The ride from Bordeaux to St. Jean-de-Luz is much like the rest of France - very scenic with lost of farm land to be seen. However, there were many, many acres of woods - tall, straight pine trees with branches and needles only on the top third. As you near the coastal areas, however, the road narrows to two lanes (unless you are willing to pay the price charged for the Auto route) and the traffic becomes extremely heavy as you pass through Bayonne. This was in mid June, 2001 when we were on our way to Portugal from Sweden. It also appeared that miles of camping trailers were headed in the same direction. 

All along this area of France there are numerous boat harbors, filled with sailboats at anchor and the blue, blue Atlantic beyond. The ride wound through the foothills of the Basque Countryside, peering toward the great Pyrenees in the near distance. On the other side of the road, the Atlantic Ocean is there somewhere but you will rarely see it due to the dense housing. It was a beautifully sunny day, and summer had arrived in the Basque country.

The highway descends into the quaint and lovely town of St. Jean-de-Luz. St. Jean-de-Luz is a small town we knew a hotel would be fairly easy to locate. Sure enough, we followed some signs several blocks into town, and found a place to stay. Relatively expensive given the age of the place and the size of the room but we’ve come to expect high prices in France. The hotel, Maria Christina is shown above with our bikes parked in front.

After getting settled in the room and the bikes parked right up next to the hotel’s front door we went exploring. We walked the length of the rue Gambetta, the main shopping street, which is for pedestrian traffic only. However, don’t rely on it! While the length of the street itself is just for pedestrians, there are cross streets, which come upon you unaware. It does give you a start when a car whizzes across right in front of you to disappear down a narrow side street! There were also a couple of visiting giants entertaining the crowds on rue Gambetta while we were there (right). At left, one decides to sit and rest with some local ladies, much to their chagrin.

According to our guidebook, St. Jean-de-Luz “with its fine sandy bay and magnificent harbor front houses, is far and away the most attractive resort on the Basque coast, but happily has not been submerged by tourism.” While we did not shop around and compare it with other Basque coast towns, we can attest to a wonderful ambiance that we found there. It stretches along a beautiful beach (right), with small breakers lapping on shore, and a lovely harbor filled with working fishing boats. It has the only natural harbor on the coast between Arcachon and Spain, and has been a major port for centuries, with whaling and cod fishing the main occupation of it fleets. It remains one of the busiest fishing ports in France, and the principal one for landing anchovy and tuna.

Most evident of the wealth and vigor of St. Jean’s seafaring past is in the surviving seventeenth- and eighteenth-century houses of the merchants and ship owners. One of these is the Maison Louis XIV, so named because young King Louis stayed there in 1660 during the preparations for his marriage to Maria Teresa, Infanta of Castile. Another is the impressive pink Italianate villa known as the Maison de I’Infante, where she was lodged during the same time. Both of these houses are on the Quay I’Infante, overlooking the harbor. A third is the corner house on rue Mazarin, where the Duke of Wellington established his headquarters during the 1813-14 winter campaign against Marshal Soult.

Besides its beautiful harbor, its long stretch of sandy beach, its spacious harbor, and the picturesque homes, shops, restaurants and cafes, the town’s moment of fame is that it was the setting for the historic wedding of King Louis and Maria Teresa. The couple was married in the church of St. Jean Baptiste on the rue Gambetta. The door through which they left the church was walled up following the wedding (we never learned the reason for this, however). The walled-up section that had been the door was clearly visible.

Apparently, the wedding was an extravagance that defies belief. We were told that Cardinal Mazarin alone presented the queen with 12,000 pounds of pearls and diamonds, a gold dinner service, and a pair of sumptuous carriages drawn by teams of six houses. Not a bad haul from only one guest!

The church itself (you know we would find a church to visit) is plain and fortress-like on the outside, the biggest of all the Basque churches, apparently. However, compared with the cathedrals we’ve seen in Spain, it was modest. The interior is dark; an identifying feature of the Basque churches is the curved dark-wood ceilings. In addition, it was lined on three sides with tiers of dark oak galleries. These were reserved for the men, while the woman sat at ground level in the nave. Equally Basque is the elaborate gilded retable of tiered angels, saints and prophets behind the altar. In St. Jean’s church, there was also a model of the Empress Eugeine’s paddle steamer which narrowly escaped wrecking on the rocks outside St. Jean in 1867. A different touch. All in all, it is a dark and somber interior. However, it was a church after Jim’s heart—it took only a few minutes to see everything!

Our days were spent walking through the town, strolling along the beach walkway, poking into shops, having a midmorning cup of tea at the Patisserie (and a French pastry as well), checking out the fishing boats at the harbor, and spending some time on sign language in the stores and post office and restaurants. Not much English is spoken here. And, our French is nonexistent. We found that there is an open-air farmers market on Tuesdays and Saturdays. 

While we were visiting, they were in the midst of a local festival, so in the evening, the Basque singers were performing in the square, much to the delight of the locals. Notice that many of the locals are wearing read neckerchiefs, a symbol of the Basque (along with the beret and espadrilles). The next morning there were hundreds of school groups in town, all dressed in red or black (another Basque symbol). 

Down the street, there was the Rue de la Republique celebration, a narrow lane full of restaurants, most of which appeared to be specializing in seafood. The place was swarming with people and everyone appeared to having a good time. Isn’t that was festivals are for?

Across the bridge is the town of Ciboure, which looks like a part of St. Jean but is in fact a separate commune. It is a lovely, little town. Picturesque streets and quaint old homes on the Quai Maurice-Ravel (the composer was born at No. 12, we were informed). Wide-fronted, half-timbered gaily painted, and sometimes with balconies, the houses are typical Basque style.

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