Every morning, Keith starts his day by lifting each bike to check that he is carrying more weight than me. This seems to make him happy. I have convinced him that the weight of the responsibility of organising our route and food is equal to him lugging around an extra few kilos. He appears to have bought this.
We’re definitely in the Basque region now. There are places names that don’t belong in France: Kometeykoborda, Xapatainbaita, Larrerxeberria. Not a clue. My paltry French surrenders.
Today we got rained on heavily, saw plenty of lightning and got roasted on the beach at Vieux-Bocau, one of the many dune-backed Atlantic surf beaches along this coast.
Finally managed to get Keith to come swimming today (Keith 1 – Sarah 4). He’s only went in the sea for the first time about 7 years ago (he hated the idea of it as a child) and forgets every time how much he loves it. Properly forgets and gets all uppity when I try to remind him. My Dad was a big sea swimmer (my Mum never went in) and I grew up mostly in the water on holidays. I try and persuade Keith over and over again, he eventually he gives in (although on the previous 3 swims I had on this trip, he didn’t) with a ‘do I have to say yes to everything you say?’ then spends the rest of the time laughing his head off and saying how lovely it is. I need to video him so he can remember.
Had another food blog fail. Bought local Landais brioche which is traditionally flavoured with rum, vanilla and orange flowers and ate half of it before remembering we’re supposed to be documenting these adventures.
Rest assured it was incredibly good, despite a serving suggestion of having it with custard, sand seemed to be more than an adequate accompaniment. On the subject of beach food, I resurrected a melted bar of chocolate by taking it into the sea to cool it hard again. This worked a treat despite water getting through the wrapper and leaving an undeniably salty taste to the chocolate. Not enough to stop us eating it though.
More storms predicted and looming this evening. We’re in a motel. Campsites and most hotels completely full. Luckily this room has space for 2 bicycles (and a washing line).
Tomorrow to Biarritz, to hang our pants with the glitterati.