St. Jean Pied du Port, France is the jumping off place for many pilgrims. I overnight in Bayonne and was going to catch a train to SJPDP, yesterday morning but when I got to the train station I found this protest going on:
Sounded like the French Revolution–fires, cannon-like firecrackers going off. Hey where’s the barricade and singing? I thought I was in a modern version of Le Mis for a moment. Turns out the trains were on strike. Great. I guess this is what is meant by the saying, “the adventure begins when what you planned on doesn’t work.”
On top of that my hiking poles and knife didn’t arrive. I knew I shouldn’t have checked the poles and left the knife at home. British Air promises to get them to my hotel in SJPDP the next day.
St. Jean is stunning, quaint, old, steep, cobblestone ancient. Terrific inexpensive food–not a fast/food joint in sight–the most pleasant people, and wonderful, green countryside and mountains towering over it. And a river runs through it. What more could you ask?
British Air sent My hiking poles and knife to Paris, so I hope someone there enjoys them. Darn. That knife has gone everywhere with me. Jack called it the “bear knife” when he was little.
To the mountain!