Dave the Nomad

I took an overnight train from Paris to Bayonne with great success compared to my ordeal in Innsbruck. I overslept to my delight after a sleepless start to the ride and woke up in the nearby border city of Hendaye. I decided it would be a good place to wander around, and was even more keen on the idea when I found a map displaying several beaches. I walked through town to the beach just as the sun was peaking over the hill on the east side of the city and watched early morning runners skim across the clean packed wet sand beach as low-tide was approaching. To the left side of the beach are two pillars of stone reaching up out of the sea that looked intriguing.

After a quick dip in the brisk but refreshing water, and a breakfast on a nearby bench, I could see locals heading towards the rocks being uncovered by the receding water. I had my full pack with me, and as such sticked to a drier course but still managed to see the near transparent shrimp, anemones, crabs and urchins in the tidal pools being prodded by people with long poles. As I walked over to the cliffs and protruding pillars I found a small alcove beach that looked interesting. The sun was successfully warming up the land and there was a constant sound of wet movement as crabs scattered for cover and barnacles sealed themselves off until the waves lapped back inland. It was almost perfect white noise with the waves in the background, and a steady fizz around me. I found a couple shelters on the beach and decided it would be a safe place to drop my pack and relax.

As it happens my curiosity got the better of me and I started climbing up the steep trail out of the alcove beach and ended in a Sound-of-Music like green field. I peaked the trail just as a group of elderly people were walking by on a tour. They were quite perplexed by my sudden appearance. From up here I could see the Atlantic Ocean clearly, and had a good sight on my pack below and the abandoned rocks protecting it.

I walked along the trail to the cliff edges to find not only an amazing view, but also several WWII era bunker turrets. All but one were fenced off and obviously heavily damaged. There was one that was open and had a memorial on top of it. Really cool to see and just an amazing sight. My camera died while in the bunker, but I continued to hike around the cliff a bit more and went back for my pack and headed back into the city to catch a train to Biarrtiz.

Biarritz is a small surf town made famous by Napolean as a summer get-away. The hostel I stayed at was open spacious and filled with a group of NATO student representatives in town for a conference on Afghanistan. As they all left for a conference event I decided to walk into town and check out the local flavor. The Basque people are very proud and distinctly different than both the French and Spanish. The architecture had bits of Norman and French influence, but the roofs had a clear Terra Cotta feel. After chatting with some newly made friends at the hostel and I took some quality internet time to read up on the lovely economic and political events back in America ,

I finally decided to board a train to my next stop, Salamanaca. The ride has been outstanding. The hills are bursting with unique topography and sun drenched forests and and glens. Its hard to get any quality photos as the trees are constantly in the way. The sun creates a bronzing effect on the tips of the deciduous trees, and the grandiose clouds are holding off just enough to create a contrast in lighting.

Sometimes borders on trains are seamless and unnoticed, and other times they are not. No one has checked my tickets or presence on the train since Paris, but at Irun (in Spain) I had to change trains, go through a security checkpoint, with x-ray and metal detectors, seen security guards on every train platform, and have had my ticket checked after every stop made by the train.