249. Micheline Dumon Ugeux - "Michou"

30th November. This slideshow of the Pays Basque in November is too good not to share.. Ascain was the village we used to come to every summer.

29th November. You're probably more familiar with Thelonious Monk's performance of his "Round Midnight" (that's since become a jazz standard) - but in case this breathy interpretation of it by Chet Baker's trumpet passed you by - have a listen. It gets my vote. See what you think:

28th November. A friend in the US has just sent me this picture of her lakeside cabin up in Maine.. It defines idyllic to me!

"Michou"

25th November. Back home after a few days away in and around Uzès (in the Gard) for the funeral of Micheline Dumon Ugeux (aka "Michou" or "Lily"), a genuine heroine of the Comet Line evasion network during WWII. She died on 16th November aged 96. She was awarded the George Medal (below) for her work in helping 250 shot-down Allied airmen return safely to England from occupied France.

We had the honour and privilege of meeting her three years ago and we spent a few happy hours together over lunch at her favourite restaurant in a village near her home. Every now and again, in talking of those dark days, her eyes would flash and show again that she still had that determination and strength of character that helped her to accomplish so much and to survive the war.

The beautiful old village church was packed for the funeral and her coffin was decorated with a Belgian flag, the Comet standard and a cushion with all her medals. A great lady from that greatest of all generations. RIP "Michou" †.

I made this short video-montage of some of the Comet Line's key figures a few years ago and "Michou" appears in it twice. (More on the Comet Line here)

19th November. You'll have to talk among yourselves for a few days - I'll be away at a funeral in Provence.

18th November. Stop press: Just spotted the result from north of Hadrian's Wall - Scotland 17 New Zealand 22. Now that would have been a sweet win if the Jocks could have managed it..

Rugby can be cruel sometimes, and occasionally fortune favours one side at the expense of another. The England-Australia match today was one of those days when the tide of victory was decided by the finest of margins in favour of England and by the finest of margins against the Wallabies. On another day, the green and golds would have won and Michael Hooper, the Wallabies tireless captain, would have deservedly been named Man of the Match. We've all had those days when the decisions unaccountably have gone against your team and it's hard to take. It could so easily have been a 13-13 draw or a win.. instead of an improbable 30-6 home win. C'est comme ça..  
On the day when Scotland face New Zealand at rugby at Murrayfield, I think a quote attributed to the Duke of Wellington is appropriate:

"I don't know what effect these men will have on the enemy, but by God, they terrify me." - especially when accompanied by this. Good luck lads!

I came across an excellent think-piece by Prof Sir Roger Scruton in yesterday's Times about the motivation that drove a majority of the voters in last year's referendum on the UK's membership of the EU to vote Leave.

He argued that "for many ordinary citizens, however, the question was not about economics at all. It was about identity and sovereignty. For such people, matters were at stake that the politicians had systematically marginalised, and which were more important to them than all the economic and geopolitical arguments. Their question was not: what will make us better off, but rather: who are we, where are we, what holds us together in a shared political order and on whom have we conferred the right to govern us? It is not only the British who are faced with these questions: they are the political questions of our time, and all across Europe people are beginning to ask them. Moreover, they are not questions that can be settled by economic arguments, since they must be answered before any such arguments make sense."

He included this (slightly) tongue-in-cheek gem:

"The philosopher Leszek Kolakowski summarised the difference among legal cultures as follows: in Britain everything is permitted unless it is forbidden; in Germany everything is forbidden unless it is permitted; in France everything is permitted, even if it is forbidden; and in Russia everything is forbidden, even if it is permitted. Kolakowski exaggerates, of course; but the differences here are real, and part of what has made our membership of the EU so challenging to successive British governments. Law, for us, is common law, the property of the individual and our protection against anybody who tries to boss us about, including representatives of our government."

Read the entire article here. It's 5 pages but well worth reading..

I suggested to Madame a couple of days ago that the fundamental difference between the UK and France is the concept of trust vs the lack of it. She reminded me that as France is essentially a revolutionary country, the French State views its citizens as untrustworthy - therefore they must always carry ID and if driving, the vehicle registration document and driving licence (it's an offence not to). Plus, as my recent encounter with the Civil Service demonstrated in connection with my request for French nationality, they required enough documentation to sink a small-to-medium size ship to support what should have been a fairly routine request. It is recommended that all important papers are kept in box files for 10 years. It is a common sight on French TV news to see a complainant sitting at their dining table with a box file and years-worth of papers in front of them. Ready for a surprise? Here's how long documents should be kept.

In the UK, there's a presumption that all are innocent until proven guilty - hence no need to routinely carry ID, or a wodge of papers when driving. If stopped by the police and you are invited to produce your driving documents at a police station, you have 5 days in which to comply. For many years, there was no driver photo on a UK driving licence (I think the latest ones do now). The police were normally unarmed as well.. but I think this has changed in recent years for some, not all, police. People are (or were when I left!) generally law-abiding - whereas here, some consider that their needs take priority over everyone else's and so you see people parking in the strangest of places, or driving the wrong way in a one way street - because it suits them.

I can't remember where I heard this but it made me laugh at the time. If ever there was a revolution in England and you were in a howling mob that was told to 'take' a railway station, we'd all buy platform tickets.. And if someone bumps into us, we say "Sorry..". It's the way we are.

15th November. One of the few players in an England shirt who was able to lift the spirits on an otherwise dank November afternoon over the weekend at Twickenham was Bath's Sam Underhill. He tore into the Pumas with a great display of powerful tackling. As the Guardian put it: "Underhill has the upper body of a cartoon superhero, with arms that seem to dangle at acute angles because his oversized muscles push them out away from his frame. His shoulders seem ideally suited for slinging things over: sacks, logs, hostages from pillaged villages, Argentinian runners."

Watch him (in the 7 shirt) in action here for Bath and England:

12th November. Prior to our move here, we wanted to reassure ourselves that the coastal region didn't close its doors and put up its shutters in winter as is the case in some other resort areas. We'd only visited in the summer months (and once at Easter), and so one December, we came down here for the express purpose of seeing if the Basque coast was still alive and well in the 'Low' season.. We needn't have worried!

Down to the beach this morning with the dog under grey skies, low stratus clouds scudding through bringing more or less constant flurries of rain. The sea was right up and roaring constantly. I doubt if we stayed there much longer that 10-15 minutes - Nutty was quite happy to scuttle back to the warmth of the car! There were just a few joggers - otherwise it was deserted. Hard to imagine Christmas is only 6 weeks away.

The sight of people walking where they shouldn't is an all-too-common one these days. The landward end of this jetty is always fenced off in rough weather as occasionally a wave will break right over it. And, of course, there are always those who feel they must walk out on the jetty - thus proving something or other.

I attended a local Remembrance ceremony yesterday.. and I must say that there are more and more attendees with every year that passes. I was asked to lay a wreath on behalf of the association I work with. It's always a very moving occasion there - we had a choir and a couple of local bands - plus all the civic dignitaries and the colourful standards. There's something about the dry rattle of the drums and the clarion call of the trumpets of the "Marseillaise" that never fails to send a shiver through me.

11th November. It's the first weekend of the rugby Autumn Internationals this afternoon.. and if you feel a few earth tremors in the next few hours, you now know why! Italy play Fiji, Scotland meet Samoa, England collide with Argentina, Wales are due for a spanking by Australia, Ireland will be striking sparks off South Africa and in the evening game, France will be looking to restrict New Zealand to less than a 30 point lead. (Good luck with that!)

10th November. This great Neil Diamond song came out of "The Jazz Singer" - and in my view, it's one of the very best ballads - and I almost wrote "to be recorded in recent years" here - but I was surprised to learn that it was recorded back in 1980.. Ouch! 

Extra points if you spotted a few well-known faces in this video (on the eastern side of the Atlantic anyway): British actor James Booth on the right in the control room (he played Private Hook in "Zulu"); then Lucie Arnaz (daughter of Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz); and another British actor Paul Nicholas in the red shirt.

8th November. Madame has been spoiling me today for reasons that we don't need to go into.. For lunch, she made confit de canard with pommes de terre sarladaises.. (sliced potatoes fried in goose fat until crispy golden brown, with garlic and parsley..) You'll find a recipe in English for the potatoes here - but don't forget to sprinkle some coarse sea salt on them at the end. This has to be one of the tastiest recipes known to Mankind. If you've not come across this great dish before, then if you do nothing else, try it..! It couldn't be easier to make - and you'll thank me for it. (video here)

We eased it down with some Saint-Pourçain Cuvée du Bourg rouge.. (right) This is a little known red that is our current favourite and it's far better than it has any right to be. You should be able to find it in your local Carrefour (if in France) or, if not, ask your local wine merchant if he can find a bottle or two for you. (or Google) The white is also good.. and is akin to Sancerre. Both the red and the white are highly recommended. (Notes on Saint-Pourçain here)

Warning: High risk of drooling when watching this video! She omits the garlic.. Personally, I'd include it!
One last thing (and then we'll get back to the Pays Basque!): if you were to ask me who was the greatest racing driver of all time, there would only be one possible contender.. Juan Manuel Fangio - the absolute master of car control.. his four wheel drift technique can be seen here: 

5th November. I've followed motor racing all my life and in my view, the sport has gone down a blind alley in recent years. Races are now won and lost in the pits instead of out on the track, and we have such 'fascinating' technical developments such as DRS (yawn) and complex energy recovery systems  (ERS)(an even bigger yawn); plus safety cars & virtual safety cars; I've lost count of the different tyre types we now have but their useful life is measured in tens of miles, not forgetting the frangible carbon fibre aerodynamic winglets that are guaranteed to "frange" (sic) during the first corner jostling. I also think that the dignity and inherent beauty of the sport has been fatally compromised by the rampant commercialism (drivers and cars all decked out in advertising trivia) that now dominates and, to cap it all, the cars all sound as though they're powered by outboard motors. And I shudder to think how many pages are in the Formula One rule book. This is no Golden Age.

My recommendation for what it's worth: return to non-turbo, non-hybrid engines (think Cosworth V8 of at least 2½ litres) and forget about F1 tipping its hat to political correctness.. How can we pretend that an F1 car is saving energy when its tyres couldn't survive a drive from London to Brighton..? This is Ecclestone's legacy. Time to move on. Back to pure racing.. with tyres that can last a race.. no DRS.. no ERS.. no radios.. a minimum of aerodynamics (no winglets, wings or diffusers: what read-across to road cars is there? Nil..) Let the drivers drive. Gentlemen.. Start your engines!

The Thirties were the Golden Age as far as I'm concerned - plus the decade that followed WWII. I put this short video together of some of the most unforgettable sights and glorious sounds that motor racing has ever witnessed.. (To watch a documentary on Grand Prix racing in the Thirties, click on here and here) Ride with Hermann Lang in 1962 as he powers the 1937 race-winning W125 car with its supercharged straight eight 5.6 litre engine around the old Nürburgring circuit. W125 cars occupied the top four places in the championship by the end of the 1937 season.

Listen to the haunting wail of that V16 BRM as the supercharger kicks in at 3:00..      

  

That 3lbs of warm tofu between our ears works in strange ways doesn't it? While I was out earlier with the pup enjoying a very windy & bracing (almost wintry) walk along the coastal path at Anglet, something or other triggered a dusty memory of this warning in 4 languages I once saw above the window in my train compartment on a 4 day trans-European rail journey in the '60s. I spent much of that time reflecting on it!

It's a microcosm of Europe isn't it? In Italian, it sounds like a warning from an Italian lover (please not to come here after 7pm!) or, at the very least, a rustic pasta dish. The French version should be breathed in one's ear, preferably by a woman resembling Françoise Hardy in her youth, all legs and cheekbones (steady on!) - whereas the German version needs only the sound of a snarling Doberman Pinscher in the background.. The English warning is the only one that's devoid of any linguistic magic capable of occupying a young man's imagination for 4 days! I've been waiting for 50+ years to retrieve one of these phrases from my memory and drop it into conversation with a flourish - but, sadly, the occasion has never arisen.

In Googling for the warning sign, I found one of those old metal destination plaques they used to hang on the sides of the European railway carriages showing the routing. My trip took me to most of the destinations shown above before I continued on to Sarajevo, Skopje, Thessalonika and Athens. When/if asked what I'd like for Christmas or a birthday, I usually have no idea.. However, one of these would be a great reminder of that trip. I'll have to start looking. 

3rd November. Don't tell me you don't learn anything here..! Who knows what a SJW is? This is probably old hat to Guardianistas and NYT readers.. but for those of you who aren't, it means Social Justice Warrior. (Yes, it doesn't mean much to me either) Apparently its first use in a negative context dates back to 2011. (only 6 years behind the times!)

I once wrote a blog post about how it's a common sight to see people walking home here with a fresh crispy baguette, still warm from the oven, and being unable to resist having a not-so-surreptitious nibble of the pointy end. And I said that a small fortune awaits the person who can work out how to make just baguette ends. I've been seeing this baguette (above) lately - it's known as a campaillette sarmentine - or, more simply at the bakers I use, une baguette herriko (this sounds like a local variation). A quick flash of the knife before it goes into the oven and - bingo - you finish up with 4 crispily delicious baguette ends instead of the usual two. Cunning devils!

I've had a reply concerning my request for French nationality that I mailed recently. (I'm seeking dual nationality - I'm not abandoning Ye Olde Englande!) I'm relieved to hear that they have all the documentation they require and now I'm waiting for the police to contact me sometime in the near future to check that I've not been engaged in criminal activities since we arrived here ten years ago (apart from a slack handful of speeding tickets). Once they're satisfied, we then have to go up to the Prefecture in Bordeaux for meetings with various people to demonstrate that I can eat a tripe sandwich as a starter, followed by a great steaming plateful of Tête de veau, garnished with a few slices of Andouillette!! Only joking! And assuming my application is favourably received, the whole package then gets sent up to Paris for the approval of the Ministère de l'Intérieur (equiv to Home Secretary in the UK). And if he approves it, I think that will be the day that we'll have a good reason to revisit La Tupina!

Seeing as it's autumn, here's a great song that's made for the occasion - and instead of the usual syrupy Yves Montand version, here's Jean-Claude Pascal's interpretation:

247. September showers

30th September. I was down at the beach earlier today with the pup and to my surprise the sea was white with crashing foam and towering breakers. There was virtually no wind and it set me to wondering why this should be. Could there be any linkage with the recent Caribbean hurricanes? Or am I missing something blindingly obvious? And just now, when I opened our west-facing bedroom windows to close the shutters, I thought I could hear the soughing of the sea - and that must be 4-5km distant as the crow flies - I suppose it's possible. 

In a few days, Madame and I will be celebrating the 50th anniversary of the momentous evening when our orbits intersected for the first time - little realising that we'd turn out to be lifetime soulmates. (I remember dancing to this - have no idea what's it's about though!) We've been casting around for places to go - but, with the arrival of SuperPup (9.2kgs and counting!), we've had to scale back our ideas.

We're now looking at paying La Tupina (in Bordeaux) a visit. La Tupina is arguably the temple to the cuisine of south west France - and that, for me, is unarguably the best cuisine of all. (carte) We've been there once before but, for whatever reason, we were never able to make it back there. I understand that there's been a change of management (uh-oh) since our last visit. Read this review and prepare to salivate! Foodie photos here..

Couldn't resist this:

Stairway to heaven..!

29th September. We were in Saint-Jean-de-Luz yesterday evening to meet some friends. When we left home at 5pm, the car was indicating 39½°C.. although it was probably more like 31°. And, leaving Saint-Jean to return home at around 8.30, it was still 25° and this was the sky looking out across the bay to the west:

25th September. The training of the pup is going in fits and starts.. I think what we have is the dominant dog from his litter. While he's gradually getting the hang of things, this particular exercise is taking longer than it should for him to master:

It's taken me 10 years to get around to explaining this - the names of the different cuts of meat in France. (There's an international guide to meat cuts here). The diagram below is a good starting point for those of us in France. (More on those French cuts here. More here.) If you're not sure you can remember any of this, a simple rule of thumb for choosing tender meat is to remember: the further away from the horns and the ground, the better. On the diagram below these cuts are numbered 1. Finally, don't ignore bavette (shown as a 2 below) or onglet (sometimes called hanger steak in the US). 

24th September.  Whizzed down to Socoa (near Saint-Jean-de-Luz) this morning to walk the dog along the sea wall before lunch. We'd booked a table at Chez Pantxua, one of our favourite restaurants. For seafood, it's incomparable. The warm weather had brought out shoals of people with the same idea.. but who hadn't booked. Our restaurant was soon 'complet' and the staff were having to turn people away.

We ordered the house speciality - the paella - and it was truly excellent. We exited the restaurant like a couple of stuffed ducks!

The photo below is exactly as it appeared on our table.. No photoshop or special enhancements required..

Needless to say, we didn't feel the need to eat this evening!

This is the view looking across the bay to Saint-Jean-de-Luz with the Pyrenees in the misty background:

And here's a view looking at Ciboure / Socoa with La Rhune behind:

Madame has a new name for the pup - "Bulldozaire"! He's discovered tugging.. and he's good at it. Once he has something clamped in his jaws, he defies us to take it off him. For a 4 month old pup, he has impressive strength..   

22nd September. Nutty, our black and white (tricolour really) all-action monster English cocker spaniel 4x4 pup, is 4 months old tomorrow - and I'm convinced that he's doubled in size in the few brief weeks that we've had him. He's a quick learner but walking on a lead still appears to be a bit of a mystery to him. Plus, he hasn't yet figured out what the purpose of a walk is.. He comes back home having sniffed at all the usual places - but that's as far as it goes.. he saves his donations for a greener earth until he's back home in his own garden.

The weekend before last saw me taking part in the annual commemoration of the WWII evasion network known as the Comet Line. Allied bomber crews who had been shot down in Holland, Belgium and northern France were collected by Comet helpers and fed, clothed, housed and provided with false papers before they were dispatched by train from Brussels to Paris, Bordeaux and the Pays Basque. During the course of two days, we walk over the same tracks up and over the Pyrenees that the aircrew took en route to their freedom.

We had another good turnout this year despite the unseasonal torrential rain that marked the weekend. We had participants from as far afield as Dubai, New Jersey and Toronto but the prize for the furthest travelled went to a couple of ardent Australian Basque-o-philes Sue and Barry, from near Brisbane. It was great to see you both again - well done you two - and I hope the experience didn't put you off. Next year we're tackling the inland route that was used later in the war and you'll be pleased to hear that there's no river crossing involved!

I just about reached my own personal limit on that first climb.. I'm sure the mountain has become steeper since the last time I did it.

These two picture sum up the weekend!☺

Yes, that's water rushing down the path you can see below:  

21st September. This is a beautiful Basque song I heard the other day - "Agur Jaunak" sung here by Oldarra:

  

Here's Oldarra again with "Maitia Nun Zira": 

More here.

7th September. It's our annual long weekend up in the mountains this weekend.. and the forecast is not good. Looks like being a wet Saturday and Sunday - which is a great shame because we have people coming from as far afield as New Jersey, Dubai and Brisbane - as well as from Spain, Belgium, the UK, Ireland and France. Still, as my old rowing master used to say "It's only water!"

I was prompted by this photo to think about wine.. and it struck me that even if I tried a different wine every day for the rest of my life, I'd never finish the job.

Sometimes it seems that I've been on an eternal quest for the Holy Grail -  for the wine one sip of which would have my eyeballs rotating and which would send my internal wine-o-meter into the red zone! There's something of the "grass is always greener" to it all. Why shouldn't I instead settle for the fact that life's just too short to taste them all? I think from now on, I'll stick to drinking and enjoying the ones I like. That way = more pleasure and fewer disappointments.

3rd September. When you have a quiet moment, go and make yourself a coffee/tea/whatever, and listen to this piece by Roger Scruton.. I'd be surprised if it didn't have you nodding in agreement:

I've always believed that in jazz, less is more.. Listen to that great trumpeter Chet Baker as he reminds us of those times when we felt blue:

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..

194. The best of company in the Pays Basque

Bar Basque

11th September 2012. Down to earth again this morning after a memorable Comète Commemorative weekend in the Pays Basque. Every year at this time there is a gathering here - to celebrate and commemorate in equal measure those who were involved with Comète, the famous WW2 escape line. Many of us met up on Thursday evening at the old Bar Basque at Saint-Jean-de-Luz.. To my mind this is by far the most pleasant and stylish bar in St Jean, ideally situated in Boulevard Thiers for watching the evening to-ing and fro-ing. To all our delight, the Duffee family appeared and tables were dragged together and the evening had all the makings.. I could have stayed there much longer and followed the few quiet sangrias with a few noisy ones!

We had all been expecting another veteran (in name only) to make an appearance but Andrée Dumont - better known as "Nadine" - had taken a tumble in the week leading up to the weekend and so with great regret she had to cancel. Needless to say, all our best wishes go to her for a speedy recovery. Et joyeux anniversaire!!

We were honoured to have George and Janet Duffee with us again - a truly remarkable and devoted couple who'd travelled with their family all the way from West Wales down to the Pays Basque. George is described in many places as a veteran but he and Janet are anything but! He was shot down while returning from his first bombing raid in his Halifax bomber (left) in June '43 and after an eventful saga he finally found his way down to the Pays Basque, courtesy of "Franco" and Comète. He and a small party of other evaders were led over the Pyrenees via the Saint-Jean-de-Luz route (below right) by the legendary Basque guide Florentino Goicoechea on a night march in the rain that lasted 14 hours. He can laugh about it now! (I think) Here's George's file from the Comète Line site. On his return to Britain, he went back to operational flying and went on to fly 39 more operational sorties. He was honoured with the award of a well-deserved DFC. After the war, he flew some 236 sorties during the Berlin Airlift after which he became a civil airline pilot for British Airways where he had a distinguished career. A charismatic gentleman with a permanent twinkle in his eye, he exudes the indefatigable spirit that saw him through all that life could throw at him. George and Janet inspire respect and great affection from all who meet them and may I be allowed to add here on this special day for them - happy wedding anniversary.. 66 years!

The pattern for the long weekend has been set for some years now - Friday is reserved for honouring the memory of those who fell or did not return from deportation. Wreaths are laid at war memorials and cemeteries at Saint-Jean-de-Luz, Ciboure, Bayonne and Anglet, followed by civic receptions at Saint-Jean-de-Luz and Anglet.

The group then splits into two parties - one composed of walkers who, over the weekend, retrace the actual paths taken by the wartime guides and the escaping airmen over the mountains and into Spain and a second group of those who wish to follow by coach over the Saturday and Sunday. The "traditional" route used by the walkers is shown on the right here. (click to enlarge). 

The Comète organisation was shaken to its foundations by a wave of arrests in Brussels as a result of the Abwehr's successful penetration in late 1942 and this was followed by arrests at a Comète safe house - Bidegain Berri farm (left) - at Urrugne in the Pays Basque in January 1943 where Andrée de Jongh  - the founder of Comète - was among those arrested. This was a major blow to the organisation and one which might have proved to be fatal.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us .." 

"A Tale of Two Cities" by Charles Dickens

However, as the saying has it, "Cometh the hour, cometh the man.."

"Larressore" route

"Franco"

Comète's new leader Jean-François Nothomb (aka "Franco") pioneered a number of new inland routes to avoid the increased surveillance on the coast and it was one of these - known as the "Larressore" route - that we were to walk over as a group this year for the first time. In brief, it starts from Marthe Mendiara's Auberge Larre, a Comète safe house at Anglet quartier Sutar, where she offered a safe haven to over 150 airmen before they continued on their way on bicycles. The route is marked in purple on the map (right). Again, click to enlarge. A major debt of thanks is owed to Dominique Aguerre for all the work he and his relatives did in re-tracing what was essentially a completely undocumented route - made all the more difficult by the passage of almost 70 years. 

So it was that on Friday morning we gathered by the War Memorial at Saint-Jean-de-Luz where George Duffee laid a wreath on behalf of ELMS (right) - a UK-based society. Marie-Christine (left), the grand daughter of Kattalin Aguirre, also laid flowers as did Brigitte d'Oultremont, president of Comète Kinship in Belgium. Afterwards we were warmly received at the nearby Town Hall of Saint-Jean-de-Luz with a welcoming speech to which Mr Jean Dassié replied, as President of "Les Amis du Réseau Comète". This was followed by a vin d'honneur kindly offered by the Town Hall. After lunch, we reconvened up at the St Léon cemetery at Bayonne to honour the memory of Mr Dassié's parents, both of whom were active in Comète and who were both deported to Germany (to Buchenwald and Ravensbruck respectively) along with their 16 year old daughter Lucienne ("Lulu") in the wake of the earlier arrests at Bidegain Berri farm. Mr Dassié's father died in May 1945, the day he was returned to Paris while his mother died in 1948 as a result of her treatment in the camps. Thankfully, Lulu survived and was able to be present for this weekend.

George & Janet Duffee
outside the "Villa Voisin"

No visit to the Pays Basque for a Comète weekend would be complete without visiting the legendary "Villa Voisin" - the headquarters and nerve centre of Comète South in the Pays Basque. Situated in a narrow lane in Anglet, this small villa that now looks so innocent was home to the De Greefs, a Belgian family who fled the German blitzkreig in the Low Countries in 1940. Fernand and especially Elvire de Greef ("Tante Go") were to prove to be more than a match for the hardened professionals of the Abwehr, the Feldgendarmerie and all the grisly apparatus of the Gestapo using no more than their wits and quick thinking. Andrée De Jongh would warn prospective helpers of Comète that, if they joined, they could expect no more than 6 months of operating before being arrested. The De Greefs ran Comète South from start to finish and remained free throughout - apart from once when Tante Go was briefly arrested along with "Be" Johnson..

We now moved to the War Memorial at Anglet where wreathes were laid in a colourful and poignant ceremony attended by many French veterans complete with their standards. In addition, our own Comète standard was carried this year by John Clinch, and the British Legion standard for the south west France branch was represented by their standard bearer (ex Royal Marines!). Representatives of the local civil and military authorities were also present. A most moving ceremony especially when a Basque choir sang the Partisans Song.

We then moved across to the Town hall where Mr Espilondo, the mayor of Anglet, warmly welcomed us. One of our committee members spoke movingly of Jules Mendiburu who was present and who, as a very young man, had helped Comète during the war. Mr Dassié spoke for all of us with his warm words of thanks and again, this was followed by a vin d'honneur.    

All too soon the official part of the day was over and we left to return to Saint-Jean-de-Luz. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Saint-Jean-de-Luz, here's a short video that lets you know what you've missed (turn the volume up!):

We were headed for the Sardinerie (now since closed), situated no more than 5 metres from the waters edge, where the sardines come straight off the boats and into the kitchen. Fortunately, tables had been reserved for us. By now, my Cold Beer low level warning light was showing steady red and the first one hit every spot on the way down.. The place was full and bustling with the sound of people enjoying themselves. A great evening among friends and it's a pity that we must wait for another year to renew our friendship.

Saturday morning saw us waiting in the car park of the school at Sutar where Pierre Elhorga had lived. A retired customs official, his knowledge of clandestine cross border activities (we'd call it smuggling!) was put to good use in signing up passeurs to help the cause. An influx of walkers from across the border swelled our numbers to somewhere in the region of the mid forties.   

Here are Miren and Iurre (outside the former auberge "Larre"), a couple of irrepressible and talented Basque girls from "the other side" who are two of the leading lights behind Moztu Films. They recently made the film "The Last Passage" that documents the events that led up to the fateful arrests at Bidegain Berri farm. It's well worth seeing.

The new route winds its way along the banks of the Nive before taking to a maze of unmarked tracks and little-used lanes and, it has to be said,  some unavoidable stretches of tarmac that eventually led us to the Pont du Diable, just outside the very Basque village of Larressore.

Rest stop at Pont du Diable

Sauveur Aguerre

Here we were met by Sauveur Aguerre, (right) the son of Jean Baptiste (Battita), the wartime passeur. I was pleased to see that he didn't have his axe with him this time! (See Post # 192) The evaders would abandon their bicycles here to be recovered by Mattin Garat, a baker from nearby Larressore. From here on in, they would continue on foot all the way to Spain and freedom.

We had a short break at the Pont du Diable - just long enough to force an energy bar and some dried fruit down - before we continued on up a trail previously known only to the contrebandiers (smugglers) up to a disused sheep barn known as Mandochineko Borda (below).

Far from prying eyes, Mandochineko Borda lies deep in the verdant Basque countryside, and it is exceptionally well hidden. It was still covered in brambles and creepers as it always has been and it remains just as it was all those years ago - with its floor of beaten earth with no heating, electricity or water. Here, the airmen would lie up and try to rest for as long as it took for the Comète planners to decide on a suitable night for the mountain crossing.

Mandochineko Borda

The business end of a makhila!

Sauveur showed us his ancient but still very effective makhila which had been handed down to him by his father (and his father before him).

The sun had climbed high in the sky by now and the temperature must have been more than 30C - with humidity to match. The midday heat lay very heavily on us here and the air was thick with dust raised by our feet. People sought out any shade they could find and shirts were wet with sweat. As we continued our way, Sauveur led us past his fields of piment d'Espelette which flourish here.   

One of several vultures that were keeping their beady eyes on some of us!

Soon we entered the piment-festooned picture postcard village of Espelette where a méchoui and a cold beer (or 2) awaited us.. (click on the image below)

We all found our way to the Accoceberry building where we were to eat. After a quick splash of cold water and a clean T-shirt I was ready!

The tiredness was quickly forgotten as we sat down among friends.. while wine appeared and disappeared as if by magic and quantities of lamb in all its forms arrived..! Guitars, harmonicas and tin whistles were brought out and the singing began.. Basques love to sing and they all seem to have been born with the ability to sing in harmony:   

After the méchoui we left to go to the War Memorial near the church at Espelette to lay a wreath honouring those of Espelette who did not return. We then walked the short distance to a function room where Gracy Florence, Madame le Maire of Espelette (below), spoke very poignantly and movingly of Espelette's involvement in the Comète story. Merci Madame. This was followed by a vin d'honneur that the village had very kindly offered us.

Gracy Florence, Madame le Maire d'Espelette

The next day saw us taking the bus with the non-walkers - partly for logistical reasons and partly due to your correspondent's knees. Having walked over the mountain route a couple of times in practice in the last few weeks, I didn't feel too bad about it!

Watching the walkers arrive at the finish:

Protection Civile volunteers

All weekend, we'd been accompanied by volunteers from Protection Civile who were there to provide medical and other security. A big thank you to you both! Here they are at the end of the trail having a well-deserved cold beer.

One by one the walkers arrived and took their seats in the dining room that had been made available for us at "Esteben Borda" (below), which lies either 10 metres over the border in Spain or 10 metres inside the border and still in France (depending if you're buying or selling!☺). Waitresses brought out steaming tureens full of beans and platters of lamb.. Wine disappeared yet again and was just as quickly replenished.

The safe house on the Spanish side was called Jauregiko Borda and here it is seen through a mid-afternoon heat haze:

Jauregiko Borda

Our lunch stop - Esteben Borda

John from Dublin was coaxed to his feet to give his word-perfect rendition of the Peña Baiona to a very appreciative and impressed audience - apart from a lone supporter of Biarritz Olympique! (There's always one isn't there!)

Each year, an honorary boïna or Txapela* is awarded to the person who has made a significant contribution to Comète and this year it was awarded - to his great surprise - to none other than the very deserving John Clinch! (the Duffees are seated under the Comète standard) I wish I could have caught on film the expression of total surprise as I said his name! Well done John!

  * a boïna is an outsize Basque beret.

Suddenly, the weekend was all over and goodbyes for another year were said in the car park. We drove home feeling the warmth from all the people we'd met. The warmth lingers on as I write this and look at the photographs. Thank you to all those who came and who made it so memorable.

I had several people come up to me and tell me that they thought this new route was tougher than the more traditional route - especially the second day. If you missed it this year for whatever reason, the pattern for future annual Comète commemorations in the Pays Basque will be that the routes will alternate between the new "Larressore" route and the usual St Jean de Luz one - so the next time we do the "Larressore" route will be in 2014, with perhaps with one or two tweaks. Thanks to all of you again for making this last weekend so special.

Here's an aptly-named Mark Knopfler track here for you - and coincidentally, it was filmed in the Basque country too - it's called "Going home":

Finally, remind yourself of the charm of Saint-Jean-de-Luz here:

Haste ye back!