Bonjour, Col d’Osquich!

Day 33: Espelette → Oloron-Sainte-Marie (62 miles / 5,469 feet)

It was hard to wake up this morning. The sun rises later now, and our little bungalow beside the stream was so quiet and peaceful that neither of us felt any urgency to move.

Eventually we staggered around and went outside to visit our new friends: the two donkeys, the miniature horse, and the full-sized horse. We fed them a few more chestnuts, which they treated like candy. They took each one so gently from our hands that sometimes they were almost too careful and knocked it onto the ground. We could have happily stayed there all morning.

We finally packed up and ride over to Frederique and Vincent’s main house for breakfast at 8:30. We had hoped to be riding by nine, but the conversation was far too enjoyable to rush. Breakfast was wonderfully French: healthy and simple: bread, cherry jam, fruit, yogurt, and a little Camembert. By the time we said our goodbyes and rolled away, it was closer to 9:30.

We knew we had a full day ahead of us. Sixty-two miles made it another metric century, with nearly 5,500 feet of climbing mixed into the deal. Before leaving Espelette, Jim made one important stop to buy a small jar of crushed Piment d’Espelette, the town’s famous red pepper. It seemed like the proper souvenir from a village where peppers hang from white façades like Christmas decorations.

The route carried us east through the green folds of the French Basque foothills. We moved from the historic province of Labourd into Lower Navarre and eventually crossed into Soule. The roads rose and fell through pastures, forests, and small farming valleys beneath magnificent skies. The temperature was nearly perfect, and we made good time despite several climbs that demanded our attention.

Along the way we passed two women carefully searching beneath the chestnut leaves for mushrooms. Autumn foraging is serious business here, and they were completely focused on finding whatever little treasures were hiding on the forest floor.

We also practiced one of the few French words we know well.

“Bonjour!”

“Bonjour!”

It works surprisingly often.

At Lidl we gathered the ingredients for a picnic: hummus, ham, bread, chips, and two Cherry Cokes. After the delicious cherry jam at breakfast, we had apparently developed a temporary cherry addiction. We found a quiet place beside a beautiful church, made our sandwiches, drank our Cherry Cokes, and prepared ourselves for the biggest climb of the day.

The Col d’Osquich rises between Saint-Just-Ibarre and Musculdy, crossing the old boundary between Lower Navarre and Soule. The sign at the top reads 500 meters, modest by Pyrenean standards, but our loaded bicycles made sure it felt like a real mountain pass.

The Tour de France first crossed this country during its legendary 1910 journey through the Pyrenees. The Col d’Osquich later returned to the Tour in 1919 and again in 2006, when it was rated a Category 3 climb. We were moving considerably slower than the professionals, but we still celebrated beside the summit sign as if someone might be waiting with yellow jerseys.

Beyond the col, the road descended into the Soule valley and carried us through Mauléon-Licharre before turning toward Béarn. The profile looked friendlier, but the rolling hills and long stretches of gradual one-percent climbing slowly drained what remained in our legs. A one-percent grade sounds like nothing until it continues mile after mile at the end of a metric century.

We reached Oloron-Sainte-Marie at about 4:00 and wisely decided to check into our Airbnb before shopping. Or at least it seemed wise until we walked toward the grocery store in an enormous downpour. A pizza place tempted us, but we remained committed to our highly sophisticated French dinner of microwavable lasagna, salad, and assorted treats.

Once the rain eased, we wandered through the quiet historic streets. Oloron-Sainte-Marie sits at the meeting point of the Gave d’Aspe and Gave d’Ossau, two mountain rivers that join here to form the Gave d’Oloron. The city itself grew from two once-separate communities, Oloron and Sainte-Marie, which were finally united in 1858. Tonight the rain had chased almost everyone indoors, leaving the old quarters and river bridges unusually peaceful.

Back at the apartment, we caught up on FindPenguins, checked in with friends, and relaxed. Tomorrow we ride to visit Aude, the Warmshowers host who welcomed us in the Pyrenees two years ago. After that, if the weather and our legs cooperate, we hope to tackle the legendary Col du Tourmalet.

It is 9:45, the posts are finally caught up, and two tired cyclists are winding down for the night.

Bonne nuit from Oloron-Sainte-Marie. 🇫🇷Read more