All language subtitles for The Pyrenees with Michael Portillo - 1x01 - A Quest of Identity

The Atlantic and the Pyrenees.

Origin and destination -

or do I mean destiny?

I'm going on a journey
of self discovery...

What a place.

...walking stretches
between the summits of

the Spanish and French Pyrenees.

My Word!

Approaching three score years and
ten, I have much to reflect on...

What is the secret of being happy
in life, do you think, now?

...so I'm challenging myself on
an ambitious mountain adventure.

HE GROANS
SHE CH UCKLES

I'll start at the Atlantic Ocean,

crossing borders between Spain
and France,

and end at the Mediterranean Sea.

Meeting the people who live here...

Working on the land together,
everybody's equal

and that's when you really bond.

It's like falling in love again.

I began to get this sense
of total peace.

I'll test myself physically...

Oh! This is no joke.

...and have time to contemplate
the past...

Somewhere through these hills,
my father walked to leave Spain

as a political refugee.

...open to whatever
this personal quest may teach me.

It has impressed upon me how free
is the human spirit

to choose its own way -
and that is inspiring.

I'm back in Spain.

Not a bit of Spain I know
particularly well.

This is the Basque Country.

They have their own Basque language.

But, nonetheless,

it is Spain
and I feel very aware of that.

My Spanish father,
my Spanish background,

is really a big part of my life

and I love returning here.

I feel very comfortable in Spain.

My parents were Spanish
and Scottish.

That dual heritage is fundamental
to my identity.

I start my Pyrenean quest in
the Spanish Basque region,

whose strong identity has led
to conflict -

and some of its people brought
my parents together.

The Pyrenees, I'm told,
are pretty demanding mountains

and I am no mountaineer.

And I'm no longer in
the first flush of youth either.

So this is a personal challenge
and being March,

it just so happens that today is

the anniversary
of my parents' wedding,

all the way back in 1940.

And you might ask, "Well, what's
that got to do with anything?"

Well, actually...

...|'ll tell you as I go along.

So, just like a walk I did in
Devon and Cornwall a year ago,

this is a bit of a personal odyssey,

a bit of self discovery,

as well as discovery
of these gorgeous lands

and the people who live in them.

Oh, and the food and
the drink that they enjoy.

Over the next three days,
I want to understand

what it means to be Basque and why,
for many years,

a bloody insurrection was fought

to make this distinctive region
independent of Spain.

Once I've left the Atlantic,

I'll cover a distance of 40 miles,

where I'll meet a father and son

whose work preserves
a symbol of Basque culture.

I'll then follow
a smuggler's path before visiting

a traditional Basque village,

where I'll find a British writer

who's been welcomed into
this private community.

My route will then take me to
the Baztan Valley to meet

a student who embraces
the mythical beliefs of the area,

before I join part of
a pilgrimage route

that I took over 20 years ago
when life had dealt me a blow,

or so it seemed.

Goodbye, creature comforts.
I'm on my way.

Traditionally,
a Pyrenean adventure carries

the intrepid pilgrim from coast
to coast.

Oh, look at that.

Recently we've seen miserable scenes

of European civilians being
bombed from the air

but the prototype for that happened
just a few miles away.

There was a place called
Guernica or "Ger-nic-ah",

very near Bilbao, and in 1937
it was bombed very badly.

It was a sort of dress rehearsal
for aerial bombardment,

and it was so bad that
the British government,

which had been very iffy about
taking refugees from

the Spanish Civil War,

decided that it would relent

and allow as many children as
could cram on to a single ship

to go to England.

Well, some of them ended up
in Oxford,

where my mother was
an undergraduate.

She was reading Spanish.

She went to meet
the Basque children,

she befriended them.
And then in 1939 -

a story I've yet to tell you -

my father left Spain as a refugee,

crossed the Pyrenees
and was drawn to Oxford

because he was an academic,
a don.

Went to Oxford, heard about
the refugee children, met them,

met my mother.

My mother proposed to him.

Here I am.

It feels poignant
to be starting my journey

in a zone significant to
my heritage.

Ocean at my back,
striking towards the mountains...

...and the way is slippery and steep.

This adventure involves
mental exercise as much as physical.

There'll be moments
of solitude which I'll use

to think about my life
and my parents' suffering.

I'll consider their experiences
of war

and reflect on the latest savagery
in Europe.

Argh! What a slimy, slippery slope.

HE EXCLAIMS

Oh, what a bog.

The Atlantic and the Pyrenees.

Origin and destination -

or do I mean destiny?

Well, as you can see,

I'm just at the start
of my pilgrim's progress

and yet I'm already quite tired.

I think the bad weather makes it
so much more exhausting

and the mountains? Well,
they're just smears in the mist.

It looks like
it's going to be a wet one.

Despite the arduous and soggy start,

the terrain soon levels out

and I find myself deep in
the Basque Country.

There's an everyday object
that symbolises the culture here,

and which would mightily assist
a novice walker like me.

Hello, Ben at. Oh, good morning.
Michael, how are you?

It's lovely to see you, Ben at.
Let's go. Thank you very much.

Three generations
of Ben at Alberdi's family

have been hand-making traditional
Basque walking sticks,

or makilas,
in this workshop since 1948.

The makila,
this is a very Basque thing.

Yes, it is part of our culture.
It is a symbol of respect.

Not every Basque would have
a walking stick like this.

It's what - for older people,
maybe?

Normally, yes, because you had
to deserve it.

For instance, if someone has worked
in a company for a long time

and he has clone very well his job,

his workmates offer him a makila,

to show him they respect.

It's... It's a way to say,
"We appreciate you, we love you."

Is it quite a long process
to make a makila?

Yes, it takes very long
because just the wood drying,

at least ten years. Yeah. Ten years?

But the first step is in the forest,

when we...
we go there to make the tattoo...

The tattoo here in the wood,
you can see, there is a mark

and this mark is
the cut I did on the branch.

This is the scarring.

Scarring, that's it.
just with a white medlar.

If you do that to another tree,
doesn't work.

Right. I don't know why but it
doesn't work.

We do this in springtime. Yes.

I go back in winter to cut
the branch.

Put it in the oven, remove the skin.

Yes.
Um, and the result is these marks.

Well, what patience you must have.

HE CHUCKLES

What does this eventually become?

Voila - makila.

The beautiful thing is that
we are doing a very old product,

exactly the same way, eh?
So, everything by hand.

Here on the bottom we've got
the nickel silver part.

Everything engraved by hand,
of course, with Basque symbols.

We've got the handle,
which is covered with leather

and here we can write
whatever we want.

This is the most emotional part.
Ancl on the top we've got the horn.

Oh! Wow.

It was not considered as an arm,
OK?

Because it's not very practical,
let's say,

but it was to show that, er...

That the people have
to respect you, OK?

You use it like that, with the loop
over your hand? Exactly.

That is a very, very beautiful
product. What a wonderful result.

Mm, thank you. I'll take it.

The workshop has some fascinating
vintage makilas in its collection.

This makila was made in Guernica.

It's marked Guernica, 1923.

MICHAEL EXCLAIMS
It was before all of the bombs.

Ben at is referring to
the aerial bombing of Guernica,

which is so significant in
my family history.

During the Spanish Civil War,
the attacks by fascist forces

took the lives of hundreds of
civilians

and caused the mass evacuation
of Basque children.

I'm very interested in this
because, in a way, my parents met

because of the bombing of Guernica.

4,000 children were evacuated
and went to Britain

and that's how they met.

So a beautiful, beautiful piece
and very historic.

At the moment, Michael, my father
is working on your inscription.

My inscription? Yeah. Yeah, yeah,
on your inscription.

What do you mean?

You are going to be honoured
with a makila

and my father is...

...is making this special customised
inscription for you.

TRANSLATION:

What a great hon our.

No, no, no.

The makila, like the black beret,
la txapela,

is a very traditional a symbol,

something that anyone would
recognise as being Basque,

and yet these symbols were
suppressed politically

and it's so marvellous to see that
they have been reintroduced

and it's taken the efforts
of lnaki and Ben at

to make sure that that has happened.
It's great.

Your makila. My makila. It's...

Your makila, your Basque makila.

...absolutely beautiful.

Thank you so much.

Ancl it is written,
"Ondo ibili, walk well."

"Have a good walk."

Have a good walk, exactly.

And you, thank you very much.

It's a great hon our to have
a makila.

With such an hon our
bestowed upon me,

not even the weather can dampen my
spirits on my ambitious quest.

HE BREATHES HEAV“)!

My breathlessness tells me that
I'm already at some altitude

and I had hoped for glorious views.

No such thing.

I'm on the first stage
of my Pyrenean adventure,

a personal odyssey
through the foothills

of the Spanish Basque region.

At almost 500 metres
above sea level,

this part of Spain is home to
a population of three million.

As I walk deeper into
the Basque mountains,

I'm keen to understand better
this unique culture.

The Basques have a reputation
for being very principled,

very determined, very hard-headed.

You could say in English, hard nuts.

In fact there's a story about
a Basque who was

so hard-headed that he knocked nails
into a wall

with his head and he did this again
and again.

But one day the nail wouldn't go
through the wall,

so they rushed round the other side
to see what was going on.

On the other side of the wall
there was another Basque

with his head against the wall,
sleeping,

and that's what stopped the nail.
Those are the Basques.

I'm close to the Spanish border
with France.

The unpredictable weather
and challenging terrain

provide an excellent habitat for
the smuggler.

In the harsh post-war years,

some Basques would top up their
incomes

by smuggling Spanish livestock
to France

and French copper,
wire and tobacco to Spain.

Hola. Hola.

Retired bootlegger
Santiago Elizagoien

is meeting me on what was once
a major contraband route.

Three nights of smuggling

would earn more than most workers
could take home in a month.

I think it wasn't
ALL about survival.

The smugglers had community support.

Farmers provided hiding places

and shepherds would cover over
the smugglers' tracks.

They would pay the shepherds

and then the horses that they used,

they would shoe them
the wrong way round,

so that the tracks would lead

in the wrong direction.
Now, that's very clever.

Santiago's contrabandist career
lasted for 14 years,

and he was never caught.

What is this house?

Today,
Santiago is an upright citizen,

but he can't resist cocking
one final snook at the police

by eating at their table.

To new friendships
and to the Basque Region.

Chin-chin. Chin-chin.

Ah, si, gracias.

This is a bit of
a trip down memory lane.

In Spain there are
four meals a day -

breakfast, lunch,
merienda and supper.

So merienda is something that you
have about six or seven o'clock

and when I was a kid in Spain,

very often they would give you
as your merienda,

that little snack before supper,
bread and chocolate.

Not a combination we're very
used to where I come from.

Muy bien. Si.

Santiago is not
a very scary smuggler.

However, the mountains where he
operated are distinctly spooky

and mountains are dominated by
the people who live there,

the ones who know the by-ways
and little trails.

And whether we're talking about
smugglers or hardened criminals or

terrorists or resistance movements,

he who has the mountain
has the advantage.

The hardiness and cunning of
the Basques have, I suspect,

been key to the survival
of their culture and identity.

From 1959 until as recently as 2011,

there was a conflict between Spain
and Basque separatists

in which over 800 people
lost their lives.

Traces of this bitter 52-year rift
remain on the walls

across the Basque Country as
a reminder of continued resentment.

During the dictatorship
of General Franco,

the movement to separate
the Basque Country

from the rest of Spain
became extremely violent.

But after democracy was restored
in 1977,

that campaign continued,

with many bombings and
assassinations

and very large numbers of deaths.

And although there is now a truce -
no more fighting -

it's left a bitter legacy.

There are members
of my Spanish family who say to me,

"We can't understand why you visit
the Basque Country

"because those people hate
us Spaniards."

Now, luckily,
the tourists can come here

and not be bothered about any
of those political considerations.

And a truly determined outsider can
win acceptance

into the famously independent
Basque community.

I've come to the village of Zubieta,

now home to British writer
Georgina Howard,

who came here 23 years ago
and never left.

Buenos dias. Buenos dias. May I?

Hola. Buenos dias. Georgina?

Michael, pleased to meet you.
Very pleased to meet you, Georgina.

Shall we take a little stroll?
Love to.

I'll show you round this beautiful
village of ours.

Adios. Adios.

I might have expected, you know,
a village, mountain people,

Basque people, to kind
of have some frontiers,

you know, kind of keep people out.

But they've absolutely
taken you in, have they?

I brought up my daughter
on my own here,

so it was just the two of us and
the shepherds simply rallied round.

Um, they helped me bring up
my daughter.

Um, we learned Basque together.
Obviously, my daughter's native

and I learned a little...
a little more slowly.

Um, but, yeah, they've been
absolutely... Absolutely amazing.

I speak Castilian Spanish,

a language shared by 560 million
people across the world.

Fewer than a million speak
the Basque language, Euskara.

Basque seems like
a pretty forbidding language to me.

I mean, it, it's very...
It's literally very foreign.

It doesn't look like other
European languages. Not at all.

When you come to the area,
you suddenly see all these letters

you don't want at the end of
a game of Scrabble,

X's and Z's and things.

The pronunciation actually
isn't that complex

but to read it, um, yes, it does...

It does sound...
It does sound complex.

How did you master it?
What was the key?

I can talk locally with people

and I can do enough
to sort of open that door in that...

In that rock and say,

"I'm making a step towards you,
I'm part of you,"

and that's made a huge difference.

Very few Brits here actually learn
Basque or make the step to learn it.

Many people think of Spain as being
a very macho society -

is that true of
the Basque Country?

Not so much. It's traditionally
a matriarchal society.

Um, the women work in the fields,

they do the community work with
the men,

they'll carry their stones, they'll
drive the tractors or whatever,

they'll lug stones out for walls
and things like that.

So, no, not particularly. The women
have a very, very strong role here.

There's a great sense of community.

For example, we pay our taxes
by four or five clays a year

of community work, called al full an.

So, we come together in
the morning and we all...

We start to help mend the bridges or
cleaning the gutters

or painting the school walls
or whatever.

Ancl then sort of mid-morning,
a tractor will come up

with some big sandwiches
and some bottles of cider

and they'll crack the...

They'll crack open the cider
and you'll have a sandwich

and that's where you get
to know the Basques -

it's working on the land together,
everybody's equal.

Male and female, we work together
and that's when you really bond.

There's a really traditional house
here

that is quintessential
of a lot of the houses in the area.

Um, it's called Pintucinea.
Every house here has a name -

it's more important than surnames,
actually.

It would have had
the animals on the ground floor...

MOOING
It still does. It still does.

Piggy snout. Apparently if you
walk along the floorboards upstairs,

you get a different sound depending
on which room you're in.

Here we've got the cow.

Donkey. And the people live
upstairs?

Absolutely. And so
the heat would go up

and keep them warm in the winter
and then the top floor,

the attic, would be full of hay,
which would keep the heat in.

In fact my neighbours once said
to me,

"Georgina, it's really hot in here."

So as we turned down the thermostat,
they went out and took the cows out.

It was their natural thermostat,
keeping the house cool.

Yeah, I've passed by
these houses before

but it's the first time
I've ever been inside.

For an intimate Basque experience,
Georgina insists that we visit

the local tavern for lunch.

THEY EXCHANGE GREETINGS

Soy Michael. Michael.

THEY TOAST

For starters, there's a Basque broth
of chicken and noodles.

It's highly nutritious

and a perfect restorative for
the weary walker.

It's a typical thing you give
children when they're...

When they're cold and hungry, they
come home and they have their broth.

It'll do for me.

So, we're obviously
drinking cider. Exactly.

You, you make it yourself.
Si, si, si, si, si.

So, actually the cider's been
made in Zubieta.

Everywhere in the Basque country
makes cider. Mm.

Um, it's the traditional
Basque drink

and in fact they actually said that
the sailors survived scurvy

because they were allowed
about three pints of cider clay.

So it played in their favour.

The fruit kept the scurvy at bay.

Exactly, exactly.

For the main courses,

there's braised chicken
and a colossal hunk of beef.

Excellent steak.

And, of course, taken rare
and very heavily salted.

To top it all off, my new friends
offer me a local cheese,

perfectly finessed with quince
and walnuts.

Gracias.

Everything here is honest,
unfussy and well worthy of a toast.

THEY TOAST

THEY SING

THEY CHEER

That was all right, wasn't it?
It was brilliant.

Welcome to the Basque Country.
It's an amazing place.

Yeah, it was good fun.

Medical bulletin -
arthritic hip doing very well.

Er, I was a bit exhausted
by the rainy weather,

but now that the sun is out,

I'm striding through the hillsides,

all joints working well.
Not a squeak to be heard.

Continuing my mountain adventure,
I'm walking through

the Spanish Basque region
of the Pyrenees.

Despite my Spanish heritage, this is
not an area that I know well.

It's very distinct from other parts
of Spain.

Traditions run deep,
and identity is strong.

We talk of Spain as though it were
one country -

which of course literally,
politically, it is -

but the variation between
the regions is immense.

I have a house in the south, which
is all about whitewashed villages

and guitars, bulls,
flamenco, gypsies.

This is something quite different.

Green valleys and Alpine villages
with their little balconies.

And one of the biggest differences
is linguistic.

Here they speak Basque.

In southern Spain
it's the main language,

the Castilian language.

And for the tourist to visit Spain,

there's so much variety -
that's a joy.

But for the Spanish authorities
it's all a bit of a nightmare

because there are these
strong tendencies

for the whole thing to drift
and fall apart,

which luckily so far, it has not.

Basques are renowned
for their self-sufficiency.

Just outside Zubieta,
I'm heading for

the community-owned watermill
which has been at the heart of

the village's rural way of life
since the 18th century.

Although it's now very much in vogue
to talk about traceability,

here you're so close to
the origins of everything.

So here is the corn that's been
stripped off the cob

and the farmers are
going to use it for themselves.

It's not even going to be sold,
I don't think.

Edorta Murua has been miller
here for over ten years.

Edorta? Ah.

I'm Michael. Hello.

Very good to see you.
Hello.

So, this, um, a communal mill.

A communal mill.

The property of the mill is of
the villagers

and they cultivate the corn

and put in the mill and I
make the flour for them.

You enjoy the work?
I enjoy very much.

Why? I like very much the solitude
and being in the nature.

The water, the birds -

it's perfect.
H E CH UCKLES

Yeah.
Without any human intervention.

May I help you with that?
May I have a go at that?

Um, this...
ls there a technique to this?

It's good for the... Yeah.

For the... The dancing.
Dancing.

More, more.

Life is full of surprises.
Dancing in the mill.

Right, now here's a mystery -
because you like solitude

and you're a man from the mountains
and you work in a traditional mill

and you speak perfect English.

Why... How is this?

Er, mostly for the books. Really?
I like to read and I...

...| practise in my head.

I don't speak...

...almost for... With anyone,

but I speak in my head

and I learn, Italian,
French, English in my head.

Good God! Catalan. That's amazing.

So, while you're here sieving
and milling, you're thinking...

I am thinking, maybe.
..In five different languages.

H E CH UCKLES
Yes, yes.

Amazing.

I've danced my way to a husk.

This is for the animals.

Oh, good, yes. No waste at all.
No waste.

Really enjoyed this trip into
history

and I've enjoyed listening to
the miller's tale.

EDORT A CHUCKLES
Thank you so much, Edorta.

My pleasure.

On this walk I hoped

to meet people very different
from me

and Edorta certainly fits the bill.

A miller living in solitude
enjoying the woods

and the mountains couldn't really be
more different.

Although I did come here
to enjoy solitude too.

Well, you know,
maybe a few hours of solitude,

but a whole lifetime?
For me...no way.

As I leave Zubieta, I make my way
further into the Basque region

and through the lush green foothills
of the Baztan Valley.

With fewer than 8,000 people
living here,

the landscape is unspoilt
and truly beautiful.

It's an area rich in folklore
and a belief in mythical creatures.

As I journey on
to my next rendezvous...

Ooh.

...| hope to have no
unexpected encounters.

You have to imagine that here by
the river bank could be

the dwelling place of witches
and water nymphs.

And a moment ago I slipped on one
of these boulders

and wonder whether it was
an elf upending me.

Best to proceed gingerly
and carry a big stick.

In a village just outside Elizondo,
I'm going to meet Sara Dorregaray,

a 25-year-old PhD student
and architect.

She was born here
and is very proud of her heritage.

She embraces the local mythology

and despite the lure of city life,
chooses to stay here.

Hi, Michael. Hello.

You were, I think, brought up in
a very small town near here.

I come from a big city. Oh, yeah.

I'm raised from round right here
in lrurita.

How did you find it, being brought
up in such a small town?

Were you a happy child?

Yeah, sure. I did... It was like
a really relaxing life

and the growing it's, like,
really...

...in the natural way, we will say,

because we are all like
a big family, yeah, in that sense.

And nowadays,
in a village like that,

are there many people of your age?
Are there many young people?

Er, for my age we are, like,
just four guys.

Oh, my goodness. We... Yeah.

We know each other since we were,
like, a child.

In total we will say that we were,

like, 20 young people in general,
so...

And are you able to work
in your little village

or do you have to go elsewhere?
Er, no, I really need to move

because I'm an architect and right
here we don't have

a real lot of work.

So, where do you go for your work?

I go to Pamplona every clay.
I live...

I still really live here
because I love this village

and all these kind of mountains
and nature.

The people of the Baztan Valley live
in harmony

with their natural surroundings.

It's a principle that's enshrined
in the local folklore.

Tell me about some of
the traditional beliefs

that go along
with your concern with nature.

Er, for example, one of the main
beliefs is that the nature

all the time's looking at you,
watching at you.

You need to be, like,
really respectful

because in any time,

nature's going to bring you back
what you did

and that person will be like
a Basajaun and it's looking at you.

A what? Basajaun. It's a man,
a keeper of the forest

and all time looking
what's happening.

It's like a protector
of all animals.

And so you feel you have
an obligation to nature.

It's a take and a give. Yes.

It's that balance they talk about.

We're coming from nature,

so we need to respect it
and he's going to respect us.

But then if you don't
respect nature,

then there may be bad consequences
from your Basajaun.

The Basajaun. Yeah, it's going
to take you and it's going to...

Well, that's it. Short story.
SHE CH UCKLES

So, you don't actually believe now

that a Basajaun
may come and get us?

Well, I wouldn't say that, but...
SHE CHUCKLES

You wouldn't? No, no. You would...
I wouldn't, no, because...

You don't dare to say that?

No, because I mean,
when I'm in the mountain,

when you're lonely,

you really have that feeling
of someone's looking at you,

an energy or something like that.

Ooh. Yeah, that's really strange.
Spooky!

This is, this is very, very spooky.
Here, you are safe, don't worry.

So I'm trying to imagine you,
maybe in your house -

you're probably on the internet.
Yeah.

You're doing your work on your
computer screen

but at the same time
a part of you is thinking about

a Basajaun. Is that right?

All the story of this nature is
part of...

...part of my, myself. It's me,
I will say in that way

and I don't see myself moving
to another city

where I will not have
this connection,

this feeling, because the nature
feeds me and I feed the nature too.

So it's...
I-I will be here, yeah.

You don't want to live in
New York City with Central Park?

No.

That's not enough nature for me.
SHE CHUCKLES

I'm surprised to learn that
the Baztan Valley's nature myths

are still valued by
the younger generation.

But respect for
the environment is at their core,

so perhaps they retain
their relevance.

HE SINGS

Pelota is the great game of
the Basque people.

It takes various forms.

It can be played against
a wall or, as in this case,

with a line down the middle
and two teams facing each other

and a virtual net.

And like tennis, the scoring is 15,
30, 40 and then you win a game.

It has a territorial aspect as well.

The blue team is advancing
upon the red.

HE SINGS

But what exactly all the singing
is about, I couldn't tell you.

Judging by the people
I've met so far,

I can see that the Pyrenees
foster a life of calm,

peacefulness, and reflection.

Leaving the town of Elizondo,

I join the pilgrimage route -

the Camino de Santiago
de Compostela -

that I walked a part of
back in 1999.

At that time I sought solitude,
to reflect on my life.

St James was one
of Christ's apostles

and in the 9th century
it was believed, improbably,

that he was buried
in north-west Spain,

at Santiago de Compostela.

And from that time there has been

a continuous stream of pilgrims,
from all over Europe,

headed to his shrine
and the way is marked by his symbol,

which is the scallop shell.

And at this point, i join

one of the routes of
the Camino de Santiago.

And I walked a distance along it
about 20 years ago

and that was a time when it seemed
that my political career was over.

Indeed, that difficult moment when
you think that

the best of your life is behind you.

I think in my own case
that wasn't true.

I hadn't yet discovered that
I didn't need to climb

the greasy pole of political power

and that life has many junctions
and forks

and indeed even now I look forward

to taking some of the paths
to unmarked destinations.

The pilgrim's path passes
the village of Arizkun,

home to Cesareo Soule,

a third-generation stonemason
who preserves

the route's marker stones,

and who has made
the pilgrimage four times.

Hola, Cesareo. Hola.

What were you working on?

Here is the scallop shell
and the water will come out

and thirsty pilgrims will be able

to drink from this fountain,
along the Santiago Way.

How long does it normally take you
from Bayonne to Santiago?

He says that St James will call me.

We'll see whether he calls
loudly enough.

He's giving me a Santiago shell

so that I can do the Camino
for a second time.

The pilgrim routes begin
all over Europe

and end at the shrine of St James

in the town of Santiago de
Compostela in north-west Spain,

450 miles from here.

When I walked on
the Pilgrim's Way I was alone,

but never short of company.

Normally there's
a line of pilgrims ahead,

stretching for more than
a thousand years.

And behind, the line reaches,
I suppose, to infinity.

And I'd slacken my pace sometimes

and let others catch me up...

...and make conversation, but there
is an etiquette to the Camino.

You must never pry.

Some people are here
because of bereavement,

some because of break-up,
some because of breakdown.

The reasons why people do the walk
can be very private.

The Baztan route dates back to
the Middle Ages

and stretches from Bayonne in France
to Pamplona in Spain.

At almost 900 metres
above sea level,

the Alto de Be late is
the highest section of

the Camino de Baztan...

...and my finishing post for the
first leg of my Pyrenean adventure.

I've reached beautiful heights

but pay the price
with this stinging wind in my face.

Here ends my walk through
the Basque region.

Throughout my life,
I've heard about the Basque Country

and those Basque refugee children,
through whom my parents met,

and I've had to explain
to people about the Basques.

But I didn't know
the Basque Country all that well

and that was one
of my objectives in this walk.

And now I feel that I've encountered
many aspects of their culture

and had a brush with their language

and certainly enjoyed their
hospitality.

So, tick, tick, tick.

Next time...

Oh.

...I'm in the French High Pyrenees.

Everything is steeper,
rockier, more fearsome.

I'm on a physical quest...

Keep your back straight
and you'll hold it for 30 seconds.

You've got to be kidding.

...as I push my body to the limit...

It is painful up here.

...in adverse terrain...

Grr.

...and ascend to the summit...

What a place.

...of a spectacular snowy wilderness.

One of the wonders of Europe,
surely,

and one of the wonders
of the planet.

Subtitles by Red Bee Media