Saint Jean Pied de Port

Yet more rain during the night and early this morning. The ground is saturated and the long grass along the verges hangs lank. Everywhere looks tired. Summer has gone, autumn, well it's not started well. Before leaving this morning we topped Marge up with eighty euros worth of fuel. Make it last Marge. She probably wont be able to as the terrain is beginning to be a little challenging. We are now in the French Pyrenees. The early drive took us through open countryside, today's autumn colours various shades of red. Very pretty. 

We happened upon a classic car garage, where there were many Land Rover's awaiting restoration. We couldn't believe it. The miserable weather dominated, and we felt we'd returned to Scotland, where it's probably beautiful sunshine now. Marge isn't happy. There were plenty of hills to challenge her, and her temperature gauge rose a little too high on more than one occasion. We think she may need a new viscose fan, but the thought of ordering yet another part from England and having to wait forever for it to arrive doesn't appeal. So we'll just have to drive her slowly up the hills and keep our fingers crossed. In the sky above us, golden eagles rose and fell on the thermals. perhaps they could be Marge's guardian angels. Doesn't make for a very relaxing holiday does it Marge?

We are now in the Basque country staying in the town of Saint-Jean-Pied-De-Port. This is the main town where people set off to walk the Camino de Compostela, and the town was full of pilgrims.

Some 'doing it properly', as Angela says, and others with large suitcases on wheels which will be driven to tomorrows overnight stop.

 We spent a while this afternoon walking around the interesting medieval town. Most of the refuges in the main street were full. Prices seemed to range from thirteen euros, sharing with goodness knows how many other people in a dormitory, to ninety euros for a double room with en-suite.

At one of the refuges, a mature lady, waylaid two men in their sixties, engaged them in conversation, but didn't manage to lure them in. We could imagine the conversation. We're full, but there's room available for you to bunk up with me. Being in the town, a town we'd never thought we'd visit, made us both feel we should either walk or cycle the Way of Saint James. We did buy a book many years ago about making the trip, but as always, there's always another place we must visit. Angela would really prefer to walk it, as it would be a totally different experience to anything else we've ever done. Next year she's sixty five, and John's seventy. Perhaps this is the trip to celebrate?

Tonight we are staying on the town's municipal campsite. Cost around ten pounds. John wasn't impressed with the shower water temperature earlier, so Angela hopes by the morning the boiler might have replenished the supply of hot water. There is plenty on the site to interest John, a couples Durston X-Mid tent, and a beautifully restored VW T25 campervan. 

 Fortunately the nights are still warm, so we'll be cosy in Marge. As for the lady at the refuge, Madam Marge, as of course we named her, let's hope she found a couple of men to keep her cosy.