We've had a delightful few days' visit from Pam and Geoff, who had been in the Var for a few days' reunion of Pam's Collège d'Europe year. It's always a pleasure to have their company, particularly when, as this time, we get to introduce old friends to newer ones. We got together on Wednesday at Le Somail with the Coopers and Chota, and had a good chomp and chatter together - plus as always, a canal ride on Ruud's boat.
Intimations of mortality come thick and fast, however. P&G made a trip on Friday to Lamalou-les-Bains to see Hartmut, who is making very limited progress. On the same day, our friend Barbara was found dead in her flat in Brighton. A heavy smoker, she had suffered from emphysema for years, and we thought we'd lost her four years ago when she collapsed after neglecting to eat properly. Well, she came out of that one, moved to a new flat and was eating well when we last saw her in the spring. Little more is known at this point. There will no doubt be a commemoration of her life, when we shall learn more.
We've been on the road for a couple of half-days. After P&G left yesterday and the house was closed up, we headed out to our overnight digs in Lurbe-Saint-Christau, which is in the foothills of the Pyrenees south of Pau. Dotty, having perhaps learned a bit about the kinds of roads we like, routed us south from Tarbes and along some lively mountain roads in the Béarn. In the process, we had to contend with kids in luridly painted souped-up Saxos, 106s and the like competing in the Rallye du Béarn. We'd to make a lengthy detour at one point, following a Basque in a cherry-picker truck. We think he had been coaching the rally entrants. On a clearer day, the views would have been stupendous. As it was, they were merely magnificent.
We'd stayed in the hotel at Lurbe once before, and thought then that it was a touch over-priced and up itself. Still not cheap, it was generally more welcoming this time. Dinner was good, and we treated ourselves to a nice bottle of Madiran.
Today's drive took us south and through the Somport tunnel, affording superb views of misty Pyrenees in the early morning light. There is talk of re-opening the earlier rail tunnel, but if they're serious, there's a lot of work to do on the line south of Bedous. There's also the matter of re-locating the scientific experiments installed in the tunnel to exclude cosmic radiation. So, not in my lifetime, I think.
From Jaca to Pamplona, it was a succession of vast, parched, stubbly landscapes. Had we had more time, I'd have stopped and taken photographs. But we preferred to crack on and get to our flat for a snooze, neither of us having slept well last night. We paused for a soft refresh in the Castle Square in Pamplona, and have made a mental note to return when I'm more mobile again. From there to Bilbao via the edge of San Sebastián, the road becomes distinctly sportif. Signs by the roadside warn you that it's a mountain highway, and of the need to observe the signage. Pffff. For one thing, the signage is confusing and inconsistent, and for another, nobody pays a blind bit of notice anyway.
Our digs are in an old house in the forest to the east of Bilbao, and seem satisfactory. It's certainly quiet (apart from a nearby cockerel, whose help we may need to be up early enough on Tuesday to get our ferry from Bilbao). We'll probably do some gentle exploration of the nearby coast tomorrow. Provided the shooting I can hear outside gets no closer...
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