229. Up in the clouds

28th March. I came across this image (as you do) by happenstance.. I like to think of it as natural justice in action..

"Right, gentlemen, which one of you was clapping?"

I have little sympathy (as in absolutely zero) with anyone finding themselves in this position!

This afternoon we went to Salies-de-Béarn to see Art en Vrac - an art exhibition that was taking place in many different locations across the village. This has the look of a village that was designed to be painted by generations of artists:

Before talking about the art, it should be said that the village is undeniably picturesque and well worth a visit.. Totally different style of building compared to what we see in the Pays Basque.

To me, there was one stand-out artist -  NabARus (it's how she spells her name) - whose work was not only head and shoulders above any other work we saw today but also above anything we've seen for a very long time. The range of her work reflected an original eye, an astonishingly creative mind and a command of colour and technique. 

This (below) was a large portrait that caught my eye.. I found myself returning to it again and again.. Reduced to this size, it loses much impact but full size is a different story.

This is a painting I would have liked to own. (Edited to add: 5 years or so later, I contacted the artist and I'm now the proud owner of this work)

27th March. Europe's gypsies have an annual pilgrimage (in May) to Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer in the Camargue in southern France to pay homage to their Saint - the Black Sara.. This video features that great gypsy guitarist (and violinist) Dorado Schmitt as he and his friends provide the musical accompaniment (I think I've posted this here before - but I make no apologies for doing so again).

First though, warm up with "Bossa Dorado"..

The video from the south of France is in 3 parts - the opening part where they play in a small chapel, then the outdoor ceremony (at 2:50) - and then the jam session round the table (at 3:35) after a good lunch!
Here's Ry Cooder and Manuel Galbán with their interpretation of an old 60s hit..

This was Easter morning at the beach at Anglet.. By the way, these aren't Antony Gormley figures made of cast iron on the beach - they're the real thing!

26th March. I believe "Across the Street and into the Grill" won 1st prize in a competition to write the best Hemingway parody. See what you think..! Some more: "Big Too-Hardened Liver".. "Across the suburbs and into the express lane"..

20th March. When I see these images of the old tramway that ran the 6 km from Bayonne to Biarritz via Anglet, it's hard to imagine that these structures actually existed. There are very few traces of them left today.

Here's a video about Biarritz I've been meaning to put here for a while..

15th March. I spent Sunday with a mixed group of walkers from both sides of the frontier in the Baztan valley* retracing a route used by evading Allied airmen during WWII as they made their way across the Pyrenees into Francoist Spain for onward passage to Gibraltar and then England. 

* we were fortunate to have Georgina Howard with us. In addition to running walking holidays in the area, she's a polyglot - speaking English, French, Spanish and Basque!

Several of the Spanish walkers had family ties with the Comet Line's wartime guides and it was clear that there was much common ground between us. Basque speakers from both parties were soon swapping notes. 

I've walked other routes like this several times before but this was one of the hardest I've experienced. It wasn't helped by the rain-soaked ground that caught some of us out (not me) with slips into water-filled boggy areas - I needed a soggy foot like the proverbial hole in the head. 

We dropped our cars at Amaiur-Maya then took 2 minibuses to the vicinity of the former safe house at Jauriko borda from where we'd start the walk proper. Jauriko borda was a 'safe' farm that lay just inside Spain and it had been used many times by airmen. They'd rest up here after their gruelling night hike that had threaded them through the numerous border patrols, guided by mountain guides in the service of the Comet Line. 

After an hour or two, we came upon a clear area on a hilltop to find a Spanish 4x4 there with a small team preparing an alfresco Spanish-style breakfast for us.. spicy sausages, ham and fresh bread, with cider and/or red wine! (breaking the habits of a lifetime, I stuck to water) This was followed by brioche and coffee.. This surprise meal really hit the spot and gave us the time to talk more with our Spanish Basque hosts.    

Refreshed and replete, we set off again and, for some of us (viz your correspondent), the pain kicked in.. However, loins were girded, teeth were gritted and aches and pains ignored as we traversed some of the most stunning scenery in this part of the world. Wild cattle and horses were in evidence and mountain oak clung on to the hills as we climbed higher and higher until we reached the snow line. Soon it was time to descend again which unfortunately turned out to be just as painful as climbing.. 

This farm Kanttoreneko Borda, that now appears derelict, was used as a 'safe' hiding place in Spain by Comet: 

Finally, after 13km, we arrived back at Amaiur-Maya, the picture postcard Basque village where we'd left our cars 6 hours previously. After changing our mud-splattered walking shoes, we entered a restored mill where the promise of a cold beer awaited us. We were served thin corn flour pancakes filled with cheese and bacon.. and, later, others with dark chocolate. (video here)

The whole was a totally beguiling experience and I'll be returning there with Madame before too long.  

I managed to catch the second half of the Scotland - France 6 Nations rugby (well done Scotland!) and then after a bowl of soup, I hit the hay at 8pm.. Instant oblivion.. zzzzz-zzz

223. Memorial for 2nd Lt James F Burch, USAAF

I've mentioned my interest in and involvement with a local association "Les amis du réseau Comète" ("The Friends of the Comet Line") in earlier posts here. The Comet Line was a network set up during WWII by Andrée De Jongh, a 24 year old Belgian woman, with the aim of enabling Allied aircrew who had been shot down in northern France and the Low Countries to be repatriated back to Britain from Gibraltar. This laudable aim was achieved via a thread of courageous volunteer helpers that stretched from Brussels, Paris, the Pays Basque and on into Francoist Spain. The history of Comète contains many individual stories of heroism, courage and adventure by innumerable brave souls - both civil and military. These shining examples of 'grace under pressure' were counterbalanced by many unspeakably brutal acts by an enemy whose savage deeds were a barbaric throwback to medieval times. Several books have been written on the subject and there are also many personal accounts available online. During the course of the annual commemorative weekend, "Les amis" retrace the old wartime routes over the Pyrenees. Before other inland routes were pioneered, the original route taken by the Comète guides and the evaders led from Ciboure (close to Saint-Jean-de-Luz) up into the mountains before descending to cross the Bidassoa, the river that marks the frontier between France and Spain. After crossing the river, the evaders would make their way to a safe farm where they would be fed before taking a well-deserved rest. During the course of reading the accounts of these crossings (one of which is Peter Eisner's excellent "The Freedom Line"), I became aware that two men were tragically drowned during their attempt to ford the wintry Bidassoa during the night of 23-24th December 1943.  2nd Lt James F Burch, USAAF (taken on 6 Oct 43, 4 days  before being shot down)  Count Antoine d'Ursel One was Count Antoine d'Ursel, a Belgian civilian who had formerly been the head of Comète in Belgium. The other was 2nd Lt James Frederick Burch, USAAF, a 27 year old co-pilot from Terrell, Texas, who had been shot down in his B-17F over Holland on 10th October 1943. Trying to ascertain the facts of this tragedy with any degree of reasonable certainty at this remove (70 years after the event), at a time when little or nothing was committed to paper (for obvious reasons), is made more than usually difficult by the circumstances of that night. 'After action' reports were written - but given the darkness, the language difficulties, that the river was in flood, the fact that the evaders came under fire from the Spanish side, the fear, the stress and the fatigue, it is not surprising that the accounts differ in the detail. Both the bodies were swept away and were recovered by the Germans but their final resting place remains unknown to this day..  Count d'Ursel's widow later caused a memorial (right) to her husband to be erected on the banks of the Bidassoa and, as an example of how we can sometimes be blind to the obvious, I didn't think to question initially why there was no memorial to Jim Burch. It was only after reading more into the events of that night that caused me to ask myself "Why no memorial to Jim?". The reality was that Jim's widow was told only that he'd disappeared while crossing from France into Spain. She had no names of those involved, no location - and worst of all, no body to bury. While those who survived the crossing were sworn to secrecy, one of the survivors (2nd Lt Lloyd Stanford, USAAF) did visit Jim's widow - Mrs Olga Burch - on his return to the US and told her what he knew. I put this short video together to shed some light on what happened that night - best viewed in full screen: We, in "Les Amis..", decided that even 70 years on, that Jim's sacrifice and his passing merited a memorial so that future generations may be prompted to ask who, what and why. Accordingly, we started a project to provide a memorial on the river bank to Jim Burch, the only aviator to lose his life while in Comète's hands. We found a stonemason who furnished us with a granite memorial stone, engraved a suitable inscription and set it up at the riverside. We launched an appeal for donations to finance this project.  On behalf of the committee of the "The Friends of the Comet network" - our heartfelt thanks to all those who donated so generously for this worthy cause.. I will post news of the project here as and when it happens. 31st May 3016. Edited to add: thanks to many generous donations we hit our target inside 2 months. We inaugurated the 2 memorials at a new location during a moving ceremony held on the banks of the Bidassoa on 16th April 2016..

207. Recent happenings in the Pays Basque

14th October 2013. Just give me a minute while I blow the dust off the blog.. That's better.. (cough cough!) It appears there's been a bit of a hiatus with my McBlog.. almost 2 months since the last post.. But, as always, there are a number of reasons for my indolence (none of which would stand up in court however!). While I'm preparing the case for the defence, this is a piece I heard on the radio the other day - by ABBA of all people - I don't know about you but to me it has a real Highland feel to it.. I think Benny and Bjorn must have been interviewing Doctor Glenmorangie when they wrote it (but it's none the worse for that though☺):

Let's see.. what's been going on in this blessèd corner of France since the end of August? The choir I sing with gave a concert in the cathedral here which was quite an experience.. Every seat was taken and even standing room was at a premium. Madame was sat somewhere in the crowd and she told me afterwards that there were people around her dabbing their eyes as we sang.. (was I to blame?) It was a moving experience for all of us and it was one of the most rewarding things I've done in a loong time. The change in the acoustics from the rehearsal room to the vast resonating spaces of the cathedral took me by surprise - and this was enhanced by the swelling reverberations of the organ. We have some more concerts coming up before Christmas. I've surprised myself by how much I enjoy it.

The second weekend of September saw the annual commemoration of the Comet Line - the legendary WWII evasion network designed to repatriate shot-down Allied aircrew. (I've described this event in previous posts - check out Comet Line under "Labels" in the left hand margin) This year's event retraced the classic coastal route from Ciboure, Urrugne and then over the mountains, across the Bidassoa river that marks the frontier between France and Spain and on to Sarobe farm - and it was as inspirational as in previous years.

This year we were privileged to have with us Andrée Dumon (aka "Nadine") - a wartime Comète guide - and George & Janet Duffee. "Nadine" and George are seen here (right) laying a wreath at the Monument aux Morts, Anglet.

"Nadine" is a wonderfully charismatic Belgian lady who leaves a lasting impression on all those she meets.. I heard only today that she's written a book (in French) and I'm hoping it won't be too long before it's translated into English.

George - an RAF pilot - had the great misfortune to be shot down in his Halifax heavy bomber over Holland on his very first operation and, after making contact with the Comet Line, he was guided down to the Pays Basque, where he managed to make a 14 hour crossing of the mountains at night in the rain. Unsurprisingly, this experience marked him for life - so much so that he and his family have returned to the Pays Basque countless times over the years to revisit those who'd helped him in those dark days. It was the 70th anniversary of George's epic crossing this year. 

Jenny Grimes, "Nadine" and John (grandson)

We also had the pleasure of the company of the family of the late Col Robert Grimes USAAF (right), who were present for the first time. The stirring stories of both the Comet Line and Bob's long & arduous path to freedom are well told by Peter Eisner in his book "The Freedom Line" and it's well worth a read. In a story within a story, Peter tells how Nadine's sister Michou (aka "Lily") had nursed the wounded 20 year old Bob back to health in Brussels over a period of weeks - she'd found a doctor to remove a bullet from his leg (without anaesthetic). The picture above (above left) is a poignant reminder of the fragility of the threads that hold our lives together. Bob passed away in 2010 and his daughters Susan and Jenny, and their families, finally made the trip to the Pays Basque in honour of his memory. There's another excellent story - again by Peter Eisner - about Bob here.

Pierre and Michou Ugueux

Six members of the extended Grimes family arrived jet-lagged from the US but after only a minimal amount of downtime, they were soon scampering up and down the mountains like mountain goats..! (Poetic licence alert!☺ Only joking Jenny!) The first time any of us tackled the mountains most of us were in the same boat to be honest.. However, I've since found that one of the secrets of hill walking is not to look too far ahead or up.. Another is to make sure you have 2 good sticks. This may or may not work for you but it definitely works for me. Mine are both sturdy wooden jobbies and they enable me to use my arm strength - thus allowing me take some of the load off my poor old knees. When I first did this climb three years ago, I really struggled but with the sticks it was quite do-able.

The following day saw the group continuing the hike from the old station at San Miguel on the banks of the Bidassoa en route for Sarobe farm. I decided not to do the first part of this walk - instead I joined up with the walkers at around 11am for the leg to Sarobe farm and then on to Errenteria where we had a late lunch at a Basque dining society.
     

Saturday, 19th October 2013. We were away for a few days earlier this week - we had to go up to Chartres for a day and from there we continued on to Margency (to the north of Paris) to stay with friends for a few days. The journey north was long with more or less constant rain and poor visibility and we were glad to see the magnificent Gothic edifice of Chartres cathedral finally emerge from the mist and rain at the end of the afternoon. We found time to go inside the cathedral to marvel at what is one of the jewels in the crown of world, never mind European, architecture. How on earth was this building conceived, designed, calculated and constructed back in the twelfth century? Built at a time when many of the population would have been living in rude dwellings of wattle and daub, it's a monumental demonstration of the power, wealth and faith of the Church at that time. Here's a short film with some images that capture something of the mystical quality of Chartres - although I find the narration a shade too.. well, I leave that for you to decide:  

Where did the knowledge come from? It seems that a technical revelation must have occurred to the masons and architects at that time - a sudden fusion of all the various disciplines that allowed the construction of such a great structure to be contemplated.      

As an aside, on the way to Chartres, we skirted the forest of Fréteval - a name that should resonate with all students of the Comet Line. 

After a quick change we went into the historic centre to find a certain restaurant we'd visited previously.. but, since we'd last been in Chartres, the world had moved on - taking the restaurant with it! We stumbled upon La Casa Tropical - an Afro-Caraïbéens restaurant that specialises in food from "des Iles" - the islands in this case being the francophone islands of Guadeloupe, Martinique, Réunion etc. A rum punch kick-started the system and we had an excellent meal there (worth a visit if you ever find yourself in Chartres). After sorting out some business in Chartres the following day we headed off to Margency. Finding our way there without the aid of the GPS would have been next to impossible. It was good to see our friends again - and the next day they took us to Pierrefonds which was about an hour away to the north (in the direction of Compiègne).

We drove through the forest of Compiègne and found the clearing where the two Armistices had been signed - arguably the two most significant events of the twentieth century in terms of the aftermaths in both cases. There was a definite sense that an event of some magnitude had taken place here. The first Armistice in 1918 marked the end of hostilities at the end of the Great War. The second in 1940 was signed at the moment when Hitler was at the absolute zenith of his power. There is a small museum that houses a replica of the original Wagon Lits carriage where the two armistices had been signed in addition to a multitude of other artefacts. Am I alone in finding the story of the carriage as seen by the French and the Germans to be more than a little bizarre?

From Wikipedia:

The armistice was signed in a carriage of Foch's private train, CIWL #2419 ("Le Wagon de l'Armistice"). 

It was later put back into regular service with the Compagnie des Wagons-Lits, but after a short period it was withdrawn to be attached to the French presidential train. 

From April 1921 to April 1927, it was on exhibition in the Cour des Invalides in Paris. In November 1927, it was ceremonially returned to the forest in the exact spot where the Armistice was signed. Marshal Foch, General Weygand and many others watched it being placed in a specially constructed building: the Clairière de l’Armistice. 

 There it remained, a monument to the defeat of the Kaiser's Germany, until 22 June 1940, when swastika-bedecked German staff cars bearing Adolf Hitler, Hermann Göring, Wilhelm Keitel, Joachim von Ribbentrop and others swept into the Clairiere and, in that same carriage, demanded and received the surrender armistice from France. During the Occupation of France, the Clairiere de l’Armistice was destroyed and the carriage taken to Berlin, where it was exhibited in the Lustgarten. 

After the Allied advance into Germany in early 1945, the carriage was removed by the Germans for safe keeping to the town of Ohrdruf, but as an American armoured column entered the town, the detachment of the SS guarding it set it ablaze, and it was destroyed. Some pieces were however preserved by a private person; they are also exhibited at Compiègne. 

 After the war, the Compiègne site was restored, but not until Armistice Day 1950 was a replacement carriage, correct in every detail, re-dedicated: an identical Compagnie des Wagon-Lits carriage, no. 2439, built in 1913 in the same batch as the original and present in 1918, was renumbered no. 2419D. There's also a granite slab that bears the following uncompromising inscription in foot-high letters:

"Here on the eleventh of November 1918 succumbed the criminal pride of the German Reich. Vanquished by the free peoples which it tried to enslave."

I think Churchill's maxim was nearer the mark - and far more statesmanlike:

In War: Resolution,

In Defeat, Defiance,

In Victory, Magnanimity,

In Peace, Good Will.

At Pierrefonds we had lunch at a restaurant overlooking the lake. Pierrefonds had the air of a village that had seen much trade from Paris in its heyday. - which was probably in the 1950s. Here's its château (don't overlook this link!):

We'd unfortunately picked the wrong day to return home because we got entangled with weekend half term holiday traffic - it took us 11½hrs to get home. Phew! We watched with interest as the outside temperature climbed as we headed south.. it was reading (according to the car) 24° when we arrived at Bayonne at 8.30pm. Apparently it had hit 31° at Saint-Jean-de-Luz that day! 

Sunday, 27th October 2013. Last Sunday a group of 12 of us from the choir went over the border (in the vicinity of Erratzu) for what was optimistically billed as a 3 hour hike..!

Xorroxin

Crossing the border south of Ainhoa, we picked up two more of our group at Dantcharia before heading into Spain proper. We drove through Erratzu before parking our convoy just outside the small hamlet of Gorostapolo. Setting off on stony old cart tracks we headed first for the sparkling falls at Xorroxin (above). So far so good. I think this more or less marked the end of the correlation between our knowledge of our position and the map. Still, we weren't lost - merely that the radius of the circle of uncertainty that described exactly where we were expanded to 2-3kms. No problem - the scenery was stunning and the company was good.

At midday, we stopped for vittles.. Forgetting this was a French group, I'd just brought a packet of dried apricots, a handful of energy bars, a pear and a bottle of water. However, it was a different story for the others! From the depths of various rucksacks and other hitherto unremarkable containers emerged the very welcome sight of a number of cakes - as only the French can make them - one of which was a complete Kugelhof just like this (right).. (& unsquashed to boot!) Someone else produced a bottle of red wine and flasks of coffee also appeared. Morale soared! After this lunch we continued to walk and walk until we finally returned to the realm of the known world. I think we did something like 15-20km. This clip shows the heavily wooded area (Baztan) through which we walked as it looks in autumn:

I'd left home at 8.30am and returned at 7pm! Madame was almost amused!☺

There's another hike planned in a few weeks time. This time I'll be prepared! This clip shows the quaint old Basque villages of Erratzu & Gorostapolo and the beautiful Baztan valley (in Navarre, Spain)..

Ramer en pointe or rowing

I went down to the river yesterday and before I knew it I'd been corralled into an outing in a sporty blokes VIII (en pointe) (Eng trans here). We took out a newly restored Filippi wooden shell eight.. and it was a real pleasure to row in it as we went steaming up the river at a rate of knots, ringing the changes with ratings, power and slide variations without any allowances being made for the presence of a pensioner in their midst - in spite of the occasional whimpering noises emanating from the vicinity of my position!☺

We went as far as we could up the Nive - to the rapids at Ustaritz - where we turned the boat around and committed ourselves to a hard row back to the garage (club house). We returned doing 'intervals' - 10 light strokes, followed by 10 normal then 30 "rapide".. Each time we started on a series of "rapides", the boat surged forward feeling rock steady as the power came on in the water.. Measuring it out afterwards it worked out at ~24kms (15 miles in real money). A great outing! 

I found this personality test the other day and I thought I'd try it - I came out as an ENFJ. (I was sure I'd be an RTFQ!). I tried it again a day later and answered the questions slightly differently (without bending the truth) and emerged as another personality type. I don't think the results have any great significance.

This morning I went down to the beach at Anglet with the pooch for some fresh air. The problem is that poor old Chibby, our 12 year old golden cocker spaniel, is now almost totally blind. He has cataracts on both eyes that, according to the vet, are inoperable as he also has macular degeneration of the retina. So now, sadly, his days of madcap racing on the beach are officially over as he has to stay on his lead.. here he is down there on a windy day in early 2010:

A great pity because in all other respects he's as full of beans as he ever was and he was itching to be let loose. Here he is in happier days surveying his territory before we left England: 

It was one of those October days when it was difficult to imagine wishing to live anywhere else.. it was warm - around 24° - and the cloudless sky was that burning blue that often occurs at this time of the year.

Looking south towards Biarritz, a silver mist hung over the beach as successive rollers reared up and crashed in an explosion of white foam on the almost deserted sand.

We were invited to lunch today by two of the most generous people we've ever met - who else but the owners of the gîte where we stayed for 5 months back in 2007. We arrived at midday and a USMC-sized glass of Ricard was put in my hand.. (Check out the link to see what other brands are owned by Pernod-Ricard - think you'll be surprised!) One of the courses was Ris de Veau (which might well give me nightmares tonight!☺) - that I ate while thinking of England!

We had a welcome change of gear after this with roast quail.. which were delicious. I'll have to tell you about a frustrating incident that happened at this point.. A bottle of 1994 Pomerol appeared but the cork defied all attempts to extract it.. (I did briefly contemplate biting the neck off the bottle!) My frustration can be imagined if I were to remind you that the legendary Château Pétrus is a Pomerol!!

By the way, I've added Ris de Veau to my list of dishes that I'll take steps to avoid in future. Already at the top of my "Not even at the point of a Gun" list are Andouillette and Tête de Veau.       

Tuesday, 29th October 2013. I forgot to mention that our hosts on Sunday had kindly given us a box of fresh farm eggs as we were leaving and yesterday Madame made an omelette from them. The yellowest, tastiest omelette we've had since we last had some eggs from the farm.

Wednesday. The local news has been reporting the reappearance of the monster wave known as Belharra just to the south of Saint-Jean-de-Luz. (this is not photo-shopped)

It's caused by the presence of an off shore reef and it apparently requires certain conditions (wind, tide, weather) to combine in order to make it form - but when it does.. this is the result: 

More videos of the Belharra wave here.

165. 70th anniversary of the Comet Line in the Pays Basque

13th September 2011. This last weekend has flown by - it was the 70th Anniversary of the Comet Line - the noted WWII escape network founded not long after Dunkirk by Andrée De Jongh, a 24 year old Belgian girl. There are many links in the left hand column on this blog to Andrée De Jongh, the Comet Line, Florentino Goicoechea and the Villa Voisin if you'd like to know more about this most noble and inspirational of stories. This map shows the Comet's main operating locations in the Pays Basque.

This year saw the 70th anniversary of the first British escaper to make it safely through and back to the UK. The weekend started off with the laying of a wreath at the War Memorial at St Jean de Luz (left) by Andrée Dumont OBE, aka "Nadine" - a brave and charismatic wartime helper whose sprightly appearance belies her years, ably assisted here by Roger Stanton of ELMS.

Even though she'd spent 2 long years in prisons and concentration camps (including the infamous Mauthausen) when asked if she'd do it again, she replied firmly and without hesitation - yes. I introduced her to the three serving RAF officers present and she held her thumb and index finger out about an inch apart and said, "Comet.." She then extended her arm high above her head and said, "The RAF.." Unfailingly modest and humble to a fault, I have the utmost admiration for her and others like her who were prepared to give their all in that dark chapter of European history. Comet is the story of the best and the worst of humanity.

Allan Cowan 

We then adjourned to the nearby Town Hall of Saint-Jean-de-Luz (right) where we were warmly received by the deputy mayor. He welcomed us to the Pays Basque and Saint-Jean-de-Luz in a short speech before inviting us to share some cold rosé with him. As this was only my second "Comet" weekend, I took the opportunity to listen to as many people as I could. There were as many different stories in the room as there were those attending. For example, Allan Cowan (above left),  who crossed the mountains in the second group in October '41, was represented, as last year, by his charming daughter Marie while the Greaves family - a brother and 2 sisters - had travelled over from New York the day before. Their father had been arrested at Bidegain Berri farm with Dédée in January 1943.  Another was a reader* of this blog whose father had managed successfully to return to the UK. So many stories.
(* N - I have some photos for you - let me know your email address via the comments section - I won't publish it)

After the vin d'honneur we were free for lunch so I drove the three RAF participants out to Ascain, the best of all Basque villages in my opinion. Following a very pleasant relaxed lunch we then drove north to Bayonne to the cemetery where we met up with everyone else again at the Dassié family grave (left). In a short but moving ceremony we honoured the memory of his parents. Jean Dassié was just 7 years old when both his parents and 'Lulu', his elder sister, were taken away. He never saw his father again. His mother survived the end of the war by only 2 years as a result of the treatment she'd received at Ravensbruck. Thankfully, 'Lulu' survived and was present during the weekend. 

Villa Voisin, Anglet

From the cemetery it was but a short journey to the Villa Voisin, the legendary nerve centre of the Comet Line in the Pays Basque. The house had been occupied by the De Greef family - Belgian refugees from the German invasion - and they were to make an immense contribution to Comet activities in the south west. An untrained civilian, Elvire De Greef managed to outwit the professionals of the German RSHA (including the Sicherheitsdienst (SD) and the infamous Gestapo) throughout the war. Amazingly, they were never able to catch her. Today, the Villa Voisin is an anonymous grey house that offers up no clue as to the dangerous nature of its activities all those years ago. We stood outside this unlived-in house with its closed shutters and wondered at the daring and courage of those who had lived here during that dark period of European history.  

From the Villa Voisin, it was another short journey to the War Memorial at Anglet where more wreaths would be laid. This was in the full heat of the afternoon and the old soldiers were standing in the dappled shade of the platanes with their proud bleu-blanc-rouge standards leaning against the trunks. There were a few jutting-jawed ex-paras scattered among them - instantly recognisable, as paras are the world over. The scene brought to mind a painting by Monet.

The mayor of Anglet arrived to do the honours and soon the air was filled with those distinctive sounds of the French military - provided by a couple of rattling drums and a single trumpet. One by one, the civic dignitaries and those of Comète stepped up to leave their floral tributes.

A local Basque choir then sang the "Song of the Partisans" - a song, written in wartime, with a hard unequivocal message - one that leaves no doubt whatsoever as to the feelings of those who wrote it. No Vera Lynn warbling "White Cliffs of Dover" here - the "Song of the Partisans" remains a brutal and unequivocal reminder of the harsh realities of the Occupation. Here's President Sarkozy on the day of his inauguration paying homage to the Résistants - notably Guy Moquet (his letter here) - who fought and died for France, listening to a choir singing "The Song of the Partisans" and looking visibly moved. The English lyrics are underneath.

My friend, do you hear the dark flight of the crows over our plains?

My friend, do you hear the dulled cries of our countries in chains?

Oh, friends, do you hear, workers, farmers, in your ears alarm bells ringing?

Tonight all our tears will be turned to tongues of flame in our blood singing!

Climb up from the mine, out from hiding in the pines, all you comrades,

Take out from the hay all your guns, your munitions and your grenades;

Hey you, assassins, with your bullets and your knives, kill tonight!

Hey you, saboteurs, be careful with your burden, dynamite!

We are the ones who break the jail bars in two for our brothers,

hunger drives, hate pursues, misery binds us to one another.

There are countries where people sleep without a care and lie dreaming.

But here, do you see, we march on, we kill on, we die screaming.

But here, each one knows what he wants, what he does with his choice;

My friend, if you fall, from the shadows on the wall, another steps into your place.

Tomorrow, black blood shall dry out in the sunlight on the streets.

But sing, companions, freedom hears us in the night still so sweet.

My friend, do you hear the dark flight of the crows over our plains?

My friend, do you hear the dulled cries of our countries in chains?

After the "Marseillaise", we walked over to the nearby Anglet Town Hall where speeches from the Mayor and Jean Dassié were followed by another Vin d'Honneur after which we set off in a straggling convoy for the restaurant where we were to have dinner.

Saturday morning saw us meeting up at the cemetery at Ciboure where wreaths were laid at the graves of the great Basque guide Florentino Goicoechea and his friend, the widow Kattalin Aguirre, who housed so many evaders. Set into the hillside, the cemetery is in an idyllic setting overlooking the peaceful bay of Saint-Jean-de-Luz. While I had decided not to attempt the whole two day march this year as my knees are decidedly creaky, I thought I could manage the leg from Ciboure to Urrugne. So it was, after a breakfast in a beach café at Socoa, we all set off for Urrugne, our numbers swelled by several Basque walkers from Spain. We were also joined by 70 young officer cadets from the Royal Military Academy, Belgium and they soon raced off into the distance. They'd selected the inspirational Andrée De Jongh as their 'godmother' for their year. Those who weren't walking were provided with a coach to take them to the next rendezvous at Urrugne.

The route took us through a housing estate before launching off into a narrow track. It was soon clear to me that any thoughts I might have entertained that my knees would allow me to complete the entire 2 day walk were hopelessly wide of the mark. It was with some relief that we entered Urrugne - with the encouragement of the waiting 'Nadine' - and my decision had been made for me.

Ceremony at Urrugne

The Greaves family from New York are pictured (left) honouring the memorial in Urrugne to Frantxia Usandizaga and Juan Manuel Larburu. It was at Frantxia's farmhouse - named 'Bidegain Berri' - where their father was captured along with Dédée. Frantxia and Juan were never to return. The walkers continued on after the ceremony while I stayed behind feeling unhappy with this turn of events, ie, that I was unable to walk even to 'Bidegain Berri'. However, things brightened up considerably when we were invited into a room at the rear of the Tourist Office to find a long table laden with charcuterie, cheese, fruit and wine. Ah, decisions, decisions..!

Meanwhile the walkers were heading for the last stop before the mountains and that was the farm at 'Bidegain Berri'.. Here are the Greaves family again outside the farm where their father had been arrested in January 1943 - a real pilgrimage for them. The beauty of this weekend is that enables descendants of Comet evaders to walk in their fathers' footsteps and experience at first hand what they had gone through - albeit in a world at peace.  

 

'Bidegain Berri'

Now it was a case of bringing on the pain. The temperature was in the low 30s with nil wind and afterwards all the walkers mentioned the relentless heat on the mountain. It all sounded very similar to last year.

Les Trois Couronnes

Meanwhile, after an excellent lunch in good company, us non-walkers made our way by coach around to the disused station of San Miguel on the banks of the Bidassoa river that marks the frontier between France and Spain and waited for the first of the walkers to emerge from the trees on the opposite bank. Here's the indefatigable 'Nadine' (right) welcoming the walkers across the river with a large Belgian flag. The river was quite low and seemingly benign. However, in wartime, it would have been an entirely different proposition wading across this river at night, in its icy waters in winter with Franco-ist guards patrolling ready to open fire. There were no friendly Spanish Basques waiting with cold cider and grilled sardines as today - back then, it was a case of scrambling up the river bank and somehow plodding on to Sarobe farm another 4-5 hours distant.

The young Belgian Army contingent soon had their pup tents set up as they were staying the night in place while we returned to Saint-Jean-de-Luz on Saturday evening. 

Sunday morning at 7.30am (!) saw the walkers deposited back at the same place at San Miguel ready to resume the walk which started with a steady climb straight up.. We - the coach party - left a little later and caught up with the walkers at around 11am when they made a short refuelling stop for some drinks and oranges. Here are the walkers setting off afterwards on the last leg to Sarobe farm. 

Jean Dassié and 'Lulu'

Paco and 'Nadine'

And so, finally, to Sarobe farm. The exhausted and footsore wartime evaders must have been glad to arrive here after their long overnight march from the farm at Urrugne to Sarobe farm in Spain. Today? We received the same warm welcome from Paco and his extended family - and the same nourishing soup, delicious tortilla and robust Rioja red wine that the escapers would have been offered. Paco had been a youngster of 8-9 years old at the time of these great events. The Belgian contingent presented a small plaque which was unveiled by 'Nadine' to commemorate the 70th anniversary.

After Sarobe farm, we travelled to the Petritegi Cidrerie at Astigarraga (highly recommended!). I took the Greaves family into the cider warehouse where they tried filling their glasses from a jet of cider from one of these massive barrels that each contained 15,000 litres. We then sat at long heavy wooden tables and a tsunami of food soon followed - a spicy chorizo sausage, a cod omelette (delicious!), then more cod and then a côte de boeuf between two.. Bottles of Rioja appeared (and disappeared!) as if by magic.  

Towards the end of the meal, over the hubbub of conversation, I heard the odd few lines of song from somewhere and then suddenly a Basque choir launched into glorious song:

They captured the hearts of all with their songs, sung with an obvious passion and enjoyment. All too soon it was time to go and it was over for another year.

What is Andrée De Jongh's legacy to us? Surely, it can only be that her timeless values of leadership by example, courage and self-sacrifice can inspire people of different nationalities to transcend their differences and to unite in common cause. RIP Dédée.