En Route To Gargas

Our next destination was the great prehistoric cave at Gargas, and getting there took us across more of the Pyrenees-Atlantique and the Haute-Pyrenees.

Part of the way we were on the Route du Fromage

Which required the purchase of at least a small round of Basque cheese (which
we were still eating in Paris awaiting our return fight to the US)

Gentle countryside, bucolic, the haze yet with us

An interesting church with trinitarian steeple and crenallated
entry

A 12th century church and stop on the Camino de Santiago; the whole Camino is
on the World Heritage Site list, which means that every little hamlet and hamlet
church for hundreds (thousands?) of miles can claim to be a World Heritage Site;
some caution is needed in choosing sites to visit here

The walled town/bastide of Navarrenx

Main entrance and sallyport

And then the Find of the Day, Navarrenx' thirteenth century (1280, to be exact) still
completely functional bridge; we drove across it twice before we realized what it
was; a marvel not in any of our guidebooks! Note the vastly different sized arches

Iparla And Iparla Ridge

According to our guidebooks, the two must-see sights in the Pyrenees are the Pic du Midi and the Gavarnie Cirque and Cascade. J'ai été là; je n'ai fait que. Another guidebook said that the best day-hike in all the Pyrenees was the ascent of Iparla and a walk along its ridge, a loop trail. Next day we drove out to the trail-head and its "parking area," a wider-spot in the country lane--we ended up parking at an intersection half a mile down the lane--and I did the Iparla day-hike.

For all I know, it may well be the best day-hike in the Pyrenees. It would have been a great deal better for me if a) it had been 20, no, 30 degrees cooler, b) the flies and gnats had been less numerous and relentless, c) the guidebook directions had been a little clearer, d) the clear morning had not turned into a soupy haze, and e) the sudden thunderstorm had gone a different way and not caught me in the middle of a long ridge, where I had to ride it out sitting and then lying in the trail some few feet down from the ridge top, with no protection, and a lot of time to ponder "post funera, virtus vivit." In other words, it was a hot, dry, muggy, buggy, miserable trudge up a valley and then across a face and up a couloir, 1000m up all told, to see little but haze, and then get pelted by wind, rain, hail, but, fortunately, not lightning. The walk down was through a pretty forest, I think; the flies and gnats were too dense to see much of anything once down off the ridge. Did I mention the five vicious farm dogs I had to fight off, literally, with my hiking poles, walking back the country lane to the camper?

There is always the satisfaction of outdoor achievement and the thrill of a summit, nearly any summit. But I will not do this one again.

Trailhead signage; last of the signage on this trail, although it was excellently
blazed above tree-line

Iparla and ridge

A bit of the trail, a bit before the couloir; a griffon vulture sails by: look alive...

Atop the ridge, looking west, a lone mountain pokes through the haze

Back east, the valley I came from

Further east, more haze

Looking south along the ridge

Summit marker

A bit of the valley trail and two of the shepherd's huts it
passed

Cliff-dwelling sheep

The thunderstorm approaches; it didn't look that bad, until the thunder started;
I lay low for an hour or so until it passed

On the way down, looking back at Iparla ridge

In the forest; for all the other issues, it was a very nice loop

Fixer-upper shepherd's hut

St. Jean Pied De Port

Driving east and down from Roncesvalles we were looking desperately for a lay-by where we could a) run our generator and thus our air conditioner and b) stay for the night. It was incredibly hot, even in the mountains. We never found said place, although there were a couple prospects. At length, we landed in the beautiful little Medieval town of St. Jean Pied de Port, which I would characterize as a mini-Carcasonne. The aire there is in the city's athletics complex and can accommodate 200 RV's. Probably only 50 were there. We arrived, set-up camp, and then, stripping to our lightest clothing, walked into town, seeking shade all the way. It's a pretty, wall-girt town, Camino de Santiago to the hilt, but pleasing nonetheless. We had a crepes and wine and cider snack before returning to the camper and dinner there. It turned out that we stayed two nights at St. Jean Pied de Port, using it as a base for some more hiking in the Pyrenees.

Part of the aire at St. Jean Pied de Port

Vicki notes that we have stayed near futbol stadia, horse racetracks, acquatic
complexes, ski jumps, etc., but this was our first fronton (still in Basque country)

We were also very near the high school futbol field; but wait, those are American 
football goalposts and even an American football blocking sled...wait, no, a
second time...rugby!!!

Nonetheless, here is a view of wall-girt St. Jean Pied de Port; meaning "St. John
at the foot of the pass" (Roncevaux Pass); yeah, I thought it was about micturition
too

A pilgrims' hostel

Medieval signage and logo

Price list

Main street view

Ditto

Cheery Medieval thought: "after death, virtue lives on"

Carving at the door to local church 

Yes, it is a sort of mini-Carcassonne

But it had this wonderful produits du terroir (which we freely translated as
"terrorist shoppe") shoppe where I finally broke down and bought a can of foie 
gras

River

Seems like nearly every French tourist town now has a tourist train

Roncesvalles and Roland

Roncesvalles is important historically for a couple reasons. It was the site of the events celebrated in The Song of Roland, the first and still best-known Medieval epic poem, which told of Charlemagne's foray into Spain to battle the Moors (or someone else) and of the ambush and death of his faithful lieutenant Roland, who was bringing up the rear. (Military insight: in “retiring actions,” you always want to be in the vanguard, not the rearguard). There is quite a bit of poetic license in The Song of Roland, as I recall, but that's what makes good stories, despite the fact that the truth is indeed stranger. We saw this earlier with Shakespeare. Anyhow, The Song of Roland was important to literary development in the Middle Ages, etc., and Roncesvalles is therefore important. It is also important historically as a major stop on the Santiago de Compostuela pilgrimage trail, one of the three really major pilgrimages of the Middle Ages (the others being Rome and Jerusalem). St. Jimmie, you will recall from my Santiago post of 2009, was mostly about kicking the Moors out of Spain, and Roncesvalles would have been important commemoratively in view of Charlemagne's ongoing war with the Moors and everyone else. So we had to go there. Besides, Roncesvalles was on the most direct route back to France, and we hadn't had a real baguette in days. I am sure Charlemagne was feeling much the same.

The "silo" of Charlemagne; late medieval

Chapel of Santiago (ditto)

Stone commemorating the Battle of Roncesvalles (778)

Full service abbey

Inside the dark abbey church: a Divine Illumination Machine;
haven't seen one of these since Rome; 8 minutes for a euro!

Altar

Nave

Old-looking carving on a tomb

The abbey

Good news, Pilgrims! Only 790 km to go! (nearly 500
miles); and mostly downhill!

A "menhir" (dated 1967) marks the spot where Roland fell, or
where the battle occurred; or something

A somewhat older-looking monument not far away

The environs; hot, dry, harsh; ripe for ambush; we proceeded directly and
cautiously back to France

Pamplona

Unlike in 2009, we did get to Pamplona this time, not for the running of the bulls nor the running of the nudes, but for the running of the wash and the wifi. Travel is sometimes just the mundane stuff. Even dealing with laundromats (if you can find them) in different languages and cultures can be exciting, however. Always remember, for example, that the rest of the world uses the Celsius scale. You do not want to wash your clothes at 90 degrees Celsius. Speaking of which, the temperatures in Pamplona were in the low 100s (Fahrenheit), the feral bulls were nowhere to be seen, and I neglected to take pix of either the McDonald's or the lavanderia. But we did get to Pamplona finally.