Brittany (2007)

Brittany/Navarra (April, 2007)

“When you get to a fork in the road, take it.” (Yogi Berra)

For months, I’d been looking forward to taking the Harley Sportster (a.k.a. “La Negrita”) for a long trip. Somehow the idea of Brittany stuck in my head, and Blanca agreed. As the 10-day vacation got closer, I got more excited, although each day the weather seemed to deteriorate. D-day came, and it was raining, with predictions of the same for a week. I bit the bullet: no Negrita. We’d have to settle for the Toyota again. This was not the first time that my self-image had to retreat in the face of reality. Despite my disappointment, it turned out to be a fine trip: nearly 4000 kms of beauty, with very few people.

Saturday, April 7.

After waiting for two days for the weather to clear, we finally decided that it wasn’t going to. We got in the car and headed north. In the event, we made a good decision. A short way into Aragon, we ran into heavy snow, and they’d closed the highway to Zaragoza. The Spaniards don’t do well with snow, and I didn’t fancy buying a set of the 1940´s-style chains that seem to be the only technology available. We retraced our path to Castellon and headed for Barcelona. We entered France at La Junquera and proceeded via Parpignan, Toulouse, and Bordeaux, where we spent the night in one of the new techno-hotels that have sprung up alongside the superhighways. (You register via computer at the entrance. You put in your credit card, and they give you a code that opens the outside door and your room. €38.)

Sunday, April 8.

Bordeaux to Brest, via vast, flat, farmland, a patchwork of vivid geometrical shapes, mostly green, various shades of brown, and bright yellow. After visiting the quaint village of Le Conquet, the literal “land’s end” of Brittany, we returned to Brest, where we spent the night for €38.

Monday, April 9.

Brest-Huelgoat. Huelgoat is a small village in the middle of a deep forest, built around a lake, and it turned out to be the gem of the trip. We stayed at the Hotel Du Lac, on the shore of the lake. We went for a short walk in the dark woods outside of town, filled with Arthurian legends. There is a spider web of trails near the village, and we decided to stay another day to explore it.

Tuesday, April 10.

Huelgoat. We spent a wonderful morning (3 ½ hours) hiking. First we doubled the lake and then headed out on trails. The forest was filled with huge, frog-green moss-covered boulders. There were streams, waterfalls, and grottoes. One can easily picture Merlin working his enchantments in the medieval glens.

Wednesday, April 11.

We reluctantly left Huelgoat and headed for Quimper, the main town in Finesterre. It is a charming place, built around the confluence of several rivers and filled with attractive buildings and artistic activity. We decided to press on, however, and ended up in a bay in La Foret-Fouesant, near Concerneau (Hotel Beausejour, €50).

Thursday, April 12

Today was spent driving: Vannes, Nantes, Coñac (where we stopped to buy some), and Bordeaux. We slept south of Bordeaux in Monte De Marsans (Hotel Siesta, €50).

Friday, April 13

The idea was to head for Roncesvalles (via St. Jean Pont de Port), which is the start of the Spanish part of the “Camino de Santiago.” (Already in France, the signs appear in Basque and there are plenty of ETA graffiti; we begin to see the characteristic conch shells that mark the French segment of the “Chemin de St. Jacques.”

The Camino de Santiago, or better the part called the “Camino Frances,” is the 790 km medieval pilgrimage route that traverses northern Spain from Roncesvalles to Santiago de Campostela, where the legend has it that the bones of St. James (the “Apostle” of Jesus and symbol of Spanish resistance to the Arabs—“Santiago Matamoros”) are interred in the Cathedral. Since the 9th century, thousands of pilgrims from all over Europe, and beyond, make the pilgrimage, which takes about a month, if one follows the standard schedule. Pilgrims are issued a credential, which allows them to sleep at very cheap hostels and partake of inexpensive “pilgrims´” meals, and at the end of the trek at Santiago de Compostela, provided they’ve accumulated the requisite stamps along the way, accrediting their passage, receive a diploma attesting the feat.

Now, those of my readers who know me will be well aware of my attitude toward religion in general and Catholicism in particular, viz. loathing and contempt. And they will wonder why all the fuss about the Camino de Santiago. “What next,” they will ask, “timeshares in Lourdes”? The fact of the matter is, however, that I really want to cover this route on foot. It’s simply a way to cross a part of Spain that is steeped in history and beauty. It is a project that has been incubating for some time.

We stayed at the Posada de Roncesvalles, a beautiful rustic building with magnificent ceilings and rooms reflecting monastic simplicity (€50 a night). And the food was superb. Pilar, a very simpatica young woman who handled both the food and the hotel, made the stay even more pleasant. Too bad it was raining.

Saturday, April 14

We woke up to rain. We ate breakfast at the bar and went out of visit the Collegiata, where the tomb of Sancho is the center of a beautiful medieval complex. A busload of pilgrims had just arrived from Pamplona, and they were donning their raingear in preparation for their first day on the trail. The people one sees along the road generally look either like ordinary L.L. Bean types or crazed monastic lunatics.

The rest of the day we spent driving around the heart of Navarre, which is certainly one of the most attractive regions of Spain. The signs are all in Basque, which is a bit of a pain. Try to remember the name of a town that is composed of 17 consonants! We explored a series of valleys, including the Bosque de Iraty. The region is mountainous, with streams, waterfalls, and rustic villages. The bright green fields are dotted with flocks of sheep. So far, Navarre seems to have been spared the infection of urbanization and tourist blight.

We stopped for the night in the village of Isaba. The “Hostal Lola” (€55) is a charming rustic inn, with a fine view of the village church and surrounding hills. The buildings are of heavy stone, and the architecture is rough and plain.

Sunday, April 15.

We left Isaba and spent several hours going south through magnificent scenery. We reached “civilization” and passed onto the national highways, where the ballgame was altogether different, even though we managed to avoid Pamplona, Tudela, and other big cities. We connected with the route, in Aragon, that we’d attempted a week before, and there wasn’t a trace of snow. We had the great fortune that our favourite winery, Bodegas Morte in Carineña, south of Zaragoza, was open. We bought 3 cases of our favourite “Abuelo Benito,” for a bit more that 2€ a bottle!

We got back home. There was no one around. The Bar Kukis was closed. There were lots of puddles, evidence of much recent rain. We unloaded our loot and broke out a bottle of “Abuelo Benito.” The trip had been a complete success, even though La Negrita had been sorely missed. But Blanca has 5 days´ vacation coming up soon, and perhaps the weather will cooperate to allow a bike trip.

I close with a linguistic anecdote. Every once in a while, Blanca´s grapplings with English produce precious results. During the trip, I can’t remember just how, it became clear that all these years when she’d been watching movies about World War II, she’d thought that the Nazis were saying “Hi, Hitler.” That kept me smiling for hours!