1 May

I woke to the sound of heavy rain (I thought) and arose to be ready by 8. When I walked outside – it had not rained – the sound I heard was the hot water going through the radiators.
Breakfast was set out with bread, a croissant, a pitcher of orange juice, milk, oranges and kiwi fruit and what appeared to be a slice of cake.
In a moment, mine hostess appeared and asked if all was right, then returned a few minutes later with a pot of tea. She pointed out the slice of cake and said it was a special Basque gateau. I worked my way through a piece of baguette with vegemite, a piece of baguette with strawberry jam, the croissant, an orange and the slice of gateau. It is probably best described as almost teacake texture with a filling in the middle of some aromatic fruit in a custard. What the fruit was I couldn’t recall, but it may come to mind later.
After I had finished the tea and some orange juice, I had to walk a little to settle it down. Then mine hostess returned, I settled the account and said my goodbyes. Then I went back to my room, packed, packed the car, checked, and finally left.
I departed through the village of St-Jean-Pied-de-Pont and headed south. The road went through a narrow river valley and the river became smaller as I got further from the village. Then up came advertising signs for Spanish businesses over the border and I prepared passport and car papers … only to find I had already arrived in Spain and there was no border. The language on the signs and the slightly different speed signs were the only obvious difference, until the businesses and their names became visible. So all my preparations were for naught.
Then the road climbed and the views became beautiful and panoramic. I stopped by the roadside to get a scene, only to find a parking area a few hundred metres down the road, so I stopped there too. Then the road dropped and I was in my first Spanish village.
Memo to self: Check that roads and villages are clear of walkers, cyclists and anglers before driving through Pyrenees in Spain. The roads were literally lined with hikers of all nationalities, all shapes, sizes and ages, and with loads varying from nothing to packs which would make Foreign Legionnaires blanch (standard packs used to be 56 to 72 pounds while Legionnaires would carry a standard 112 pounds). They walked beside the road, they walked on the road, they walked across the road (out of bushes, in cut pathways, straight onto the road). They were almost outnumbered by cyclists – and these meant business. One came around the corner, cut the corner, was in the middle of my lane when he saw me and I could see him curse me (the sneering lip and derisory look gave it away) and he reluctantly went back to his side of the road. In some cases, bunches occupied an entire side of the road and following cars had to rely on a clear road the other way to get past. In one small town the number of hikers looked to be about five times the number of occupants of the village.
I pulled up at a rest stop. The only comment I will make is that the standard of facilities and cleanliness of them leaves much (a huge amount, to be precise) to be desired.
As I left the Pyrenees behind, a feature which was to stay with me appeared – wind farms. A few wind generators or almost hundreds together, they remained a constant sight throughout the day. Also evident were farms of solar panels, some in operation, some still being constructed. At this point the scenery was of green farmed paddocks, undulating land and mountains visible in the distance. As I moved on, the mountains turned out to be the edge of the central plateau of Spain, and I was skirting its northern edge.
I was directed by the SatNav onto a tollway, being the shortest route in terms of time. I thought I would put up with the additional cost, but half an hour later, and €15,10 lighter, I wasn’t so sure. It did cut about an hour off my trip, so in terms of what I wanted, I put up with it. I stopped at another rest area to have a drink and rest my backside (the two-hour seats were taking their toll). Here I spoke to a father who was amusing his four young girls while the mother was feeding the baby in the car. Soon another problem emerged – on the tollway, the speed limit was 120 kilometres per hour, and the little Clio was having to do 2750 revs to maintain it, and fuel was being consumed far faster than before. A projected range of 1700 kilometres from the tank had shrunk to 1600 by 10:30 and was down to 1500 by 11:30. By midday I needed to fill up and found a service spot. Here I got a pleasant surprise – the attendant spoke good English and the price was nearly €0,10 a litre cheaper than in France. I filled the car, used the station facilities (cleaner than the rest stop, but still not great) and then headed off. Another feature filled the skyline – cranes for building construction were everywhere – small villages, large towns, cities! If the world is not moving to Spain, then there will be a lot of unoccupied housing.
I thought about travel and times and accommodation and looked for a Tourist Bureau. I found a town with one just down the road and got directions into it. The town was quiet, which I thought was due to siesta. I parked, found the Tourist Information Centre, and it was due to open in a few minutes. I waited, and waited, and waited. Every notice on the door was in Spanish, English and French, EXCEPT the one which said today was a festival day and so the office was closed. Now not only didn’t I know what options were open to me, I couldn’t find out what was available.
I rang Barry, a cousin-in-law who I was going down to visit, and explained what had happened. He gave me the final directions to his place and so I set off. I took the chance to scout out the McDonald’s but it did not obviously advertise Internet access. I will check tomorrow.
The ETA given was 9:25 and with travel quite rapid due to little traffic on the road, I headed south, then west. I found out another problem with convex mirrors – the setting sun, visible in them when I scanned the mirrors, gave such a bright image that for nearly two minutes my central vision disappeared (I couldn’t see the car ahead of me unless I turned my head to the side). I checked, and the image of the sun directly ahead of me and in the flat central mirror caused no such problem.
Now the sea became visible and so did polythene tents of varying sizes. I was soon into the urban area and now had to negotiate crowds while listening to directions and trying to follow them. I ended up in the spot where I could follow Barry’s directions and … I was in the right place, found their place, buzzed, took my stuff up when Barry came down to meet me, and then had a good chat (while Jean hand my washing on, only a small load but including my jacket, which will now be able to see me home). Eventually I was off to bed at just before 2 (and hope I can get a sleep-in!).