upon local prehistoric structures during a hike in the Pyrenees just across the Spanish Border.  

Our friends Elaine and Jean-Luc invited us to visit Sare, a small Basque village at the foot of the Pyrenees where they claimed we could find the best gateau Basque in the region.  If the weather was nice, they proposed a short hike/walk from the village up towards the GR10 for some picturesque views, followed by a visit to the witches village, followed by a hike in an area they had recently discovered.  The GR10  is the Grande Randonnee trail that runs from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean along the Pyrenees - about 900 km (560 miles).  

We had agreed that if the weather was bad, we'd visit the famous caves of Sare and those in the witches' village.  As it turned out, the day was  overcast but comfortable, with the temperature about 70 degrees (20 C) - perfect weather for a hike.  Rain was forecast for late that night into the next day.  We decided to pass on the caves for this trip.

Karen and I encountered heavy Sunday morning traffic getting to Ciboure where we were to meet up with Elaine and Jean-Luc, so it was a bit later than expected when we left their place to begin our explorations.  After a 15 minute drive, we were in Sare.

Parking on a side street, we followed the signs towards the GR10.  Not far into our walk, we realized that there was a mountain bike competition going on as riders descended the trail at breakneck speeds towards the finish line on the fronton in the village.  We spoke to some of the trail monitors who told us that only about half the field had passed them so far.  So instead of continuing up the trail, we made our way back to the village where we realized we were hungry.  We visited all of the open restaurants but couldn't resist the tempting dishes we saw being served on the terrace of the Hotel Arraya.  The service and  food were excellent and as often happens with French meals, wine and dessert extended what was supposed to be a brief stop into a 2-hour lunch. 

After exploring the village, we stopped at a cafe across the small plaza from the Church of the Assumption for coffee (sparkling water for me), and our gateau Basque which was as good as promised.  We took the narrow road up the hill a short distance to the place where Elaine and Jean-Luc had hiked before.  They suggested we try a different trail, one on the right (west) side of the road.  There was a large sign in Spanish, Basque and French that described several trails.  Looking at the time, the thickening clouds, and recognizing that we had probably had too much food, we decided on a 5 km loop.  We didn't even think about what the red, 'pi'-like symbol was at the top, but were surprised to find that there would be megaliths along the trail.

​We started out on what looked like a well traveled path, but as we turned up the hill past an abandoned bergerie, the trail thinned and markings were hard to find.  We pushed on, assuming we had to get to the saddle on the top of the ridge.  Along the way, we passed groups of Potoks, the small horses that live in the Pyrenees.  

Once we reached the middle of the saddle, we couldn't easily determine whether to turn right or left.  I went left, Jean-Luc went right and about 100 yards from the saddle, Jean-Luc found a trail marker so we went that way.  If you go, when you reach the saddle, turn right (west).  Thereafter, the trail markers were easy to find. 

Climbing towards the west peak of the saddle, we had not only spectacular views of the French coastline and La Rhune, but of Spain to the south and the Pyrenees to the east.  We began our descent into a beautiful valley.  

Near the bottom of the hill, we saw our first marker for cromlechs.  Before I continue, let me give you a few definitions.  A menhir or megalith is an upright stone.  Most are flat.  Notable ones are several feet high, but sometimes they can be quite small.  A dolmen is a structure build of megaliths.  They usually have at least two upright stones with a flat capstone on top.  Most were used as burial tombs.  Some of the ones we saw in Brittany were huge.  It seemed like a feat of engineering to raise the capstones, but in fact, the process was quite simple.  After the side stones were placed, they filled the space between and around with dirt.  They  dragged the capstone onto the top of the mound, positioning it above the 'walls'.  Finally, they dug out the earthen mound leaving a stone structure - no pulley needed to raise a stone weighing many tons several feet to place it on top.  

Finally, a cromlech is a circle of menhirs or megaliths.  Stonehenge is probably the most well-know cromlech.  It appears no one knows exactly what cromlechs were used for.  At least that's the case outside the Basque region.  Theories abound.  But in the Basque region, archaeologists have concluded that these are burial site markers, often with a dolmen in the center.  Most of these structures were built between 4000 and 2000 B.C..

Continuing on our hike, we saw the marker for the cromlechs, but the cromlechs themselves weren't easy to spot.  Unlike Brittany where these monuments are well-maintained, those before us were buried in the ferns and tall grasses.  Plus, after 5,000 years of neglect in lightly traveled areas, most of the structures have fallen down or been eroded by the elements and severe storms of the Pyrenees.  Somehow though, finding these structures out in the middle of nowhere seemed more authentic.   ​

Leaving the cromlechs, we continued south along the trail through meadows, crossing streams, and entering the forest after the trail turned east to begin our loop back.  We passed a few bergeries and with the thickening clouds, began to wonder if we'd make it back before the rain started.  As we passed the 5 km point as indicated by Karen's Garmin, we still seemed to be quite far from our starting point.  But the trail was well-marked and there really weren't any alternatives unless you were a mountain goat, so we pressed on.

We crossed a boulder-filled creek next to a small waterfall and soon found ourselves on the edge of a the ridge that would lead us back to the car.   As we passed one final bergerie, the first few drops began to fall, but the car was in sight.    We got into the car, closed the doors, and the sky opened up.  Somehow even with the morning delays, the long lunch, and some trail misdirection, we'd timed it perfectly.  The hike was a bit over 6 km (not 5 km as promised by the sign), and it had taken us 2 hours including pictures and exploration of the cromlechs.  According to the sign, there are 7 km and 10 km monument hikes nearby.  We'll be going back and will allocate more time to explore.

The translation of The Shadow of God is finally done - at least we're done with the first pass.  For those of you who may not have followed our progress on this effort, you might want to have a look at Translating My Novels and Another Translation Challenge: Shaggy Dog Stories.  These two posts discuss the approach that Peyo Amulet and I took and some of the initial challenges we encountered. 

Overall, it has taken about a year to get through our process.  Of course Peyo had other translation projects to work on so he wasn't on this full time.  Plus, our process allowed for a fair amount of down time.  Essentially, it went as follows:

Among the open issues we had were what to do with the Shaggy Dog Stories, final formatting of dialogue, and language.  Often Peyo would push for more formal/literary language, where I was pushing for more colloquial French, particularly with dialogue. 

For the Shaggy Dog Stories, we finally decided to translate them into French, then to add a footnote to explain the play on words in English.  I think this reads well. 

We got through the final 50 pages in October and began the somewhat arduous process of reassembling and reformatting the document.  It may seem like a minor issue, but in French, quotation marks are followed by a space.  Question marks, exclamation points, colons, and semi-colons are preceded by a space.  While MS Word inserts these for the French Language, the version of Word that Peyo used would line wrap them and sometimes we'd end up with a question mark, exclamation point, colon, etc.  alone on a line.  Or they'd split oddly across lines.  I finally figured out how to force Word to use non-breaking spaces with these characters and the document cleaned up nicely.

I forwarded the reassembled book to a French friend and she tore through it, finding countless typos and making a number of suggestions.  Peyo reviewed and incorporated these and today, I sent copies out to a well-known French author and to two friends who claim to be Monsieur and Madame Tout-le-Monde.  They wanted to be among the first to read the book. I've asked them to be brutally honest.  Specifically, I want to know:

With luck I'll have their comments back in a few weeks.  While waiting, I'm searching for someone who can redo the front and back cover to replace the English.  Then Peyo and I will make one more pass before seeking a French publisher.  We also need to create a French web page for The Shadow of God (now L'Ombre de Dieu) on this site or perhaps even create a French version of the entire site.  After all, if it goes well for L'Ombre de Dieu in France, I'll want to translate The Silicon Lathe, and Ethics (which I might actually publish there).  Clearly there's still a lot to do.

Wish us luck!

Dare Brittany!  That's the motto that the tourist boards are promoting in Brittany, France.  And from our experiences there, we understand where they're coming from.  Brittany is unique.  It's more rugged.  The people are tougher.  Even the bread is heartier.

Like the Basques from our favorite region of France, the Bretons had a longstanding separatist movement and still maintain their own language.  Many of the road signs are in two languages.

While Quiberon is in Brittany and fascinated us with its varied coastline and nearby prehistory, I don't think we were quite prepared for Finistere.   It was much more stark than we had imagined - almost bleak.   I had heard a lot about La Torche, the surf break with its famous Ascenseur (Elevator) - a current that runs at up to 8 miles per hour and is great for propelling you back to the lineup but we really weren't expecting any waves as the surf forecast wasn't promising.  However, with our great introduction to Brittany in Quiberon, we had high hopes for this more remote area. 

Even the names of the towns seemed intriguing.  Lot's of 'P's and apostrophes in names like Penmarc'h, Pouldreuzic, Plozevet, and Pluguffan. 

We drove through craggy rolling hills, crossing rivers, and rounding the larger city of Quimper.  Suddenly the roads narrowed - all routes seemed to be single-laned.  There were fields but they all seemed to be fallow - nothing was planted - and it was the end of May!  We saw very few houses, just lots of open countryside.   Nothing really changed as we neared the coast and approached our hotel.  However, the architecture of the homes was quite different.  As we later learned, the homes were built for multiple families and their animals - to shelter them from the harsh winters.  Then, there it was - a completely incongruous building with neon lights - the Breiz Armor.  Although the hotel was nice in a Best Western sort of way, it seemed completely out of place on Penhors plage which is officially part of Pouldreuzic.  We decided to cancel our dinner reservations and to search the nearby towns for a more 'authentic' place to eat.   

Continuing on the small country roads, we found some charming villages and ultimately a good restaurant.  On our way back just after sunset, out in the middle of nowhere, we passed what looked like an ancient chapel.   In the dim light, we discovered that outside this chapel was one of the oldest and most famous calvaries -  large granite sculptures which depict the life of Christ - from before birth to crucifixion and the resurrection.  One of the most notable things which I found indicative of the attitude of 15th century Brittany (it was built about 1450), was a sculpture of Mary giving birth - breasts exposed.  I'm surprised this wasn't considered blasphemous but again, I think it bespeaks the practical, down-to-earth nature of the Bretons of the time.  It was getting dark and our pictures didn't turn out well, so the one at left was borrowed from the Wikepedia site. 

In the morning we got up and did a hike along the GR 34.  At over 1600 kilometers, this is one of the longest Grande Randonnees in Europe.  It was a cool drizzly morning and we made our way along the tortured rocky coastline to the north.  To the south there were miles of sand dunes.  Along the trail, there are signs about the area.  Many explain the harsh life of the Finistere Bretons, most of whom made their livings harvesting kelp, then submitting it to an arduous process to extract iodine for sale.  It was a meager living at best.  They also talked of shipwrecks - not from centuries ago, but from the 20th century.  While this group of Bretons knew the ocean, the rocky coast, radical tide changes, and severe weather cost many their lives.

After a bit more exploration of this bleak part of Finistere, we continued our trip  towards our next destination, Perros Guirec.  Along the way we passed though a spectacular national park of rocky cliffs and pine forests, then decided to stop for lunch in Morlaix, hometown to one of our French friends.   The town is built in a canyon carved out by a small river.  On the north end is a harbor which is inland from the coast.  We'll definitely return to do more exploration of Morlaix.

Arriving at our hotel in Perros Guirec, we were blown away.  The  Hotel Manoir du Sphinx is built into the side of a cliff that looks out onto the seven islands.  It sits half way between the two main areas of Perros Guirec - a harbor to the east and a long beach to the west.  We went for a walk to do some exploring and found the people very friendly - even more reminiscent of the Basque region where everyone you pass says hello.    We had an excellent meal in the hotel's restaurant and explored a bit more of the town afterwards.

The next day we did a hike towards the west on the GR 34.  This section of the Grande Randonnee features spectacular pink granite rock formations.  The trail itself follows the ancient Sentier des Douaniers - trail of the customs agents.  Along the trail there are small structures built of pink granite that are camouflaged among the rocks so that the custom agents could spy on smugglers. 

After several miles, we turned back passing through the village of Ploumanac'h, and then catching up to the GR 34 again.  There was some small crowded surf in the afternoon but I decided to pass.  That evening we had another fantastic dinner, this time at La Suite overlooking the beach in western Perros. 

For breakfast the next morning, we stopped at a artisanal bakery where we found some of the best bread we've eaten in France - and that's saying a lot!  We're big bread fans and the French with their 3-4 bakes a day supply some of the best, freshest bread in the world.  But I do love heavy breads like the black breads found in Germany and eastern Europe, so I really enjoyed the hearty fresh bread of Brittany.

In looking back at our quick trip up the west coast of France with our stops in Ile d'Oleron, Olonne-sur-mer, and Quiberon (which is part of Brittany), clearly Brittany wins out.  We felt at home there much as we do in the Basque Region.  Between the history (actually pre-history), the spectacular landscapes, the rugged ocean, the GR 34, and the interesting people, there's much to explore and experience.  Without a doubt, we'll be going back.

I've written a few blogs about les Trois Couronnes, one of the majestic peaks that dominate the Pays Basque in France.  I've also mentioned La Rhune, a higher peak to which many of the Basques attribute supernatural occurrences.  These two dominate the skyline to the south.  But there's one more that rises out of the ocean just below the border.  It's called Jaizkibel.  While we know quite a bit about the first two, we'd never hiked Jaizkibel.  It was a Saturday with rain forecast to come in about noon.  I had hoped to hike west of San Sebastian near the town of Itziar - an area called Itxaspe.  The cliffs are spectacular, the rock formations date from ancient periods, and to be honest, it appears there are some 'undiscovered' perfect point and reef breaks there if you're willing to descend the three hundred foot cliffs. 

But because of the forecast rain, Martine, our hiking partner, suggested we do Jaizkibel instead.   The mountain is a ridge that borders the ocean starting in the now-trendy Spanish town of Hondarribia.  The ocean side is rough with no roads and only trail access.  The inland side is a valley  With the Pyrenees (and Les Trois Couronnes) just a few miles to the south.  If you start at the lighthouse in Hondarribia, it's 22 km (14 miles) to Pasaia at the other end of the ridge.  Martine proposed we start about half way, at a ruined Parador, given the incoming weather. 

I didn't know anything about Paradors.  In our ten years together, Karen never mentioned that she had stayed in many when she lived in Spain.  Paradors are luxury hotels owned by the Spanish government which are located in old castles, monasteries, estates, and other exotic buildings.  They were built by the government to encourage the economies of out-of-the-way places.   I found a site with a map of the Spanish Paradors and clicked on several to get descriptions of the properties as well as things to do in the surrounding areas.  Karen and I will definitely be visiting a few of these (particularly in Galicia and out near the border with Portugal).

The Jaizkibel Parador was torn down in 1999 and all that's left are some stone structures and part of the foundation.  The views are spectacular.  On the south side, you see the valley with Irun below and the Pyrenees behind.  To the north,  the rugged cliffs below, and to the northeast, Hondarribia, Hendaye, and the coastline of southwest France.  On a clear day you can see much of the way to Bordeaux.  Unfortunately, it wasn't a clear day...

We started our hike with a descent of about 200' towards the ocean along a closed dirt road.  About a mile later after trying a small trail that led nowhere, we encountered the GR 121 - one of Europe's Grand Randonnees.  This is the 22 km trail I mentioned above.  It is a well-maintained, easy trail with gentle slopes.  We turned towards Pasaia and followed the trail into the mist as we climbed towards the peak of Jaizkibel.  Along the way we had views of the rugged, mostly inaccessible coast below us to the north and off to the west.  There were numerous trails that branched off the GR121 towards the ocean below, but given the impending weather we decided to save them for another day. 

During most of our hikes in the Pyrenees, we've encountered wild horses called Pottoks.  They are small and very tough-looking.  As we climbed, we encountered a group of horses, including a foal, but we weren't sure if they were wild or not.

We continued upward thorough a forested area crossed by numerous creeks but decided to bypass the trail that led to the tower-laden peak, choosing instead to follow the GR 121 along the top of the ridge. 

Three and a half miles into the hike, we decided to stop for lunch at one of the ruined lookout posts similar to the one near the Parador.  We set up our lunches and of course, it began to rain, hard.  We wolfed down as much as we could under the improvised shelter of our rain jackets and decided it might be a good idea to head back.  Fortunately, about a mile later, the rain eased up and we got a few sunny breaks.

We made our way back through a few sprinkles, but it was clear from the increasing winds that the main part of the storm was on its way.  It had been nice hike of about 7 miles round trip.  In addition to the impressive views, along the way, Martine pointed out a few things of note.  The first picture below is of a very small pinkish plant that is a carnivore.  It secretes a dew-like drop that attracts insects, but is so sticky that they can't escape.  Then the leaves enshroud them.  We were able to trigger the closing with pieces of grass. 

We also encountered some interesting rock formations with large hollows in them.  Martine explained that these volcanic rocks were formed with glass balls inside.  As the rocks erode, the balls become exposed, fall out, then eventually roll all the way to the ocean.

After our return, Martine send me a few pictures from one of her previous hikes on a much nicer day.  She had taken one of the lower trails from the lighthouse in Hondarribia.

As you can see, it's a remarkable area.  Most of it is inaccessible except by foot.  We're looking forward to another, longer hike at Jaizkibel starting at the lighthouse.  We'll be exploring many of the lower trails that lead into small protected coves. 

Although Les Trois Couronnes and La Rhune are still the most imposing peaks of the coastal Pays Basque, if you're in the area you should consider a hike at Jaizkibel too.

After our stops at Ile d'Oloron and Olonne-Sur-Mer, we finally reached our much anticipated Brittany.  We started with the Presqu'Ile de Quiberon.  'Presque' is the French word for 'almost', so the name literally means the almost island of Quiberon.  And it is an almost-island.  Quiberon is divided into two parts, Saint-Pierre-Quiberon and Presqu'ile de Quiberon.  The latter is separated from the mainland by a sliver-thin peninsula that is only about 70 feet wide.  Driving over this narrow stretch, it's hard to believe that with the radical tide changes in the area, the road isn't sometimes underwater making the Presqu'ile, a true island.   Still, the Presqu'ile feels like an island. 

As you can see from the satellite photo I borrowed from the Quiberon tourism website, it's about as close to an island as you can get.  With an area of less than 9 square kilometers (less than 3.5 square miles), you can walk around the entire  presqu'ile in about 4 hours on the sentier littoral which is part of the Grand Randonnee (GR) 34.  The differences you'll see are amazing.  On the mainland side, you'll find miles of sand dunes like we've seen along most of the west coast of France.  Not far down the west side is the Cote Sauvage,  a rugged rocky coastline with just a few small beaches.  As you enter the main part of the village of Quiberon near the end of the island, you find small harbors and points which block the swells from the rest of the island, and as you round the east and northeast side of the island, you find long stretches of pristine beaches and harbors with calm crystal clear water reminiscent of the Caribbean. 

Karen and I arrived in Quiberon mid-afternoon.  We were a couple hours early for our hotel check in but the staff was kind enough to show us to our spectacular ocean-view room.  They also recommended a restaurant called Les Viviers on the Cote Sauvage.    We drove over to the restaurant that stands alone on the cliffs, parked, and started walking the trail that runs along the cliffs for several miles, passing Menhirs, giant stones that date from about 5,000 BC.  At one point we saw a ruined chapel on the edge of the cliff and not far away was a section that was cordoned off.  It was an archeological site, a six thousand year old tomb. A sign indicated that most of the contents had been moved to the Prehistory Museum in Carnac, a few miles away. 

We had a superb dinner at Les Viviers, consisting of broiled clams as an appetizer, mussels for a main course, and very nice Muscadet from the Loire Valley.  Karen and I are mussel fans and these were the biggest mussels we've ever eaten.  It's not the shells that were unusual, it was hard to believe the meat fit inside the shells.  We walked a few more miles after dinner enjoying the memorable sunset.

The next morning we got up at first light and raced to Port Blanc on the Cote Sauvage to find some surf.  After a two hour session, we returned to the hotel for breakfast and then walked around the tip of the island to the east and north.  The points were lined with Cypress trees, and much of that part of the coast looked like Monterey and Pacific Grove.  As we went further east, we passed old forts and encountered new harbors and long stretches of those beaches I mentioned.  It was hard to believe how clear the water was - this was the North Atlantic Coast!

We were a bit reluctant to leave Quiberon and wanted to explore more but decided to make a stop at Carnac a few miles onto the mainland to have lunch and to check out the museum and the local Menhirs.  Karen and I are not big museum people but the Prehistory Museum in Carnac was fascinating, probably because it represented local history and prehistory starting 450,000 years ago.  In addition to the finds, it chronicled the changes in the land mass, the effects of the ice age  (which at one point froze the English Channel), and showed on maps where to go to see the original sites.  It explained the construction of the Dolmens, tombs dating back to 5,000 BC, and how the massive stones were placed on top - they filled the area with dirt, dragged the stones onto the dirt and then removed the dirt.  It also proposed numerous theories for the more than 4000 menhirs in the area and their unusual alignments. 

We left the museum and had a leisurely drive to our next stop, Finistere - land's end (or world's end) depending on your interpretation.  That is where we got a sense of how rugged Brittany can be.  Quiberon, even with its remarkable coastline was tame in comparison to what we'd see next. 

There's no question we'll be back to visit Quiberon and the surrounding area.  Between the beaches, the history, the great food and the surf, it's a place we want to take more time to explore.

The real target of our trip was Brittany so after the Ile d'Oleron, we picked a point about half way: Olonne-sur-mer.  I knew there was surf in the area, and from the photos and the bit of research I did, the place looked interesting. 

There are miles of beaches ranging from very rugged rocky areas to large sand dunes.  Just inland from the ocean is a forest, which Napoleon had planted to protect the inland areas from the sand blowing off the coast, and just a bit further inland from the forest are marshes which are stops for migrating birds and home to many exotic orchids.

The forest and the marshes are crisscrossed by almost 75  kilometers (~45 miles) of biking/hiking trails and kayaks and canoes are available for exploring the marshes. 

The area has a remarkable history dating back 2500 years.  The Romans occupied it because of its prosperous port.  England owned it beginning in the 9th century and Richard the Lionhearted considered it his favorite hunting area in France.  

Olonne-sur-mer is a community of about 14,000 people, just 5 minutes from the city of Les Sable d'Olonne.  Contrary to its name, Les Sable d'Olonne doesn't have much sand and the city is trying to find ways to save its main beach.  There's some discussion about unifying the two communities.


We arrived at the Logis Des Maraichers Monday night after a 5 hour drive that was supposed to be half that.  Philip greeted us and showed us to our room.  The Logis has 4 very elegant rooms in a closed courtyard with an outside dining area (for breakfast), and a swimming pool.  Philip then invited us to the office where he showed us maps of the area, indicated surfing spots, and made some restaurant recommendations.  He thought most would be open since it was a holiday. 

Unfortunately, his first recommendation was closed so we chose another on his list - touted for great seafood.   I'd have to say that although the service was excellent, the food was mediocre. 
  

After dinner we drove around the city.  Although there is much history in the area, it seems a bit hard to find or perhaps just incongruous with the city itself.  The Chateau St. Clair which houses a museum and has a lighthouse on its tower is interesting as are the Menhirs - standing stones that may date from 9000 years ago.  But as evidenced by the photo of the main beach which I borrowed from the city's tourism site, it seems like the city is trying to take on a very modern Riviera-like look at the expense of its history.  It probably doesn't help that during World War II, as the Germans were retreating, they destroyed the port, mined the beaches, and wiped out much of the city.   

There's a nice port, but a lot of industrialization in it.  The city doesn't have much charm.  We tried to find some cohesiveness but couldn't.  Some buildings were very new.  Others probably dated from the late 1940s.  But we didn't find much that was fascinating.  Maybe we just didn't know where to look, but in  most French towns and cities, you get a feel for them right away.    Overall, Karen and I agreed that Les Sables d'Olonne felt pretty disjoint - a city trying to find its identity.  Philip, our host at the Logis, agreed.  He's British and came here several years ago in search of an opportunity near the coast.  He seems to have found it in Orlonne-sur-mer, just a few miles north of the city, as the area is popular with the British and with people from the low countries who love the biking trails.  

We got up at first light the next morning and went to one of the prime surf spots called Sauveterre.  It's also a naturist beach, though on that day, it was a bit chilly.  The surf was too small to be of interest, but with miles of sand dunes to the south and reefs from there northward, I could see the potential. 

Giving up on surf, we decided to go for a hike through the Foret d'Olonne.  Like many of the forests that Napoleon had planted along the coast, it was composed of pines growing in sand or sandy soil.  We had a nice walk, but there wasn't anything really remarkable there.

Apparently it wasn't the best time of year for bird viewing so we didn't bring our kayaks and didn't take the time to rent some to explore the marshes.  Since the area didn't excite us too much, we were anxious to move on to Brittany and our next stop, Quiberon.

Fair warning, this post is not targeted at serious cyclists.  It describes a beautiful, flat, 17-mile ride along the Nive River in the southwest of France. 

Karen and I have talked about getting bikes and exploring the Basque countryside on two wheels, but she's afraid of hills and I must admit that I get nervous on narrow winding country roads with no bike lanes and no shoulders. 

But every time we take the A63 in or out of the area, we pass over the Nive River and we've been envious of the people who are running, walking, and biking along a paved path that leads inland. 

A couple of trips ago, I did some research and discovered that this path, called the Chemin de Halage, was actually built centuries ago and was used to haul boats upriver to the villages of Usteritz and Cambo les Bains.  It has since been turned into a multiuse path for pedestrians and bikes.  There are still a few homes and farms which are only accessible via the path, so it's possible, but very unlikely, that you might see a car on the path - it's limited to locals only. 

I also discovered that there are several access points to the Chemin de Halage so a year ago, Karen and I did some short walks (she wasn't walking well at that point) along the middle part.  We often saw rowers training on the river.  Then, this summer, Karen's daughter and son-in-law spent a month here.  We talked about the Nive and the Chemin de Halage, and they discovered that the city of Bayonne lends bikes for free.  They took a ride along the Nive. 

Of course, on our return, we had to do the same, so yesterday, we went to the tourist office in Bayonne, gave them my driver's license and a credit card number and we were off.

The bikes are sturdy (and quite heavy).  They come equipped with a basket, a light, six gears, and a lock.  They have signs over the rear wheel advertising the City of Bayonne.  Mine were loose and a bit too close to my feet on the back part of the stroke.  The steering was a bit wobbly, especially with our picnic lunch and gear in the basket.  But the seats were comfortable so we made our way carefully through the traffic around the old city and onto the path which runs along the left bank of the Nive. 

Once you leave the city, you have the river on your left and stands of trees, fields of corn, and patches of Espellete peppers on your right.  There are benches every quarter mile or so.  If you look carefully, you can spot ancient ruined farmhouses tucked away in the trees  and there are even a few spectacular chateaux on the hillsides. 

About halfway to Usteritz, you pass the L'heberge de La Nive, a small hotel and restaurant that also serves as an equestrian center complete with lessons and competitions.  We went by in the middle of the afternoon during the week and were surprised to see that the restaurant was open.  However, we had brought a picnic, so we didn't stop. 

There are also several water fountains and pull-up bars, so runners don't need to carry water.  In fact, if you think about it, we really didn't need to carry water or food.  I'm sure that would have made control of the bike much easier. 

The path is well-maintained with no potholes.  Many of the benches are perched on the side of the river under trees.  With a light wind blowing, they offered perfect places to just relax and watch the water go by.  And the fish. 

I don't know what kind of fish we saw, but they're huge - at least 2 feet long.  They travel in schools so sometimes, large sections of the river lift at once and you think the Loch Ness monster has found its way to the south of France.  I'm sure the many waterfowl, egrets, herons, and grebes, have no problems eating their fill.

Not long before you reach Usteritz, you'll see a waterfall complete with fish ladders.  There are numerous places to picnic, and a bit further, as you reach the outskirts of Usteritz, you find children's playgrounds and large open areas. 

Usteritz itself has a lot of history (as does most of France).  Built in the 11th century, it served as a crossroads for commerce with Spain.  The Nive, which accessed the Port of Bayonne, was a gateway for the interior Basque region and Usteritz flourished.  It was the 'capital' of this part of the Basque country.  In 1174, Richard the Lionhearted captured Usteritz in 10 days to gain control of the region.   Today, the village has about 6,000 inhabitants, a few chateaux - most restored since the 17th century, and a cemetery with gravestones from the 12th century. 

From the tourist office in Bayonne, our turn point in Usteritz was 8.5 miles into our trip.  We probably could have continued towards Cambo Les Bains, but we decided to return since we had thoughts of getting a round of disc golf in before heading home. 

The ride back was just as interesting as the ride out.  You see things, particularly on hillsides, that you missed going in the other direction.  The wind had picked up, so we had a bit of a headwind on the return, but the trees on either side of the path seemed to block it well and the return wasn't any more difficult than the way out. 

And as we passed under the A63, thinking of the cars passing overhead who were probably envying our leisure, we saw the twin spires of the Bayonne cathedral.

We made our way through the old city to the tourist office where the friendly woman returned my driver's license and the document on which she'd noted my credit card number. 

The ride along the Nive was a very pleasant way to spend an afternoon.  We'll definitely do it again.  But the Nive offers much more - kayaking, boating, fishing, horseback riding, and more.  The Chemin de Halage is a great way to access it.  On our next visit, we'll be taking our kayaks.  Since this part of the Nive is tidal water and tide changes here range between 12 and 25 feet, we'll see if we can time the upriver paddle with the end of the incoming tide so we can have a nice easy downriver return.  If we're successful, I'll try to post some pictures from the river itself. 

Most of the reason we came to France so early this season was that Karen was invited to play in a disc golf tournament sponsored by our local club in Tarnos on the 7th of September.  Because of demands at work and some new injuries, Karen didn't play much disc golf this past summer so the week before we left and the few days after our arrival, we practiced as much as we could, getting her used to new discs and to having me as her caddy. 

The day of the tournament, everyone was surprised that I wasn't going to play.  After Karen and her friend literally begged me to play, I reluctantly agreed.  I have never wanted to play in a disc golf competition.  I compete with myself, not with others.   

The tournament went smoothly, Karen finished second among the four women playing.  The one who beat her plays on the French National Women's team.  I finished in the middle of the pack of excellent, experienced players.  I was pleasantly surprised. 

During the third round, on the most difficult par 4 hole, Gilbert Carniel, one of the older players (my age) who is the primary contact for the Coutras club, helped me out of a difficult situation.  The shot looked impossible to me, but he showed me a trick and I dropped my disc next to the pin.  After being down quite a bit in that last round and suffering from the 90+ degree heat, something about learning a new shot inspired me and I subsequently had 4 birdies and finished the round a respectable 2 over par.  Gilbert's 15-year old son Mike, who is on the French National Junior team, easily won the competition 9 under par while his sister Kim took the honors for the women.

I mention this because the real story in this blog is about the next tournament which was sponsored by the Gilbert's club in Coutras on Sunday the 21st of September.  It was the last disc golf tournament for the season which was part of the Southwest (France) tour.   

Six of us from the Tarnos club made the 3 hour trek to Coutras for the tournament.  Unfortunately, several of the other club members had other obligations.    As we entered the town, I realized that Karen and I had been there before.  We had stopped there for lunch on our way back from the Dordogne two years ago.   

Coutras is a village of about 8,000 people that sits where two rivers, L'isle and the Dronne meet.  It is considered the gateway to the spectacular Dordogne region and is a only few minutes away from the famous Saint-Emilion wine region. 

We were greeted warmly by Disc Golf Club Coutrillon (Coutrillon is what people from Coutras call themselves) and a light breakfast was waiting.  In addition to Gilbert, Mike, and Kim, Steve, another son who is on the French National Team, was going to play.  Gilbert's wife managed the refreshments and scoring, and between matches, his grandson who was about two tried to throw discs.  I think you get the idea here.  

The course was challenging.  Every hole had OB areas (out of bounds - in the map, white lines are the paths to the baskets; red lines indicate the out of bounds areas around each hole) which made the course very technical.  Don't go wide or it costs you a stroke.  Don't go long past the basket or it costs you a stroke.  Don't go too short or it will cost you a stroke.  Two doglegs had very tight restrictions.  But the most interesting thing was hole number 2 - the 'ilot' - the island.  The basket was in a small field and was surrounded by an OB rope.  The diameter of the island was about 6 meters.  The tee was on a ridge that ran along the highway.  It was about 150 feet away but about 20 feet above the island and the island was at about a 30 degree angle to the ridge.  You had to stand on the ridge and land your disc in the island on the first shot.  If you missed, you got a second shot with no penalty.  If you missed again, you took a penalty and moved to the closer tee which was about halfway to the basket along the ridge where you got to keep trying. 

The island was Gilbert's idea and from what I understand, he previously has done quite well with it.  I felt really bad about taking 6 on that hole after being under par until then (our group started on hole 6), but Gilbert consoled me by telling me he scored 10 (the max) on it.  Karen on the other hand landed in with her first shots during her first two rounds. She was a contender for the 'closest to the pin' prize until the last round when Laurent from the Lagorce club, who was otherwise having a very bad day, beat her out by a few centimeters. 

I learned a lesson from these competitions.  As much skill as you may develop, Disc Golf, like many other sports, is a psychological game.  Much as Gilbert's trick helped me on to much better performance at Tarnos, my poor performance at the Island dragged me down on subsequent holes.  And it did it on each round - I got discouraged.  Fortunately, on the second round, it came near the end, so it was only my last few holes that showed the effects.   This is something I really need to work on. 

Putting aside my personal challenges with the day, I can't deny that the weather conditions were ideal, everyone had a great time, and I learned a lot about what disc golf can be.  The DGCC club sponsors community disc golf events, bringing children and families into the park for festivities and disc golf lessons.  This particular tournament was a handicapped event, so even those who didn't play well had a chance of winning a prize.  And it was fascinating to see a family so dedicated to the sport.   

I note that in France, the cities provide a small amount of funding to clubs who bring recreational activities to their communities.  The clubs must be what we would call corporations, with officers, annual meetings,  and a plan for each year.  Some of the disc golf clubs are also sponsored by local businesses. 

While disc golf hasn't yet exploded in France, if the club at Coutras is any example, it won't be long before it becomes a great family sport here. 

In the picture at left, it looks like Les Trois Couronnes looms over Guethary.  In reality, it's about 15 miles away.  But for me, this mountain marks the Pays Basque.  It does loom over the entire area.  When I see it, I know I've finally arrived at the place I first visited forty years ago.   And every time I see it during my visits to the area, I'm overwhelmed with a sense of the magic of the place.  

 I'm not sure that Les Trois Couronnes has the same allure for the locals who often talk about La Rhune, a nearby mountain that's about two hundred feet higher and which has historical legends of dragons and witches.  But La Rhune has been tamed.  There are radio towers and even a train to the top.  Hikes around it are beautiful, but for me it just doesn't compare.  Les Trois Couronnes is accessible only on foot and requires some endurance to reach.  You don't see many people on the way up or down.  It's a beautiful spot.

Several years ago on one of our first visits to the Pays Basque, a friend mentioned that they had climbed Les Trois Couronnes. Karen and I knew we had to do it.  On each of our subsequent visits to the Pays Basque, we hiked the trails that ultimately led us to the multiple
peaks.  Unfortunately, with Karen's hip injury, for the past several years 
we were unable to revisit the mountain.  But with Karen's recovery, this was one of the first things on our agenda for our spring trip this year.  Of course, before tackling the climb, we wanted to be sure that Karen could hike - she'd proved herself with the Big Sur Marathon 21-mile walking race, but that was walking, not climbing on a rough trail. 

So, during  our first few days in the Pays Basque, we did other hikes.  After successfully taking the Sentier Litorral into Saint Jean de Luz and back (about 6 miles each way), we tried a challenging hike at Biriatou.  Karen had no problems so we planned on climbing Les Trois Couronnes two days later.  But, as the Israeli's say, Man makes plans and God laughs. 

It started  raining. 

 Or maybe I should say that aside from a day or two where we had other commitments, it rained every day during our six-week stay.  Having once been caught at the top of Les Trois Couronnes in a rainstorm, we knew we didn't want to face
water cascading down the rocky trails and slippery slopes.  

So, by the end of this trip, because of all the rain, we were disappointed that we were unable to  make the hike to Les Trois Couronnes.  But I keep thinking about it.  The weather turned beautiful our last few days there and if not for the commitments...  But surfing, walking, shopping for dinner, and even playing disc golf, the mountain seemed to insist.  And now that I'm back in Santa Cruz, I need some closure, so I thought I'd write a blog about Les Trois Couronnes and I'd include pictures from previous hikes (plus a few I borrowed).

The Trois Couronnes, also known as Penas de Haya in Spanish, consists of three main peaks:  Irumugarrieta at 806 meters (2644'), Txurrumurru at 826 meters (2710') and Erroilbide at 836 meters (2743').  You've got to love those Basque names.  To get there you take the N-1 into Irun and then the GI-3454 into the park for about 5 miles.  Half a mile or so after the road crests, you'll see a parking area on the left with large signs.  This is the Col d'Elurretxe.  There are several trails that wind up and around the peaks from here but unless you're planning to do some rock climbing, avoid the trail on the right.  We'll probably give it a try on a nice day.  To my understanding and from the pictures I've seen, this is the only way to go if you want to do a full loop as opposed to an up and back down the same trail.  The climb up the rocks looks reasonable though a rope is recommended for beginners.  However, the climb down the rocks is treacherous, so going in the reverse direction is not advised.   

From the parking lot, the left trail passes the high voltage power 'pole' and then winds through a scenic section of the east side of the peaks.  At a less than obvious fork, you need to turn right and follow the fence to the edge of the trees beyond.  It takes a few minutes to find the next trail marker in the trees, but if you walk straight up, you'll find the trail again.   It winds upwards past a bunker built during the Spanish Civil War, then gets a bit rough.  The rough trail affords  numerous views of Irun and Hendaye and the French Pays Basque. 

The trail continues upwards and about 45 minutes into the climb, you'll reach the Cueva del Juncal - a cave with a shrine to the patron saint of Irun.   You're actually just a few feet below the summit of Irumugarrieta.

If you go to the right of the cave, there is are some great views of the peaks as well as views of the valleys to the west in Spain.  You'll pass a large fracture in the rocks which is apparently a somewhat extensive cave.  We haven't explored it yet.  Beyond that, there is a metal sculpture by Eduardo Chillida, a renown Basque sculptor famous for large outdoor pieces.  This one is small but well-placed. 

To get to the top of the first peak (Irumugarrieta), go back the way you came and climb up over the Cueva del Juncal.  It's not far. 

The next peak, Txurrumurru, is a 5-10 minute walk/easy climb on a spectacular trail. 

Another 5-10 minutes with some more challenging climbing and you can reach the summit of Erroibide.  You'll see that the 'trail' down to the other side is not easy.  A rope would be nice as there is a hook in the face of the rocks.  It looks much easier to climb up than to go down.  Hence the reason to take the other trail from the bottom if you want to do a full loop. 

The descent affords quite a few impressive views of the Pays Basque.  Since I'm paranoid about falling, I tend to go slower down the mountain than going up.  The total round trip time after exploring the caves, sculptures and vistas, and taking pictures is about two hours.    The day the deluge hit, it was much longer.  The steep part of the trail became a raging torrent of water and visibility was limited with the pounding rain and wind.  If the weather looks questionable, I'd postpone your hike for another day.  Unfortunately, with all the bad weather on our most recent trip, we delayed and delayed.  Hopefully we'll be spending more time on Les Trois Couronnes  in the fall.  With luck, we'll succeed on the hard route.   As this point, we can only dream and look at pictures from past trips. 

If you get to the Pays Basque, you can't help but be impressed by Les Trois Couronnes any time you look south towards Spain.  As imposing as it may appear from below, Les Trois Couronnes is a truly magical place to hike.   

After a great surf session in Bidart on the north end of the Plage du Centre, I noticed that the Sentier Littoral continued up the cliff into the trees above.  I realized that for all the times we've taken the Sentier Littoral into Saint Jean de Luz, and south of there from Ciboure into Hendaye, we'd never actually walked it to the north.  I'd mistakenly assumed that once it got into Bidart, the village just north of Guethary, it just followed roads along the cliff with the highway not far away.  Seeing this trail, I suspected I was wrong.

After a nice lunch on our mini-terrace which looked at Bidart, we decided to walk the northern part of the Sentier Litorral.  Bidart is a village of about 6,000 people (about 5 times the size of Guethary).  Even though it's literally across the street from us and the village center is a 20 minute walk away, we've never explored it, thinking it was much more commercial. 

We left the house and walked the 5 minutes down to Parlementia which is officially part of Bidart but seems to be part of Guethary - at least to most of the locals.  There's a nice trail past the La Bahia restaurant on the edge of the water which continues up the hill and onto rural streets.  The picture at the left is a shot just as we were leaving the street to follow a pretty trail down to the beach below.  The trail continues along the beach to the small l'Uhabia river, then along the rock border to a bridge.  It crosses an open area then goes on to city streets much as we expected. 

We turned towards the Plage du Centre and stopped at the top to take a picture looking south back towards Guethary - this is the first picture in this post.  Note that the sky looks clear and beautiful.  Unfortunately, to the east, thunderheads had developed and it looked like they were moving our way.  We took the trail down the cliff and as we stopped to watch the surf for a few minutes, the first drops began to fall.  Within seconds it was pouring and marble-sized hail started falling.  We sought shelter under Tantina de la Playa - one of our favorite restaurants - and waited for the hail to stop.  What looks like a grainy photo  is actually a clear photo. The 'grains' are hailstones.  Within minutes, all the surfers had flipped their boards over and crawled under them to protect themselves from the incessant onslaught of balls of ice.  After twenty to thirty minutes it stopped.  Since there were clearly more storms to the east, we decided to race home where we watched a spectacular lightning show.

With better weather returning, we retraced our path the next morning.  We continued past Tantina de la Playa to the trail I'd seen and made our way up the cliff.  We were pleasantly surprised by the vistas as the trail wound its way up to a point about 320 feet above the ocean.  The trail quickly emerged onto a small city street which paralleled the cliff.  Stately Basque villas and elegant four and five-starred hotels lined the cliff. 

Not far along the road, the trail turns left into the forest.  Winding through the trees, it descends down to Erretegia beach.  For years this has been a popular beach in Bidart.  It's a little out of the way and is nicely tucked away from larger beaches to the north and south.  Unfortunately, with the strong storms of this past winter, landslides and erosion have reduced the once extensive beach to a relatively small patch of sand.  The owner of one of the surf schools told me that this has decimated his business. 

Officially, the Sentier Littoral turns back up the hill along the access road to Erretegia.  It then parallels the N10 highway for hundred yards before ending half a mile away on city streets.

We noticed a much smaller trail leading north along the cliff just above the beach at Erretegia so  we decided to try that.  As we got to its highest point, we looked back south across  Erretegia and saw this ancient structure built into the cliff above the beach. 

Turning north again, the trail forked and offered an opportunity to regain the Sentier Littoral a hundred vertical feet above, but we decided to continue north along the lower trail.

This narrow trail wound its way down the cliff where there were several side trails dropping down to mostly-deserted clothing-optional beaches which extend to the beach below the Pavillon Royal near the border of Biarritz.   The Pavillon Royal was built by Queen Natalie of Serbia in the late 19th century when she separated from her husband.    It's a spectacular manor called Les Ailes (the Wings) that is now owned by the Latécoère family.

As we neared the Pavillon Royal, the trail turned up the hill back towards the north end of Bidart.  There was another very small, overgrown trail with lots of thistles and nettles which appeared to stay on the cliff all the way to the Pavillon Royal beach and campground, but we decided to skip it since we were in shorts and running shoes. 

Instead, we made our way up the hillside past an elegant hotel and on to the small side streets of Bidart.  According to Karen's GPS watch, we'd covered just under 4 miles.  Since we were hungry and had forgotten to buy bread, we decided to race back along the streets to our favorite bakery not far from our place in Guethary.  We made it just before they closed and noted that our total distance was 6 miles. 

As I mentioned, we've often done the 5-mile walk south along the Sentier Litorral into Saint Jean de Luz for lunch or a movie but never considered the walk north.  Now that we've seen the beauty of the trails in the cliffs of Bidart, when we want a nearby hike (as opposed to a walk), we'll do these northern trails again. 

Last year for our wedding anniversary, Karen agreed to take some time off.  Normally when we're in France she works as much or more than she does at home, but this time, she agreed to take a few days to explore some of southern France.   Of course no trip these days is possible without disc golf, so we decided to at least check out two of the courses on our way from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean.   Our first stop was intended to be a short visit to a ski resort that had a disc golf course.  We had visions of the amazing course at Kirkwood, and the vistas as we wound our way up to the Le Mourtis ski resort didn't disappoint us.  

Unfortunately, as we climbed the mountain, the winds and clouds increased, and by time we pulled into the only open restaurant/bar, it was raining.  The people were friendly and did know about disc golf, even offering to lend us discs, but they warned us that with the construction going on, the course was in a state of disrepair. 

We found most of the tees, but many of the baskets had been damaged and there was lots of heavy equipment on the ski slopes.  They had knocked down trees, moved huge amounts of earth right in front of tees, and scared the face of a beautiful mountain.  I'm sure it will look much nicer covered in snow. 

We left Le Mourtis disappointed but excited to get to our next destination, Sauveterre-de-Rouergue, a very small village about an hour northeast of Toulouse.  We were staying at Le Senechal, a hotel with a Michelin-starred restaurant.  We had dinner reservations for our anniversary, the next night.    Sauveterre-de-Rouergue  also had an 18-hole disc golf course with baskets. 

We checked into the hotel, confirmed our reservation for dinner, then asked if there was anywhere we could eat get dinner locally that evening.  The owner of the four-star hotel told us that their restaurant was closed for the evening, but that there would certainly be a restaurant open in the square. 

Sauveterre-de-Rouergue is a Bastide, build in the 13th century in the land of 100 valleys.  It sits on top of a hill, and as a Bastide, is a small rectangular village built around a central courtyard - the 'square'.  It was after 7pm and we were hungry. 

Unfortunately, all the restaurants in the square were closed.  We wandered around and found a small epicerie (grocery store) that was open, but whose shelves were largely empty.  We spoke with the owner, who assured us that at least one restaurant was always open.  The different restaurant owners coordinated the days they closed.  The owner of the epicerie walked us over to each restaurant and was surprised that they were all closed.  She called the owners who told her that since the high season had ended the day before, they had all decided to close for that one evening. 

She took us back into her store to try to find something for us to eat.  We ended up with olives, crackers, cheese, dark chocolate bars, and a 3 euro bottle of wine.  She apologized for being out of wine and called the wine seller around the corner, but he, too, was closed.    She lent us a corkscrew and we went back to our hotel room where we sat out on the balcony and watched a spectacular sunset as we ate our dinner.   Surprisingly, the wine was quite drinkable. 

The next morning we got up early and walked down to the disc golf course in one of the valleys below the Bastide.  The course was far beyond anything we expected.  It was an 18-hole course in a setting of rolling hills, trees, and meadows with a creek running through it.   

The signage was the best I've seen on any course we've played.  At each tee, there is a sign with a perfect depiction of the terrain - each obstacle, tree, water, alternate pin placements, distances, recommended drives, and both pointers and descriptions to the next holes. 

The course itself was lush and green, but all of the open meadows had been recently mowed.  Many of the holes ran along the creek and with a few, you have to throw across the creek.  Officially, the creek is not out-of-bounds. 

Karen had recently bought a Vulcan Blizzard, and its flotation proved nice but challenging as at one point, I had to chase the disc down the creek.  It floated too well. 

At the end of our first day of play, we took a beautiful trail back up to the Bastide.  We had lunch at one of the restaurants on the square and were talking about disc golf when a middle-aged man approached us and asked if we played disc golf.  We told him we'd just finished playing the course there and that it was one of the most beautiful and well-laid out courses we'd ever played. 

He beamed with pride as he told us that he was the head of recreation for the area, that he designed the course, and that he did all the course maintenance.  While he didn't play himself, he'd done extensive research on disc golf an had hosted the French national tour there. 

He joined us for a drink and told us stories about the area.

That night, Karen and I had one of the best dinners of our lives at Le Senechal.  Michel Truchon, the chef, introduced himself and personally explained the preparation of each dish.  It was fall, so cepes (a remarkable mushroom), and chestnuts were in season and showed up prominently in most of our dishes that evening. 

The next morning, we played another great round of disc golf on this very special course then returned for a sumptuous breakfast (again prepared with local ingredients by Michel Truchon) before continuing our anniversary trip as we headed south and east in search of Templar treasure.  But that's another story. 

Almost three years ago, Karen asked me to join her in her new sport, disc golf.  I laughed.  After all, I'm a surfer, skier, hang glider pilot, whitewater kayaker - a risk sport person.  Why would I ever want to do something like disc golf?  Worse, while I'd thrown a Frisbee a few times decades ago, I was terrible at it compared to my friends in college who did all sorts of trick throws on the beach.   I couldn't imagine that this was something I would ever want to do. 

But Karen's son Victor had introduced her to the game/sport and she really seemed to like it, so I reluctantly agreed to give it a try.  She gave me a Valkyrie driver disc and a putter and off we went.  As expected, I was terrible. 

We started at DeLaveaga which is a world-renown championship course - probably way out of our league.  But we stuck with it, playing most days after work for an hour or two.  Somewhere along the line, we played the courses at Black Mouse, in the redwoods in Felton, and at Kirkwood, in the Sierra.   The beauty of these courses convinced me that disc golf is a reason to go hiking - most of the courses are in semi-remote areas and it can be a decent workout to play them.

On our next visit to France we brought a few discs with us, ready to play.  I printed the map of the course at Tarnos, located in Parc de la Baye, and Karen and I found it after searching for quite a while.  Unfortunately, we couldn't find any tees or markers for targets, and even worse, most of the park was under water after heavy rains.  We were discouraged.  To stay in practice, we found some open space areas in Anglet near the beach and practiced our throws with imagined targets.  

On our next trip to France, we took a portable basket.   Portable is probably overstated.  I called it luggable.  It weighs over 25 pounds and is awkward to carry when set up.  We played in the park at Anglet but it quickly grew boring and with other people walking though, difficult.  Searching the web, I found the website for  Disc Golf Sud Landes  and saw that I had been updated.    We went back to Tarnos, hoping to see other players.    We did our best to play the parts of the course we could identify from the map, but never played more than 8 or 9 holes, many of which we just made up.  At this point, Karen was just beginning her hip rehabilitation and was limited in how far she could walk.  

Once interested (I can't say 'hooked' yet), we wanted to keep playing on our extended visits to France.  I searched for disc golf courses in France and discovered http://www.disc-golf.fr/ which showed about 25 courses in France.  Unfortunately, there was only one course near our place in the Pays Basque and it appeared to be a target course - no fixed baskets.  The nearest course with baskets was over two hours away.  

A year later, we were arrived at Tarnos about noon on a Sunday morning.  I set up the basket in the parking lot and we pulled out our discs.  Much to our surprise, there were several disc golf players just finishing up a  game.  Jean, the president of the club introduced himself and told us that they played every Sunday morning at 9:30am. 

He showed us their baskets which couldn't have weighed more than a pound or two and explained to us that they had tried to put in a fixed course with permanent baskets but that the  baskets had been damaged and usually stolen for the metal.  One of the other players explained that Jean had designed their current portable baskets - impressive since even though they're so lightweight, they don't fall over when a fast moving disc hits them. 

We joined the club and started playing every Sunday morning, on holidays, and occasionally when someone has an afternoon off.  They gave us really cool short and long-sleeved shirts.   For the most part, the course is flat  but heavily treed with lots of blackberry bushes, nettles,  and thistles along the 'fairways'.  Bad shots often result in painful retrievals.  There are 6-8 par 4 holes depending on how they play the course on a given day.  With the trees and obstacles (including water), it's a challenging course.  

This past rainy Sunday,  there were 8 of us.  Jean, the president of the club is impressive.  On one of our outings he played the entire course with a putter and I think he still made par.  Michel has the most impressive forehand/side arm throw I've ever seen - a perfect 'S' every time.  Franck has developed some impressive distance and accuracy and is always bringing the latest discs which he orders from the States.  When I get back, I'll be deviating from my Innova disc obsession after throwing some of these new discs.  Bernard is remarkably consistent, including hitting very long (15 meter) putts.  Olivier is a newer player, probably a bit closer to Karen's and my levels.  Martine is Karen's friend who joined the club with us last fall.  She's already hitting quite a few pars in each game and competed in her first tournament this spring.   Pascal wasn't there this past Sunday but he too has an impressive arm.  We've also played with two Sebastiens, one of whom was injured in an accident and hasn't been able to play for several months.  We hope to see him back soon.

The club travels to competitions throughout France and hosts them in Tarnos from time to time.  All of the members are quite good - many are highly rated PDGA players.  There are roughly 17 members.  Even with the bad weather we've had during our current trip we see 8 or more playing on a Sunday.  This trip, we've learned a lot about playing in the rain. 

But the best thing about this group is how friendly and welcoming they are.   And, I have to admit that having 8 people look for a lost disc saves a lot of time and frustration (and I lose a lot of discs).  

As many of you know if you read My Miraculous Wife - Learning French, last week members of the club  invited us to a Landaise lunch where they fed us duck confit, salad Landaise with local white asparagus, grilled chipirons (calamari), magret de canard (duck filets), a fantastic potato dish, great deserts, and of course lots of local wine.  We had an incredible time.  

Disc golf with the Disc Golf Sud Landes club is the most fun we've ever had playing disc golf!  If you find yourself in southwestern France and play disc golf, you won't be disappointed if you show up at Parc de la Baye in Tarnos at 9:30 on a Sunday morning.

My next post will describe our disc golf experience at Le Mourtis and Sauveterre-de-Rouergue.