Monday: San Sebastian
The rain that welcomed us Sunday night, on arrival from Biarritz, had cleared by morning, but it was still bitterly cold as we set off on our bikes for the 8km ride from the campsite down to San Sebastian. Scarves and jackets are not what comes to mind when thinking of San Sebastian, a resort town and summer playground on the Bay of Biscay in Spain’s mountainous Basque Country. Celebrated for its beaches, Playa de la Concha, Playa de Ondarreta and Playa de Zurriola, and the picturesque promenade along Concha Bay, it’s not known as a winter town. Despite the biting wind we were determined to enjoy our day and the vista that opened up in front of us as we rounded the bend into the bay promised we would. Concha Bay is lovely, a perfect horseshoe with the small Santa Clara Island in the centre and monument-topped hills on each side of the entrance, protecting the bay from the Atlantic winds and making the golden sandy beaches more attractive, visibly so for the half dozen brave souls who were swimming. Under Mount Urgall at the eastern end of the bay is the cobblestoned old town (Parte Vieja) where the famous pintxos bars line the narrow lanes. Pintxos are Basque specialities and are a bit like tapas. Derived from the verb “to puncture”, pintxos were historically served on a piece of bread and pierced with a toothpick. Nowadays they are increasingly varied and only some are still served with toothpicks. The fun of pintxos is that they are laid out along a bar in all their glory and you fill your own plate, banging on the bar when you’ve finished selecting and are ready to pay. We ogled the many bars as they were laying out their impressive pintxos selections for lunch. How were we going to choose where to eat? The decision wasn’t going to be made straight away, I was adamant we’d climb Mount Urgall first. More like a hill, this mound at the end of the bay was the perfect place to defend your territory from and it is steeped in military history, with cannons and fortifications all over it. From the top, the lay of the land is much clearer; Concha Bay with its two sheltered beaches looks calm and serene, unlike the surf-ravaged third beach, Zurriola, lying to the east and unprotected from those Atlantic swells. The surf on Zurriola was littered with black dots, wet-suited surfers pursuing those waves.
The walk up Urgall made the pintxos all the more tastier and our selection of which bar to eat at could not have been better. After eating too much, because every pintxo looks amazing and it’s impossible not to pick another, we walked across the Urumea River, where the waves were crashing through the mouth of the river and breaking dramatically underneath the bridge, to the seaside suburb of Gros. The wind didn’t make our walk along Zurriola beach pleasant and we soon scampered back to the shelter of buildings. It’s mostly residential on this side of the river and after admiring the elegant townhouses and apartments we crossed back to the wide shopping streets of Zentroa, and then along the Concha promenade lined with ornate white wrought iron railings from a bygone era. By this time the sky was darkening, and rain looked likely. We found our bikes and headed off into the wind, for the slow uphill ride home.
Tuesday: Bilbao
It’s only a short drive from San Sebastian to Bilbao, an hour and a half down the road. Because of the rugged terrain of the Basque country we decided not to worry about navigating through backroads and instead pay the tolls and take the fast, easy route. We wanted to spend as much of the day as possible in Bilbao, and the 11 euros was money well spent. We arrived at our campsite high on a hill with an incredible panoramic view across Bilbao. We parked up and caught the next bus down into the city.
Bilbao is an industrial port city and doesn’t have a lot going for it apart from its quaint medieval quarter, but nearly every city we visit has one of those, it’s beautiful historic churches, but we’ve seen a lot of those, it’s lovely wide riverside walkways and pedestrian areas, but once again, nearly every city has those, and then there’s the stunning and mesmerising Frank Gehry–designed Guggenheim Museum. No other city has one of those. So influential is this building that it was credited with sparking a revitalisation of the entire city when it opened in 1997. Visitor numbers to the city jumped so much, the eye-watering cost of the building was recouped in just three years and the declining economic fortunes of this city were turned around almost overnight. The museum houses prominent modern and contemporary works, but it’s the curvy, titanium-clad structure, with swooping sheets of metal, glowing bronze and gold in the sunlight, that truly wows. We looked at it from every angle – from the back, the front, from inside with the soaring atrium of glass and steel, from atop the bridge and from across the river. The colours change from silver to steel-grey, back to gold and then bronze – it moves as if it has a life of its own. Walking back along the river away from the Guggenheim I had to stop myself turning around and running back for just one more look, such is its draw. Visiting this building alone makes any visit to Bilbao worthwhile.
That evening we had dinner with a view, sitting in our campervan high above the city, looking out at the lights of Bilbao and the glint of the Guggenheim.
Wednesday: Road Through Rural Spain
Having taken the direct route to Bilbao we decided to take the country roads through to Burgos to see some of rural Spain. Taking the backroads is always more interesting and these roads were in great condition and had barely any traffic.
Before coming to Spain we’d looked for a Spanish regulation reflective panel for the back of our bike carrier and had no luck in France, nor in San Sebastian and Bilbao. We’d heard that Spain is particularly vigilant in policing this law, and every motorhome carrying bikes that we’d seen so far had one. Law-abiding me was starting to get very concerned. What if we had a run-in with the Guardia Civil? I am trying to learn Spanish online as quickly as I can, but “buenos dias” and a smile is unlikely to get us out of a hefty fine. Burgos is about 160km inland from Bilbao and it didn’t take long for us to be driving through remote countryside and with villages becoming less frequent and needing to fill up, we tried our luck at a small rural service station. Eureka! They had two reflective panels in stock. I grabbed one with two hands and joyously waved it in the air for Andrew to see from the forecourt. At 29-euro Mr Love was less jubilant, but at least he now had a much calmer wife.
Nicely compliant and back on the road, we were soon winding our way through the craggy landscape and up a mountain range. We reached a plateau that started as desert-type tundra and scrub and quickly changed to empty fields stretching for miles, all ploughed and ready for crops. The soil was a rich dark red and the dry husks were evidence that this was grain country and the scale was enormous. We passed lots of farmers on their John Deere’s working their fields in preparation for planting. Many looked past the age of retirement, no doubt Spain has the same issues with attracting the young back to the land.
Burgos caught us by surprise. One minute we were driving through the expansive, agricultural landscape and then we were surrounded by industrial buildings and moments later we were driving through central Burgos. With just under 200,000 people it’s not a large city but it holds its own in Spain. The economy is based on agriculture and it is one of the main grain producing areas. Around this there’s a strong agri-food industry, and manufacturing also contributes to the wealth of this city that was sheltered from Spain’s recent financial troubles. Our first impressions were of a clean and prosperous place.
It was early afternoon when we arrived at our campsite and after a late lunch we biked into the city centre for a reconnaissance. The ride was an easy one, only 5km and on flat cycle paths through parks and along the riverside.
The Arco de Santa Maria is the original medieval gate to Burgos and was what we first saw when we crossed the river to the historic city. Beautifully restored and intricately carved, this grand arch of white stone provides a fitting entrance to the magnificence that lies beyond. Walk through the arch and your breathe is stolen by the vast and imposing Gothic masterpiece that is the Burgos Cathedral. We stood in awe. We’ve seen a lot of cathedrals and this one is truly stunning. Tomorrow we would visit it properly.
Back at the campsite, we were surprised that, after being one of only two or three campervans at the last two sites, the campsite had filled up, mostly with Brits. It didn’t take long for us to get chatting and we found out that they were either going south for winter or back to UK for Christmas, and Burgos is a good stopover on the way to the ferry terminal in Santander. The ferry to the UK from Spain takes 24 hours, but as most campsites are already closed in France it’s the best way to get to and from Spain over winter.
Thursday: Burgos
It was minus 3 when we woke, and it wasn’t much warmer in the van. We took a while to get out of bed and face the day and by the time we emerged the campsite was almost empty again. It was a cracker of a day, sparkling blue sky, crisp and calm. At 859 metres above sea level the air in Burgos is noticeably thinner, and dry.
In Spain everything starts late and finishes late, with a long siesta in the middle to recharge, so there is no point rushing off early as nothing is happening. Given this, I spent a couple of hours catching up on my blog and Andrew did what he loves doing most – odd jobs. In this case it was polishing the van, a stock-take of supplies in the boot and cooking me my favourite bunch, scrambled eggs with smoked salmon.
After a late brunch we biked back into town and once again were wowed by the spectacular Burgos Cathedral. It was time to see if the interior matched the exterior. We have visited a lot of cathedrals and this is one of the best we have ever stepped inside. Chapel after chapel of opulence and glory, cavernous naves in alabaster marble and the beautiful central dome, understated and elegant. The entire history of Gothic art is summed up in its superb architecture and its unique collection of works of art, including paintings, carvings, choir stalls, alters, tombs and stained-glass windows. It was almost enough to turn an atheist religious.
Back outside, we found the Camino de Santiago path that goes straight through the historical centre of Burgos. What is the Camino de Santiago? I didn’t know the answer to this until a few years ago when my mother and Aunt Helen said they were off to walk it – all 791 kilometres. For over a thousand years people from all over Europe have made the pilgrimage to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in north-western Spain, the place where the remains of the apostle Saint James the Great are buried. In recent times the Camino has become increasingly popular, not just as religious pilgrimage, but as a rite of passage for young Spaniards and a great adventure walk for everyone else, encompassing Spanish culture and history. To give you an idea of just how popular this walk is, in 2016 nearly 300,000 Compostela certificates were issued to people who had completed the pilgrimage. There are many Camino trails that lead to Santiago de Compostela, but the most well-worn track, attracting more than 65% of all pilgrims, is the French Way that goes right through Burgos, and this is the track Mum and Helen walked. Burgos is 273km from where they started, not even halfway.
The path through the historic town centre is clearly marked with the distinctive yellow scallop shell on a blue background, and the shops and restaurants that line the path have special pilgrim deals and hotels offer pilgrim rates. The Camino de Santiago is great for the economy. We walked back along the path to where it entered the town, then turned and walked back through and out the other side. Being November, it wasn’t peak pilgrim time, so Andrew’s hopes of seeing a pilgrim coming into town were dashed. Perhaps we’d have better luck on the road tomorrow.
Friday: Camino de Santiago
We left Burgos and headed off towards Ponferrada with the Camino de Santiago running alongside the road. We hadn’t seen any pilgrims in Burgos, but it didn’t take long to see some out on the track. A bunch of young Japanese, looking the part in their swish walking gear, were sitting in the sun taking a coffee break, their packs beside them, and from their smiles and laughter they were having the time of their lives. A couple of kilometres further on we passed a guy walking on his own, not looking as happy as the earlier group, but still getting along at a cracking pace. We were so excited to see someone actually walking the Camino. We tooted the horn and waved encouragingly. He smiled and waved back. Hopefully we gave him a little pick-me-up. After that we saw another few more, all walking alone, before the road we were taking left the Camino for a while.
We re-joined the track in Astorga and decided to take a small country road that followed right beside the Camino for the 77km through to Ponferrada. As we were leaving Astorga we passed a guy swinging his pack off his back. He stuck out his thumb at the last moment, a feeble attempt to hitchhike. We smiled, gestured questioningly and drove on. A hundred metres ahead was a young woman striding along purposefully, a heavy pack on her back. Perhaps he had decided the Camino wasn’t his thing and left her to do it alone? Or maybe it was a case of bad blisters, or a temporary moment of exhaustion? The further we got down the road the more walkers we passed, of all ages and nationalities and many taking on the challenge alone.
77km is not far in a vehicle, even when it’s a narrow windy road, but for these walkers this stretch alone will take 3 days. Along the way are albergues (pilgrim’s hostels) providing accommodation and little restaurants serving pilgrims meals. Although it’s rough and remote countryside you are never far from a place of refuge.
As we got closer to Ponferrada we passed an older man carrying a pack almost as big as him and walking in a woollen pullover and baggy jeans. He was about 6km out of Ponferreda and we almost wanted to stop and ask if could help with the pack, it looked so bulky and he didn’t look the fittest or best equipped we’d seen. We saw him again as we were leaving Ponferreda after visiting the beautiful old castle that makes this town famous. He was walking into the town centre, not looking any worse for wear and still with a spring in his step.
It was a neat experience to see some of the Camino path that Mum and Helen had walked, the type of terrain they’d covered and some of the villages they passed through. I think Mum was quite chuffed too when we told her what we’d done.
Arriving at the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela at the end of this epic walk must be an emotional experience, regardless of whether you are religious or not. We had planned to drive on to Santiago de Compostela after Ponferrada, but as we left Burgos I said to Andrew, “let’s change route, we won’t go to Santiago de Compostela on this trip”. I want to do that journey on foot.
Saturday: Las Medulas
Friday night we stayed at a campsite about 18km out of Ponferreda and we were the only ones in the campsite. Nothing like having the whole shower block to yourselves! There was a heavy frost on the ground when we woke on Saturday morning, but the sun was doing its best to warm us. Moles are obviously not deterred by the cold as a fresh mole hill was right beside our door, so new the dirt was untouched by frost.
Ponferreda had been added to our itinerary for three reasons; it was on the Camino de Santiago, it has a lovely castle, and it is very near Las Medulas which I was keen to visit. Las Medulas is a fantastic landscape created from the gold exploitation by the Romans. In the 1st century A.D. the Romans began to exploit the gold deposits of this region in north-west Spain, using a technique based on hydraulic power, where large quantities of water were used to undermine the mountains. This process was aptly called Ruina Montiam (wrecking of mountains). After two centuries of working the deposits, the Romans withdrew, leaving a devastated but spectacular landscape. What was left were caves, tunnels and grottos, pinnacles and canyons, all a reddish sunset colour, converting the area into a magically mysterious piece of landscape. Now a listed UNESCO World Heritage Site, tourists flock here to explore the area through the many walkways. We spent a couple of hours discovering Las Medulas, climbing through tunnels and caves, and taking plenty of photos of this dramatic man-made landscape.
After leaving Las Medulas we travelled 160km further south to the small town of Allariz outside the city of Ourense. We had intended to stop in Ourense but after driving through it didn’t captivate us and we decided push on to Allariz, sometimes we have to remind ourselves that we can’t see everything.
Sunday: Allariz
We fell in love with Allariz. It is charming little town of 6,000 people sitting on the river Arnoia in the autonomous Galicia region of Spain. Typically mediaeval, the narrow streets surround a church and a fort sits on a hillock above the town. Sunday was beautifully fine, and we walked from the campsite along the river, through the botanic gardens, to the town centre, then up to the fort for a view over the countryside. We couldn’t help but compare this immaculate town with the French village where we had been house-sitting. There is no dog poop in the streets of Allariz and the historic buildings are all lovingly cared for and in pristine condition, in fact Spain is much cleaner than we’d ever expected.
Like in most of Europe, Sunday’s in Spain are family days and everyone in Allariz seemed to be out for lunch in big family groups. We had planned to have lunch in town too, and as it was gloriously sunny wanted a table outside. We tried three restaurants, all of which were fully booked, before finally finding a lovely riverside place with one spare table, a table for two in the sun. There was a Sunday Lunch set menu on offer promising three courses of traditional Galician cuisine. Why not do as the Spanish do and linger over a long lunch? Our waiter was charming and funny and spoke great English, explaining the regional delicacies and giving us insight into this beautiful part of Spain. The food was delicious, and with full stomachs and sedated from a glass of vino tinto, we sauntered slowly back to the campsite for a late afternoon siesta.
Tomorrow we head to Portugal.
I am writing about your Facebook posting as regards wax stamps. Your reporting and your economics is flawed. Basically you have ignored the costs of the operation. Plus it was a donation situation so many were given away for free. The cost of the charms the special wax the special thread and the hire of a campervan made the whole operation a loss making situation.popular but loss making. The documentary it was intended to promote you can see bits of in caminodoco.com
I hope this clears up this matter