Well one of the lessons of this return to the pelerinage is how mixed my memory's completeness and accuracy is. I do remember that at some point early in this day I said to myself, well, to the bike "We're not in Kansas anymore Toto" and that was the point at which the bike acquired its name: Toto. I think that might have been seeing these signs.
Not only were signs no longer in French but they were a mix of Basque and Spanish! Even before I was out of Saint-Jean I saw my first Pelota court.
But this was familiar Saint-Jean as I left.
But, as you can see from the map, I started off in the wrong direction! You can also see the France/Spain border on the map above.
I was immediately into very different architecture that I know is found in Basque parts of France as well as in Basque Spain but which hadn't been visible on the ride up to Saint-Jean nor is it particularly visible in the centre of the town.
Though it feels as if it ought to be, this church is not on the border.
That was curiously rather grim and also brave. I don't think there was much if any actual rain (there's that hole in my memories again) but I do remember that it was cold and damp.
That header image is interesting talking of memory (is everyone else's like mine, I think in recent years I have realised that different people's memory processes can work very differently). It's interesting as, as I look at it, whereas I had no memory of it a moment ago, now I can almost see and feel the gravel that was there where I stopped, probably to slurp up some fluid and take that image. Hm, triggered recall can be quite powerful.
It was mostly downhill after a while but still quite gruelling work. I called it a day and checked into a little hotel/motel in Zubiri and was happy to find the bed OK and the food simple but excellent. Thanks whoever you were!
Created 3.ix.26.