Robinson Crusoe lives

We set off on the rain from the lovely Lekeitio on the Spanish Basque coast, ready to do our duty and visit the acclaimed St Sebastian yesterday. Rain never helps anywhere look good, but I must reluctantly agree to revise my opinion of the city as the architecture here is exquisite, and a far cry from most that we have had to endure on Cantabria and Galicia. However, it is still a city and I have had enough of concrete in the past week, and with the rain persisting we did not stop.

With better weather promised over France, we pressed on to Biarritz, over the border into France, and on a long walk along the beautiful wild coast just outside the town, came across a beach restaurant at just the right moment. By the right moment I mean lunch time. Peter Maile who wrote “A Year In Provence” was once asked to describe the south of France in one word. His reply was “lunch”, and it holds good for all of southern France. Of course the prices are utterly different to those we have experienced in Spain, particularly in the west, but then so was the quality of the food. Excellent gambas and more Padron Peppers could not be complemented by the glass of wine I craved as I was designated driver. I am always designated driver. However, the setting was marvellous, the meal superb and I have fallen in love with Biarritz, and not just because the sun made an appearance.

As usual, the last to leave

It was that sun that put paid to a trip out, after our return to base, to checkout a couple of local establishments in the early evening. Our hotel has a lovely terrace overlooking the bay and a beautiful island and there is a spit of sand at low tide that allows access to it at low tide.  I wanted to walk across to it, but was told that by the time we reached it, the tide would have covered it again and we would not be able to get across. Instead we settled for a beer on the terrace and to watch the tide. We resolved to rise early this morning when the tide will be low and walk across then. However, as I had predicted, an hour be two beers later? The spit of sand was still visible, and, as I pointed out loudly and vociferously, had That Nice Lady Tidemaster listened to me, we could have ticked that one off without the need to set the alarm for the middle of the night. I mean 7am? That is a barbaric time to be forced from ones pit, however, we were only just in time as my photo of the Tidemaster being the last to leave shows.

Today, after spending a short time on pressing matters connected with the excellent services of Currencies Direct, we are on a mission from god. Although I am hazy on anything religious, I do tend to make a bit more effort to understand if there is wine involved, and there is some religious mumbo-jumbo about wine and the blood of god or something equally obscure, and wine is certainly going to be involved. The Rioja region is nearby, just a short distance from Pamplona, and it is not bull shit to say that one of my favourite wine regions is Le Rioja. I shall be running (did you see what I did there?) around the area today on that mission, to collect up as much of the stuff that we can pack in the car. If only we were able to turn that fugitive dog into the hands of the judiciary, for punishment for trespass (if I were the judge, I would be looking for my black cap), then we would have so much more space for much more valuable merchandise.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News