EAUX BONNES AND EAUX CHAUDES.
Carriage _v_. diligence--Early birds--Height of
absurdity--Diminutive donkeys--A whitened region--"Crystal
clear"--Washerwomen and their gamps--A useful town-hall--A halfway
house--Moralising--A much-loved pipe--An historic ruin--A noteworthy
strong box--"Ici on rase"--Where are the bears?--Women in
gaiters--Picturesque costumes--A lovely road--A "perfect" cure--A
spring scene--A billiard-playing priest--A well-placed pavilion--The
Valentin and its cascades--Through solid rock--Gaps in the road--A
grand scene--Wanted, an artist--A fine torrent--Professional
fishers--Lucky guests--Musings--Poor Mr. Tubbins--Bonnes _v_.
Chaudes--Over the Col de Gourzy--Peculiar teams--Guelder
roses--Spinning.
Next year, travellers with luggage will probably be able to reach Eaux
Bonnes in a much shorter time than now, since the railway ought then to
be in working order as far as Laruns; but at the period when this was
written, the only choice of conveyances lay between a clumsy diligence
and a comfortable carriage.
Very few people would be likely to hesitate between the two, provided
they were not travelling alone, and in that case even, they would
probably only take the former as an "experience."
The "diligence" which starts from the Hôtel de la Poste at Pau has
three compartments, for a seat in any of which the respective charges
are 8 frs. 80 cents, 7 frs. 70 cents, and 6 frs. 60 cents. The
"first-class" seats--which are of course the best--are placed behind
the driver, and a large dusty-looking hood shields the passengers from
the rain, but not from the dust, nor, since it is black and low, from
the heat of the sun. The position therefore, even with ample
accommodation, is a trying one, but when tightly packed, and wedged in
with luggage to boot, on a warm summer or even spring day, the lot of
an individual during the 5-1/2 hours' journey, with only a half-hour's
break between, would, like the policeman's, be certainly not "a happy
one."
When a party are going it is of course cheaper to take a carriage,
which may be had for from 35 to 50 francs to do the trip in one day, or
at the rate of 25 francs per diem, taking it for two days or more. As
the distance between Pau and either Eaux Bonnes or Eaux Chaudes is
271/2 miles, and the distance of the one watering-place from the other
61/4 miles, the actual mileage from Pau and back again is 611/4 miles,
to perform which in one day, and see the two towns as well, is a
feat--though often done--hardly to be recommended. At least two days
should be given to the task, and we do not think they would be
regretted.
The heat in Val d'Ossau during the summer months is very great, and the
lumbering old diligence usually runs during the hottest part of the
day; we preferred an early start, and by half-past six were on the
road, meeting a few people apparently wending their way towards the
market, with flowers and vegetables for sale. Crossing the bridge and
through Jurançon, where hardly a soul was astir, we sped along the
dusty road to Gan (5 miles), at which town--one of the chief centres of
the wine district--a road to Oloron branches off to the right. Here the
inhabitants were really beginning to bustle; and as it was getting on
towards eight o'clock, they were nothing too early, although they may
have held a different opinion. At the corner of one of the streets we
came upon a team drawing a long cart, which we unanimously christened
the "height of absurdity." A pair of 17-hand horses were in the shafts,
and in front, attached as a leader, was the smallest of donkeys. Miss
Blunt thought it the _smallest donkey in the world_; but we have
met with so many lately in the Pyrenees which were in turn, in her
opinion, the smallest she had ever seen, that by this time the smallest
donkey might be but little bigger than a rat; this, however, was not
the case, as Mr. Sydney will attest.
The valley grew more lovely as we progressed, with the winding Néez
stream running with merry music beside the road, and although Mrs.
Blunt did not indulge--as on the way to Cauterets--in any raptures of
her own, she was quite willing to agree with the rest that the frequent
resemblance of the scenery to many of the lovely bits we have in Wales
was most pleasantly apparent.
Shortly before reaching the blanched region of the lime-works (71/2
miles), we caught a momentary glimpse of the Pic du Midi d'Ossau (9466
ft.), on which the summer sun had of late so relentlessly played, that
the snowy crown had quite disappeared. Rebénac (93/4 miles) was reached
at 8.40, and there we crossed the Néez by a stone bridge, the stream
then running on our right, and continuing thus for three kilomètres
farther (11 miles from Pau), when it issues from the Grotto du
Néez--only a few yards from the road. From this grotto a great part of
the torrent is diverted, being utilised to supply Pau with its pure and
sparkling fluid. Half-an-hour after leaving Rebénac we passed through
the village of Sévignac, (123/4 miles), and had a splendid view of the
Val d'Ossau from the bridge which overlooks Arudy, and which is
overlooked in turn by a fine and well-situated house.
We had barely time to appreciate the curious rocks which abound near
Arudy, when we passed the road leading off through that town to Oloron,
and came in sight of a merry group of washerwomen, whose enormous
umbrellas--being unnecessary, since it was perfectly fine--were open in
a row, and with their shades of magenta, green, and blue, without
mentioning sundry patches of other shades, made a wonderful contrast to
the green bushes fringing the river.
At 9.40 we entered Louvie Juzon (16 miles), with its old church and
curious belfry-tower, and its "mairie" turned into a school--for the
nonce at least; and passing the latter, we crossed the fine bridge over
the Gave d'Ossau, on the other side of which the Oloron road leads off
through Izeste to the right, and the courtyard of the Hôtel des
Pyrénées bids us enter and rest.
How gladly the occupants of the diligences descend, for the short while
adjudged sufficient, at this customary half-way house, who but
themselves can tell? Even we were glad to let the horses have an hour's
rest, and to enjoy meanwhile some good hot coffee and chicken. The inn
itself was certainly not a paradise; but there were some lovely fields
behind it, and in front, across the road, there was an old table and an
older seat among the trees, down by the swift-flowing river. A charming
place for moralising indeed! None of us, however, were much in the
style of the "melancholy Jacques," or, with our eyes on some vigorous
fisherman higher up the river, we might have begun:
"And yet it irks us, these bright speckled trout,
Being native swimmers in this river, should
From their own limpid pools, by gay, false flies
Be cruelly decoyed."
Instead of this, however, we returned to the inn, where we saw a worthy
count endeavouring to clean a huge meerschaum pipe that he handled with
evident fondness, and finding our carriage ready--it being then nearly
eleven o'clock--we continued our journey.
It was now that the real Val d'Ossau commenced, and though the drive so
far had been much enjoyed, we soon passed into scenery both more fine
and more wild. One kilomètre from Louvie on the left stands the ancient
Château de Géloz (161/2 miles) on a small hill, and on another hill
beside it--of corresponding size--stands a church. The view here, with
the village of Castets behind, the beautiful river below, and the
wooded slopes and massive rocks above, was especially charming.
With many lovely fields on either side of us we drove at a smart pace
towards Bielle (181/4 miles), and at a quarter-past eleven entered the
town, which in bygone days was the capital of Ossau. Here the
celebrated Coffre d'Ossau, that contained archives dating from the year
1227, was kept; and it is a noteworthy fact that the presence of the
mayors of three towns, besides that of the President of the Valley
Council, was necessary before this "strong box" could be opened.
There are many old houses and objects of interest, including some
mosaics, to be seen in the town, and among other things that attracted
our attention was a large board, painted in the most modern style, with
a pair of scissors at one side and an open razor at the other, and the
"welcome" information--"Ici on rase" underneath.
The village of Bilhères, situated above Bielle on the slopes of the
hill, is not without interest on account of the richness of its copper
mines, while during the dry season a track leads from it over the Col
de Marie Blanque to the Vallée d'Aspe.
As we continued our journey the frequent puffs of dust alone gave us
any trouble, but they caused us at times to screen our eyes and miss
the view. The valley, now at its widest, with pastures high up on the
hills seemingly as fertile as those beside the river, all bright with
flowers or studded with well-leaved trees, spoke of peace and
prosperity. It would have been hard indeed to imagine a huge and
ferocious bear appearing among such cultivation, although the valley
still retains its ancient name, signifying that it was once the resort
of these animals; but a "dancing bear" is the only specimen of the race
seen about there now.
At half-past eleven we passed through the village of Bélesten (20
miles), and a little beyond, when once more among the fields, came in
view of a curious sight. Among the many fields, variously cultivated,
was a square one dotted over with small manure heaps in rows. On the
top of several of the heaps, native aprons (belonging, we presumed, to
girls at work in the vicinity) were neatly placed. Was this a new
fashion of rearing mushrooms, or a native invention for the propagation
of aprons? No one could say, so we have given it up!
Further on we noticed a lovely little village among the trees on the
hillside to the left; our coachman called it Louvie la Haute, and we
have heard no other name, as it is too insignificant to be mentioned in
a guide-book.
One peculiarity of this valley seemed to be the wearing of frilled
gaiters or leggings by the women. They seem to supply the place of
stockings and shoes, being visible from just below the knee, and
descending well over the instep, so as to hide everything but the toes.
It must have been market-day at Laruns (233/4 miles), for when we
arrived there at noon the streets were so full of carts and people that
it was a matter of difficulty to get past. If the extra bustle had
betokened one of the fêtes, of which the chief is held on August 15th
annually, we should have been far from disposed to grumble, since it is
at these Laruns fêtes alone now that the old picturesque Ossalois
costumes can be seen. M. Doré has depicted a few natives in these
costumes at their devotions in the ancient church that stood beside the
route; but no one is likely to do so again, as the edifice--when we
passed it--was falling into ruins and looked in a deplorable condition,
the finely-sculptured doorway being partly hidden by the fallen débris.
But not only the church, but more or less the whole village, seemed in
a tumble-down condition, and this appeared to us especially strange, as
everywhere around prosperity seemed to reign; and further, since the
railway from Pau, which was to be opened this year, appeared nearly
completed, the fact of Laruns being the terminus at this end of the
valley ought to render it yet more prosperous.
Just inside the village we crossed the bridge over the almost dry bed
of the Arricuzé (beyond which the old road to Eaux Chaudes branches off
to the right), and then traversing the Gave d'Ossau, we continued under
the trees along the ancient route to Eaux Bonnes. But not for many
minutes, for, where the old road which leads to the Bear Grotto also
begins to ascend, the new route strikes up to the right, and continues
with an easy gradient to the point where it forks (24 miles), the
continuation to the right leading to Eaux Chaudes, and the branch to
the left--which we followed--to Eaux Bonnes.
[Illustration]
No pains have been spared to render the remainder of the journey
attractive to either the rider or the pedestrian, and to us the drive
up the broad zigzags, planted with plane trees, silver beech, ash,
polonia, aspen, arbutus, burberis, and innumerable other handsome trees
and shrubs, was a pleasant one indeed. One rocky bit on the right of
the way, completely overhung with beautiful ivy, seemed to us
especially picturesque. Admiring thus all the poetic touches in form or
colouring as we passed, we suddenly, and almost without warning, found
ourselves entering Eaux Bonnes (271/2 miles), and but a very few
moments more sufficed for our conveyance to the excellent Hôtel de
France, where the hostess was ready to receive us.
It would, indeed, be hard to find a more charmingly compact little town
than Eaux Bonnes, anywhere: a perfect little miniature, very happily
situated and beautifully clean and neat. What more could an invalid
desire? Why, the very beauty of the surroundings ought to act
perceptibly on the constitution, and when baths and perpetual tumblers
of the rotten-egg fluid are indulged in besides, a perfect cure
_must_ be guaranteed.
It requires but few words to describe the shape and appearance of the
place, but to convey an _accurate_ idea to the reader is, we are
afraid, a very difficult matter. The town is triangular in
shape--almost an isosceles triangle, in fact--and this triangle is
formed by the shape of the gorge, whose rocky, tree-clothed sides
overlook it. Fine rows of hotels and restaurants, and other
buildings--mostly let as furnished apartments--form the outer edge of
the triangle. A good road separates these from the Jardin Darralde,
which is likewise triangular, and planted with trees and shrubs in the
most agreeable manner, both for neatness and shade. In the centre is
the band-stand, and a bed of roses surrounds it. This is a general
description, but it does not speak of beauty, and we thought that Eaux
Bonnes was undoubtedly a beautiful place.
Suppose a triangular slice were cut out of Hyde Park, combining some
leafy trees and a pleasant flower-bed with a band-stand added, and
hotels and restaurants were erected around it; then, that it were
transported to a narrow part of the Llanberis Pass under the very frown
of Snowdon; and snow should fall on the surrounding summits; and
magnificent beech groves and cascades appear down the wild slopes
below, some idea of what Eaux Bonnes is like might be gained; but even
then it would be little more than an idea.
It certainly has not the grandeur of Cauterets, the freedom of St.
Sauveur, or the expansive loveliness of Luchon. It is hemmed in by the
surrounding heights, of which, at the head of the Sourde (or Soude)
valley (in which it lies) the magnificent Pic de Ger is most
conspicuous, and doubtless this renders it a "warm retreat" in summer;
but to see it as we saw it, with the sun shining on the rain-spangled
leaves of the trees in the Jardin Darralde, on the lighter green of the
beeches above, and glinting through the foam of the "Valentin"
cascades; with no invalids, no gallant French horsemen, no
gaily-dressed women, but only a few peasants dotted here and there, at
work, to give life to the scene--to see it, in short, as it is in
spring, can only give rise to pleasant feelings, which would mellow
into pleasanter and more appreciative memories!
The amount of rain we had during our stay was only sufficient to cool
the heated atmosphere and lay the dust; but Eaux Bonnes has rather a
watery reputation, and many are the times that the visitors become
victims to a shower, returning from their "constitutional" or their
visit to the baths.
When we arrived the hotel had only been open a very short time, as the
"season" was far from beginning, and the only other occupants, as
visitors, were a rather stout man and a fat, jovial-visaged priest. We
discovered them in the billiard-room as the priest was just in the
throes of a most simple cannon, and our entrance appeared to damage his
play, while his face rather lengthened, as though he felt ashamed at
having been surprised at a worldly game. This may have been our fancy,
as he was certainly the first R.C. priest we had seen with a cue in his
hand; perhaps, however, he will not be the last.
After this we lunched, and after that, left the hotel and walked up the
main road towards the Sourde Gorge, passing a choice marble shop, the
bathing establishment, the church, and the town-hall. Beyond this
last-named building the gorge narrows and extends to the base of the
Pic de Ger (8571 ft.). Leaving this on our right, we followed the
Promenade de l'Imperatrice, that ascends above the town-hall, till the
path leading to the little kiosque--built on the summit of a rocky
eminence called the "Butte du Trésor"--branched off to the right.
The view from the little pavilion is indeed a gratifying one, for
though not extended, it is so entirely choice and picturesque; while
the name of the eminence on which it stands, and from which some of the
healing springs are said to rise, is decidedly appropriate, since there
can be no doubt that they have proved a "mine of wealth" to several,
although, as M. Taine remarks, it is "grotesque that a little hot water
should have caused the introduction of civilised cooking in its very
cauldrons."
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 Argelès, which
follows the right bank of the river.
[Illustration: CASCADE DU VALENTIN.]
Most of the numerous cascades in the neighbourhood--thanks to the
engineering of the "Empress's Walk" and the road to Argelès--are in
easy walking distance for most people, even invalids; those usually
visited being the Cascade des Eaux Bonnes, de Discoo, du Gros-Hêtre and
du Serpent; the Cascade de Larsessec (33/4 miles) requires some fatigue
to reach.
The road leading from the river back to the Hôtel de France passes
between two walls of rock against which the houses are built. This
passage 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 Argelès 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, anticipating
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 masses 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 passes, only served to heighten the grand
effect of the scene.
Just after the narrowest part is passed, 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, passed by the spot,
and a heavily-laden diligence full of passengers 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 Crabé--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 rushing 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 massive 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_ passed that way we could see from the very
summit of the hill--above which the pointed Pic de Laruns reared its
crest--a mass 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.
[Illustration: CRABÉ 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 passes 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
passed the Hôtel de France on the left, and the gardens and bathing
establishment on the right, we drove up to the Hôtel 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 Japan, 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 assurance, 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'hôte 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 pass 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 passing 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.
[Illustration: 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 Hôtel 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--passes over the former. The path strikes off from
the Gabas road to the left, while yet in the town, and passes 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'Estremère, but we had no confirmation of this] to view, that
appeared to form an impassable 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 passed 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
passed 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!
[Illustration: THE PIC DE GER.]
At Sévignac a splendid Guelder rose-tree grew in a small garden over a
mill stream, and a very ancient dame very willingly sold us some
clusters 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 Rébenac we stopped at the Hôtel du Périgord 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
_Béarnais_, but their appearance was peculiar, to say the least of
it. Beyond Gan we passed 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.