Twixt France and Spain Part 14

Descending from the kiosque, we continued along the Route de l'Imperatrice, over which the beeches and other trees made a pleasant shade. This is a special walk for invalids, as it is constructed in zigzags of the easiest gradient, and while being both sheltered from west winds and open to the sun, it also commands at various points a good view of the River Valentin, the lower or Discoo Cascade, and the bridge which spans it; as well as the Route Thermale to Argeles, which follows the right bank of the river.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CASCADE DU VALENTIN.]

Most of the numerous cascades in the neighbourhood--thanks to the engineering of the "Empress's Walk" and the road to Argeles--are in easy walking distance for most people, even invalids; those usually visited being the Cascade des Eaux Bonnes, de Discoo, du Gros-Hetre and du Serpent; the Cascade de La.r.s.essec (33/4 miles) requires some fatigue to reach.

The road leading from the river back to the Hotel de France pa.s.ses between two walls of rock against which the houses are built. This pa.s.sage has been made by blasting the solid rock, and it seemed that the work had been one of no small difficulty.

All great excursions were denied us, as neither the Pic de Ger nor the fatiguing Pic de Gabizos were sufficiently free from snow; while the road to Argeles still remained broken down in three places, and it seemed as though July would disappear ere the terrible gaps made by the avalanches could be built up anew.

We started for Eaux Chaudes in the cool of the afternoon, antic.i.p.ating a pleasant drive, and were very far from being disappointed. After retraversing the road to the branching point above Laruns--near which the fields and banks were rich in gentians, violets, scabii, _linariae_, and columbines--we seemed suddenly to plunge into the Gorge de Hourat. There can be little doubt that there is no truer specimen of a gorge in the Pyrenees than this. The piled-up crags overgrown with heather, and the splendid pastures above on the hill-tops, seen in the Cauterets Gorge, were missing; so, too, the varied tints and softer landscape bits of the St. Sauveur defile were absent; but here the ma.s.ses of rock rose straight up on either side, at times seemingly ambitious to hide their summits in the clouds; while the roar of the torrent issuing from the Hourat (or Trou, _i.e._ hole) above which the road pa.s.ses, only served to heighten the grand effect of the scene.

Just after the narrowest part is pa.s.sed, a small chapel may be noticed high above the river on the right. It marks the scene of a frightful accident. The old road, which was in use till 1849, pa.s.sed by the spot, and a heavily-laden diligence full of pa.s.sengers overturned--through the horses taking fright, it is said--and the whole complement were dashed over the rocks into the torrent below. The chapel has since been erected, but though the old road still exists, and, in fact, joins the new one at the Pont Crabe--which beautiful place is admirably depicted in the sketch--there is little danger of such an accident occurring again.

A little further on--viz. about two miles from Eaux Chaudes--we noticed below us as charming a subject as any painter could wish for. A small plot of velvet-like green-sward beside the rus.h.i.+ng river; some trees, leafy almost to extravagance, gracefully arched above; a few sheep descending a narrow track on the hillside; and above all, the immense rocky heights, around the base of which beeches and other trees luxuriantly grew, and many beautiful flowers bloomed; and, thus garlanded at their base, their stern and ma.s.sive summits looked grander still, and completed such a picture of majestic beauty as no lover of nature could fail to enthusiastically admire.

One mile further there is another fine sight, though not of the comprehensive beauty of that just mentioned. This one doubtless is not worth seeing in mid-summer, when the sun has dried up the mountain streams, but when _we_ pa.s.sed that way we could see from the very summit of the hill--above which the pointed Pic de Laruns reared its crest--a ma.s.s of foam issuing from between two rocks, no puny meandering streamlet, but a strong torrent, which, as it dashed from rock to rock, gathered strength and velocity till it rushed amid a cloud of spray into the river below.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CRABe BRIDGE, IN THE EAUX CHAUDES GORGE.]

We saw one or two gentlemen--evidently early visitors like ourselves--anxiously whipping the river for fish, but they caught nothing; in fact, they told us afterwards that it was done with hardly any hopes of catching, since the "professional"--save the name--element came out with rods and nets, so that if the rods didn't answer they could net the pools instead. It seemed to us a remarkably good thing that "professionals" can't do the same in England!

There is another lovely scene not half a mile away from the town, where a path leads from the road to the riverside. There is a plot of green-sward here, and a grove of trees; and the river pa.s.ses under a bridge, that vibrates with the force of the torrent surging against its rocky base. The path over the bridge leads through the leafy glades on the heights that overlook the river, and the town may be regained by crossing another bridge higher up.

Soon after, we were entering Eaux Chaudes (271/2 miles), and having pa.s.sed the Hotel de France on the left, and the gardens and bathing establishment on the right, we drove up to the Hotel Baudot and were courteously received by Madame.

It appeared that we had arrived a day too late, as the marriage of Madame's niece with the hotel _chef_ had been celebrated the day before, and wonderful festivities had taken place in their honour; while the guests in the hotel (fortunately not more than eight in number) had been regaled with champagne and many choice dishes.

While waiting for dinner we strolled about on the terrace, opening out of the dining-room and overlooking the river. It did not need the boxes of bright flowers that lined the terrace sides to entice us there, but they certainly added to the delightful picture of river and trees; and as one face reminds us of another, so this scene carried our memory back to another, but a more lovely one even, because the beauty of the trees was heightened by large bushes of azaleas--bright with various-coloured blooms--growing between. But beauty and comfort do not always go together, and for calm enjoyment this Pyrenean scene had the preference; for the other was in the heart of j.a.pan, at the tiny village of Sakurazawa, and we gazed on the picture through the open _shoji_, [Footnote: Sliding screens, being frames of wood pasted over with paper, acting as doors and windows.] lying on the neat but hard--very hard--mats, that were our tables, chairs, and beds in one; which our host's a.s.surance, that the Mikado himself had slept upon them the year previous, didn't make any softer. The announcement of dinner cut short further musings, and we took our places at the table, profusely adorned with evidences of the previous day's ceremony.

At a table-d'hote of eight or ten people conversation is as a rule easy and general. It requires a so-called "typical Englishman" to keep himself within himself, in a shroud of pride and reserve, and the "typical Englishman" is, thank goodness, nearly out of date. We were very anxious to learn about the plateau above Gabas. Was this plateau really worth seeing; and if so, when was it best to start? Everybody was ready to give their version of the trip, but Mr. and Mrs. Tubbins (if we recollect rightly) seemed the most anxious to speak. Mrs. T. was simply a combination of bolsters which shook with the exertion of speech, while poor Mr. T., a meek, thin, haggard-looking man--and no wonder--seemed to be ready to put in a word if required, but looked in momentary terror of getting a snub instead.

This look was not an unnecessary one; for Mrs. T., with all her anxiety to give information, did not get on very fast, and made many mistakes in names, &c., which her worse-half tried to rectify, with the result that she turned on him with "Frank, I wish you wouldn't interrupt; you are quite wrong, you know!"

However, from the general company we managed to gather a good deal of information, which, as a cloudy day spoilt our own trip thither on the morrow, it may be expedient to repeat. Gabas is only a hamlet of a few houses, and is in itself uninteresting. Situated five miles from Eaux Chaudes, it is reached by a good carriage road, which, crossing the Pont d'Enfer, continues along the left bank of the river the rest of the way, the views being chiefly of granite summits and thick pine forests. But though Gabas makes an excellent resting-place or starting-point for several excursions, no one stays there for any other reason, and tourists from Eaux Chaudes usually pa.s.s it on the way to the Plateau des Bious-Artigues or to Panticosa. The road forks at Gabas, and becomes no longer anything but a bridle path, the right branch leading to the plateau, the other pa.s.sing by the Broussette valley, across the Spanish frontier, to Panticosa. The plateau is reached in one hour and a half, not without exertion, and the view over the Pic du Midi d'Ossau is considered wonderfully fine. Several of our informants, however, had chosen bad days, and after all their labour, found a thick mist over everything that was worth seeing. Among these Mrs. Tubbins had figured, and her goodman had suffered in consequence.

"The idea," she said, "of bringing me all this way, and at my time of life too, simply to see a mist, as if I hadn't seen plenty of them at home!" Of course she had come of her own accord, and the meek and injured one had followed as a matter of course.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE BIOUS-ARTIGUES.]

The journey from Gabas to Panticosa requires a good twelve hours, and generally more; consequently an early start is advisable. It is a favourite way of entering Spain, and much more practicable than the route from Cauterets to the same spot.

Of Eaux Chaudes itself there is but little to say, for with the exception of the hotels, the bathing establishment, and a few shops, there is nothing to form a town. Like Eaux Bonnes it is shut in by the mountains on either side, but it is more oblong in shape, with two parallel streets. The Promenade du Henri IV., which leads southwards from the Hotel Baudot along the side of the river, is a cool and pleasant walk, especially of an evening.

Various opinions exist as to which place is most suitable for a residence, the "Bonnes" or the "Chaudes." In spring probably the former, but the latter certainly in summer; for not only is it free from the bustling, gaily-dressed crowd which throngs its rival, but there is a fresh breeze that blows up the valley which renders it always cool and pleasant; while the scenery is as fine as the most fastidious could wish for.

The Col de Gourzy and the lofty Pic of the same name tower above Eaux Chaudes, and a route to Eaux Bonnes--which to good pedestrians is well worth the exertion--pa.s.ses over the former. The path strikes off from the Gabas road to the left, while yet in the town, and pa.s.ses by the Minvieille "buvette." For the first half-hour the route is the same as that to the Eaux Chaudes grotto; this is an excursion, of two hours there and back, that is in great favour with tourists. Where the path forks, the one to the grotto is left on the right, and after some fatiguing work the Plateau de Gourzy is reached, from which the view on a fine day is splendid. The track then leads through beech glades and box thickets to the "Fontaine de Lagas" (near which a wild and beautiful valley branches off to the right), and finally joins the Promenade Jacqueminot at Eaux Bonnes. Horses may be taken the whole distance, but it is easier for them--if tourists choose this highly-recommended route--when the start is made from Eaux Bonnes.

It rained severely early on the morning of our departure, but later, cleared up into a lovely day, enabling us to start at 8.30. The river and the cascades were full, and the sun glinting on the wet leaves gave a fairy-like appearance to this magnificent gorge. As we looked back from the cascade, which seemed to tumble from the summit of the Pic de Laruns, the clouds gradually rising over the head of the valley disclosed a huge snow mountain [Footnote: The "cocher" called it the Pic d'Estremere, but we had no confirmation of this] to view, that appeared to form an impa.s.sable barrier 'twixt France and Spain.

When we reached Laruns we had a fine view of its pointed peak, and through the morning haze the lofty Pic de Ger over Eaux Bonnes looked imposing indeed. Travelling we found very pleasant. There was no dust, the air was cool, the roads just soft enough for comfort, and the whole valley refreshed with the morning's rain. The people in the fields worked with greater energy, and the bright scarlet hoods of the damsels, many of whom followed the plough, gave a pleasant colouring to an animated scene. We pa.s.sed several flocks of geese, apparently unwilling to proceed at as rapid a pace as the good woman--with her frilled gaiters--who was in charge of them wished; but with those exceptions we hardly met anybody or anything on the road till we had pa.s.sed Louvie.

What we then met were a couple of carts filled with coal, and as we never recollected having seen any such peculiar teams as they were drawn by, we concluded they were "Ossalois," and "peculiar" to the valley. There were eight animals to each cart, four bulls and four horses. The bulls were harnessed in pairs (as in a four-in-hand coach), and acted as wheelers, while the horses, acting as leaders, were harnessed in line, one in front of another. Curious as this arrangement seemed, they made good progress with a very heavy load!

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE PIC DE GER.]

At Sevignac a splendid Guelder rose-tree grew in a small garden over a mill stream, and a very ancient dame very willingly sold us some cl.u.s.ters which were peculiarly fine; in another garden a very fine bush of white _cistus_ was completely covered with blooms. The hedgerows, too, were bright with flowers; the wild Guelder roses and medlars [Footnote: The "makilahs," or slicks peculiar to the Basque people, are made from the wild medlar. They are very heavy, tipped with iron, and unpleasant to carry.] preponderating, but elder bushes were also plentiful, and covered with blossoms.

At Rebenac we stopped at the Hotel du Perigord for coffee and a fifteen minutes' rest, the horses not requiring any more, as the day was so cool. While drinking the "welcome liquid" we watched an old woman out of the window, spinning. Her distaff was apparently very old and dirty, and as she span she seemed to be crooning some ancient ditty to herself, thinking, maybe, of her children and grandchildren, or even of the days when she was herself a child.

We started again when the quarter of an hour was up, and bowled along towards Gan, meeting on the way several natives (men) with their hair in long pigtails, like Chinamen; they looked otherwise decidedly _Bearnais_, but their appearance was peculiar, to say the least of it. Beyond Gan we pa.s.sed into full view of the lovely Coteaux, which afford such pleasant rides and drives from Pau, and as we gradually neared the town, the heat seemed to intensify to anything but a pleasurable degree.

Four hours forty minutes after starting we were once more under the roof of Maison Colbert, with such a luncheon before us as fully justified the hospitable repute that it has always borne.

But Pau was far too hot for us to remain for more than a few days, although the heat was unusually great for that time of the year, and we were very glad when once more on our journey towards the pleasant breezes and blue waters of the Biscay.

CHAPTER XIII.

BIARRITZ.

A warm ride--Bayonne--A "Noah's ark" landscape--Amus.e.m.e.nts --Bathing--Sh.e.l.ls--Cavillers--A canine feat--The pier and rocks--A restless sea--"The Three Cormorants"--Dragon's-mouth Rock--To the lighthouse--Maiden-hair ferns--Mrs. Blunt's adventure--The drive round the lakes--_Osmunda regalis_ ferns--The pine-woods near the bar--St. Etienne and the Guards' cemetery--Croix de Mouguere--Cambo and the Pas de Roland--Anemones--A fat couple--A French scholar --Hendaye--Fuenterabia--A quaint old-world town--The Bida.s.soa --Pasages--San Sebastien--The Citadol and graves--The "Silent Sisters"--Raised prices--Parasols and spectacles.

The journey to Biarritz began comfortably enough, but after the first few miles the heat became very oppressive, and though we had no repet.i.tion of our Montrejeau experience at starting, we felt nevertheless almost as warm as if we had.

Our arrival at Bayonne was a great relief, for the sun had partially retired, and as we crossed in turn the Adour and the Nive, a scent of the "briny" was borne into our omnibus with revivifying effect. Pa.s.sing up one of the narrow old streets to execute a few commissions, we regained the "Place," crossed the drawbridge, and entered the lovely avenues, from which, beyond the "fosse," the twin towers of the beautiful cathedral come into view. On the right is the station of the "steam tram-line," and some hundred yards beyond it the road to Biarritz curves in the same direction.

This road cannot be called beautiful! The never-ending line of poplars along each side turn the landscape into that Noah's ark style which even the soul that could be "contented with a tulip or lily" would hardly admire. Approaching Biarritz, however, the handsome villas and their gardens fully deserve the epithet which cannot in justice be applied to the road. They are indeed beautiful; and to pa.s.s them even in winter, with the camellia trees laden with blossoms and the roses scenting the air, makes comparison with our London gardens very odious indeed!

Under the small-gauge railway-bridge, and past the new "English Club,"

we soon entered the town, [Footnote: The distance between Bayonne and Biarritz is 5 miles.] and driving down the Rue Mazagran into the Place Sainte Eugenie, drew up at the familiar Hotel de Paris, in time for dinner.

Although Biarritz is in the department of the Ba.s.ses-Pyrenees, it is so far away from the mountains that many might consider its introduction into this volume as questionable; we do not therefore intend to say as much as could be said about it. At the same time, it is so greatly recommended by doctors as a beneficial spot for a final "brace up"

before returning to England, after a mountain trip, and is, besides, such a favourite winter residence, that we consider it would be more "questionable" to omit it.

Unlike Pau, its amus.e.m.e.nts are not of a very varied character. In winter, lawn-tennis and b.a.l.l.s are the chief, and concerts occur generally weekly or bi-weekly. As spring a.s.serts herself, bathing commences and picnics become the fas.h.i.+on; and in the early summer--as long as the English remain--tennis and bathing go almost hand-in-hand.

The tennis-ground--which is only a short distance from the English church of St. Andrew's--is well laid out and commodious, possessing an excellent reading room for members' use, as well. Of bathing establishments there are three; the large building in the Moorish style on the Plage, the less pretentious but more picturesque one in the Port Vieux, and the least pretentious and least protected one, under the "falaises" [Footnote: Blue chalk cliffs.] beyond.

The first and last are only used in the height of summer; that in the Port Vieux--from its sheltered position--opens its box-doors as soon as winter really gives place to spring. The scene, when the tide is high on a morning in June, is often an exceedingly pretty one, for to the pristine picturesqueness of the surroundings is added those touches of human nature enjoying itself, which, if it doesn't "make us kin," goes a long way towards it.

The "Port Vieux" is triangular in shape, with the apex inland, along the sides of which the boxes are erected, reaching to the water's edge at high tide. In the middle lies an expanse of deep sand, and the blue waters roll in between the rocks and gently break on a s.h.i.+ngly beach, where the tiniest sh.e.l.ls and pebbles mingle to make the one drop of bitterness in the bather's cup.

When the sandy expanse is crowded with merry children, the roads and seats above filled with spectators, and the water with members of both s.e.xes in varied costumes and "headgears"--not forgetting the boatman in the tiny skiff who is here, there, and everywhere in case he is needed--the scene is a very pleasant one to look upon. Of course there are always some narrow-minded individuals to find fault, some "maiden"

aunts "with spinster written on their brows," who will put up their gold-rimmed gla.s.ses with that peculiar sniff that invariably prefaces some _extra sweet_ remarks, such as, "Dear me, how wicked! Men and women bathing together in that barefaced manner; and ... I do believe there's that forward Miss Dimplechin actually taking hold of Captain Smith's hand, and he a married man too! Thank goodness, I never did such a thing--never!" [Footnote: Did she ever have the chance?]

Above the Port Vieux, on the left, stands Cape Atalaya, with the ruins of an ancient tower, and a flagstaff on its summit. A road leads round its base, pa.s.sing between a circular mound overlooking the "old harbour," and the yard where the concrete blocks are fas.h.i.+oned for the strengthening of the pier.