Next
Next
In this section we went from that rando wild camp to the Hendaye end.
Sam walking near Pic Midi Ossau. Unfortunately, the GR-10 doesn’t really get very close to this amazing peak. I think a re-route is in order.
Nearly up to the col after lunch at the refuge on the far right
Sam developed a habit of speeding up the climbs so he could read while the rest of us slowly trudged. This is how I always found him.
This thistle picture is complete with a flying butterfly.
Sunset through the leaves
Looking back on the Chemin de la Mature. The path is cut into the cliff side on the left.
The most dramatic section of the Chemin de la Mature. If you look closely, you can see Em and the boys on the trail in the center of the photo.
The Chemin de la Mature. This trail was cut by the French navy to move timber for ships.
Nice house you got there.
Limestone cliffs above Lescun
Joe and Em traverse this pass
Walking through the land of limestone sinkholes
Tundracotton
About to pass into the cloud under a steep cliff
This was the steepest section of the whole trail. The picture is an accurate representation of the descent, which was crazy steep and required the ropes that Joe is clinging to and you can see in front of him. Em could not descend with her backpack on so I had to take it down.
Incredible erosion
The extreme porousness of this area meant that there was no surface or spring water for miles. When we stopped for the night, I went looking for a water source in fog with a 20’ visibility range (seriously) and found this as I wandered. Creeeeeeepy.
The boys reading in camp
Joe peers down an abyssal hole. We dropped stones and it was at least 40’ deep.
Evidently these holes are very dangerous.
Exploring this otherworldly area in the thick fog
Clear skies in the morning
Camp in the clear morning
A steep walled canyon with thick, green vegetation
This is the first area that felt undeniably like our recollection of Basque country.
Surprise! The fog is back.
A mighty suspension bridge
For sure, he threw rocks off this bridge.
A bit like Ireland, actually.
At Chalet d’Itraty we expected to have dinner supplied but were sorely disappointed. The boys concocted this from the tiny store.
Begin the sweeping hills
The boys inspect an ancient tomb. Ashes were enclosed in stone slab ossuaries in the center of these stone rings.
On the day’s descent
More Pays Basque. I picked up more than a dozen nymphal ticks while walking through the grass for this shot. Gross.
Starting the day under gray
This is a dung beetle. They are huge, and they fly…badly. On two occasions they bonked off my head in mid flight. However, this one was the worst pilot of them all.
The rolling hills of Pays Basque were exceptionally beautiful.
It says “the king of Basque cake”. Mmmm, maybe, but we did eat a whole gateaux basque for every lunch (and sometimes dinner) for a week before everyone had had enough. Well, not me. I could have gone for more.
The main street of St Jean Pied de Port after all the day trippers have left.
The bridge at dusk
More Basque hills
Well, we only have one cup. I mean, someone had to drink from the bottle. Just had to.
A nice haying field
Getting into drier environs where this bracken is yellowing
Just nice.
Almost to the col
This is part of a long walk along this uplift structure with huge drops off to the right.
Did I mention the hills looked pretty?
More of that uplift
One of the last lunches. All the components are there. Bread, pork product, cheese, butter and gateau Basque. I believe this is what nutritionists call a ‘complete meal’
And we’ve arrived at the beach in Hendaye. We’ve already posted the Us-y’s from that, but here is one of Em with her sleek hiking physique. We decided we’re going to start a weight loss company and advertise on late night cable; “For the low, low price of just five hundred installments of just $19.99, you too can drop the weight and feel great!” You won’t know that the secret is walking 560 miles and up Mt Everest from sea level to peak 6 times until you’ve hung up the phone.
And finally, the duplicate of our starting picture on the Mediterranean: our feet in the Atlantic.