Day 8–Friday, July 7. St. Jean Pied de Port (11 miles)

We had a scare before we were really awake this morning–the farmer came and started his tractor at 5:30. Pam was in a deep sleep and didn’t even hear it. It sounded like he was revving the engine to give us a warning to get going–he was just on the other side of the hedge row from us. We were up and out in record time. I wish I would have recorded the sound to use on Pam every day to get her moving.

Marriage contract: Article 3, paragraph IV, clause C: “if a blog is started by either member of this contract, a flower picture, baby animal, or meaningless landscape shot MUST be included in every entry. The only exception to this clause is if a bunny picture is included on any day, this requirement will be suspended for up to 7 entries”

We lit up the trail as fast as two old sore people can–not very fast. It turned out to be a good thing that we got going so early because it was another hot day even at 3300′. We made it to about 1500′ before we found a shady spot beside another barn to have our breakfast.

We struggle going uphill even trying to run from an angry farmer…
The French use the exact same hill as a running training hill–the average Frenchman is in much better shape than the average obese American.

The walk today was uneventful, just a steady climb for about 5 hours until we reached the summit. We did pass through Amityville at about 2000′. We were attacked by flies! These were killers. I smacked the first one and ground it down hard. When I took my hand off, it just laughed and said “is that all you got?” I heard a whistle and I was completely surrounded. Two flew in my mouth while a dozen went in each ear. I heard then laughing and saying they would teach me a lesson. Their goal was to either get me to knock myself out, or to get me to fall off a cliff–they settled for me racking myself trying to smash them.

The face of the ridge we spent the last two days traversing–at least I’m impressed

I ran up the hill to try to get some distance from them. Pam had to fend for herself, but that really wasn’t a problem for her. Since she didn’t react to them, they thought she was boring and left her alone.

I get to eye the vulture for a change. He could sense it was MY lunchtime and quickly flew away

Getting to the summit today was really just an easy uphill walk all the way. Take away the flies and Pam’s repeating how much she hurt and it was a pleasant stroll. At the top, another type of flying insect started bothering me–word of my approach had preceded me. These guys were not as menacing; more like lightening bugs without the cool lights. Nonetheless, I wasn’t in the mood for another mouthful of bug, so I headed down fast. That is, a snail’s pace.

Another summit banged just above St Jean
A steep downhill, but not too bad of a walk–I’d not be as happy about this in a rain

About 1000′ down, I ran out of water (I had already drank 3 liters and it wasn’t even noon yet). Ahead, I saw a cow trough with a bunch of ladies lounging around. When I got closer, I could see a drinking water faucet on the side. We were due for a break so we stopped on the cliff’s edge to have lunch and watch vultures for a change (they usually watch us pretty closely on steep ascents and descents).

I checked with the ladies before drinking their water

When we got going again, we took our first wrong turn on this trail. The most frightening part was that Pam called it right away and I ignored her (usually a safe bet to ignore Pam when it comes to directions). In 8 years, she finally got one right. Now I can’t just ignore her when she says turn right, I actually have to consider it because of one lucky correct call.

Lunch overlooking St Jean

The trail wasn’t marked real well on the way down. While we were considering which turn to take, an Aussie walked up and agreed with my choice of trails. We started talking and walking with her all the way into town. Jessica is originally from Tasmania but has been doing physics post doc work in Paris for the last few years. Her contract is up a few weeks before her husband’s is, so she had enough time to tackle the GR10 before moving back to Australia.

St Jean Pied de Port from 1500′ above

Another nice thing about walking with someone (Shaun will verify this) is that Pam walks fast–really fast. She says she can’t walk fast when it’s just me and her, throw in some unknown person and she morphs into the “Energizer Bunny”. Bunny Tracks, Energizer Bunny; coincidence? I don’t think so.

Jessica with us where the GR10 and Camino de Santiago intersect at the Notre Dame Gate in St Jean

After Jessica left us, we went to have a cold drink (just a Coke) before we started to look for a place. I went to the tourist information center, and they found us a very nice bed and breakfast just up the street from the Municipal Albergue we stayed at in May when we were starting the Camino.

The bridge from upriver where we had our shot with Jessica

We dropped off our packs, went and retrieved our other gear we had in storage, and went through everything trying to reduce our pack weights. On the way to the bed and breakfast we had weighed our current loads. Pam was carrying 31# today and I had 50#–way more than we want to carry. After going through all of our gear and getting it ready to ship to Richard, I’ll bet both our packs go up in weight.

Expose yourself to the French Pyrenees
Sunset on the River Nive

Supper was last item on the agenda and then an early sauna tonight. Why anyone would start the Camino when it’s this hot in France with the Meseta in front of them is almost as great a mystery as why would anyone publish a guide book with times for distances. We now have our Cicerone guidebooks and they have actually distances. I can quit bitching about that one and start on something else now. Any suggestions?

The sunset over the mountain we crossed to get to St Jean