The original name of this 11th century town was simply “Soorts,” derived from the vernacular Gascon word for “where there are sources,” fitting for a coastal town with a lake and river as well. In the 14th century, a church was built in Soorts as a coastal path of the “Santiago de Compostela” pilgrimage route. In the mid 1800’s Napolean had his hand in shaping this seaside spot as well. He ordered a canal to be dug, connecting the freshwater lake to the sea. This gradually transformed the body of water into a marine lake, rich with marine plants, shellfish, gilthead bream, and mussels. It also became a haven for oyster farming and selling seaweed. It wasn't until 1913 that the town added the name of the lake, “Hossegor,” to the town name as part of a plan to increase tourism. This name change, and its inconsistent application by locals became a comical point of confusion for us as newcomers to the Basque Coast.

A decade ago, when we were house hunting in Pau, our real-estate agent offered his opinions on the top skiing and beach locations in our region.   While we sipped “Americano” cocktails in his favorite café, Jerome described the incomparable beaches of Soorts-Hossegor, that are hidden from the road by tall dunes.  Because locals like Jerome drop the “Soorts” from the town’s name, as well as the “H” from “Hossegor” (the letter is silent in French), we thought he loved a place called “Ossegor.”   A few years later with more language skill in hand, we wandered up the coast from Biarritz through lovely pine forests with no specific destination in mind, simply following signs toward “les plages” (the beaches). After passing a tidal lake, dotted with oyster shacks serving lunch and cocktails under shady pines, the forest opened spectacularly onto a long stretch of high dunes. We could hear but not see the surf until the road narrowed to its end: the parking area for Hossegor Plage. While enjoying the view of mountains and sea from a beachside café, it dawned on us that we were at Jerome’s infamous “Ossegor”. 

Like many other locals, we now come here for beach vacations — not Biarritz.  Most of its seven beaches offer restaurants on the water’s edge (some actually perched on the sand dunes) that serve a high standard of French classics as well as lighter, contemporary options.  Paired with a glass of wine or beer, lunch segues seamlessly into unfolding our beach chairs, watching surfers ride rolling waves, reading a bit, and indulging the inevitable nap.