Is it Friday?

Another easy day with a drive to the coast, a walk up a giant sand dune, pizza for lunch. 

We looked at some houses and the colour of our new kitchen was discovered, then lost and then rediscovered as we drove.

Dropped into Leclerc, an enormous supermarket that is apparently not the biggest around. With some help I found the chocolate aisle. My refusal to purchase corn chips shows how much I am growing as a person. 

While Jeremy and Claire went to a movie, we babysat and managed not to set the smoke alarms off when my "caramelised" quesadilla was browned within a cm of its life.

Introducing Jeremy, Claire and Emma

Most of our holidays are go go go but this one is a little different. We did arrive in France and were doing stuff non-stop for a week, but now we are back in Bordeaux and doing a lot more of nothing much. So today's 'not much' meant that us,  Jeremy (son) and Emily (granddaughter) had to be out of the house before 9am because Claire (daughter-in-law) has work meetings. Is it because I have eaten all of the Kit Kat bites?

We hopped in the car and drove off to a nice medieval town (Saint-Émilion). Just the right amount of churchetecture for my liking and some very strange church murals.

Lunch was had there and despite the recommendation of galettes, I had the big dessert cup full of ice cream, because I can.

Back home, we took Emma for a walk to the park, where her main interest was attempting to eat grass and flowers. We all wanted to sleep. 

Back home again for dinner and a game of Scrabble that I didn't come last in (a rare occurrence that proves my constant watching of 8 Out of 10 Cats is paying dividends).

Back to Bordeaux

After we found out yesterday that the 9:30 bus was full and we hadn't booked, we booked the 11am bus and had a sleep in ... except that the alarm still went off at 6:50. Annette headed down the road to find pastries, we ate them with the leftover juice and Pepsi from yesterday and just did nothing until 10am, when we headed by foot to the bus station and headed for San Sebastian (I remembered that by myself). It was a very scenic route through (sometimes literally) the mountains and did make me wonder why on earth we walked over them the previous days.

Train to France, train to Bordeaux, several laps around the station in Jeremy’s car (as Siri was very confused), and back to our base.

There were some poor meal decisions made on the way

and a home cooked meal was welcomed.

The Editor may be a bit better and the super dose of Ibuprofen purchased at the Farmacia this morning may have helped, but it's amazing what a good cup of tea can do to her (but not Earl Grey, because serving that up to her will leave you in hot water).

We loaded our stinky clothes in the washing machine and had a good sleep (apart from the regular coughing fits).

I know I would regret it but I really want to buy a pizza from a vending machine. What could go wrong?

Tippy Toe

On this walk through nature, sometimes nature calls. It's important, if travelling with someone, that you have a lookout, should some unexpected fast walker come around the bend whilst you are in the middle of your business. Of course you also need a way to communicate the fast walker is coming around the bend with a code. We chose Tippy Toe in deference to a Seinfeld episode.

We never got to use it as you get a good feel for your position in the race to the next town. You go past people, other people go past you and on it goes.

So yesterday, after about 3km, we caught up with an older Australian couple, who from the previous day we knew were slower walkers. We stopped briefly and they continued on at the top of the hill. 

30 seconds later and about 20 metres ahead of us, I noticed them  quickly step behind a poplar. Passing a quick glance, the situation was her squatting and reaching for a roll of toilet paper, and him standing right next to her being useless. Come on, at least assume the lookout position man. Know your position and give her a chance of a private moment in nature. And not a tippy toe to be heard.

Forfeit or The Lycra Doesn't Lie

What looked like a forfeit for not having enough players to start the game has turned into a famous victory.

Is there anything that a piece of cake for breakfast can't do?

Just prior to breakfast, the editor was not sure she could start the game today and was considering a bus to Pamplona. Seems like the banana cake for breakfast did the trick.

An 8:40am departure on what the sign said was a 20.5 km walk. It's pants are now on fire.

The "flat" stage sure threw in some uphill early, just to see how our tired legs would feel. Unfortunately, late in the day it also threw in some bigger hills.

Once you start, there is no other way, so as poor as she felt, Annette kept going to the point of near exhaustion and in need of a toilet break a lot earlier than Google revealed one to use.

Earlier I had eaten yesterday's leftover ham and cheese baguette that was mainly stale and may or may not have spent the night next to the heater.

This leg of the trip had nowhere to get food apart from a random vending machine and a couple at the top of the last big climb with an Esky who sold me a well deserved Coke. 

It was probably the most varied types of paths we had encountered and probably the least scenic.

One path was particularly narrow and of course today was the day that lycra on bikes was on the trail. They would pass you, then get off their bikes to walk over rocks, so we kept catching them. At the vending machine, I wanted to take a profile picture of the guy with the super big gut and loose fitting lycra down under, but I hope to erase this memory so didn't. The lycra did not lie. It was not good.

Annette was fuelled by a Le Snak. That's not enough but her dodgy stomach said it was enough.

The last 5km were flat but our legs are failing us. One wrong turn cost us extra metres but we finally crossed the river and we're nearly there.

And then we hit the last big hill with a speed camera at the summit just to mock us.

One seemingly final irony was entering our hotel. Seriously?

Our room is on the 3rd floor. There are steps leading to the lift, and stairs after. Sigh. The pain is real.

The Editor slept, I watched the Big Bang Theory in Spanish and we headed out for dinner. Too many choices and not enough desire to eat led us to a supermarket of sadness. Annette and her dodgy tummy enjoyed a salad, my Russian Salad on bread rolls rated a 4/10, the Portuguese tarts were nice and for the first time on holidays, Pepsi Max made an appearance.

My body wants to sleep but it's also threatening to cramp. Something to look forward to.

Not so hilly

It's 6:22pm. I'm cold and lying on my single bed, wrapped in a blanket because it's so cold in this room and the heater less than a metre away is mocking me by refusing to do what its name suggests. 

How did I get here?

Depending on who said what, some 21.5 to 22.5 km ago, or roughly 37,000 steps, we started leg 3 of the walk (the flat stage)

The sign said 20.7, the app 21.34 and final result was 22.46 km.

All brekkied up on a ham and cheese croissant (the editor went with cheese and ham), toast with jam, OJ, a yoghurt and a coffee or tea depending on your personal beliefs, we hit the trail.

It started nicely, had some hilly (up) moments, various terrain, different paths, some great views and a demoralising last 5 km.

There were some cute little towns that were left with less pastries than before we arrived, a welcome toilet, a coffee machine, and our left over bananas from breakfast to help us conquer the distance. 

The last 5 km were yuk, downhill to 26 degree slopes that, at the end of a long day, played havoc with all those body parts that were hurting.

Still lots of cows and horsies to see (many ponies had cowbells, or as they are now called in these days of political correctness gone crazy, Farm Animal Noise Making Musical Instruments). Try putting that on the back cover of "Don't Fear the Reaper" by Blue Oyster Cult.

Farm animal noise-making musical instruments

But we made it, found our hostel, couldn't get in until we tracked down the caretaker, and then got sent out to the footpath to stamp our feet to dislodge the mud we had collected.

Hallelujah, after the walk we have a downstairs room. Of course we had to walk up a very squeezy spiral staircase to register. Sigh.

We went looking for a shop but failed. We found somewhere for breakfast tomorrow, The Editor bought some milk so that she could re-tea her depleted body, I may have eaten a packet of Shapes (at least we don't have to carry them tomorrow) and in 9 minutes we will search for a restaurant down the road. 

I will report back later ... the coughing coming from the other side of the room is a worry.

The only restaurant we found was locked. We went to the cafe next door and settled for whatever these are:

Another tea and a hot chocolate and it's bed time, although in late breaking news, the shower sucks and has given me something to look forward to tomorrow. 

My calf muscles hurt. I want  to sleep but sunset at 9:50pm is an hour away and whilst once cold, it's now boiling. 

Holidays are fun.

Oh wait, the heater is now working.