Day 44: Léon to San Sebastian | 125km
15 July 2026
My final morning and day in France before checking off country number eight on this trip. I have mixed feelings about the last thousand kilometers or so. On the one hand, I had company for the first few hundred until Paris, which was a real joy on this otherwise solitary journey. On the other, for the second half, I felt a bit rushed, and the landscapes and towns I passed didn’t exactly invite me to linger. I set off excited, though, with a quickly fading appetite for baguettes and a quickly escalating appetite for tapas and pintxos in Spain.
Despite the excitement, my legs quickly started feeling very heavy, my head pounded, and a few short, steep climbs early in the morning really sucked out any energy I had left. It feels random, but some days feel easy and I feel strong, and others I just don’t. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but once muscle or energy fatigue infects the mind, it can be very difficult to keep going. To overcome this, I took more snack and water breaks than I normally do. Even if it’s only for a few minutes, I always felt better afterward.
It was obvious that the relatively flat land I’d biked through since Germany was shifting. Looking out into the seascape to my right, I could see cliffs and dramatic landscapes along the coast. The final kilometers into Biarritz were hilly but incredibly beautiful. I looked down the beach where people were lounging, surfers running into the water to catch waves, and groups of friends hanging out. Momentarily, this took me out of my low moment, and I tried to soak in the city as I slowly pedaled through. I wanted to stop, but I had already scouted a lunch spot just a few kilometers away in Saint-Jean-de-Luz, a small beach town where my parents got engaged. Even though Biarritz was stunning and I would’ve loved to spend the rest of the day strolling around the streets, it felt more symbolic to go back to where my parents had spent a few weeks back in the 80s.
This stretch of coast in southwestern France was quite the contrast to other towns and farmlands I’d passed through since our first stop in Lille. Cycling through a country, you get an appreciation for all the different types of people living there, but it sometimes becomes more difficult to see the connection between city A and city B. Clearly, each comes with very different opportunities, economics, and mindsets.
After lunch in Saint-Jean-de-Luz, I slowly (literally, as I was tired) continued toward Irun, the border town on the Spanish side. I was again disappointed that there wasn’t any sign or flag to mark the crossing, but it soon became apparent that I was indeed in a new country. The first thing I did was to go to the local church. I know, it’s not my usual first move. I had to obtain the Pilgrimage passport from the parish, so I waited for the church to open at 4:30 and then entered the parish office. We had a brief conversation in my makeshift Spanish, and then he stamped my paper passport, which officially made me a pilgrim on the Camino del Norte. The half-blind, ancient priest gently shook my hand and wished me good luck