Zero hour
June 1
It's been nearly a year since I made this plan. Finally, I've arrived in St Jean Pied de Port (St Jean at the foot of the mountain).
I started the day in Frankfurt. I had the alarm set for 5am, but woke an hour earlier. I knew I wouldn't go back to sleep, so had a shower, packed up and went downstairs.
As a small compensation for the lack of internet access, its absence meant that the night clerk couldn't calculate what I owed in incidentals (Beer, tourist tax, breakfast), so he shrugged his shoulders.
I wasn't prepared to negotiate the dubious timetables of trams and trains in the early morning on a Saturday, so I got a taxi.
I love the German autobahns. Whizzing along at 140km/h, with cars passing us, I was pleased that the meter didn't have time to tick over too much and the 45 euro bill was counterbalanced by the 25 or so I'd saved at the hotel.
At the airport I managed to negotiate everything except the fact that I'd put a new tube of my favourite toothpaste into my cabin bag and they made me throw it away.
On the other hand, although I'd decided that a litre bottle of whisky was too bulky for travel, I found two 500ml bottles were even cheaper and I love the convenience of the plastic bottles.
The flight south to Toulouse was smooth - the emptiest plane I've ever flown in, maybe 25 percent.
A few tense moments trying to locate the shuttle to the Toulouse train station (I didn't have a lot of time up my sleeve). I was waiting at the wrong platform for the train to Bayonne, but sorted that out. The final leg to St Jean Pied de Port was very nice, winding through forested valleys, with houses that looked a little Swiss.
The Hotel Itzalpea is lovely. I'm at the end of a corridor, so I can open both my bedroom door and the window to the world to let a little breeze through. It's been 33 degrees here.
The proprietor is very enthusiastic about his local beer, but every time I go down for another 25cl glass, the keg froths and bubbles. It's lovely beer, and each time I finish up with a part glass in one hand and another glass of settled froth in the other - my sort of hotel, especially when I've been forced to open the whisky.
Had a nice dinner with plenty of red wine. Was planning to meet an Italian Michael, who I met on the train, but had dinner instead with Linda, a woman from Christchurch
Now it's 8.50pm, the sun is shining brightly. In the morning I'll have breakfast at 7am and be on my way - I've ordered a sandwich to go and I'm sure my friendly hotel keeper will make it a good one.
Here's some of today's photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/TD2YMmH4KMWGBBQj9
It's been nearly a year since I made this plan. Finally, I've arrived in St Jean Pied de Port (St Jean at the foot of the mountain).
I started the day in Frankfurt. I had the alarm set for 5am, but woke an hour earlier. I knew I wouldn't go back to sleep, so had a shower, packed up and went downstairs.
As a small compensation for the lack of internet access, its absence meant that the night clerk couldn't calculate what I owed in incidentals (Beer, tourist tax, breakfast), so he shrugged his shoulders.
I wasn't prepared to negotiate the dubious timetables of trams and trains in the early morning on a Saturday, so I got a taxi.
I love the German autobahns. Whizzing along at 140km/h, with cars passing us, I was pleased that the meter didn't have time to tick over too much and the 45 euro bill was counterbalanced by the 25 or so I'd saved at the hotel.
At the airport I managed to negotiate everything except the fact that I'd put a new tube of my favourite toothpaste into my cabin bag and they made me throw it away.
On the other hand, although I'd decided that a litre bottle of whisky was too bulky for travel, I found two 500ml bottles were even cheaper and I love the convenience of the plastic bottles.
The flight south to Toulouse was smooth - the emptiest plane I've ever flown in, maybe 25 percent.
A few tense moments trying to locate the shuttle to the Toulouse train station (I didn't have a lot of time up my sleeve). I was waiting at the wrong platform for the train to Bayonne, but sorted that out. The final leg to St Jean Pied de Port was very nice, winding through forested valleys, with houses that looked a little Swiss.
The Hotel Itzalpea is lovely. I'm at the end of a corridor, so I can open both my bedroom door and the window to the world to let a little breeze through. It's been 33 degrees here.
The proprietor is very enthusiastic about his local beer, but every time I go down for another 25cl glass, the keg froths and bubbles. It's lovely beer, and each time I finish up with a part glass in one hand and another glass of settled froth in the other - my sort of hotel, especially when I've been forced to open the whisky.
Had a nice dinner with plenty of red wine. Was planning to meet an Italian Michael, who I met on the train, but had dinner instead with Linda, a woman from Christchurch
Now it's 8.50pm, the sun is shining brightly. In the morning I'll have breakfast at 7am and be on my way - I've ordered a sandwich to go and I'm sure my friendly hotel keeper will make it a good one.
Here's some of today's photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/TD2YMmH4KMWGBBQj9
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