Many of the locals I met in the French Basque country said you were either a lover of Biarritz or Saint-Jean-de-Luz, and while I can see what they mean (the former is loved by chic fashionistas, surfers and spa-goers, the latter is certainly more ‘Basque’ in character) I really love both – perhaps it’s because both are equally appealing to the food lover.
Anyway, it is warm, even late into the autumn, and the beach is just beautiful, the market is one of the best I’ve ever visited in France and the food shops, ooh la. Read the feature for The Times here which explains how crossing the harbour to the atmospheric village of Ciboure (main picture above) and getting up in the mountains for the town of Espelette completes a weekend in the area.
Or here:
There’s no mistaking I’m in France’s Basque country: as the motorway pushes beyond the Landes forest, the curtain of tall pines opens and the Pyrenees are ahead. Taking the St-Jean-de-Luz junction, I drive past the archetypal Basque architecture — red timber frames and roofs against whitewashed walls — to arrive at my hotel, perched on the clifftops above the town. Soon, I’m sipping the house cocktail while the lights of Biarritz twinkle in the distance and the waves crash against the rocks below.
Tucked in the curve where France runs into Spain, St-Jean-de-Luz embodies the best of the Basque country on this side of the Pyrenees. Its long golden beach is sheltered from the Atlantic’s rolling waves by headlands jutting into the bay. There are some great shops, a buzzing market and several excellent restaurants.
It also turns out to be the ideal place to stave off winter; even in December the temperature rarely drops below 12. After breakfast on the terrace overlooking the sea, I wander down to the town from my hotel, La Réserve, just beyond St-Barbe, the town’s best lookout point. The view opens out in front of me — the town and beach are bathed in a gentle morning haze framed by the Pyrenees behind.
My first port of call is the buzzing Friday morning market. Outside the market hall, stalls vie for my attention — creamy goat’s cheese, the local speciality; Espelette peppers; and, in the fish market, people queue with baskets for the local catch.
Outside, in streets lined with houses with red and green shutters, I head towards the imposing Église St-Jean-Baptiste. Its unremarkable exterior belies the treasures inside: an astounding baroque altarpiece has three tiers of golden saints, while on the other walls, four levels of dark-wood seating galleries rise to the roof. The church was chosen for the marriage of the French king Louis XIV and Maria Theresa of Spain in 1660. In tying the knot they ended centuries of conflict between the two countries.
The royal couple’s nuptials were celebrated by the creation of a small macaron called the mouchou, which means “kiss”. I buy a box at Maison Adam, a patisserie founded in the year of the wedding, where counters are full of Basque indulgences, including Espelette pepper chocolates and gâteaux basques.
The 17th century was when the town became wealthy as a result of fishing and the activities of corsairs (pirates sponsored by the king), who made this part of the Atlantic coast so fearsome that English sailors called it the Viper’s Nest. These days a boat trip is a less risky affair, so I board the small cruiser Nivelle V for a trip along the coast towards Spain.
The boat heads out past the glorious beach at Ciboure, the fishing village on the opposite side of the river. It turns west after the long sea wall at Socoa, overlooked by its dinky 15th-century cylindrical fort built by Louis XIII. I’m fascinated by the sloping cliffs at Flysch, where the curious vertical strata look as if they have been made from layers of cardboard. We pass Hendaye, a town on the border alongside its Spanish counterpart Hondarribia, where we pull into a tiny harbour.
The next day, the mountains are calling. The air is cooler when I reach Espelette, the village famous for the local chilli peppers. Coachloads of Spanish tourists pile into the pedestrianised streets that are buzzing as visitors and locals mill about in fromageries and shops selling Basque specialities, bright-striped linen and local crafts. The garlands — or ristras — of peppers hang on the front of most buildings.
For lunch, I sit on the terrace of Aintzina and order axoa, a veal stew flavoured with the red peppers. With garlic potatoes, its warming, spicy and filling. I ask the waitress if it is always so busy. “Oh it’s quiet today,” she replies. As if on cue, the streets become deserted. Shops close for the lunch hour, visitors and locals disappear into restaurants and I have the village to myself. I wander the lanes down to a church, where an brook ripples past and the hum of an accordion wafts on the breeze. There’s not a soul to be seen; I’ve found my perfect escape.
Need to know
Carolyn Boyd was a guest of La Reserve (hotel-lareserve.com) and of by Atout France (uk.france.fr/en). The nearest airport is Biarritz. Car hire was provided by Holiday Autos (holidayautos.com). For more information on the area, see saint-jean-de-luz.com
The luxury hotel: La Reserve
A four-star hotel high above the sea, with views along the coast to Biarritz. Its excellent restaurant, Ilura, features haute cuisine with a Basque flavour. Room-only doubles are from €118 (00 33 5 59 51 32 00, hotel-lareserve.com/en/).
The budget hotel: Hotel Ohartzia
This friendly hotel in the town centre is a few steps from the beach and has 15 rooms and a quiet, tree-shaded garden at the back. Room-only doubles are from €95 (00 33 5 59 26 00 06, hotel-ohartzia.com).
