The sense of an ending

Another crisp morning. I rode out along the road to Navarrenx as the sky slowly brightened and revealed the Pyrenees, massive and beautiful, to the left of me. I took some photos, but again the mountains didn't really come out. You can try zooming in on them.

Navarrenx is a walled bastide town, which, once inside, I found quite disorientating. I asked in the Tourist Office for the road to Castelnau-Camblong and was shown a line on a map quite similar to the one I was holding, but as to an orientation, I could only get a vague wave over the shoulder. I asked two other people on the street who promptly began argument about the best way, and where was I heading for the night because they could perhaps give me a better route. They conducted this discussion in the middle of the road causing a fair traffic jam, so I gave my thanks and cycled off, eventually finding my own way out. The whole thing felt something out of Pilgrim's Progress.

I was now in the foothills of the Pyrenees and the cycling was hard work, but rewarding. At St Palais I stopped for fruit and a rest. From here I was to take the D933 to St Jean. Although a major road, there was a cycle lane most of the way, and although there were a few climbs the rest of the journey to St Jean was remarkably easy.

Today's ride was again about 70km, but because I was worried about missing the train, I made the distance shortly after 2pm. This gave me some time to look around St Jean, get my credential stamped, and relax before getting the train to Hendaye to meet Antonio, the husband of Helen, my cousin. The train journey was hell, as the one carriage train was crammed with teenage school children who gave no quarter and certainly won't going to vacate the bike storage area. It was a fate worse than Daniel thrown to the lions. At least the Lord sealed their mouths shut!

However, I had more things to think about. Another stage on my pilgrimage had come to an end and there is a sadness as well as an accomplishment to that. I have pretty much cycled the length of France. I've enjoyed the cycling, but I am tired, my legs are aching in various different places, and I am ready for more companionship than the bike affords. Even in the hostels one is a second class citizen as a cyclist. People look askance at how I tear up the Chemin with indecent haste.

It has also been a fortnight since I enjoyed the break and the company of Aude, Francois and Jacques. I'm ready for another break and for a relaxing time with Helen and her family and Cath who is also visiting this weekend.

Normal pilgrimage will be resumed next week.

Postscript: We also bid farewell to our pilgrim guide JH. Like Virgil he has led us on the right path and explained the sights conjured up before us. And like a good travel writer he does not allow his exploits to go unembellished.