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Published: April 27th 2006
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StJean1
St Jean de Luz I've enjoyed the Spanish part of my trip enormously but somehow crossing the border feels relaxing and familiar. I haven't spent any significant time in France for several years now but being able to understand a much greater part of what's going on as well as the more orderly environment makes everything seem a lot easier.
I hop off 'El Topo'
the mole: the train that runs under the mountains, at the French town of Hendai. There's the same ETA and Batasuna graffitti to remind you that you're still in a region trying very hard to be independent, but the neatness of the homes and gardens and the quiet of the station lets you know you're in a very different part of it. There's a significant difference in comfort between the little local train (like a couple of London underground carriages on their holidays) from Donostia and the plush TGV. But there's also a significant difference in price...like, about 4 times... The Spanish train takes 40 minutes and costs just over one Euro, the TGV takes 10 minutes, 1 stop and costs 5 - it's a pattern that's going to repeat.
I pick up a copy of the
StJean2
Renault 4 Rallying... excellent 'Course au Large' (Ocean Racing) magazine - it's good to be in a country with its sporting priorities in the right order: Sailing has the 5th largest media coverage (ahead of Rugby and the Olympics) and is the 3rd most sponsored (behind Football and Tennis) sport in France. In fact in Europe generally the sport has a very high profile - sailing sponsorship regularly has been a regular feature of billboards and in shop windows in both Italy and Spain.
In my sleep deprived and runny-nosed state St-Jean is a welcome wind down from the chaos of carnival. I need some recuperation time so I check into a decent hotel (the hostel in San Sebastian was a little overly basic) and after a bit of a rest, head out into the first sunshine for a couple of days. The town is arranged around a bay not dissimilar in shape and size to San Sebastian, but with a lower gentler coastline and a man made breakwaters in place of an island. I head out along a pristine and almost deserted beach round to Pointe Ste-Barbe on the N side of the bay. The sea is absolutely windless but there's a regular tumble of white surf through the nearest harbour entrance which along with the clouds zipping across the sky suggests the low that's stalled in the centre of Biscay over the last few days still has some teeth. I perch up on one of a pair of big concrete blocks set into the headland - an educated guess says they're the bases for WW2 gun emplacements - and watch a couple lobster pot boats plunge out through the swell and work their way north up the coast pausing occasionally to set or retrieve their gear until they disappear in the mist.
After some dejeuner I head to the opposite end of the bay, to the town of Cibourne. Those teeth show themselves as in the space of 10 minutes the wind comes up from nothing to a chilly F5 and the sky clouds over, at least the visibility improves. As I walk round further I can see the holiday flats of Biarritz up to the north. I have a quick look at the fort on the Socoa breakwater, in between dodging the spray that's coming over the sea wall with increasing regularity...
I make it back to St-Jean's main port at just on high water. A steady stream of high sided fishing boats are getting under way - these are deep ocean boats that will probably be gone for several weeks, possibly as far away as Africa, so to arrive just as they're heading off en masse is good timing. The deck and nav lights weave about as the boats underway snake through the angles of the harbour, while trucks pull up to the back of those still waiting to load huge spools of longlines or nets. Back to the hotel (after a very nice seafood paella) I have a closer look at the picture on the wall. Initially I thought it was a painting as it seemed too exaggerated, but on closer inspection it turns out to be a photo - the scene is the north breakwater of St-Jean and behind it a huge green wave just curling over as it breaks. The wave is twice the height of the harbour wall. The harbour wall is 15ft high. I'm glad I go to work in a ship about 10 times bigger than those fishing boats.................
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