The Smells Of The Countryside
The Smells Of the Countryside....And New Friends
Heading down the West coast of France, we eagerly anticipated crossing the border into Spain. It was a lengthy trip, in part because we got stuck in Biarritz and St Jean de Luz.... no-one stopped to pick us up, and to make matters worse the weather turned sour. Strong winds and rain meant that we were reluctant to stand on roadsides with our thumbs out.
Anyway we eventually found ourselves in Hendaye, right on the border, and after consuming rather a poor baguette for dinner, accompanied by some equally bad table wine ( we didn't really care as it was cheaper than water in those days), we formulated a plan for our border crossing.
As part of our history classes, we had learnt a lot about British airmen escaping POW camps and crossing over the Pyrenees, following forgotten trails. We decided that by following a disused railway track up into the mountains we would probably locate some of those trails... what an adventure !
We drank too much of that wine.
Waking up in my tent, in the morning,I heard a loud noise.... you know the sort of thing !
I heard strange sounds from outside and actually thought that my traveling companion had become ill. I unzipped my tent and peered out into the gloom. Peering back at me was a cow.... a large one. It was surrounded by others. They were obviously as puzzled by us as I was by them.
More loud methane emitting sounds... and a stench to match, erupted from the herd. OH GOSH !, thought I as I glanced over at Jamies tent. Fortunately he was awake too. We hurriedly broke camp and avoided the land mines that were treacherously lurking in the long grass. We made our escape.
Into the mountains we headed. This was to be a hike and we both anticipated it. We had stocked up on some important provisions for the trip...bread, cheese, water and copious amounts of really inexpensive cognac. We were ready for this !.
For the first 24 hours it was easy but uneventful hiking, but late one afternoon, surrounded by gorgeous meadows of wildflowers and mountain views, it was decided that we could take a break and suck in the grandeur of the Pyrenees. We headed up into an empty field and threw our backpacks to the ground. It was nap time, in the sun.
Chug chug chug cough ...... chuck chug chug cough. Startled, I looked up towards the sound coming from over the meadow.... and couldn't believe what I was seeing. Jamie stood up and checked it out too. In doing so, he caught the attention of the occupants of a 'bubble car' !
Not exactly an all terrain vehicle, it cut across the field and came towards us.
Astoundingly, as it stopped, two very old chaps stepped out. If you now what a bubble car is, you know how impossible this is. They started muttering 'warmly' to us. What they said we'll never know, but they walked over and greeted us warmly.....
We all sat o the grass and talked to each other. We offered cognac and bread, which made them very animated. One of these old farmers stood up and started to unload a huge jug of wine from the vehicle...... a magical vehicle.... and magical wine.....at a magical moment.
They took off their berets, sat by us and I’m sure they told us of how they had helped British airmen across this border. I could be mistaken. But, we were now in Spain and these lovely fellas had become 'friends'.