The departure from Navarrenx takes one over its famous bridge. This part of the Béarn is the Béarn des Gaves, the last word meaning “torrents”. There are plenty of them and they usually bolt along.
The day was spent dodging the rain so common near the Pyrenees. But there was plenty to charm:
A cute bridge in a forest…
Forest dovecotes, probably for local hunters…
On a bit of wet grass, during a break in the rain, the chance to sample a famous local specialty, the andouille sausage, tasting of what seems to be tripe and paprika.
At some point, crossing a river near my destination in Lichos, I entered the Basque country. That evening I enjoyed the company of a number of pilgrims in the home of M. and Mme Routier. The jamón was specially, even fanatically, selected across the border, and our hostess insisted it was better than any jambon de Bayonne available closer. Hard to argue, as I gobbled my fourth or fifth slice!
The Béarn was now behind me. Adixatz, sweet region.