Aff we go...a game of red+white stripes
...I'm trying to sleep. The German family complete with washing line were playing ball games till midnight by my head. 6am rise after a decent salty-air sleep. Pans and stove produce instant espresso's...Tom comes round after crawling from his 1-man (literally that big) tent, it's ends sagging in the coastal breeze. Bad pegging here, lets move on. 6:30am - Camping Higuer security tells us E10.40 (human+tent) each? We don't argue and pay the man, starting GR-11 past the first red+white marker minus E5.20 but full of joy in our English speaking hearts (Cabo Higuer strikes me as a once contemplative writers paradise for quiet thoughts and a good place to start any adventure - reminded me of Tangier). It's hard to comprehend this journey, bit like monopoly when you've got too many property's, I'm looking forward to leaving this town and ascending into the Basque woodland. Paul Lucia, the writer of our somewhat loose-with-the-truth Cicerone guide (we rip each day's pages out and I stuff them into my left pocket, the map+compass in the right) has a lot to answer for as we get lost leaving the campsite! Walking, rather strolling proudly, into town we purchased coffee, pico sandwiches from a local bar. Then fresh cheeses + pan (bread), chorizo, fruit and juicy tomatoes (the Spanish tend to use tomato instead of butter on bread - I was instantly a fan), leaving the streets for our route proper by 10am (I was navigating naturally!) The first parallel red+white stripe on a sad looking lamp-post signalled the end of town (and delightful convenience) and the start of hills...incidentally a steep pista to a farm full of cows and dogs! We walked on through green + brown woodland, up+down, east then west, always trending SW as we would for the next 43 days, to the fringes of one district Basque and into another Navarra (excellent markings and secret ETA bases everywhere). Crossing a dam at halfway we wandered into San Anton for iced coffee and fresh toe plasters. My 6pound fifty t-shirt (white) was bearing up well to the now 35degree heat, Tom's trespass boots were being exchanged for 'extreme sandals'! The terrain was mostly broken paths and uphill so we made slow progress, our packs extremely heavy and burying daggers into our scrawny shoulders (my pack is almost unbearable, almost toppling over when I hawl it back onto my body after water breaks, I must persevere as it now contains all but essentials) I forgot to mention the Tesco bag full of instant porridge and cappuccinos we left back at Higuer. Should have posted it to the halfway station! Onto Vera de Bidasoa (I think of this Vera, where does she live, how great to own all this fine land). We stop in town and enquire at Hostal Eurankia - no room but too posh for us Jakies on tour! So after fruit juices we embark boldly onto the first section of the next day in true GR-11 spirit (stupidity). Now 35km into the route - put that in your book Lucia! So finally here we are camped high on the other side of Vera, with a 360degree panorama of the Atlantic through to the distant lowlands of Pyrenees. Pico Pena Aio and beyond set-out before us like my laminated rough guide map (bit shit but gave me an overall picture of the country). Had to dump some more gear by the water point above town - down went my shampoo, spare hat and I gave Tom my solar charger (felt bit bad but I was almost crippled by today). Fresh from head dipping we pitched next to a shepards hut high on the rim of a bracken field. Shepards pie in a bag + released from bag weight I drifted hazily off into a Spanish dream.
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