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| Breakfast with Agnes in large farm kitchen |
A Basque adventure was a highlight of September 2014. Using Bayonne as a first stop, Peter started to practice his schoolboy French (dated 60 years ago!). Detailed map in hand and the smallest Ford on the road in Peter's hands we set off for La Rhune, a short distance from Bayonne. The petit train with vintage 1924 cars took us to the top of the mountain for a view of the coast and the beginning of the Pyrenees. We followed our noses to St. Etienne de Baigarry and found a lovely Basque farmhouse for a farm visit. Agnes had spent some months in Scotland in her youth and her English proved better than Peter's French. The house was huge with bedrooms enough for her 3-generations and visitors. The home has been in her family for generations and her husband moved in with her and she keeps her maiden name. Even her husband is known by her surname in the village.
A few miles down the small rural roads we came to Larrau. A beautiful mountain village. Nearby we walked a steep trail to the Holzarte gorge. A suspension bridge over an 850' gorge was impressive. Beautiful wildflowers like cranaesbill, gential and a purple bell-shaped flower were still in bloom. A sharp shower released a deluge later in the day, but luckily we had just entered our hotel and were secure and dry with magnificent views of
the heavy downpour.
We followed roads with more cows on the highway than cars and made our way over Port de Larrau into Spain passing through lovely beech forests. Slowly we descended onto the Spanish plains of Rioja country where we planned to taste the fine red wines. Spend a night in Laguardia which has historic wine cellars tunneled underneath the city. Toured one cellar and tasted two local wines. a Crianza and Tempranillo--both a bit tannic for me and served very cold. I was using all 40 words in my Spanish vocabulary to order dinner and get around in this town. We also saw quite a few pilgrims walking during the day.
Several nights later we reached a small, but exquisite mountain range called Picos de Europa and took a cable car up to the top from the town of Potes. The limestone peaks are not super high--maybe 8,000' at the top, but because of their ruggedness, they are dramatic. We drove a semicircular route around the range in order to get into it from different angles, spending several nights at the base. We walked a short way into the most famous 12-mile walk through the mountains along the Garganta de Cares, a trail following a river that cuts through the range. Spectacular cuts through rock lead you along a fairly level path along the base of the gorge. We met many European hikers, but few Americans.
Heading back toward the coast we night stopped in Santillana del Mar, a really lovely medieval village. Woke early in the morning and Peter said, "I hear a lion.!" Well, he was right. A zoo is located about 3 miles out of town and it was indeed a lion's roar he heard. The Altamira Cave museum was a highlight nearby.
Back to the coast where we followed a larger highway up and down over the rugged, pine covered hills, dropping down into red-tile covered villages and some high-rise hotel resorts. Saturday night in Lekeito was an adventure. We patiently waited until 8:30 p.m. to order dinner and were still the earliest to order. Locals lingered over coffee or a glass of wine for two hours chatting with friends before ordering. As we walked through town on our way back to our car after 10 p.m. the streets were jammed with folks chatting and laughing out on the streets, wine glasses in hand, kids running around through the crowded streets--the night was young for them!
Our excuse to go to Colorado in September was to attend the Jazz Festival in Vail, joining up with California friends there. We went early to tour through Rocky Mountain National Park after the summer crowds simmered down. The elk were enjoying browsing the local golf course and even some of Estes' Park municipal landscaping. One male bugled his harem across a local bike path I happened to be on early one morning.
Rocky Mountain National Park was splendid--still some alpine flowers out and not totally frosty, but suggestions of fall in the air. We drove to the top of Mt. Evans and took it slow at 14,130' on a cool, but bright day. Mountain goats and mountain sheep greeted us along the roads. We also passed the northern most grove of Bristlecone Pines at about 13,000'.
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