Pyrenees, peppers, picnics and phobias

Ray has cycled into town to pick up baguettes and pastries, while the cats and I lounge in the sun. Rain is forecast for the next four days, but we’ve made good use of the sunny days while we’ve had them.

On day 1 of this lovely sunshine, Ray went for one of his solo climbs, reaching the summit of Trone de Roi, at 1266 metres (4,153 feet).

On day 2, we joined the anglophone group for a 2-hour hike and picnic lunch. This group was a great find for providing us with social contact while we’re here. It’s a diverse group and includes a few francophones who like to practice their english.

Day 3 was a trip to the coast, with a stop in the town of Espelette, known for the ‘piment d’Espelette’ (chilli pepper). The micro-climate in this particular region of France – significant rainfall, mild temperatures and a warm southerly wind – is similar to that of Mexico, where Christopher Columbus discovered the chilli peppers in the 16th century. The peppers are hung outside to dry on the facades of houses, making Espelette a very picturesque Basque village.

I’d suggested we stop there for coffee/tea, and to experience the local products. ‘Coincidentally’, one of those local products is chilli-infused chocolate. After trying a few free samples, we stocked up on chocolate, then picked up some bread, cheese, and Basque cakes, and carried on to Saint-Jean-de-Luz, where we ate our picnic on the beach. We followed that up with ice cream cones as we explored the town (a rather decadent day, gastronomically speaking). Saint-Jean-de-Luz has an influx of tourists in July and August, so it was nice to be there when the beaches were relatively deserted. Ray went for a short coastal walk while I sat in the sun, with my tea, chocolate and a light beach read, listening to the waves and reminding myself how grateful I am to be retired.

The photo below is of ‘chemin de la mâture’ (mast road). It was part of a hike we did on day 4 of sunny weather. As you can see, it’s a rather cool little passageway that’s been carved right into the rock face. It becomes even cooler when you learn that it was built in the 1700s to provide access to tall trees needed for the masts of French naval vessels. Carts loaded with fir trees would be hauled down the mountain and along this path by oxen.

You might think that as I walked along the narrow path with its sheer drop into the gorge, I was thinking about the possibility of slipping and plunging to my death. Close, but not quite. I was wondering if my irrational fear of snakes was stronger than my rational fear of death. Would my automatic response of getting as far away from a snake as possible, as quickly as possible, be tempered by the knowledge that doing so might kill me? Fortunately, I didn’t see a snake. At least not while on the ledge.

About an hour and a half into our hike, Ray – who I made walk ahead of me – stopped suddenly. He stomped his foot and a snake slithered into the woods while I scrambled back the other way (we were no longer on the ledge). I didn’t want to keep going and I didn’t want to go back. I wanted Scotty to beam me up. People who say, “the snake is more afraid of you than you are of it” are: a) wrong, and b) forgetting that phobias are, by definition, irrational. It’s like telling someone suffering from anxiety to just stop worrying, or telling someone with depression to cheer up. Doesn’t work. Ray tried reminding me that we had tea and chocolate to look forward to, but it had no effect. That’s how petrified of snakes I am. We continued through the woods along a path covered in dead leaves, with potential snakes lurking everywhere. I was not enjoying myself and, at one point, I was literally in tears of fear. I may have even screamed and jumped away from a couple of sticks. I knew it was silly, but couldn’t get it under control. We stopped for a lunch break by a beautiful waterfall and I managed to calm down (turns out tea and chocolate do help a little bit). After that we were mostly out of the woods on a more clear pathway and I was once again able to take in the awesome views and enjoy the hike.

It’s impossible to capture the majesty of the landscape in a photograph, but being surrounded by such grandiosity makes you very aware of your insignificance in the world. These mountains and valleys existed long before we did and will (hopefully) be around long after we’re gone.

And that brings us to day 5 of sunshine, during which Ray returned from the bakery and we read books, drank wine, went for a short walk, and did some chores around the house. Oh, and I wrote a blog post.