Pimbo is one of the oldest Bastide villages in the area, founded in 1268, with collegiate church of St- Bartelmy on the site of a monastery founded by Charlmagne. The simle beauty of the small village hit us as the Magician and I walked through it hand in hand.
We quickly walked onto other historical towns, for example, Arzacq- Arraziguet itself was a Bastide town was founded in 13th– 14th century. As we’re getting closer to the border of Spain the history and countries some of these towns belonged too changes quite a lot. For Arzaq, this was in France in the 13th Century, not, Béarn (which at the time was a separate country). Arzacq as a town marked a the boundary between these 2 countries.
The temperature was a boiling 28 degrees, making it really hard to walk in. This was beautiful weather and was giving me a beautiful golden tan. Which normally resulted in the Magician trying to slather me in sun cream, me running away saying no, I’m find I won’t get sun burnt. And me continuing to be proven right much to his chagrin. Point one to the English, Nil point to the French. Ha ha ha!
Walking further on in the unending heat we got to Larreule. This town used to be the site of a Benedictine monastery, founded about 995AD. It was an important pilgrimage site in the middle ages. One thing I should probably point out about the French, is they don’t actually have a definition for towns. So a place is either a village or a city. This is pretty confusing for me. As the old English definition for a city is that it has to have a cathedral. Otherwise its totally dependent on the size of the collection of buildings about whether this would be a town or a village. So forever we’d be walking into a small town and the Magician would declare it a lovely city. There we’d then have an argument about whether this really was a city? Its small and where the Cathedral? And this again proves the French make no sense.
Just before we arrived into Pomps we came across one of the first noticeable Camino gardens for the Pilgrims. This is when the walk really starts to hit you as a spiritual journey and the support that the local communities has for these walkers.
Arriving in Pomps which has a 17th century church of St James (or called St Jacques in France) and a chateau with an octagonal tower. We managed to find our way to the Communal Gite in Pomps, and it was extremely basic. Here we meet a typical middle aged French couple where the wife did nothing but complain at the top of her voice. As JC (the inspirational disabled man walking the Camino alone) who never complained about anything was there, it made me pretty agitated. Seeing someone who’d handed half a pack in life, versus someone who has got a full pack and then complains the showers not warm enough, the bed is lumpy, their feet hurt etc etc. It gives you this strong over- riding urge to slap them. Needless to say the Magician and I avoided them for as much as possible. If not, I suspect we’d both be in jail right now.