14^th Day 2018 Arreaga to ?

            The night did not go as entirely expected.  Wind, rain, and noise were a perfect prescription for a double dose of sleeping pills.  As wind shook the tent and a light rain danced, a pack of 40 teenagers pounced unexpectedly.  Without consideration, they shouted, laughed, and banged doors to well passed 11.

            The perfect anti-dote was a sunshine filled morning.  Specs of clouds sprinkled the sky like chalk dust on a blue “blackboard.”  In addition, the pack was herded off on a hike allowing a richly deserved silence to descend on the camp.

            The tall, swarthy man with the scraggy Billy goat beard reappeared for his morning coffee.  The beard badly needs a combing and a red bow.

            Charlie says that the blogs are coming through.

            The ride was an easy one.  How else can you explain using only 50% of one battery.  The ascent topped out at 1057 m, but the ride the day before had brought me over halfway. A dense cloud tucked into every ravine, as thick as the Tully fog in the central valley of California. For safety’s sake I turned on the front and rear flashers.  Fortunately the traffic was light and cautious.

            The descent was nearly 12 miles marked again with more twists than an Agatha Christie mystery.  The ride was beyond spectacular as the road followed a river crashing through the ravines bordered by the thick forest.  Periodically there were glimpses of the valley far below.

            Not feeling particularly hungry I still relished one last meal in Spain.  My last chance was Valcarlos with the border less than 1 km away. 

            There I feasted on a delicious white bean and sausage soup.  That was followed by fries, tomatoes, and deep fried fish rings.  Dessert was an ice cream bar and an espresso.  I had ignored the menu and kept pointing to different plates people in the room were enjoying.  The friendly waitress picked up on the hint and pointed to other customer’s ice cream bar and espresso.

            A half bottle of wine made for unsteady legs as I mounted my trusty bike.  I did not need a BUI.  Several kilometers of strenuous biking brought sobriety as quick as a wink.

            St. Jean-Pied-de-Port was a bustling with tourists and nicely situated on a river.  The campground was municipal and located inside the original walls of the town.  The campground was jam packed from stem to stern.  I was barely able to find a site without any shade.  Looking like something out of a John Steinbeck novel, camper vans, caravans, and tents were strewed everywhere.

            I did meet a nice man, Asier, from Bilbao.  Inside of an hour we solved most of the world’s problems.  Later I walked the path alongside the river into town and was able to witness a choir in traditional Basque dress rehearsing for a concert.

            Upon returning to the campground I discovered much to my dismay that a pack of teenagers are not the only scourge.  The plague this time was groups of older people chattering, walking their dogs, and washing dishes close to 11.

            The town has an impressive citadel however it is currently occupied by a high school and can only be viewed during the months of July and August.

            Asier slept out in the open figuring that it was too warm to under a tent.  Sadly, a dense fog settled over the town dampening everything including Asier.  I even had dew inside the tent.

Happy Trails to you until we meet again!

Much joy!!!
Hardy