And just like that, I was back in Basque Country. Technically, the transition occurred yesterday, or maybe even the tail-end of the day before, but today its dominance became undeniable. I can’t fully explain why a white building with red shutters makes my heart skip a beat—maybe it’s just that it triggers nostalgia of the beginning of my first pilgrimage, maybe it’s Mark Kurlansky’s The Basque History of the World, maybe it’s the promise of more Gateaux Basques to come—but let’s just say my heart has no future as a drummer so long as I’m in this region.
Today’s walk from Navarrenx moved through classic Basque countryside: hilly and wooded, diverse agricultural plots interspersed with cows and sheep, large country houses with the ubiquitously simple color scheme. Conditions were considerably more tolerant, with thicker cloud cover prevailing all day and even a bit of mist in the afternoon. We’re headed into a period of sustained cool and maybe some rain as well. I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever get to see the Pyrenees!
It’s a good thing that I enjoy Basque countryside, because that’s all there was today. The village of Lichos was the largest place I passed through and it has a population in the low 100s. There wasn’t a single grocery, café, or snack bar along the way, and fountains were relatively few as well. The Jean Haget pâté factory still makes their goods available to pilgrims and there’s a garden snack bar directly across from it, but unfortunately the latter was closed. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have at least one mid-walk bakery to patronize, but I pushed on. Not all heroes wear capes.
From Aroue, the route becomes more complicated. Indeed, it’s the most complicated tangle of route possibilities since Cahors. There are two options around Aroue: the official approach turns left before entering the village and is longer but more scenic. The latter gets you into the village but also condemns you to pavement. The bigger decision comes a bit later. A short-cut through Uhart-Mixe makes for the shortest walk to Ostabat, while the official approach, via Larribar-Sorhapuru, is just a couple km longer. The longest branch also happens to be my preferred approach, annoyingly enough, because it detours to Saint-Palais. After a full day spend in purely rural conditions, this market town is an explosion of bustling shoppers and oh-so-appealing eateries, including a proper creperie and a 24-hour automatic pizza machine. There’s no equivalent place in terms of facilities and size between Navarrenx and Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, so I’ve always found it worth the kms.
It also offers the first albergue servicing three of the four major pilgrim roads through France, as pilgrims deviating here from the Via Podiensis are joined by those from Tours and Vezelay. In a normal year, that can make this a particularly fun overnight, sharing notes with other veterans from different paths. This year, there are just two other pilgrims and we’ve been ships passing in the night all afternoon. Nonetheless, the facility is generous, there’s a lovely garden and art exhibit (complete with a Darth Pilgrim) adjacent to it, and a kitchen available. There also happens to be a carnival in town. They even have municipal wifi that is amazingly reliable and sufficiently robust.
The only downer is that the waymarking from the GR-65 to here is… well, it got me here, but I had to make some intuitive leaps. It mostly uses old, faded yellow stickers. By and large, you’re just looking for the shape; most of the writing is gone. I thought for sure that this would have been upgraded since I last passed through in 2015, but I think I may be looking at the same waymarks from then.
In any case, a good, mellow day. Why are the penultimate days so often like this? It’s almost like the pilgrimages are designed with this strategic opportunity for intensive reflection before the ultimate climax. In any case, I don’t think I’m fully prepared for the Saint-Jean Zoo, reduced as I’m sure it is this year, but it’s always a joy to be there. And, even better, I get to be there for two nights, for Saint James Day eve and the day itself (though there will, of course, be some walking in the middle of that).
