17^th Day 2018 Oloron to Arudy

            Once again the campground sits inside a thick cloud.  I had a pleasant breakfast and was able to pack before the start of a light Irish mist.  I met a Dutch couple the night before who in their mid fifties and doing the Walk from Holland to San Diego.  We helped each other find the campground.

            Directly next door is a mixed couple in their twenties, a Irish lass from County Cork and a Scotsman.  They live in Barcelona and are in between jobs.   They are biking from Barcelona to San Sebastien and from there taking the train and bus back to Barcelona.

            During a break in the rain, I took a shot without rain gear.  I plowed through the occasional wet spells and dried out soon after. 

            134 south was very busy and I was looking for 918 East.  Sadly, I missed the turn.  Instead 2 km later I unwittingly took 918 West.  Lief Erickson is turning in his grave.  Ten km later I stopped for lunch in Arrete, another picturesque town in the Pyrenees.  Upon checking the map I found my error and had little choice but to go backwards.  I have always what the other way was like, prettier, steeper?  This return mirrored the coming, equally beautiful and the same steepness.  The fast flowing river cascaded over mini rapids and tall falls.  The farmer in the field waved again.  Steep cliffs edged one side of the road and the river the other like coming out of Yosemite Valley only greener.

            The error was not devastating.  I am not in a hurry from Point A to Point B.  There are several practical reasons for pushing the bike and trailer up the hill, saving the battery and motor, and one reminds me that if I want to hurry from A to B I would have hired a car. 

            I am not listening to my I Pod.  Instead I am concentrating on the sounds around me, the birds, the dogs, the cascading water, the tractors in the fields, and the traffic. 

            Arudy is an absolute jewel of a village, nestled snuggly in the Pyrenees.  The campground is part of a municipal area with swimming pool, bolle club, soccer fields, and skate park.  Unfortunately, the sanitary was locked.  The clerk at the Tourist Office assured me that it was open.  I asked a young man trimming with a weed whacker what the problem might be.  He ushered me into a cavernous garage filled with machinery, parts, and tools.  He checked with a superior, a young man barely older than him, and was authorized to open both doors of the sanitary.  Electricity, toiler, and water were mine!  The shower would be cold but what the heck!

            The noise tonight should be interesting.  There is only one other camper and he is at the other end.  There is a fast flowing river nearby with its soothing sounds. 

            I should make Lourdes tomorrow.  I will say a prayer for each of my family and my friends at the ghotto.

            The last ascent into Arudy was a doozy, filled with more potholes than the moon has craters.  The battery picked the most inopportune time to give out.  The road was narrow and there was not a post in sight to rest the bike.  I coasted back to a 50 km speed sign and hoped that it would do the trick.  With the bike precariously balanced against the single post, I did the switch as swiftly as possible.

            Fortunately, the descent did not have the potholes of the ascent and I coasted merrily into town.  The a young road crew member could barely believe that I was alive much less cycling the Pyrenees.

            I am reading “Calypso” by David Sedaris.  I am always asking for recommendations but for the life of me I cannot remember who suggested Sedaris. 

Happy trails to you until we meet again!

Much joy!!!
Hardy