Day 32: Larcevaux to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port

Although the wispy Frenchman has set a fire alarm

Although the cheese’s churning makes a nuisance of the calm

My feet light over paths through which all the pilgrims pour

And reach at last the haven of Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port

28 May 2024, Tuesday

Distance hiked 20.1km (12.5m)

Ascent 676m

Who'd have thought you could see the Pyramids from Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port?

The last (regular) walking day has arrived! I woke up with the alarm at 5.40am. No, you didn’t read that wrong, but I didn’t specify which alarm. It was the fire alarm.

Clothes on sleepy body, quick grab of wallet and phone, and out I rushed. As I went down past the small dining room I’d shared last night with the Germans I smelled a suspicious smell of over-grilled toast. In I popped and there sat the elderly French couple I’d bumped into in Ostabat, munching away and looking sheepish but not urgent about the alarm they’d just set off. Was it the toast I asked (for there was a toaster in the room and whisps of smoke coming from it as somewhat blackened toast was sitting on their plates). They confirmed and just continued chewing. No opening the window they were sat next to. No wafting something at the smoke alarm to ease its urgent siren. This was what they had been provisioning for: a sneaky breakfast as they were so slow they clearly liked to get away before even the cock rises.

Anyway, the hotel manager, who’d been asleep as had I, rushed in. Probably only about 15 seconds after me, and when he saw what had happened he did some window-opening and some wafting. Fair play to him, he is more action-orientated than I am, as I stood a little dumbfounded at the lackadaisical stupidity I’d just witnessed. When I realised it was nothing serious and it was well in hand, I simply turned round and went back to bed.

Leaving Larcevaux I looked back and could see the hotel I'd stayed at (on the left) and the cheese factory (on the right)

I didn’t sleep that well for the rest of the night because opposite my room was a cheese factory that rumbled and churned continuously (this was a very reasonable budget hotel but if you ever stay there ask for a room on the other side), and when my alarm – my actual personal alarm – went off to bring me to the 7.30am breakfast I was a little groggy.

I greeted the Germans (they’re always a little earlier than the rest of us aren’t they? But I didn’t see any towels on chairs, thankfully) and asked the hotel manager if the idiots had left. He looked at me blankly. “The idiots who set off the fire alarm” I said. “They told me it was you!” he replied. Seriously, this pair had actually blamed me for the alarm. If I ever get my hands on their scrawny necks….but what chance did I have, they had a two hour head-start on a short day’s walk!

A little later in the day, it started to clear and pleasant skies lit up the landscape

And thus, one foot after the other to the ultimate destination this side of the mountains. It was a pleasant stroll, really, I felt in good shape and took a brief half marathon distance in my stride. I overtook people (having left late there were plenty in front of me) until I caught up with Dominique again and had my first actual walk with her since meeting her two weeks previously in Moissac. She is a spiritual woman, divorced twenty years and retired, going through a process of re-learning and re-establishing her perception of the world and her place in it.

A shared selfie with Dominique. You can see half her scallop shell on her shoulder - this is the emblem of the pilgrimage (dating back to ancient times) and it's why the French call scallops "St Jacques"

She really felt trapped and hemmed in before but with her liberation from what was clearly not the happiest of marriages, and more recently from the world of work, she has taken it upon herself to find her purpose, her meaning, and what the world means to her; and she’s walking the pilgrimage to carry out these reflections. I really like her, she is very good company, and I wish her the greatest of luck in finding herself.

The weather wasn’t great but it had a feel of directional improvement, from the grimness of yesterday, that implied tomorrow would be rather nice. And that was extremely pleasant to reflect on for it was tomorrow that I planned to walk to Roncevaux.

The momentous arrival at the official entryway of St-Jean-Pied-de-Port!

I arrived at St Jean in the early afternoon. So early, in fact, that the Pilgrim House (Maison des Pèlerins) where I wanted to go to ask about the Roncevaux walk, was closed for lunch. Walking through the entrance arch to the town is really a moment of exaltation. You’ve done it! This is the destination and the reward for more than four weeks’ hard slog.

And St Jean is a good enough town to deliver this reward. As well as a good range of social options (hotels, bars, restaurants) it has, in its centre, one street rather dedicated to pilgrims with gîtes, the Pilgrim House, and some services like hats and shoes; and then another street with plenty of bijou shops of high end food, charcuterie, cheese, table linen, etc.

It’s very attractive and very well appointed: a lovely place to end one’s walk (or to springboard a new walk, which I would do the first step of, as my last step, tomorrow).

St Jean is a pretty town, looking here down the entrance street with the Pilgrims' House on the right and the mountains in the background

So I went to have lunch, commencing with a beer, and then found out about the walk tomorrow which was going to be fine (they close it for five months over winter and on days when the weather looks too wet, windy or foggy, as they had done that very day actually). The only thing they said was that I should do the extra km or so at the end by taking a paved option rather than the off-road route on a steep 500m descent into Roncevaux. For we start below 200m above sea level, rise up to 1,400, and then down to Roncevaux Abbey at 900m.

In the upmarket part of the town with pretty buildings set on pretty waterways

I’d arranged a final aperitif with Vincent and Marie-Pierre for we would part ways here, and so I popped out to my chambre d’hôtes which I realised now would add a kilometre to my walk tomorrow, being as it is on the opposite side of town from the route to Roncevaux. But it was well worth it, Gure Lana (meaning “our work” in Basque) run by semi-retired couple Geneviève and Christian being an absolute gem of a place. They are bilingual French / English, for they lived 40 years in London.

Geneviève showed me to my room, which was comfortable and appointed like a 4 or 5 star hotel, especially the en-suite bathroom. A wonderful bit of luxury after a couple of days of slightly rougher comforts.

It was lovely but sad to say hello and goodbye to my new Franco-Swiss friends, but this is the way of things on The Way. We mutually encouraged each other to visit us, and then the handshake and pecks on cheeks (three, in this region) and I went off for a dinner for one. I ate a large dish of lamb for I wanted some good protein for tomorrow, and headed back for a good night’s sleep.

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