Day 57

A bright new day in Pantalones du Pyrenees.

We woke early this morning because we needed to head to the market for some soap to wash our now stinking bodies.  The wife ran to the store and I busied myself with getting the young one’s up and around for the day.  It was going to be a big day.  One of the benefits of our location on the western coast of France is the access to the Ocean and to an Amazing mountain chain not two hours from our home.  Day two of our vacation would be held around the alpine village of Lourdes.  We packed up the wagon and headed east.  I had my heart set on the Col du Tourmalet, made quite famous in my mind by some of the most epic days of the Tour De France.  The exploits of one Marco Pantani and the likes of Armstrong and Indurain still resonate in my memory like the ringing of the Liberty Bell.  I was quite keen on walking the ground made famous by little Marco and Big Mig as well as placing my own American stamp on the area like Armstrong had in years gone by.  I would not be disappointed.  The air quality was somewhat poor and the low haze obscured the great mountain chain until we were nearly upon it.  For the majority of the drive, I was certain that this was a great hoax and there were no mountains here at all.  As if lifted by the hand of God, the haze withdrew and before us stood a grand chain of snow cover peaks overlooking the sparsely populated valley below, littered with the shepherds crop and an ocassional vineyard or two.  Dotting the lowland meadows were a series of very charming towns along the winding road leading to my heart’s desire.  The higher we climbed the more charming they became.  The day was already a success in my mind as I reveled over the Herculean effort that one must put forth to make it a fraction of the way along this route by bicycle.  This seemed to be lost on everyone else in the car, but I was in heaven.  I would soon have my spirit dampened a bit as the sign read: Col du Tourmalet (Fermer).  My French is not that good, but I knew that this meant the pass was closed and I would not get to summit this peak as Armstrong had done so many years ago.  Regardless the obstacle, on I drove, determined to go as far as I could until road conditions would prove too much for the Renault to handle.  We would make it just short of the epic climb, but just far enough to feel the power of the mountain.  We pulled off for a bit of hiking to discover that the youngest of our crew had spilled a majority of his apple juice all over his lap and unfortunately we were not equipped with a spare.  With a spring time chill in the mountain air, he was not up for roughing it.  With our heart set on some hiking, we piled back in the Renault and I pitched her back down the switchbacks to the closest town in hopes of finding a new pair of drawers.  In a neat little alpine village, success was had and a pair of Pyrenees pants were firmly around the youngest’s waist.  Back up the mountain we climbed and just short of a turn in the weather we managed to hike half way up the Pic du Midi.  The views were amazing and everyone reveled at the enjoyment of the day.

Not to be overshadowed by the cycling history of the area, the town of Lourdes has a history all its own.  We stopped their for a pee and ended up eating at a nice pizzeria in the shadow of a monument that could not be ignored.  Lourdes Castle’s written history dates back to as early as 778 when Charlemagne laid siege to the fortress that was then occupied by the Saracens, led by their chief, Mirat.  The year 778 is a bit difficult to wrap your head around, but hits a resounding chord the moment your foot plants itself onto the first step of the winding stone stair case leading to the observation tower.  Walking in the footsteps of Kings.  The steps are worn smooth . . . no, not smooth . . . more than smooth.  They are in fact dished from 1000 + years of foot fall.    It was a staggering tour full of history with a telling past.  The most amazing part of the experience was how un-amazing it really is.  This is the history of Europe.  This is quite commonplace.  It is a history longer than we can possibly imagine as Americans.  We are such a young country and have achieved so much in such a short amount of time, it is easy to forget the centuries of war and strife that has molded the face of Europe and the lands further still.  This was to be an exclamation point on a captivating day of adventure.  Soon nestled in our beach side cabin, it was time to call it a day.  We must check out relatively early in the morning, so a trip down to Biarritz to enjoy a bit more time on the beach is the plan.  Did I mention that we have to clean the place before we leave?  No cleaning supplies, so I guess we will be purchasing those as well.  So much for the kids’ college education . . .