TARBES TO BIARRITZ
From Tarbes the road climbed a high hill above the city and then flung
its marvelous coils through the mountains to Pau, that fashionable
English resort where the Pyrenees can be seen marshaling their peaks in
such grandeur. The country around Pau looked very English. There were
neat villages with high-pitched roofs, spreading trees, and a feeling of
repose in the scenery very characteristic of the large English estate.
With almost fantastic suddenness, the landscape changed. Peasant houses
showed traces of Spanish influence. We saw no horses; plows and country
carts were drawn by bullocks. Such fine looking cattle of the Pyrenees,
hundreds of them! It seemed at least every few minutes that a new drove
crowded in confusion down the road or across it, and made it very
difficult for us to get through. There were many bulls. One hears so
many exciting tales about the savage bulls of the Pyrenees that we were
prepared for an attack at almost any time.
If any one would like to make sure of having an eventful experience, we
suggest that he motor through the Pyrenees in a red car. Other motor
cars kept the dust clouds flying. At one railway crossing we counted ten
automobiles waiting for the bar to be lifted.
A score of hungry motorists were lunching in the village inn of Orthez
when we arrived. One of them, a Frenchman, told us by all means to see
the curious fortified bridge that crosses the Gave in this village.
"_C'est très curieux. C'est quelque chose à voir!_" The ruin, with the
high stone tower in the middle of the bridge, is a thrilling relic of
the religious wars. One can see the tower window through which the
unfortunate priests and friars were forced by the Protestants to leap
into the rapid stream. Those who breasted the strong current were killed
as they climbed out on the banks.
Bayonne was calling us. Our speedometer registered the kilometers so
quickly that there were fully two hours of daylight to spare when we
crossed the long bridge over the Adour in search of the Grand Hôtel. One
street led us astray, and then another, until we were in the suburbs
before discovering our mistake. It was a fortunate mistake, for we were
here favored with a view of the fortifications of Bayonne and the
ivy-covered ruin of Marrac, the château where Napoleon met the Spanish
king Ferdinand and compelled him to renounce the throne in favor of his
brother Joseph. It is one of the strange turnings of history that the
same city where Joseph was proclaimed King of Spain should have
witnessed, six years later, the downfall of his hopes.
Our return search was more successful. We found the Grand Hôtel, and
then were half sorry that we had found it. The hotel was crowded, the
only _chambre_ placed at our disposal not large enough for two people.
An extra cot had been put in to meet the emergency. The room was gloomy,
and opened on a stuffy little court. Many repairs were under way, so
that the appearance of the hotel was far from being at its best. Had it
not been raining heavily we would have gone on to Biarritz; but the
torrents were descending. For one night we submitted to the inevitable
and to the inconvenience of our cramped quarters. On descending, we
noticed other tourists still arriving. Possibly these new victims were
stowed away in the elevator or in the garage.
Our stay in Bayonne was, under the circumstances, not long, but long
enough for us to become acquainted with the _jambon delicieux_ and the
_bonbons_ for which the city is so well known. After paying our
_compte_, including a garage charge of two francs,--the first which we
had paid since leaving Chambéry,--we covered the few remaining
kilometers to Biarritz, stopping _en route_ to pick up ten liters of
gasoline in order to avoid the more extravagant prices of that
playground for Europe's royalty and aristocracy. The choicest feature of
our rooms at the Hôtel Victoria was the splendid outlook upon the
Atlantic and its ever-changing panorama of sky and sea. The Spanish
season was in full swing. There is always a season in the golden curve
of Biarritz's sunny sands. The Spanish invasion during the hot summer
months is followed by that of the French, when Parisian beauties
promenade in all the voluptuous array of costly toilettes. For a couple
of months, Paris ceases to be the proud capital of French animation and
gayety. During the winter, the place takes on the appearance of an
English colony; and the Russian royal family has made spring a
fashionable time for the invasion from that country.
The charm of Biarritz is irresistible. It is easy to see why Napoleon
III made it the seat of his summer court and built the Villa Eugénie,
which has since become the Hôtel du Palais. If one searched the whole
coast line of Europe, it would be hard to find a spot so rich in natural
beauty. The sea has such wide horizons; no matter how calm the weather,
the snowy surges are always rolling on the Grande Plage. Other smaller
beaches alternate with rugged, rocky promontories. The coast line is
very irregular, full of arcades, caverns, and grottoes. At sunset, when
the wind falls and the air is clear, the coast of Spain appears, the
mountains respond to the western glow, and the low cadence of the waves
makes the scene too wonderful for words.
We always looked forward to the morning plunge into the cool breakers.
Eleven o'clock was the popular hour. Then the Plage was covered with
brilliant tent umbrellas. There were the shouts of the bathers as the
green, foaming combers swept over them. The beach was a kaleidoscope of
color and animation. Dark-eyed _señoritas_, carrying brightly colored
parasols and robed in the latest and most original French toilettes,
walked along the shore. The Spanish women are very fond of dress, and
especially of anything that comes from Paris. Often the breeze would
sweep aside their veils of black silk, and show their powder-whitened
faces. French girls, daintily gowned and with complexions just as
"artistic," were busy with delicate embroidery. There were Basque
nursemaids whose somber black-and-white checkerboard costumes contrasted
with the latest styles from the gay metropolis. All types were there,
from the portly German who adjusted his monocle before wading into the
frothy brine, to the contemplative Englishman who smoked his pipe while
watching the animated scenes around him. Where will one find a more
cosmopolitan glimpse of fashionable Europe in the enjoyment of a summer
holiday! After the plunge comes the drying off on the warm sands, or
the walk, barefooted and in bathrobe, along the Plage; then lunch in the
casino restaurant above the sea, while an Italian orchestra plays music
that one likes to hear by the ocean. For our _tasse de café_ we would
choose one of the cafés along the crowded avenue Bellevue. What a
display of wealth and fine motor cars!
[Illustration: _The Grande Plage at Biarritz_
Copyright by Underwood & Underwood]
On one of these occasions we saw the young King of Spain stop his
Spanish car before one of the stores. He was bareheaded, and was driving
his own car. One of his officers sat with him. The king is a keen
sportsman, and motoring is one of his favorite diversions. Under the
reign of this popular and aggressive young monarch there ought to be
great progress in the improvement of the Spanish roads and in the
opening of Spain's scenic wealth to the tourist world. Toward the close
of the afternoon every one went to the beautiful casino to enjoy the
concert and _une tasse de thé_, and then later in the evening to watch
the brilliant spectacle of dress and gayety.
The interesting places around Biarritz are part of its attraction. If we
had stayed there for months, there could have been an excursion for
each day. Placed beside the ocean, at the foot of the Pyrenees, close to
the Spanish frontier and amid the fascinating Basque country where the
people have retained all their primitive ways and quaint dress, Biarritz
makes an ideal center for one-day trips. The excursion which we enjoyed
most was to the Spanish resort of San Sebastian, a modern seaside town
where the king and queen pass the summer in their splendid Villa
Miramar.