Day 7 - Basque Country

It is time to wind down.  We left the High Pyrenees behind on our ride to Chateau Lemothe and we are now among rolling hills, corn fields and old stone farmhouses.   Just to the west is an area referred to as “Basque Country,” in recognition of the Basque farmers that work the tall hills and deep draws.

Our final day, Saturday, dawned damp and cloudy after a heavy early morning thunder storm and we lazed into the day, finally gearing up to ride at 10 AM, destination Basque Country.  Eight of us took off with an improvised itinerary and Nel preceding us to chalk turn arrows on the road.  Our taut quads warned us not to pedal hard as we savored our last day on a bike in France.  We wove around bad road patches, dirt clods and animal dung on steep, twisty back roads, just enjoying being alive and rolling on 2 wheels.  Eventually, Markham stopped to sketch an old barn, Howie and I turned to go to St. Oloron and the others continued onto a new town for a picnic lunch.  By 4 PM we had all found our way back to Chateau Lamothe to pack up our bikes, have a final group dinner and retire early so we could catch morning flights back to the States. 

A farm with its own waterworks

Two-way traffic--get skinny, Howie!

Howie

Vegetable garden

Vegetable meal

Road to another adventure.....

Chateau Lamothe

The final two nights we stayed in a chateau near the small town of Maumaur.  The chateau had been recently purchased and renovated by a Dutch couple tired of the shipping industry and looking for a simpler life in the French countryside.  Larry and Kristina opened their bed and breakfast—“do not say ‘Inn’!”--for business earlier this year.  As of today, they have worked from 6 AM to 12 PM 7 days a week for 6 weeks without interruption.  Larry is the chef, main desk person and host while Kristina oversees the gardens, rooms and easy ambience.  Things are slightly out of control in a comfortable way, so that a large box of custom-imprinted towels remains where it was dropped outside the main office.  Wi-fi for the main house, in the form of an Airport Base Station, has arrived but awaits Larry’s free time for set-up.  Chef Larry often shows up carrying a bag of groceries a couple hours before dinner time.  Through this all, Larry and Kristina remain chill, chatting with guests and minding their many daily tasks.

Chateau Lamothe was the first place in France that welcomed us back for dinner a second night.  Of course, there was no other restaurant open in Maumaur so they were more or less stuck with us.  That’s not to say we were loud, rude Americans prior to arriving at the chateau.  Yes, we have animated cycling discussions and hearty laughs that can fill a room, but we prefer to believe 

This must be a posed photo because Jim is pouring...water???

that 13 people showing up at once overwhelms the cook and wait-staff at the smaller restaurants in smaller towns that we’ve frequented.  Some have turned away customers after we arrived.  Some have told us with typical French frankness, “No.  Do not come back tomorrow!” Larry, though, always seemed happy to feed us, and he provided us with two of the best dinners we had while in France, accompanied with generous amounts of well-chosen red wine.

Oh, and by the way, Maumaur has a church with a belltower.  And much like in St. Lary, the church sees it as a public duty to ring out the hours and half hours all day and all night long.   This is NOT quaint and charming to visitors in the middle of the night!  Could the churches just buy every townperson a digital watch???

Larry chatting with Howie, Rich and others

Braised duck with local veggies

Rich got not only the largest room, but two lovely
(and loving) roommates.  That is not a forced smile!

My roommate, a bookish sort

Peak Performers

Each peak in the Pyrenees has its signature farm animal waiting to greet arriving cyclists.  Or so our experience suggests.  Cows at Col d'Aspin.  Sheep at Col du Soulor.  Donkeys at Tourmalet.  Horses at Col d'Aubisque.  Like college football mascots, they're ready to cheer, instigate, celebrate or just share in the energy and spoils brought by the athletes.  While eating ham steak marinated in champagne at Chateau Lamothe last night, we suddenly realized that we hadn't been greeted atop a mountain by pigs.  That means there must be a major Pyrenean peak that we've missed and a reason to do this whole thing again!

Nel, our tour organizer, says that, in France, mountain peaks above a certain elevation are public land and therefore farmers can simply turn loose their livestock in these areas to graze.  Free range, actually.  This explains the number of animals but not the specificity of farm animal on each peak.  Why not horses, sheep and donkeys altogether on Hautacam, for example?  We don't have the answer, but the following photos help describe the phenomena.

After aggressively confronting Rich in the road on the way up Col d'Aspin,
the cows were unimpressed when Rich reached the top.  Conclusion:
cows are hard to impress.

This happy fellow atop Tourmalet is  offering a victory kiss or
 demanding Steve's banana.  Steve is from Iowa
and seems to have a special way with animals.  

This horse, atop d'Aubisque, recognized Steve's Pinarello Dogma for the
hot buggy it was and tried to run off with it.  He succeeded in grabbing it
by the handlebars with his mouth and knocking it over.

This is me posing for a summit photo on d'Aubisque.  Since
I didn't actually ride up on my bike, the horse in the back-
ground is, um, commenting on my little deceit by "rumping"
the sign.

This sheep was ho-hum about our arrival at the top of Soulor
but became more than willing to party with us.  She offered
to carry the food and, in fact, insisted on carrying the food
when Nel turned her back.

Day 6-Last of the Pyrenees

We awoke Thursday morning in Argeles prepared for a long final trek over Pyrenean peaks.  My throat was sore and knee ached so it seemed the right time for an off day, given the unplanned riding I’d done at Gavarnie the day before.  (47 mi., 4,000 ft. vert)  The itinerary called for 57 mi. and 8,000 ft. of climbing—not huge by past years’ standards but big enough to keep a tired body tired.  And 5,000 feet were in the first 20 miles. 

View while climbing Col de L'Aubisque

The guys were very kind as I helped Nel load up the van.  No manhood questions, no offers to pull me in a Burley.  I decided to ride with Nel to the top of Col d’Aubisque and play it by ear from there.

It was a winning choice.  Col du Soulor was a beast; it’s profile, showing 8 km of 8.5% slope,  doesn’t do justice to its wicked 12% ramps.  Aubisque was long (30 km) but with many easy 3 - 5% slopes and panoramic vistas as one climbed. 

Lunch atop Col d'Aubisque

Peewee Herman riding a bike atop
Col d'Aubisque.  It also looks a
little like Charles trying to find a bike
that fits him.

 At  noon, atop Aubisque, I took my bike off the van roof and joined the guys for the last 44 miles to Chateau de La mothe.  By then, my throat and knee were feeling much better with long descents to look forward to and only 3,000 ft. of climbing left.  My final tally was 45 miles, 3,000 ft. vert, while others had a long day of approximately 64 miles and 8,000 ft. vert.

We see lots of other cyclists atop the mountains.
This group is from Oregon, and cycled through
the Pyrenees from Girona to Pau over 2 weeks.
When one guy felt a little sick and decided to
ride in the support vehicle for a day, their tour
leader growled, "This is a BIKE ride.  Get on
your bike!"

My one significant climb of the day.

Lost at last!  After years of being lost in the Alps
we finally lost our way in the Pyrenees.
We weren't really lost though because
we knew where we were--we just couldn't figure out
how to get to the Chateau.

While awaiting directions in Oloron, some prefer beer....

and some prefer patisseries

International Incident

A wood post, about 6' tall, braced upright by a pile of rocks, marks what we take to be the French-Spain border at Port de Boucharo.  A sign is attached to the top of it, pointing in different directions.  

Arriving at the border post, Markham decided to lock up his bike and take a hike up a rocky knoll.  Thin air,  a gnarly cable and the unsteady post all went to work, causing Markham to lose his grip on the padlock, which promptly disappeared into the rocks that held the border post upright.  Markham searched futilely for five minutes as we photographed ourselves and offered helpful tips.  

Jim, for example, seeing Markham with his head half-submerged into the rock pile, came over to ask, "What are you looking for?  Are you still looking for the border?  Isn't the post good enough for you?  What do you expect to find--a line on the ground?!!"

Eventually, an unnamed cyclist (unnamed for obvious evidentiary reasons) pulled the post out of the rock pile so that Markham had a 12" diameter hole from which to search for the padlock.  This, too, proved futile, so we placed the post back in roughly the same spot and began moving rocks to brace it upright.  That's when Markham uncovered the missing padlock, a foot away from the search site.

 Padlock found, post re-ballasted, Markham successfully cabled his bike to the post.  But we're pretty sure we moved the border a couple inches.  To which side, north or south, we're not willing to discuss without our lawyer.

Port de Boucharo

Markham called for a wheelchair

Markham was moving stiffly the next morning after his explosion up Tourmalet, opting for the elevator rather than the stairs, and wishing for a wheelchair. We did what we could to revive him with coffee and carbs, and loaded bikes on an Andiamo van to drive 40 km up a scenic valley to Gavarnie.  A throng of older European tourists had preceded us and the little town and main hiking path were bustling.  The air was cool, the sun benignly smiling,  and we unloaded our bikes and geared up to explore the town and gentle path leading further up the valley.  I could handle that, even on an off day! 

We dodged hikers and horses on the paved portion of the path, and soon the paving ended and we turned back toward Gavarnie and went in search of the road to Port de Boucharo and the Spanish border.  It  was easy to find.  One bend, two bends, and then up it went.  We climbed, pedaling doggedly away on the steady 9% slopes, surrounded by ripped mountain peaks and vast mountain meadows filled with the music of sheep-bells.

Seven miles later we reached a high parking lot, where we picnic-ed on French bread, cheese and Orangina.  Then we remounted our bikes and pedaled up a paved path another km through scattered rockfall until we arrived at our goal:  Spain!

Little did we expect to create an international incident...  

Hikers and horses start up the path

A young horseman

Slow going up 9% slopes to Port Bochero

Why we climb--part of Cirque de Gavarnie

In Spain at 7,300 ft.

Jim and his bike mustache--don't ask!

Dodging rockfall on paved path to Spain

More Cirque de Gavarnie

(Pictures Added to Race Day)

After wasting time wrestling with Google's formatting anomalies yesterday, I was finally able to upload more pictures to the Race Day post today.