I start the day with concern about my heels. But by the time I walk seven miles to Vizkarret, every other part of my short little legs vie for my attention – knees, thighs, calves, ankles, hips. I am in pain. The road is a constant long, slow ascent and descent, ascent and descent. The hills just don’t end. I treat myself to a private room in a Casa Rural where I sit outside and take in the beautiful countryside.  I’m in Basque country, and am profoundly aware of the likeness of my late husband David, his brothers and father to the Basque men. They are of Basque ancestry and it shows.