Hello, bonjour, hola, and kaixo!
It is 31st July and this is the river Bidasoa,
which for its final 10km forms the international border between France and Spain.
But right here that border does something
that doesn’t happen anywhere else on planet earth.
I’m currently standing in Spain.
That bank over there is France.
But we’re not here to see that.
What we’re here to see is this island.
Which is currently in Spain.
But in just over 4 hours’ time, it will change country and move over to France.
And it does this every six months.
Welcome to Pheasant Island: the world’s only flipping border.
I’ve come to the seaside resort of Hendaye in the Basque Country
right down in the very southwest corner of France.
The town stands on the opposite side of the Bidasoa to the Spanish town of Irun
at the point where the river flows into the Atlantic Ocean,
and for 10km from here upstream and inland,
the international border between the two countries is set exactly down the middle of the river.
Except for one spot.
This is Pheasant Island.
It's about 200m long and 40m wide, and no one lives on it.
Not even any pheasants. (In fact, it’s kind of a mistranslation.)
Anyway, while there are many islands that are shared between two countries,
all of the others are divided by a border;
this is the only one that’s divided by time.
From February to July it’s Spanish, and from August to January it’s French.
So what ridiculous set of circumstances
resulted in an island that flips countries every six months?
Well it all goes back to 1659...
France and Spain have been fighting each other for 24 years,
the French have made some minor gains north of the Pyrenees
and the Spanish have reclaimed Barcelona
but to be honest neither side is really getting anywhere
and eventually the two Kings – Louis 14th of France and Felipe the 4th of Spain -
decide that frankly they’ve lost enough people
and money
so they arrange a meeting to draw up a peace treaty, and end the war.
And where better to meet than an unnamed and neutral island in the middle of the river.
A line was drawn down the middle,
a table was placed directly on it,
and the negotiations began.
Ok so I think we agree.
We will have everything on ze north side of ze Pyrenees,
- all zese villages ere -
Sí.
You can have Barcelona,
Sí.
and I will have your daughter.
Sí.
¿QUE?
The treaty was agreed,
and a year later in 1660 the two parties came back to the island,
firstly to ratify it,
and secondly so that Louis could collect his new wife.
Maria Teresa said goodbye to her father and everyone she’d ever known,
"Adios amigos!"
crossed over to France,
and the war was officially over.
A week later the couple got married in this church just up the road in Saint Jean de Luz
and by all accounts, the new queen lived fairly miserably ever after.
Now most of the English-language articles that I could find
will tell you that the treaty established the island’s flipping sovereignty,
it’s been flipping ever since,
and that’s the end of the whole flipping story.
But that isn't quite true.
In the original text of the treaty in French and Spanish the island isn’t even mentioned
other than just being the location where it was signed,
so for a long time the border was left undefined.
You have to wait nearly 200 years for the situation to be clarified
by the 1856 Treaty of Bayonne
which says, in barely legible writing,
“Pheasant Island, also known as Conference Island, belongs undivided to France and Spain”.
So there we go,
that little piece of legal text finally cleared everything up once and for all and
oh no wait it didn’t did it.
With no clear instructions on how exactly the island was supposed to be shared
without dividing it in some way,
at this point the Navy stepped in with the flipping solution.
And since then responsibility has rotated every six months
between the Spanish naval commander in San Sebastian
and his French counterpart in Bordeaux,
although in practise they delegate it to the two local mayors in Hendaye and Irun.
But that leaves a question:
does anything actually happen on the flipping day itself?
Well although there has sometimes been a ceremony to mark the occasion,
all that usually happens is that a letter is sent from one naval commander to the other.
These days apparently it’s just an email.
Which feels like kind of a shame.
If the French and the Spanish can’t be bothered to celebrate this unique event tonight,
then you know what?
I’m going to do it for them!
Because let’s face it, if there’s one thing we British are really good at,
it’s making a big fuss over flipping borders.
Er so I’m here to represent France.
But obviously we need someone to represent Spain.
So I’ve brought my friend Fran who lives in Spain.
(Suspiciously northern British accent) - Hiiii!
Which bit of Spain are you from Fran?
- Manchester.
Right! We’ve got our French representative, we’ve got our Spanish representative,
all we need to do now is wait until midnight
and see if anything happens...
It's now about a quarter to midnight
and just to explain what's happening here
I've come down to the island to see what happens at midnight.
As far as I can tell...
...it's absolutely nothing.
Erm.
So Fran, was this worth coming all the way up from Andalusia for?
- Debatable.
You wait until midnight! It’s going to happen.
- Partays going on!
It’s all going to kick off!
Right. This is it.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1…
Nothing happened.
Fran, quick!
*A tinny version of La Marseillaise starts playing*
There we are!
Let the celebrations begin!
- Well if they’re not having a party, we will.
Exactly! What have you got there Fran?
- Well it’s er, semi-Spanish, because it’s in Spanish…
It is in Spanish, yeah.
Cheers!
- Cheers!
With my San Pellegrino…
If you’d like to visit Pheasant Island
and the world’s only flipping border,
it’s a short bus ride or roughly a half hour walk from either Hendaye station in France
or Irun in Spain
and there are flat wide paths on either side of the river suitable for bicycles and wheelchairs.
Unfortunately, apart from on very special occasions,
access to the island itself is strictly forbidden;
apparently you can sometimes sneak across from the Spanish side at low tide
and you could of course bring a boat and try to land on it
but bear in mind if you’re found on there when you’re not supposed to be,
it’s technically a matter for the Navy.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Anyway, as always, thank you all for watching
and I will see you soon.
...but we need someone to represent Spain,
so I've invented...
you've "invented"?!
I've invented my friend.
shall we take that one again?
Yes.