We left the car in full parking of the hull of San Ignacio. The buses of the Dutch retirees, the Parisian tacetars that call under the roof, the Guipuzkoans that have come to spend the afternoon with the baby, the couple in love with the trains, the artist who goes up to paint landscapes... There's everything in the tail for the box office.

Just take the ticket and sit on the train to realize that, in addition to Larrun, we will travel over time. The fact that the train is made of wood has warned us: They reinforced the roof with Pyrenees’ beets, the Landes pine stem, the Ariège chestnut cladding (Ariéja in original occitan) and Africa’s incorruptible wooden platform. We seem to have jumped to 1924. However, who knows what prompted the man to take the train to the top of the mountain. Today, maybe the same cravings you breathe to build the APR.

It is said that the construction of the railways to the top dates back to 1908. In 1912 they began to materialize the idea in body and soul, but the heavy administrative work and the heavier four-year war interrupted the attempt until 1919. Although the work was completed in 1924, you do not think it was all tender and plain. On 7 January of the same year, while the tests were being carried out, the locomotive left the track causing an accident that put the project at risk. The following months were as confusing as nervous, until the section to Iturrieder was inaugurated on 25 April and the section to the top on 30 June.

Dolmens, Mountaineers, Sheep, Sai

As the slope rises, as the stands of the retirees cheer the young man on the road sweating into the seas, I have anxious eyes of landscape. A couple of dosages and ailments appear in the distance. At this stage, the noises of censuses accuse the pottokas of converting into self-portrait stickers, such as latxan sheep, of moving quietly. How do the vultures that shine through the heavens see us? Do you smell a dead cabal the day before or just attract them to beautify the postcard? What do you think of the stone and the brown red of the earth, characteristic of Larrun?

I'd like to ask the box office artist how he reflects that red in the white fabric. But I have believed that it will hardly be possible to paint inside me a more beautiful being than the one that is drawing us up at eye level. If there is anything, Sara is beautiful. Strong houses of centuries, trails surrounded by mountains, works that depend only on time and nature... It's getting smaller and freer and farther away. Not in vain is the first high mountain on the coast of Larrun. There are only three breaths from the beach to the summit, 905 meters high.

The train that takes us from the collado of San Ignacio to the hull of Larrun comes a elevation of 736 meters. It's easily said. However, in half an hour, climbing at a rate of 4.2 kilometres per hour and nine kilometres per hour of unevenness that has a margin of 25% is a feat. Feat due to the zipper system. For the zipper to be strong, a third rail with clamp in the center is added to the conventional track so that the train mills are hooked and the wagons remain attached to the slope. Those who have their eyes glued to the slope are the blind husbands of the train. It has been stressed that there are only three such trains left throughout the French State. I think it would be more useful to see the crossing of the Three Sources than the third lane.

By one train, two

In the Three Fountains come the roads that go up from Ascain, Sara and Urruña to Larrun. Most mountaineers concentrate their forces to face the final straight in the shade of the local jungle. Those who, having eaten a snack on the top, go down look mockily at those who speak in the ascending direction. The noise of a river that opens in the south wind heats the atmosphere. On the climb for the first time we've seen the sea away. As soon as the boats are seen, at the moment we are content to see the skyscrapers surrounding the beach of Hondarribia. And also ...

Not one, not two, in the days when it falls too early, because we have been left without sight when the train coming from the top down was passing before us in an astonishing way. Who was going to think that on one occasion two men would go down the mountain instead of a train? What do black sheep say that they don't even look at us while they're eating with us? Do you envy Larrun the high peaks of the Pyrenees and the enchanted cimes of Navarre that appear on the left? How many of us would still walk up if the train left us here? Would the Parisian woman come in without twisting her ankle?

More than borders are steps, mountains, made to cross, routes and used. You can't understand these limitless lands. A wound to Basque identity is the border, customs, legal or smuggling business, the thousand stories that you want or can't tell... But above all, the border is a character, a way of life. Ask if not the three sales that cross the last and steep slope and that flicker from the peak season. That's the final destination, here ends a journey, and here begins another one.

It's amazing the life of Larrun's peak. The servers run non-stop from the terrace to the bar and from the bar to the terrace. Fleeing from the Remanso, we sat at the feet of the television antenna and set out to look for the most panoramic watchtower. From the skyscrapers of Hondarribia to the lounges of the beach of Las Landas, the zigzags appear very clearly. Urruña, San Juan de Luz, and the rest are able to touch with their fingers. The eye goes from the factories of Pasaia to the cars stacked in Ibardin. The mountains of Cinco Villas, Malerreka and Baztan appear infinite. Endless tracks, mountain roads, paths and paths of the whole environment through spider webs. It is enough to close your eyes, on the moon-filled nights of yesteryear, with bags of 50 kilos on the back to represent the corridors from one side to the other. Little is needed for the fugitives of all wars to be able to breathe on this summit. Everything is in sight for anyone who wants to see it.

Larrun Larun is also

The view track often starts with listening, and the ear is filled with mysteries. How else to explain that everything in Urruña and Sara Larrun is Larun in Bera and Lesaka? Was the r lost one night of smuggling? In these areas II. Is it possible that the World War is hidden in a smoke-filled bunker? Or has it been devoured by the Larrun dragon of legends? Had it been wrapped up in the Akelarres and Witch Feasts on the slopes of Larrun? Or did the inquisition of Pierre de Lancre burn our rats? Will the baby who has just fallen asleep in the heart of the Gipuzkoan couple realize these mysteries?

The questions have come in the air. Coming down on foot would be a way to alleviate the weight of the betrayal that my grandparents in Urruña accuse me of, but once done, the betrayals become complete. I entered the train in the hope that the train, like the people, would run faster downhill than upward. This time, without diverting attention, I have promised to strive to appreciate the strength of Koralhandia, the crómlech of Gorostiarria and the Iturrieder turbine. It has been useless, I have climbed on foot and spent the journey claiming that on the downhill there are no plans like eating on the sale of the Jasola. I have to wear a grandfather from Urruña.

On the contrary, the aitatxi urruñarras know as well as others that the visit is estimated by the 90-year-old and that there is no need to wait for the 100th anniversary celebration to return. Day to day has more value outside an age than occasional parties. The parking lot that has been evicted by the siren for the arrival of the last train of the day already knows that tomorrow there will also be visits.