If this were easy, everyone would do it...

written 15th december

we have spent the last 24h, for much of which we have been cold and cross and going backwards, following a succession of maps hastily scribbled on scraps of paper by men who tried, but ultimately failed, to be helpful, in our search for LPG and we are back in France...

We set off from St Sebastian with a possible suggestion from the girl in the tourist office (whose scribbled tunnels were the same as her scribbled roundabouts) at a commercial centre and an address of a petrol station in a town several km further on, found from the interweb.

No joy at the commercial centre so we set off again in the sleet and found the town but not the petrol station until we stopped in a different petrol station and got our second scribbled map from a guy who really tried to make us understand him by just keeping talking - we are very grateful he tried so hard! - by which point it was actually snowing.

we found the petrol station and the GPL pump and a jolly santa-like man bustled out to help us - they had about 5 men out and about in padded red and yellow jumpsuits filling the few cars and sweeping the snow off the forecourt - I did expect them to break out into a Dick Van Dyke style sweeping routine but it wasn't to be :)  - he had a whole box of adaptors but they were all threaded and didn't fit.  He and his friend scratched their heads for a while but their best suggestion was France!  We filled up with normal petrol - which is much cheaper here! - whilst watching a man at another pump fitting his snow chains and bought hot baguette, fresh from the oven, and salami to keep out the cold.  I have never seen Jules look so sad and forlorn as at the pump, bathed in sodium light and swirling orange-tinged snow.

And so we cut our losses and slunk off back to france - where it wasn't snowing - in search of a petrol station Will thought he remembered seeing on the day we first crossed over.  There are still no France signs at the boarder, even on the bigger road, although on the spanish side, there are several signs warning you that France is a reducing number of km away! We couldn't find the petrol station though and ended up all the way back at St Jean de Luz before turning round and trying again to no avail.  We eventually gave up and stopped in Hendaye on the border - you can tell we are back in France, the tourist office and camping car parking were clearly signed throughout the town! - and settled in for the night.  it was so cold, we even tried opening the engine bay to get some heat in but it didn't really work :(

Next morning we headed to the tourist office who told us to either try the VW garage in town for an adaptor or the service station on the toll road for gas - scribbled map 3.  The VW garage couldn't help - and said that no one in france used GPL [implication, who would do something so silly??] and said try the camping car shop in Bayonne - scribbled map 4.

The toll road services had the gas but not the right adaptor - we realise that we were very lucky on our first day in France when we found a garage with both gas and a suitable adaptor, if we hadn't had it so easy we would have tried harder before now - going through Bayonne in search of the caamping car shop, our hopes were raised by the sight of a sheddy place on an industrial estate with a big sig saying Espace GPL, only to be dashed again by being told the guy had retired.  We stopped in a nearby McD's for hot chocolate and internet (you're right Bill, the chocolate is surprisingly very nice!) and a look up of GPL adaptors to find there are many - not sure why as it is still relatively new so you would think some standards might have been set! - and various internet forums smugly saying how well equipped french garages were with the right adaptors grrr.  the camping car shop was shut for lunch and the nextdoor leclerc had gas but not the right adaptor although we bought new gloves - having unnacountably lost one of each of the three pairs we bought between us - and cakeybuns to make ourselves feel better.  The camping car shop didn't have adaptors and suggested the place in Bayonne which was shut and another camping car shop.  en route to that one, we tried another garage - gpl but no no no to adaptors - and a car shop with GPL on the sign which didn't have anything (at all for GPL) and who suggested someone in Orthez 60kms away who did gas now that the Bayonne guy was shut - scribbled map 5.  The other camping car shop had gas tanks like ours in a catalogue, with the connector we have, but no adaptors - although we bought a guide to camping-car stopping places in France and Europe so we now are a bit better prepared for strange places - and so we set off east. 

misery misery misery

We were just working out our contingency options - i)buy a calor gas bottle and required adaptors and regulators (expensive and space consuming),  ii) finding a camping stove just for cooking, iii) ordering the adaptors for my parents to bring at New Year and being cold and tea-less until then, iv) driving back to Quimper where we knew somwhere with gas and adaptors.... - when on eventually getting to Orthez, we tried a leclerc, more out of a fatalist desire to torture ourselves than with any hope of success, only to find both gas and the right adaptor which fitted like the proverbial glass slipper on to our poor downtrodden, yet beautiful under the ragged exterior, little van.  Hurrah!!  Our miserable pumpkin is a a sparkly coach once more and we now know we have a 9l tank on the button!

We decided to try and find the garage anyway in search of adaptors, and in missing the turning, actually found a campsite, which was open and had hot showers, a lenient attitude to bbqs and free electricity.  Hurrah++  They also knew where the mythical gpl garage was - scribbled map 6 - but unfortunately he only had conversions from french to belgian which is what french people want so we will go back to plan c and get adaptors personally courriered to us :)

We also went back to leclerc for bbq food and bought celebratory christmas decorations for Jules and a cheap hairdryer so whenever we have electicity we also have heating of sorts - hurrah! - and very effective it is too.  I have had a lovely hot shower - although the light timer ran out before the water timer so some of it was in the dark! - so i smell of coconut, there is wine, wireless internet to steal in this unlikely forest home and things are looking up!

Unfortunately, the electricity connection was by means of normal french plug rather than caravan plug and the hairdryer blew the fuse in our "anything to anything adaptor" - who makes a travel plug which can't power a hairdryer???  surely that is why they were invented! - and in the fashioning of an alternative by cutting the plug off our french bought battery charger - Will was always going to hardwire it anyway - and a kettle plug and socket (IEC) he bought for some other purpose in La Rochelle and not yet used, we forgot dinner - the first time we have ever rendered anything completely inedible through fire.  but luckily buying cheap means buying in bulk so we can start again, although at this point, it really is too cold to sit out by the fire :) but the adaptor is ordered, pictures are being uploaded and there is gas in the tank for tea in the morning and the prospect of unexpected mountains so its all not so bad

In the immortal word of chumbawumba "i get knocked down, but I get back up again, ain't never going to keep me down"  then something about drinking - now where's that wine gone....  ;)

now with pictures!

for all the last 6-7 posts which have been without and on flickr

http://www.flickr.com/photos/will-and-becky/sets/

enjoy!

"There are 779,788 speakers of Eureska, and there are almost that many who understand it..."

written 14th December 2009

... although I don't think that's quite what they meant to say... :)

San Sebastian, Donastia in the Basque language Eureska, sits round the shell-shaped beach, Playa de la Concha with Mount Igeldo at one end, Mount Urgill at the other and turtle-shaped Isla Santa Clara in the middle.  Due to it's river, the Urumea, it's position both on the pilgrimage route to Santiago del Compostela and the gateway to France, it has always been an important trade and defensive city.  Originally a walled city, clinging to the foot of Mount Urgill, next to the river estuary and marshland, it survived several wars, sieges and french occupation, until it was almost totally destroyed by fire in 1813 when Napoleon's army were driven out by the Anglo-Portuguese liberators, leaving only one street still standing.  It was nearly left to rot but the citizens themselves set about rebuilding it and subsequent growth over the next century, especially when the town became the holiday resort of choice of Queen Maria Cristina when she was advised that sea bathing would cure her skin afflictions, led to the demolition of parts of the city walls and expansion onto reclaimed marshland and along the playa Zurriola to the foot of Mount Ulia.

The geographical setting is exquisitely beautiful and much of the town is very pretty, although there was "a dark period of industrialisation which gave rise to several errors of urbanisation" which is a shame.  All in all though, in the run up to the bicentenary of the rebuild and in the midst of San Sebastian's application to become European Capital of Culture 2016, the mayor "acclaims our choice of alternative holiday destination"  which is very nice of him!  He has a lot of flowery rhetoric around the place, especially in the tourist brochure and museums :)

And I cycled up a mountain!!  a real one!!! (well the mayor says it is a mountain so who am I to argue!) and I didn't have to get off and walk!!!

Unfortunately, things didn't start well for us.  Driving into town from our Carrefour stopover, the traffic was terrible, there were no helpful tourist office signs, the rules of the road are very different (when waiting at traffic lights you don't go when your light goes green, you go when the pedestrian crossing light for people crossing the road in front of you goes red and you hoot at anyone who hangs around waiting for an actual green light), Will's "project was playing up and crashing and Jules wasn't happy.

Eventually we found a metered parking space which was fortunately free as it was lunchtime and Will set about trying to fix things whilst I set off on my bike in search of the tourist office (which was signed for pedestrians but not in the place where the lonely planet told me it was, having recent moved, so I spent a lot of time circling).  The woman was helpful though and I got maps and excellent guide brochure with walking tours and successfully foraged lunch - chocolate panini yum! - so we at least had food and a camping car spot to head for.

Unfortunately, Jules was still not happy and after a fraught couple of hours, racing against the traffic warden (max 90min stay once it started charging), Will eventually found two problems (always much harder to diagnose the symptoms) one of which was that wretched vacuum hose again - it's days are numbered! - so we were able to set off again in the rush hour traffic (not much different from the earlier traffic to be honest! - to find the camping-car spot.  Which was nice but St Clement++++ ;)

Deciding we needed cheering up, we set off on our bikes back round the bay to the old town for food and alcoholic comfort.  Although built around several inland hills, it isn't all that big (on the western side anyway) and there is a good network of cycle paths which take you where you need to go on nice flat bits although there are places where they are speed restricted to 5km/h - even I can't cycle that slowly!

We found the old town and set off for a wander in the busy streets (suddenly realising it was friday night hence the activity! - we really are struggling to know what day it is, except Sundays when we can't do anything!) and found the Lonely planet recommeded bar for pintxos (pronounced "pinchos") which are the Basque tapas like bar snacks - although to call them that really doesn't do them justice in some places.

We started with a beer and whatever was closest to point at at then after getting chatting to an Irish guy who is living in San Sebastian teaching english, we got some recommendations for things off the menu - solomillo's, individual sirloin steaks and deep fried crepes - so we got a bit more adventurous and were well rewarded. 

By the end of the evening, we had taught ourselves enough spanish to ask for 2 beers, 2 red wines, 2 coffees, say please, thank you, hello and goodbye, and can recognise the words for pork, ham, cheese, prawns, crab, squid and octopus - should be enough to keep us going!

The next morning, we set off once more on our bikes with a plan to cycle up Mount Igeldo and then do the walking tours in the guide brochure.  The weather didn't look great, with lowhanging cloud around but we decided to go anyway and the cycle up the mountain was tough, and hot - having put many layers on as it was cold and falling (7 degrees the previous evening and still 7 degrees when we got up) I ended up in my t-shirt and still too hot.

Most of the climb was slow and in 1st gear but although I had to stop lots, I didn't have to walk which felt pretty good by the top!

And so worth the effort!  The sky had cleared and the view was amazing!

The top of the mountain (is 183m really a mountain??) houses a funfair (described as having "the charm of the early 20th century Belle Epoque" actually a bit tatty and expensive) and there is a toll which even we got chared, despite our obvious efforts at cycling up!!  but it is so worth it.  We stopped for a well deserved coffee in the restaurant and had to ask to be let out onto the terrace - we mimed "unlocking door", she mimed "very cold", we mimed "yes but unlock door por favor", she mimed "it really is cold", we mined "yes we know", she mimed "crazy foreign tourists"... - I appreciate that she didn't know we had cycled up and probably presumed we had taken the funicular like everyone else but even so why on earth would you come all that way up, in december, in the sunshine and want to sit inside and not see the view!!!

Eventually we set off back down the hill - a disappointly short but very quick thrill! - where we discovered that we had left the guide book at the van so had to head back there instead of straight into town.  Fortunately it wasn't far and it also gave us the opportunity to set off into town a different way and try and find the cycle tunnel through the hill which the irish guy told us had been built specially for cyclists.  He turned out to be wrong - it was clearly an old railway tunnel - but it did nicely cut out 2km of hills and was warm and slightly downhill all the way :)

The walking tour was good (although made difficult by a) doing it backwards due to where we popped out of the tunnel, and b) being three separate tours which didn't join up sensibly.  but was informative and interesting and we saw the civil war bulle holes in the side of the town hall and some interesting architecture

before ending up at the top of Mount Urgill, under the statue of Jesus (which seems to be wagging it's fingers at the town and - in a move which i think shows a distinct lack of faith - bristles with lightening rods.  I mean, if you believe God exists, surely he won't strike Jesus down with lightening and if you don't believe he does, why have the statue in the first place... ;)

Mountain climbing done for the day, we set off for a wander along the other beach and randomly found a climbing wall with a polystyrene side that you climb using axes and crampons!  After a bit of persuading from the guy, Will had a go and of course once he had, I had to as well and it was actually good fun!!  We really are mountaineering kings today!

on for more pintxos in the bar recommended by the Irish guy andwe ended up with a very helpful bartender who recomended 'licious things and poured local white wine and cider over his head into the glasses - apparently you have to to get the required frothy head.  This time we decided that we should try and do what the locals do and move on, but honestly, nowhere was a good as the two places we had been recommended.

That night however, following a coversation earlier in the day about gas and whether we would run out of matches or gas first (it is a month since we filled the GPL tank and we have no idea how much it holds), it finally ran out.

So sunday was spent in an abortive attempt to find LPG - we just shouldn't try and do anything on a sunday, it just doesn't happen - and we finished the day back on top of Mount Urgill in the history museum, which was ok but sorted into themes not chronological order so jumped about a lot and made even harder to follow by being almost impossible to match the exhibits to the english language guide we were given...  oh well.

With no means of cooking, and having had enough local cuisine, we settled on chinese for dinner (we are avoiding the obvious things like pizza as we will be going to italy but we won't get the china on this trip!) and, having been told there was snow forecast, even broke out a sleeping bag for extra cover and burrowed in for the night like hibernating bears.

With Jules still not happy and a possible cause being a failure of a bit of the project chip, Will is now working out how to make contingencies so the next day, we set off back into town again to find the electronics shop, which we randomly and unexpectedly found right in the centre of town next door to where the tourist office used to be - who would have thought!

Fortunately the language of electronics is largely international, so after a look to see what they had and 3 hours in a cafe with internet for our lunch to investigate those bits, whilst they had theirs, (and during which, with a glass of wine - well it was cheaper than Will's coke and I got more volume, why should I argue! -  I set about teaching myself more spanish with the help of our phrasebook,  and their menu!) suitable bits were purchased.  Hurrah!

We are now setting off in search of gas and our lives will be complete....

apologies for lack of correspondence...

hi, quick note just to say sorry to all those who have emailed us recently and had no reply - not ignoring you honest!

We are suffering from chronically poor battery and lack of places with wifi where we can get the van so either have laptop and power (so can write blog) or laptop and internet (so can post blog and download email) but not enough battery time for anything else and no off-line email writing :(

Situation will be rectified at New Year when lovely parents come visiting bearing new battery!

Thanks for your emails and for sticking with us!  Currently in San Sebastian which is lovely but cold (2 degrees today with snow forecast!) so much for heading south for the winter for warmth :)  Have also run out of LPG so no tea, no cooking and an excellent excuse to eat out  every meal - it's a hard life ;)

Proper San Sebastian account to follow soon

lots of love to you and yours
x x

Here be dragons...

written 11th december

so, with a sense of poetical completeness, exactly a month after leaving england, we have left France - where we should never have been in the first place - and exactly a month after waking up in France we have woken up in Spain - where we were supposed to have started.  We have been to spain for exactly three days before (Barcelona for a long weekend two years ago just after Will left Arm and fitted the kitchen) and we speak no spanish whatsoever - something we obviously intellectually knew but which became an all to apparent actuality when, finding ourselves on the Texas border at OJ 3 years ago, we decided to walk across the border into Mexico and were suddenly plunged into a strange dusty world with no local currency, no signs (this was not tourist country) and no idea.  Fortunately on that occasion we eventually found ourselves in burrito bar where some american teenagers helped us get lunch and they obviously took US dollars but still...

Despite not being in the original plan though, France has been great and I have loved it.  It has provided a much needed, slightly less than absolutely foreign, and somewhat gentle start to the adventures and has ironed out all our teething problems (hopefully!) in a land where we could make ourselves understood.  We have eaten well, drunk well and generally life has been good but it is definately time to leave this land of chocolate croissants, where we haven't eaten the same cheese twice and try somewhere else for a while....

We have a vague route plan, little knowledge of northern spain (most of the famous places I have heard of are in the south) and 19 days to get to Porto

The drive from St Jean was uneventful and nicely up and down - I suspect there would have been good views as the road at times had that "clinging to the edge of a hill" feel but the trouble with fleeing a country under the cover of darkness is that it is dark and therefore you can't see the view, nor in fleeing, can you come back the next day and take photos... ;)

The border crossing was, to be honest, a bit of a let down.  To make absolutely sure we didn't end up on a toll road, we followed a back road route through Hendaye in France to Irun in Spain where the border crossing was an unmarked bridge over a river.  After our european adventure in the midget last year, I wasn't expecting fanfares (all previous previous crossings are of course faithfully pictorially documented elsewhere) but the official EU Spain sign was so graffiti'd we missed it (so I made Will go round again) and there wasn't a sign at all for re-entering France (although on one of the France/Italy backroad border in the Alps last year, the France sign was heavily graffiti'd with "F**K Sarko" so maybe they have just given up...).

San Sebastian is described by Lonely Planet as the Spanish equivalent of Biarritz and the Basque cultural centre of Spain so, lulled into complacence by camping-car friendly france, we left St Jean late to avoid the traffic and assumed we would find a smallish seaside city with clearly marked camping-car spots.  Not so.  The urban motorway stretched from Irun all the way to St Sebastian, we couldn't find either the beach or the town centre and headed back out the the mid-way service station where we assumed we could tuck ourselves in by a lorry.  Again, not so.  Unfortunately there was no room at the inn and a clamped car in the service station parking spots.  After a drive around some deserted industrial estate which didn't look promising, we nearly, almost considered ducking back into France but that would have been cheating so we eventually tucked ourselves into a service road by the side of Carrefour, just in time to get to the toilets before it shut, and cooked up random dinner of lamb, onion and asparagus risotto - which was a complete experiment and actually surprisingly nice!

This morning we have woken up to lorries passing down the road past us, bright clear blue sunny sky and you can see your breath if you open the window - but we are snuggly warm in our duvet.  We have also met Walkabout Wayne who, with his girlfriend and dog, was parked up behind us in their converted truck on their way to near Malaga by way of Burgos and Madrid then on eventually to his plot of land in the west to build his house.  As an ex-VW van owner and a very well travelled bloke, Wayne has marked up our map of spain with free camping spots and other good places to go and I am once again excited about spain!

Just a spot more fettling to do (amongst other things, Will is making voltage spike isolators by winding wire round cheap leroy-merlin washers - even I know that the resultant magnetic field will help resist the change in voltage...) then we shall head off back into town to see what's what!

Hasta Luego!

Surf's up and an unexpected gem

written 10th December

Bayonne, Anglet and Biarritz sprawl seemlessly together, around the Adour and Nive rivers, which flow through Bayonne, to their estuary at Anglet and onwards south down the coast to Biarritz but they are all actually quite different.  Bayonne, of Roman origins with a Vauban-fortified old town, prides itself on being the Basque cultural capital of France, Anglet is the surfers paradise, blessed with the best surfing beach in Europe and Biarritz is humble fishing village, raised up to a glittery imperial jewel by Napolean III and his wife Eugenie in the mid 19th centuary.



We had planned to stop in Bayonne, figuring it would be cheaper, but unaccountably, according to the tourist office, there were no open campsites and nowhere to park a camping car nearer than St Jean de Luz or St Pee several km away.  Fortunately, the list of aires de camping she gave me proved her wrong by indicating one in Biarritz which we duly found for a mere €10 (which you pay to the police when they come knocking - scared us a bit when they first pulled up and started knowcking on vans... ) - there was water and electric, but we had to walk to the beach for toilets (although it was no St Clements, my new standard for how far away toilets are from where we stop!).

We were woken by an enterprising bakery van which came round and tooted its horn at about 9am - I don't think they actually got any business, I think most people did what we did and buried their heads under the pillow and hoped the yobs would go away :) - and after a couple of hours of breakfast, hair washing and chatting to an English couple across the way, and in t-shirts in the balmy 17 degree sunshine, we headed off up the hill into town on our bikes.

A side note here, for all you people at home, especially those with camper vans or motorhomes - don't doubt the van!  We now have empirical evidence (well two observed occurences which, as any GCSE science student knows, is plenty enough for a trend line and an assertion that "this is what will therefore always happen") where people have, albeit very politely, questioned Jules' reliability and then come to a sticky end (well, their van has incapacitated itself).  Whilst chatting to the english people that morning, they were asking what we were doing and what the van was like and admitted to having wondered the previous evening how reliable it was.  Just as I was saying what we had done and were still doing, their travelling companion came over to say he had a flat tire and could he borrow their tire pump and plug it in to their dashboard! (incidentally it didn't seem to fix the problem so they were last seen limping off to the petrol station).  And don't think this just happens when in earshot of Jules either, the first occasion we weren't even there, when apparently, so hearsay reports, Will's mum said to Will's sister "well I think what Will and Becky are doing is great but I wouldn't do it in a van that old and unreliable"  and then the very next day she went to take her more recently acquired, 15 years younger van (have I told you about that? I might someday) out for a little run and a nice cup of tea to Birchington and it wouldn't start.  So, we don't know if campervans and motorhome have an affinity with each other and, on listening to these comments from their owners, come out in stike in sympathy (well we are in France!) or whether this extends to all vehicles, classic or otherwise - you have been warned, don't diss the van!  :)

You will also be pleased to hear that I do seem to be fitter at last and I cycled up hills! plural!!  (and down them again of course and it may be just that I am now better at picking appropriate gears...)

After our customary stop at the tourist office for more map and leaflet fodder, we found ourselves down by the municipal casino - its a different life, we have municipal parks and swiming pools, they have municipal casinos and campsites...

- and the grande plage, which is indeed a very grand expanse of sand sweeping northwards to the light house. 

We spent a happy hour or so on various rocky promotories watching the waves crash on the rocks and the fishing harbour walls - honestly, if that was the best place to built a harbour it says something about that whole bit of coastline and how on earth they did it I have no idea. 

We also went out the the Virgin Rock where Napolean thought he would start his grand sea defences although as it turns out, he didn't get any further than a white statue of the Virgin Mary on a rock and a metal bridge supposedly built by Gustav Eiffel (you know the one, does small meccano-like ironworks projects...) 

and the waves continued to crash.

After lunch of cheese, bread and fresh pineapple and a chat with the man selling little oil pictures (very nice and quite reasonable but unfortunately probably wouldn't survive the journey) who was lamenting the fact that biarritz was quiet and every one was in San Sebastian, we set off to the lighthouse. 

Unfortunately the lighthouse was only open on Saturdays and Sundays (which we knew) but the view was good and there was a big propeller from a beached russian ship which had been en route to santander for scrap and which wound up on a one of the Biarritz beaches - the story of how they got it off was impressive - and a sundial where you are the pointy bit (although it was inexplicably an hour out!). 

And off we went again, headed for surfers paradise - and surfers we found (although there had been more in Biarritz) on a vast expanse of sand under a vast expanse of sky - although from the signs I am not sure I would want to get into trouble in the water here - if the waves don't get you, our trained helicopter hangman will.... 

Cycling on through Anglet we reach the "end" and set off back through the forest path and wended our way back van-wards through the back streets until we once more found the Biarritz casino.  Deciding to follow the prom back, we rounded the corner and there, over the waves, was Spain, beckoning us on. 

And what waves! you know in cartoons and car ads they show horses in the foam, well, on my bike, heading into the sun, I'm sure I saw them, just for a moment, in the rolling surf...

and then we came to an unexpected stop of the prom and a "dangerous cliffs" sign and a steep near-vertical cliff face which I had to push the bike up - although after a valient attempt to cycle!  Will would like me to point out at this stage that it was actually a sloped path which zigzagged up the cliff with hairpin bends, not actually a sheer cliff face and that he cycled up it no problem but it makes me feel less inadequate to report that I was unable to able to cycle up a sheer cliff face... :)

Back at the van, we were pleased to find that the solar shower, which had been basking in the sun on the roof of the van, had acually worked! 

Obviously these are not ideal conditions - it promises that in direct overhead sun in 21 degree heat, the water will get the 41 degrees in three hours however no mention is made of eventual water temperature in 17 degree heat in slanty december sun which hangs low over the horizon and being in shade for the last hour or so... - but it was certainly warmer than air temperature and Will was quite easily able to wash his hair!  I will probably stick to kettles and washing up bowls inside until we are a bit warmer out :)





After a bit more fettling, some refusing to start (hardware/software issues, not unreliability on Jules' part I hasten to point out, it is stoically putting up with an awful lot!) we set off towards Bayonne for dinner as we had promised ourselves so proper basque food, via a McD's for some free wifi.

Unfortunately, such was the extent of our faffing, fettling and need for interweb that it was later than we thought when we eventually arrived in Bayonne and for a while we feared everything was shut.  But we walked down the quay in the cold night air anyway for the second time this trip, found that the Lonely Planet recommended restaurant was still open and buzzing and it was good!  The LP promised hearty basque food in a tapas bar environment and with the recommendations of the owner (who had lived near oxford for several years) we had the basque fish and meat specialites of squid cooked in its ink with rice (much much more delicious than it sounds!) and spit roast pork topped with Brebis cheese (ewe cheese I think), salsa, chips and fried egg.  yum yum yum!

We considered staying on to actually explore Bayonne which I am sure is lovely with its rivers, bridges and fortifications but as that would have meant going back to Biarritz (where we'd already told the policemen we weren't stopping, and then coming back north again, we decided against and headed on south to St Jean de Luz where with the help of the sat nav, we eventually found the camping-car spot, just on the edge of a bridge, with a busy road on one side and a railway (with TGV's) on the other.  In the dark, nearing midnight, with no sign of any toilets (St Clement+), it all didn't look promising...

But in the morning, the sun was shining, the sky was blue and as we emerged from the subway under the road bridge we found an unexpected and beautiful gem!  St Jean de Luz and its twin town Cibourn on the other side of the river, circle a natural bay estuary (with unnatural protective breakwaters) with golden sand and gently lapping waves. 

They are working fishing harbours with stalls on the quayside selling freshly caught fish and fishermen mending nets and it is all rather lovely. 

We wandered into town and foraged a sticky breakfast tutti frutti brioche encrusted with pearls of sugar and bejewelled with gems of dried fruit - truly scrumptious! - and then once the practicalities of clothes washing were out of the way, had moules frites at a pavement cafe - and they were even better, and bigger and juicier than the last lot! 

Back at the van we hung the washing out and settled in for a nice cup of tea

then I went out for a walk in the setting sun whilst Will fettled some more.  We are still Arm powered and running the new throttle but as the lamda sensor is so far away from the engine (albeit in a better, less bodged position than stuffing it up the exhaust pipe) it is not learning any more, it is now logging readings as we drive using a static map and every time we stop, Will can graph the min, max and average lamda sensor reading for each amount of air flow and use this data to manually poke the fuel map so it will hopefully eventually converge on the right average for all airflows.  He has also rigged up a longer cable so I can now have the laptop in the front whilst still being connected to the "project" in the engine bay and, on instruction, I can change the idle position as we go for when Will feels we need more "umph".  clever eh?  This will all eventually be automated in some way but that requires the assembly for more hardware which isn't yet done (although apparently we have the bits). 

And so, we set of south again once more.  I should have said before, in case you are interested, we finally got bored of RFM and its incessent "party quatre-vignt" and, after a brief foray into RTL2 - "the best of pop-rock, this isn't radio, this is music" - which was largely the same but with less Phil Collins and more Madonna, we are now on NRJ - "onlee zee 'its" - and for the last 100kms or so have been accompanied by Black Eyed Peas,  Pink and the Ting Tings.  Bu it won't last as we are irrovocably set for Spain....

Lost for Words

Written 9th December

I am actually, for once, lost for words - unbelievable I know!  We have been to the wierdest, most surreal place I have ever been - Dune de Pilat and it is indescribable.

Obviously I am now going to try and find many words to describe the indescribable but I doubt I shall do it justice and the pictures will also be inadequate (but then as not one of the professional photographs managed to capture the scale or vast surrealness of the place, I don't feel so bad about that) so you will all just have to pack up and go yourselves.

We knew that Dune de Pilat is the biggest sand dune in Europe, and reading the information board in the carpark which baldly describes it as being 4000 years old, 105m high, 500m wide, 2.7km long and containing 60M cubic metres of sand is all very well but nothing prepared us for the actuality of the thing.

You walk down a forest path and through the trees you start seeing glimpses of sand through branches in strangely high up places - which strikes you as a bit odd - then you round the corner, and there is suddenly a wall of sand in front of you, literally like a mountain. 

Not being a skier, I don't know what the gradient of a black run is -the impression is very snow like with a brief nursery slope then black run - but from the look of the steps which get laid out on the slope for summer (and are currently stacked in pieces at the bottom) the slope is 1:1.

Of course we climbed to the top - again much like snow, it is very much one step forward, two steps back in places until you learn to really dig your toes in

- and it just gets wierder as you now find yourself effectively on a rolling, windswept sandy beach but on one side there is a seemingly sheer drop into the forest, and in the other you can't see the edge but you can see from the tiny boats on the sea below that you are a long way up.




It is just surreal

To get back down, you walk as far to the north eastern edge as possible and then throw yourself off - well not quite but that's what it feels like.  Down is a lot a lot of fun with a bouncy moonwalk-like slidely gait that fills your shoes with sand - they reckon that the top changes height between 1-4 metres every year and with the amount of sand I have taken away and am still finding in my shoes when I put them on, I'm not surprised

As light was fading and it was slightly misty when we first went up - a break from an afternoon of fettling in the carpark which saw the starter moter out, inspected and replaced (we're still not sure why it is making the odd squealy noise but the flywheel ring gear seems ok, which was a worry (engine out job) and we now have all the part numbers (and it is a bosch standard part) so if it breaks, we can at least get a new one) and the new throttle, remodified and reinstated (honestly, couldn't cope with the racing idle of the old one which was such that even on a slightly uphill road, taking your foot off the accelerator didn't mean that the van slowed down!) so we went up again the following morning and with better weather, clearer skies and some notion of what to expect, it was still just as unspeakably wierd.

We walked along the ridge to the visible peak, only to find, as you do, a further peak in the distance, and then back along the gently sloping seaward side watching the oyster boats chug out down the channel from the Basin of Arcachon to their fishing spots in the sandbar

- even the sun came out and it was t-shirt weather in december in this unlikely paradise - just amazing.









Bill, if you haven't already been, this is a place you would love for that "walk round a corner and it makes you go wow" feeling.  But go in December or January when then carpark is free and you can camp.  In fact all of you, go in December or January when the carpark is free and you are one of maybay 20-30 people (most of whom are spanish) rather than the rest of the year whe you will be one one 1.5M people - ok you don't get the steps but I think the climb is part of the fun :)  And go soon, for despite all their efforts, it is being eroded by the sea on one side and the wind and sand slides into the forest on the other and will eventually no longer be here....

With all new bits installed and all old bits reinstalled, we set of south again and spent the night and much of the following day in a leafy aire de camping-cars (again, free in December) in Seignosse-Ocean, a small village in tourist beach coast heaven - although eveyone thinks of the mediterranean south of france as being the place to go for beach holidays, they are apparently pebbly (we'll let you know if this is true in February),

this is the corner of france for expanses of golden sandy beach set back with campsites and holiday cottages in pine forests.  And we're on the same map page as Spain!!

Will spent the morning re-writing his software - the idle is indeed now properly controlled with the stepper moter rather than those switches (although somehow not doing quite the right thing yet) and he has blocked up a whole load of air leaks so needs to re-write his fuel map - and I spent a happy morning painting in my sundappled leafy glade as, due to over-zealous sanding and then a lack of further paint, the front is showing spots of orange again :(  all sorted now though and we are back to unsanded grey and I am once again up to date daisy-wise.



After a drive through Bayonne and Anglet in rush hour traffic, we have spent the night in an aire de camping cars in Biarritz - apparently all the campsites in the region are closed for the season! - surrounded by behemoths with satellite dishes and very loud TVs (we think the occupants are old) and after a pint each in a beach cafe which came to €10 we probably won't be staying too long...

and after 3 days of steak and potatoes in various forms, we had duck sausages last night - 68% pork, 32% duck - odd, not on a dune de pilat scale of odd (my new measure for oddness) but odd nonetheless.  on balance, will probably stick to normal sausages

But it is so exciting.  Even just driving through, the place feel different somehow from other places we have so far been in france, the signs are in french, basque and spanish (which is good as we now know the words for "town centre", "tourist office" and "all routes" which I suspect may come in handy!) there are hills here in town, and hazy mountains in the distance and palm trees with fairy christmas lights!!  and Spain, twinkling over the corner of sea...

right, dawn has well and truly broken, the sun is shining, the sky is blue, so it is time for chinese tea and adventures....