In the Pyrenees, fall means the end of the summer mountain grazing season that began in the spring with the depart of the herds toward higher altitudes, known as the transhumance. The shepherds and their flocks, aided by their herding and guard dogs, have spent the summer in the rich, high mountain pastures, getting fat on summer wildflowers, herbs and grasses. In September, it is time to return to their lowland farms for the colder months.

Both the beginning and the end of this age-old practice is marked with traditional celebrations. Having taken part in the celebration of the transhumance in the Vallée d’Aspe at Lourdios in the spring, we of course, wanted to be on hand as the sheep, cattle, and horses returned this fall, at the celebration of the Fête des Bergers at Aramits, also in the Vallée d’Aspe.

The Fête des Bergers is a three day event, with a parade of the returning flocks,  a market of local artisan producers, a judging and tasting of locally produced mountain cheeses and communal lunches and dinners everyday. There are performances of song and chant in the local Béarnais dialect, and dancers in costume traditional to the region.  Some even danced on stilts, a nod to the days when shepherds used stilts to improve their field of vision on their wide ranging wards.

The most anticipated event is the annual competition to crown  the most skilled shepherd/herding dog team.  Each dog, guided by its owner, must find a herd of sheep located some hundreds of yards distant, then guide them through a series of obstacles before herding them into an enclosure at the finish.  It is mesmerizing to watch the synchronicity between dog and human, communicated only through whistles and shouts. The event spooled out over two days, with qualifying and a final round with the top 12 teams.

The tiny Basque town of  Irouleguy and its red roofed church are perched in the foothills of the Atlantic Pyrenees almost within sight of the Bay of Biscay.  The vineyards that make up the AOC encircle the town, lining the steeply sloping hills that climb away south towards Spain.  Some are at elevations over 100o feet, making them some of the highest vines in the Pyrenees.

Taking advantage of a gorgeous October morning, Sheila and I recently hiked for several hours in and around the area, following a path that included winding country roads, forest paths, hidden trails through the hedgerows between fields and finally through the vineyards themselves.

Irouleguy is the principle wine of the French Basque countries (which, incidentally, makes ordering wine in a Basque restaurant pretty easy…just pick red, white or rose, its all Irouleguy).  The grapes grown here include Tannat, Cabernet Franc, a certain amount of Cabernet Sauvignon, and Gros et Petit Manseng.  However, with the grape harvest already past, it would have been hard for us to see any difference between the vines…they were all leggy, overtall and beginning to turn yellow as the October nights turned colder.

I found this particular hike in a book produced by the Department of the Pyrenees Atlantique.  The advantage of these trails is that they have been laid out and marked by the Department, so that, even when they pass through private property, you don’t feel as if someone is about to run you off their land.  Thus, we were able to actually walk through vineyards and farmlands that I would have hesitated to enter without the encouragement of the guide.

I have often tried to learn about a particular wine by reading a book.  One would think that memorizing soil compositions, pouring over maps of the vineyards, and learning about the methods of vinification would give some insight into the final product  in the bottle.  But in my experience, all these details from a book don’t really stick in my head, mainly I guess, because I can’t really create a coherent picture of the place that produced this wine, can’t answer the question “why this wine from this place?”.

When, on the other hand, I have the chance to actually visit a wine region, to see the terrain and its exposure to the sun,to see the farms and the houses and  to see how the local people live and work and eat, then the wine and its context makes sense and are with me forever.

I have to admit that I am not a very hardcore hiker… a couple hours on the trail is plenty for me.  And you can generally guess that, when picking a hike, there will always be an inn, auberge or restaurant near where it ends.  In this case, it was Manexenea, a little auberge near the Basque town of Saint-Etienne de Baigorry.  Within minutes of leaving the trial, we were having a plate of foie gras terrine and a glass of sweet wine from Jurancon.  The October sun was plenty warm enough to enjoy the outdoor terrace overlooking the Nives des Aldudes river.  Now that’s my idea of roughin’ it.