12 BACK TO SPAIN AND ON TO FRANCE
The only problem with driving across Spain in a diagonally NE direction is the lack of campsites. Realistically, for huge sections of the trip there were no camp grounds because there were no towns or villages. The country is very empty – but the roads are really good (provided you can get into the outside lane – see earlier comments). Engage cruise control at 60 mph and sit back watching for fast moving traffic approaching from the rear in the bumpy inside lane…
But where are we going? The plans kept changing but we ended up sticking with our original plan and stopped at a poorly-reviewed site at Castrojeriz. (By “poorly-reviewed” I mean “in receipt of poor reviews”!). Camping Camino de Santiago.
The view from our pitch
The site had, in fact, been well-reviewed. It lived well down to its reputation with weird plumbing in the showers, electric hook-ups with reverse polarity as well as lacking a proper earth connection! The pitches were mighty cramped too. But enough of that… the view was good!
We had failed with our plan to visit Santiago by car and caravan but now another brilliant opportunity presented itself. The Camino – the path – or at least one branch of it passed immediately adjacent to the camping (The clue is in the name of the campsite!). So we can walk to Santiago this evening! Well, part of the way anyhow.
The Camino sign and part of the trail through the town of Castrojeriz.
So we did. From the caravan through the village following the signs we boldly went. Captain Kirk would have been proud. We did stop for an hour for supper in a small restaurant and then again for another half an hour drinking beer on a bar terrace with a lovely outlook. It’s hard work this long distance walking and no opportunity for taking on food and drink should be missed. We did manage about 1.5 kms out and the same back home before it got dark. We decided to leave the remaining 420 or so kms for another day! Actually, on second thoughts, we’ll leave it for other people to do! One has to question the sanity of the “pilgrims” walking whole route in 30+ degrees. However, the village was really quite quaint with an odd mix of tumble-down properties and renovated places. Really glad we stopped by – but one night’s enough for us.
Day two of the trek towards Roscoff in Brittany – Monday 25 June. A good early start. Not in the Dutch sense of early – with wheels turning at 07.30. But early for us – before 10 am anyway.
I’m not going to say anything much about today. Very easy for the driver – nightmare for the navigator-cum-site selecter. We tried two places near Zarautz on the north coast near San Sebastián. One over-crowded place high in the hills in an eco-park with miniscule pitches a few of which had absolutely magnificent views. We would get a view by moving from the centre to an edge pitch on the Tuesday. No thanks. The other site was full of unaccompanied Spanish teenagers in post-examination, party mode. Literally hundreds of the blighters. Definitely no thank you!!!
So we drove onwards into France. Up the A63 which is still under construction and full of lorries heading out of Spain and Portugal. We stopped on the outskirts of Dax. Booked a birthday visit to the Auberge Ferme Lesca but Glenda hurt her back so we did lunch instead at Pouillon. At a little place interestingly named L’Auberge de Pas de Vent. Sounds as if there would be beans on the menu – but there weren’t! Very friendly staff. Lovely local-style meal. Highly recommendable.
In the back room of the auberge there was a court for the playing of an ancient game of skittles – les quilles de 9. Looked really odd and clearly pre-dates Wikipedia as it has almost no record of the game although it does list dozens of variants of Basque skittles! I guess this might be one of them. The “boule” weighs in at an impressive 6 kg and is lobbed at the “quilles” each almost a metre tall with a bulbous swelling half way up. Apparently the aim is to knock over skittles in one of 12 different combinations. Odd, these Basque types!
Bougie at Pouillon and the back room cum skittles court
We eventually made the duck farm (Ferme Lesca) for a birthday lunch on the following day. More candles. Good too but seemed a bit pricey after all our meals in Iberia!
On our first evening, we had a delicious meal in the site restaurant with a couple of fellow Brits from Hampshire (Phil and Janet). We spent long periods in the lovely warm pool with Mark-but-you-can-call-me-“Badger” and “Alicia-from-Galicia” (Spanish and 20 or more years the younger!). Interesting chat and soak!
We drove to a couple of beaches in the Landes region and reminded ourselves that these are not the reason we come to France. French seaside places often have a certain air of tackiness about them. But the French seem to love them and, to be fair, there’s nothing wrong with the actual beaches here – apart from the large waves and cold water!
Combined birthday cards!
Dax and Saint Paul lès Dax looked nice places (if a bit busy) as we drove through both ways. But we never got to stop for a look. Glenda not too happy about that. But the inland region is a nice area – I’m sure we will be back!
Probably moving north again tomorrow Glenda’s back permitting, so I’ll end this chapter now.