Day 16: From France to Spain

I took about five cold showers through the night and still managed less than five hours' sleep. It never really cooled down, and the cold shower in the morning stopped me sweating for about 30 seconds. It wasn't yet hot outside, but it certainly wasn't cool either. I was pleased to be leaving early with 38°C forecast later in the day.

I checked out at 7.30 am and walked the three blocks to the metro station. Straight down the steps, then straight back up again after discovering I was on the wrong platform. I waited less than a minute for the train, then at the end of the line walked about 50 metres to the C200 airport bus stop, where the bus arrived within another couple of minutes.

I tapped my card on the ticket machine. Nothing. Wrong machine. I squeezed my way to the front of the bus with my rucksack and tried the driver's payment machine. Still nothing. I tapped again before someone said something in French. I don't understand French at the best of times, let alone before 8 am on less than five hours' sleep, so replied, "Je ne parle pas français."

The driver explained the card machine wasn't working and asked if I had cash. I bought a paper ticket, validated it, then fought my way back to the luggage rack and enjoyed the journey.

By 8.30 am we arrived at the airport after a scenic drive through the countryside. The journey took about an hour, only slightly slower than the official RhôneExpress service, but at around one fifth of the price.

Although quite modern from the outside, Lyon has the dirtiest airport I've ever been through. My easyJet flight was delayed. No surprise there.

I slept through most of the flight and arrival at Biarritz was quick. From there I found plenty of conflicting information online about getting from the airport to Irun, where I was starting my walk across the Pyrenees.

I originally thought I needed to head north to Bayonne, but instead caught a bus south to Saint-Jean-de-Luz. I made the delayed train, but because it had technically already departed, the lady in the ticket office couldn't sell me a ticket. The computer said no, so back to the bus station I went.

I then missed the first bus while queuing to buy a ticket. Eventually I reached Grande Plage in Hendaye. It's a beautiful beach, but I was melting in the afternoon sun and still hadn't reached Spain. A small passenger boat took just five minutes across the bay, and at last I was somewhere I could communicate with people again.

After stocking up on drinks and some bread, I sweated my way another 4 km along the coast to my campsite.

Here I am, writing this blog post from my tent overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. So as the sun sets on one adventure, another begins: walking the length of the Pyrenees on the GR11.

Follow my GR11 journey: https://traveltrekrun.com/gr11/