Northern Spain, Asturian Coast and Ribadesella

The Beaches of Asturias…

This was the final stage of the long journey and we kept stubbornly to the coast road and took our time as we stopped off regularly at beaches along the way.

The first that we came to was just outside of the town of Llanes and we took the road which swooped down to Playa de Toro which translates as the beach of bulls and although I can find no explanation for this  I assumed that it was on account of the natural sculptures, little pronounced pinnacles – rocky outcroppings leaping up out of the caramel sand, skeletal survivors of the erosion action of the sea on calcareous rock and which, with a little imagination could be said to resemble a herd of black bulls charging into the surf.

At the back of the beach only a few kilometres away the Cantabrian mountains soared into the sky and as they did they collected all of the clouds that were sweeping in from the sea and here their progress was stalled like traffic at a motorway incident and they joined together in a sort of cloud congestion that grew darker and darker and obscured the peaks of the natural barrier between land and sea.

By contrast it was very sunny down on the beach and we wandered along the shoreline and watched the incoming tide before resting a while at a beach side restaurant and sat outside with diners who were tucking into the menu del dia.  We were tempted to join them but our plan was to eat in mid afternoon in preparation for the journey home so we resisted and carried on.

Lets Go Fly A Kite…

As we drove west the beaches on the Cantabrian coast come thick and fast and we stopped to admire the Playa de San Antonin where Atlantic breakers rolled in one after another and where surfers were practising the moves and then came across a beach, the name of which I carelessly forgot to find out where there was a gathering and an event and what looked like a thousand kites being flown in the sky.

We turned into the car park and walked along the sand and the grassy headland and admired the range of kites on display from the simple things that I remember from my boyhood holidays (two bits of wood, some plastic and string) to some very complex exhibits which I assume required great skill to keep up in the air.  I was glad that we had stumbled upon this because it was one of those Spanish festivals/events which includes all of the family and is quite unlike anything in the UK.

 

All of a sudden time was ticking by quite quickly and it was getting close to our intended lunch stop so we left the hobby kite fliers and continued on to the seaside town of Ribadesella and found a parking spot in a strangely solumbulant Saturday afternoon town where boats rested in the water and the seafood restaurants were serving unhurried food to relaxed diners and there was a lazy ambiance as we strolled along the harbour street looking for a restaurant.

There were a number to select from but as the sun was shining and this might well have been the best weather of the entire week we wanted to find a table in the sun and we had to walk practically the entire length of the harbour to find one.  Tables in the sun are generally free because local diners prefer the shade and this was no exception as we settled ourselves down for lunch.

We choose the four course menu del dia which turned out to be wonderful and we sat and ate and shared the bottle of red wine and reflected on our journey.  It had been an excellent week and we had enjoyed every place that we had visited.  Castilla y León is not the most attractive region in Spain but it is encrusted with the jewels of the cities that stand out like diamonds and more than compensate for the dreary landscape and we had enjoyed our itinerary which took us through most of Spain’s largest Autonomous Community.

After lunch we walked through the streets of the town but our visit had clearly coincided with the afternoon siesta and many places were closed and those that were open were not very enthusiastic about receiving customers so after a walk through the town and a last look at the harbour we returned to the car and headed for the Autovia del Cantabria for the very final stretch of our drive.

The road took us south of the industrial towns of Gijón and Avilés we sped past without stopping, filled the hire car with fuel and then made our way back to the airport and the late evening flight home to London Stansted.

 

 

Northern Spain – Cantabrian Coast, Comillas and Gaudi

Cantabria, Mountains and Coastline…

Although the forecast was poor the weather by contrast was better than expected and there was a clear blue sky with just a few wispy clouds and from the museum car park it was possible to see the sea only a few hundred metres away.  We drove out of the village on a road that climbed quickly and at the top we were overawed by a sight that we were not prepared for.  At a distance of about fifty kilometres we could see the two thousand five hundred metre high peaks of the Picos de Europa which remained snow capped and glistening white in the mid morning sun.

We headed towards the coast road and enjoyed the dramatic contrast of the Atlantic Ocean to our left and the lush green meadows of the hills to the right with the snow drizzled mountains in the near distance.   We were heading for the town of Comillas but stopped several times to admire the power of the sea as great waves rolled in and fizzed onto and through the caramel sand and caressed the random rocks littering the beaches.

I had always thought of Spain as a Mediterranean country but closer inspection of the map shows that a third of the Country’s coastline is along the much more dramatic Atlantic Ocean and the Cantabrian coast is over two hundred kilometres of panoramic beaches, hidden coves tucked into the pleats of the cliffs, green headlands and little towns where fishing boats shelter below harbour cafés.

Comillas, Cantabria…

In the high summer Comillas is a very busy seaside town but it is a lot quieter in May and there was plenty of room in the car park to park the car.  We walked across the pristine blue flag beach washed scrupulously clean by the strong tides and then towards the little harbour with a handful of colourful little fishing boats lying lop-sided as though recovering from a heavy night out on the San Miguel and sheltering behind the strong granite walls.  The tide was coming in quickly and as we watched the harbour began to fill with water and one by one the little boats sprang into life as the sea lifted them off of the mud and they began to dance on the water.

Comillas is a declared historic/artistic site that in the nineteenth century was once popular with the Spanish nobility who built many fine buildings and mansions here and is picturesque enough to get it hovering near to any top ten list of best small towns in Spain (ok, there are a lot of these lists so it isn’t difficult to pop up now and again in one or another of them).

El Capricho, Gaudi in Cantabria…

Before we left we drove into the old town where there were some fascinating buildings but none better than a rare example of the work of  Antoni Gaudi outside of Barcelona, a mansion called El Capricho complete with a signature tile clad tower, playful ceramic sunflowers and whimsical images of animals playing instruments.

It was built in 1883 for a nobleman who wanted an exotic villa in an oriental style and the really significant fact is that this was Gaudi’s very first commission.  There was a €7 admission charge which was a bit of a shock but having walked all the way through the town to find the place we went through with the transaction and made the visit to the house and the gardens and we were glad that we did.  Kim may have got tired of towers, castles and cathedrals but she remains comfortable with palaces and Gaudi it seems.

So far today the only disappointing thing was the weather which remained rather dreary but as we left El Capricho the sky began to brighten and the temperature leapt a degree or two and we took the opportunity to walk through the historical centre and the flower filled Plaza Mayor and alongside the fish restaurants that were already preparing for lunch time business but being too early for food we moved on and continued our final journey.

San Vicente De La Barquera…

When we reached the motorway we headed promptly west again and in a very short time we were in the fishing town of San Vicente De La Barquera where there was an interesting castle and an old town that stretched from the headland to the church of Santa María de los Ángeles and which enjoyed magnificent views over a busy river estuary to the mountains beyond and a good view too of the Maza Bridge, with its twenty-eight arches, which was built on the orders of the Spanish Catholic Monarchs in the sixteenth century.

Shortly after leaving San Vicente De La Barquera we crossed the Ría de Tina Mayor estuary and crossed out of Cantabria and back into Asturias.

More posts about Antoni Gaudi:

Catalonia, Barcelona and Antoni Gaudi

Alternative Twelve Treasures of Spain – Antoni Gaudi

Twelve Treasures of Spain, La Sagrada Familia, Barcelona

Casa Batlló, Barcelona

Park Guell, Barcelona

Northern Spain – The Caves at Altimira

“I visited the Cave of Altamira while traveling in Europe with two friends in 1968.  Once inside, I was of course in awe, not only of the age of the paintings, but also of the delicacy and skill with which they had been executed. I think we tend to look down on our distant ancestors as primitive and stupid, but cave paintings like those at Altamira remind us that they were not.”                         Susan (Washington) – Blogger

On the final morning of our visit to Santillana del Mar the weather proved to be a disappointment, I could hear rain on the window as I started to stir and when I did the weather check I could only report back that the sky was grey and it was drizzling.

At breakfast our host confirmed the worst and informed us that the forecast was gloomy all day so we decided that it was probably a good day to go and do something undercover and perhaps visit a museum.

After breakfast we settled up and said goodbye and took the road out of Santillana Del Mar and then followed signposts to the Altamira museum on the edge of the town.   I wasn’t expecting a great deal to be honest so was surprised to find a very big car park and a large building built into the hills.  I was about to learn about something else that I was completely unaware of – Cantabria is the richest region in the world in archaeological sites from the Upper Paleolithic period (that’s the Stone Age to you and me).  The most significant cave painting site is the cave of Altamira, dating from about 16,000 to 9000 BC and declared, with another nine Cantabrian caves, a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Well, you learn something new every day it seems!

Around thirteen thousand years ago a rockfall sealed the cave entrance preserving its contents until its eventual discovery which was caused by a nearby tree falling and disturbing the fallen rocks.  The really good bit about the story is that it wasn’t discovered by Howard Carter, Tony Robinson or Indiana Jones but by a nine year old girl who came across them while playing in the hills above the town in 1879.  Her father was an amateur archaeologist called Marcelino Sanz de Sautuola and he was led by his daughter to discover the cave’s drawings. The cave was excavated by Sautuola and archaeologist Juan Vilanova y Piera from the University of Madrid, resulting in a much acclaimed publication in 1880 which interpreted the paintings as Paleolithic in origin.

So well preserved were the paintings however that there ensued an argument about authenticity and some believed the whole thing to be a hoax and it wasn’t until 1902 that they were eventually accepted as genuine.

We paid the modest entrance fee of €2.40 and went into the museum, which turned out to be a real treasure with interesting displays about the Stone Age, or the Paleolithic period if you prefer, with the highlight of the visit being a full size recreation of the original cave and its precious paintings.  Today it is only possible to see this copy because the actual cave is now closed to vistors.  During the 1960s and 1970s, the paintings were being damaged by the damp breath of large numbers of visitors and smoke from Fortuna cigarettes and Altamira was completely closed to the public in 1977, and reopened with only very limited access in 1982.

Very few visitors are allowed in per day, resulting in a three-year waiting list.  It would be nice to go into the actual cave but actually the replica allows a more comfortable view of the polychrome paintings of the main hall of the cave, as well as a selection of minor works and also includes some sculptures of human faces that cannot be accessed in the real thing.

And, let me tell you, these people were really good painters.  The artists used charcoal and ochre or haematite to create the images, often scratching or diluting these dyes to produce variances in intensity and creating an impression of remarkable and sophisticated contrasts and they also exploited the natural contours in the cave walls to give a three-dimensional effect to their subjects.

The painted ceiling is the most impressive feature showing a herd of bison in different poses, two horses, a large doe and a wild boar.  Other images include horses, goats and hand prints created from the artist placing his hand on the cave wall and spraying paint over it leaving a negative image of his palm.

Numerous other caves in northern Spain contain palaeolithic art but none is as advanced or as famous as Altamira.

The entrance to the real cave is not so impressive however…

Northern Spain – Santillana del Mar

“Le plus joli village d’Espagne”  Jean Paul Sartre

Having visited Santillana del Mar once before, we were fairly confident of the directions and we arrived in the town and made our way to the free car park at the edge of the medieval centre. This place is overwhelmed by visitors in peak season and is entirely pedestrianised but it was quiet today and the summer restrictions didn’t appear to apply quite so rigidly but even so I wasn’t prepared to risk a fine so we then carried on by foot into the labyrinth of streets into the centre.

Santillana del Mar is a most picturesque town and often appears in any top ten of best villages in Spain along with Cudillero, Almagro, Ronda, Trujillo and Alcala de Henares.  This may of course have something to do with the fact that the French writer, philosopher and all-round clever dick, Jean Paul Sartre declared it to be the prettiest village in Spain in 1938, although I am not absolutely sure just how much of Spain he visited and just what he was comparing it with or how he came to this rather sweeping judgement.  Perhaps it was just a lucky guess!

Actually, I might be inclined to agree with him because the route to our hotel took us along uneven cobbled streets past yellow stone buildings with terracotta pantile roofs, stone walls, hidden gardens and tempting twisting alleys.  I may have been inclined to follow them but Kim wasn’t because, and I have to agree with her, it was a bit of a chore dragging our luggage over the bumpy surface and it made sense to go directly to our accommodation.

The Hotel Altimira was a delightful old seventeenth century grand house with stone walls, wooden floors and creaky rustic furniture and, unlike in Burgos, we were allocated a room at the front with a stone balcony and iron balustrade which allowed excellent views in both directions along the main street.

It was mid to late afternoon and we were both rather hungry so we went straight away to a restaurant that we had used previously, the Castilla, selected some tapas dishes and waited for service – and waited and waited and waited!  I realise that it was the end of the lunch time shift and the staff were looking forward to a short break but these guys were really rude and showed no enthusiasm to serve us.  As a result we abandoned the idea of food and a single drink and moved on.

Santillana is not an especially large town and there are only a couple of streets running from top to bottom so we walked slowly to the bottom of the town past half timbered houses and stone colonnades and to the well at the very bottom outside the Church of the Colegiata with its crumbling stone facade and slightly neglected appearance.  There is apparently an old saying that Santillana del Mar is The Town of Three Lies, since it is neither a Saint (Santo), nor flat (llana) and has no sea (Mar) as implied by the town’s name. However, the name actually derives from Santa Juliana (or Santa Illana) whose remains are in the kept in the Colegiata, a Romanesque church and former Benedictine monastery.

From the outside the church is a Romanesque masterpiece, squat but elegant, grey but welcoming, informal but grand, austere but inviting with weathered sandstone walls and sinewy arcades where it is easy to imagine merchants conducting business before worship

We had visited the church on our last visit and as there was an entrance fee we declined the opportunity for a return and walked instead around the back and towards the edge of the town past more grand villas, grand wooden doors and weathered stone statues and when we had reached the very edge of the town we walked back along a road that ran parallel and returned us to the Plaza Mayor and the small town museum which we visited largely on account of the fact that there was free admission.

Finding a shop was the next priority and this was quite difficult.  I was beginning to despair that we wouldn’t find one but eventually we came across a mini-market just outside the town centre and took possession of a bottle of red wine and some San Miguel and with essential supplies secured returned to the room.

An hour or so later as we were preparing to go out for dinner there was suddenly a lot of happy music from somewhere outside and it was clear that it was getting closer.  From our balcony we could see a gathering of people and a fun band of musicians in blow up suits advancing along the street and right underneath our window.  I have no idea what it was all about but the music was nice and the children all seemed to be enjoying the festival atmosphere.

There was now a debate about evening meal and whether or not we should return to the Castilla but we eventually decided to forgive them for their bad manners earlier in the afternoon and we returned for dinner and we were glad that we did because the food was excellent, the service first class and the atmosphere perfect.

As it turned out the room on the front of the Hotel Altimira was rather noisy on account of looking out over the street and the wooden floorboards which creaked every time someone in the hotel turned over in bed but it didn’t matter at all, it was a charming place and we were glad to be there.

Next morning the weather was disappointing again and it reminded me of childhood holidays to Wales or Norfolk – grey skies and big coats,  Kim upset the breakfast staff over the issue of hot water that wasn’t hot – in Spain there is a general failure to understand how important this is to a proper cup of tea and so after the meal and with a promise of better weather to the west we checked out of the hotel and began our final drive along the Cantabrian coast and back to Asturias airport.

 

Northern Spain – Mountain Drive, Burgos to Cantabria

Not long after leaving Burgos and as we travelled north the landscape began to change.  Only gradually at first and then more rapidly as we approached the snow capped Cantabrian Mountains.

The endless brown prairies of Castilla y León started to slowly give way to enclosed green fields of Cantabria and now there were ridges and escarpments each one playing host to a clutch of wind turbines.  There was livestock in the fields as we began to climb, gently at first and then more dramatically into the mountains.

After an hour or so we left the main road and took a minor route into the mountains where the fields became smaller, the grass became greener and the sky seemed a great deal closer as we drove past verges of wild flowers sheltering under the dry stone walls, soaring buzzards and occasional herds of the horses of Cantabria.  We climbed high into the clouds, way above the snow line with strips of ice clinging defiantly to the crevices where the sun doesn’t reach and stopping frequently to enjoy the stunning views stretching away in all directions as we reached the highest point of our drive at one thousand two hundred and sixty metres.

There was a price to pay for these grand views and that was the temperature which dropped so dangerously close to zero that Kim made a change of clothes into something much warmer and more appropriate for the prevailing conditions.

At the very top the grey clouds were crawling like a contagion over the mountain tops and then as quickly as we had started to climb we started to descend through a succession of sweeping theatrical bends where bubbling waterfalls twisted and roared down every narrow gorge and overhead there was a canopy of swaying emerald which parted just now and again to let the sunlight through and allow views of the mountain peaks wearing their lace bonnets of cloud.

The road kept dropping in a dramatic fall, through hairpin bends, alongside vertiginous drops to certain death in the river valley below and adjacent to soaring grey mountains and constant warnings of rock falls and debris in the road and this wasn’t the only danger because, although there was an absence of traffic we frequently found ourselves competing for road space with local farm livestock which thankfully announced their presence with a loud clanging cow bell.

Eventually the road began to level out and we followed the route of a river valley, the Valle de Cabuérniga with the River Argoza carving its relentless way through the hills as we made for our first stop of the day, the Cantabrian mountain village of Bárcena Mayor which is a village nestled in the mountains and the only residential community within the beech wood nature reserve of Saja.

It is said to be the oldest town in Cantabria and was declared a historic-artistic site in 1979.  Because of this designation it is now one of the most visited places in Cantabria as tour buses fill the road and the edge of town car park but it was quiet enough today and we walked through the pretty medieval stone streets and houses with wooden balconies and washing lines in a hanging mist which added to the character and the charm of the place.

We left Bárcena Mayor just as the intrusive tour buses started to arrive and spill their passengers into the narrow streets and then carried on to our second village visit at Carmona sitting in an impossibly attractive natural fold in the landscape surrounded by lush green fields and with a stunning backdrop of the Pico de Europa.

Carmona was rather similar to Bárcena Mayor except there was a bit more activity in the tiny cobbled streets with wild flower verges and where sunlight spilled into the dark  corners of the workshops where traditional wood carvers were busy making customary products of cattle yokes, sandals, clogs, canes, and cutlery which, I am told, are distinctive to rural Cantabria and I say that in a slightly cynical way because I got the impression that there isn’t really a great deal of tradition here and that whilst a man was busy whittling wood in an open barn for the benefit of the tourists there was probably a factory somewhere full of drills and lathes where the products for sale were being produced as the villagers were taking advantage of the new roads that brought the visitors to the once isolated communities.

I liked these little stone villages but not that much that I wanted to stay all afternoon and after we had walked through the streets, admired the wooden merchandise and dodged the free roaming dogs we returned to the car and made our way to our final overnight stop at the town of Santillana del Mar.

Basque Country, Biscay and San Sebastián

After leaving the tedious coast road journey speeded up now of course and we completed the final thirty kilometres of the journey in less than half an hour.

As we approached the city I was struck by the fact that it was much bigger than I had been expecting and fairly soon it was much busier than I had imagined as well.  As we followed signs to the centre we joined a queue of crawling traffic with snarling engines, red hot clutch plates and frustrated drivers and we made slow progress towards our destination.  This seemed strange, we knew it was Mother’s day and this was making everywhere busier than normal but we couldn’t understand how this could have produced so much congestion.

As we nudged our way slowly through the obstructions the car parks all showed full signs and police were moving cars along and we circled the city centre twice looking for a parking spot.  I was all for giving up and finding somewhere else to go and I was regretting the decision to drive east this morning when perhaps we should have stayed in Cantabria when we finally found an underground car park with a few remaining vacant spaces and after nearly three hours of driving finally stopped the car.

We were unsure of our position and we were ready for refreshment so we walked around the cathedral square looking for somewhere suitable but almost everywhere was crowded and boisterous and I began to detect a lot of Irish accents in the bars.

Eventually we found a bar with some empty seats and went inside.  The bar was a sea of red shirts and I had to jostle myself into position by pushing through the scarlet rugby tops.  Now there were French voices alongside the Irish accents and the penny began to drop – somewhere there must be a sporting event and my enquiries revealed that not only was the place busy because of Mother’s Day this was also Rugby Football Heineken Cup semi-final day and Biarritz from France were taking on Munster from Ireland right here in San Sebastián.  This was not turning out to be a very well planned day at all!

I still wasn’t quite sure why a Biarritz home fixture was being played in San Sebastián in Northern Spain but I learned later that Biarritz consider themselves to be the Rugby Union representatives of the wider Basque community so often play games in Spain especially for important fixtures when they need a bigger stadium than they have available in France. Aha, a commercial consideration as well!

Biarritz Rugby Shirt in Basque Colours

It was quarter to three and the bar remained packed but having established that kick off was at three-fifteen we were confident that it would soon begin to clear out but at three o’clock it remained just as lively and at five past and at ten past and soon we began to realise that a lot of people hadn’t actually got tickets to the match itself at all and had just visited San Sebastián to be close to the event and to savour the atmosphere.

After a drink we abandoned the noisy bar and the throng of scarlet shirts (both sides play in red!) and went outside to see the city.  We made our way to the seafront through streets of tall well maintained buildings with balconies with iron railings and not a washing line or a satellite dish in sight because this is a wealthy resort town with the highest property values in Spain, which is especially popular with holidaymakers from France.  This probably helped when San Sebastián was named European Capital of Culture for 2016!

There weren’t many holidaymakers today because it was grey and cold with a sharp wind ripping in from the Atlantic and I really could have done with a hat and scarf.  We walked along the beach-front board-walk lined with stylish and expensive hotels, street art, gardens and fountains.  The beach was deserted today but it was easy to imagine just how busy this golden crescent of sand might be during the summer because this is the busiest and the most popular of all seaside resorts on the north coast of Spain.

It was too cold to loiter so we walked briskly across the beach and through the old town back to the car and then fearful of getting caught in traffic again at the end of the Rugby match left San Sebastián with the intention of finding somewhere to eat.

We had somewhere in mind but I took the wrong turn and went west instead of east and soon we were too far out of town to think about turning back so we carried on.  Leaving the motorway we headed for the coast and drove through a couple of unremarkable places before we arrived at the charming town of Guetaria where, next to fishing trawlers in the harbour there were some promising looking restaurants.  Sadly they had closed at three o’clock but there were some pinchos on the bar so we choose some of these and then to our surprise the sun put in its first appearance of the day and we were able to sit outside with a final cerveza before leaving and driving back to Bilbao and the airport.

The Basque Country Coast and Guernica

“The racial pride of this mysterious people has always revolved around the sacred oak of Guernica, beneath whose branches the laws of the Basques were promulgated and the Kings of Spain swore to respect their privileges” – Jan Morris

It was a case of déjà vu this morning because just like the day before it was once again overcast and wet.  We decided however to stick with our original plan and drive the Basque Country coast road and visit the up-market seaside resort of San Sebastián, or Donostia in the Basque language; so after our final breakfast  we checked out and said goodbye promising to recommend the hotel and one day to return and then headed east.

As yesterday we had to use the motorway and make the circumnavigation of Bilbao once again and the road took us through the industrial and manufacturing zones of the city.  All of this industry means that the Basque Autonomous Community is currently the wealthiest region in Spain, with gross domestic product being 40% higher than that of the European Union and 33.8% higher than Spain’s average.  Industrial activities here were traditionally centered on steel and shipbuilding, mainly due to the rich iron ore resources around the city and the Estuary of Bilbao was the center of the Basque Country’s industrial revolution during the nineteenth and the first half of the twentieth century.

From Bilbao we continued east until the motorway turned into a toll road so we left it and started to drive north towards the coast passing on the way through the town of Guernica.  I thought it important to visit this ordinary looking town because this was the scene of one of the defining moments in history and I thought we should be able to say that we had been there.  Today Guernica is an unremarkable and not particular attractive town and this is because on April 26^th 1937 it was almost completely destroyed by Hitler’s Luftwaffe.

Guernica was bombed at the invitation of General Franco and the Nationalists during the Spanish Civil War because the Basque Country was a stronghold of the Republicans and because it was a symbol of Basque nationalism.  It was of no real strategic military importance but Franco wanted to end the war in the north as quickly as possible and to do so he needed to take Bilbao and this act of aggression demonstrated his power.  The raid was the first example of blanket bombing of civilian targets and it gave the Luftwaffe the opportunity to try out their new terror tactics which caused widespread destruction, two-thirds of the town was destroyed, and resulted in many civilian deaths.  The bombing is the subject of a famous anti-war painting by Pablo Picasso and in 1999 the German Government formally apologised to the citizens of Guernica for the raid.

The original painting, which Picasso created in 1937 within weeks of the bombing and the death of hundreds of civilians in Guernica, toured the world raising awareness of the horrors of the Spanish civil war.  It is now regarded as one of the most powerful pieces of pacifist propaganda art and, too fragile to travel, is held permanently at the Reina Sofia museum in Madrid.

We didn’t stop in Guernica, to drive through was sufficient, and we carried on towards the coast and this seemed to take forever on a difficult road that ran parallel to the coastline but a few miles inland.  This wouldn’t have mattered but the weather was poor and the scenery was disappointing compared to Cantabria.

Finally we reached the coast fishing town of Lekeito, which is one of the most important on the Bay of Biscay and it would have been nice to stop and have a look around but it was absurdly busy and it was impossible to park.  Today was Mother’s Day and for Basques an important day in the calendar when every son and daughter it seems takes their mother out to church and then to lunch and the streets and pavements were all busy and congested so we carried on.  As we emerged from the town centre and followed the road around the bay we could see that it was an attractive town and it was a shame to miss it but we were certain there would be more ahead.

There were of course but these were all equally as busy so we had exactly the same problem in all of them and we had to drive through Ondarroa without stopping and then Deba.  The scenery didn’t improve either because although we were now adjacent to the rocky coastline there was almost always a thick blanket of trees and shrubs separating the road from the cliff tops and the views and not only that the road was twisty and narrow so I had to pay careful attention which ruled out sight seeing anyway.

At Deba we were weary of the tedious energy sapping drive so abandoned the coast road, rejoined the motorway, paid the toll fee and drove directly to San Sebastián.

Cantabria, Liendo and a Festival

“I would sooner be a foreigner in Spain than most countries.  How easy it is to make friends in Spain!”                                                                                                        George Orwell – ‘Homage to Catalonia’

So, after leaving Castilla y Leon we re-entered Euskadi and then left it just as quickly again as the road sign announced that we were back in Cantabria.  The green valley was picturesque without being dramatic and for a time we could have been in the Yorkshire Dales or the Lincolnshire Wolds until we drove through the town that was busy today with a cattle market and horse auction that was attracting lots of people in from the surrounding countryside.  We didn’t stop but drove through the middle of all the excitement and after a while were back in Euskadi and then after another short while back in Cantabria where we followed directions to Ampuero and then once again to Laredo.

As we had already seen the seaside end of the town, and the weather wasn’t really suitable for the beach anyway, this time we parked at the other end of the town at the historical centre and walked in.  We were looking for somewhere to eat and another of Marta’s recommendations and we followed the road from the Town Hall into the back of the town looking for the bar El Tunel.  Marta’s directions were perfect and when we found it we agreed that this was a sitting indoors sort of day so squeezed past the pavement tables and went inside.

The bar was laid out with an assortment of pinchos and we made some choices as the staff tried hard to be helpful with explanations, all in Spanish of course,  and it really didn’t matter really what they were because they all looked delicious; and so they were so we had a good selection and a couple of beers and thoroughly enjoyed our late lunch.

When we left the bar we were surprised to find that the sun was out, the clouds were gone and the temperature had more or less doubled.  It was shirt sleeve weather now so we took the opportunity to explore the cobbled back streets of the town.  Laredo old town was declared a Historic Site in 1970 and is the original town centre dating from the Middle Ages and it still preserves remains of its old original walls.  It consists of a network of small streets and large stately houses from the sixteenth to the eighteenth centuries and at the highest part of the town the Gothic parish church of Santa María de la Asunción where there had been a wedding earlier but was firmly locked and closed now.

With the sun on full power we thought it would be nice to go back to the Posada and sit in the garden so we drove back, stopping at a petrol filling station on the way back to buy some beer and wine and after taking a detour to a disappointing viewing platform just outside the village arrived back in Liendo at about four o’clock.

It was delightful in the privacy of the private garden and we drank some wine, played some cards and chatted to a solo traveller from the Netherlands who had just arrived and we just simply enjoyed being in a tranquil environment surrounded by flowers, listening to bird songs and virtually watching the grass grow and a day that began requiring raincoats ended needing sunscreen.

As the sun dipped behind a tree we slipped into the shade we thought we might move the table back into the sun so we took one end each, lifted and selected a new spot and began to lower into position.  We lowered and lowered and then lowered a bit more and when we were clearly closer to the ground than we really should be it eventually dawned on us that we only had the table top and not the table legs because the two parts were not attached so we had to return to the original position and hope that no one had seen our little moment of pantomime.

Later we returned to El Roble for a final dinner, choose badly off the menu and had a lamb meal we didn’t enjoy.  The owner realised this and although it was our own fault insisted on only charging us half for the meal.  We thought that was nice.

After dinner we returned to the village where the festival was in full swing and people in the square  were listening and dancing to a group singing Spanish pop songs and we just had to join in.  The local people seemed to like this and invited us to join them in their group dancing routines that seemed straight forward enough in a barn dance jigging sort of way and we spent half an hour or so being a part of the community of Liendo.  It was a good finish to the day and as we returned to the hotel under clear skies we were optimistic about the next day.

 

Basque Country, Artziniega and Balmaseda

It was raining when we woke and this shouldn’t really have surprised us because this part of Northern Spain is one of the wettest places in Europe with an average of  one hundred and eighty-one days in a year when it rains.  This compares with one hundred and fifty-two days in London and only sixty in Seville in the south of the peninsula.

Cantabria is part of Green Spain, the name given to the strip of land between the Bay of Biscay and the Cantabrian Mountains and it is so called because it has particularly lush vegetation, due to a wet and moderate oceanic climate that is strongly influenced by Atlantic weather systems that get trapped by the mountains and turn to rain.  It is a place of complete contrast to the dustiest and driest parts of Spain in the arid South-East where most Northern European visitors head for the beaches and the sun-loungers of the concrete and tarmac strip.

While Northern Europe goes to the South, Northern Spain by contrast is a popular holiday choice with Spanish people living in the south and the central cities of the country because they like to holiday in the north to escape the oppressive heat and enjoy the famous seafood.  In August alone, eight million Spaniards travel north from cities like Madrid and Valencia to the more temperate climate of Galicia, Asturias and Cantabria with its green scenery and spectacular beaches.  The climate though is changeable and the region is often referred to in Spain as the wet or rainy region.

After breakfast we borrowed umbrellas from the hotel lobby and set off  in the car and our intended destination this time was the Basque capital city of Vitoria-Gasteiz.  We drove east along the Autovia and soon passed out of Cantabria and into Euskadi and as we did so the weather took a turn for the worst and it started to rain quite hard.

The route took us back around the suburbs of Bilbao and through large matchstick high rise housing estates.  The road dipped and weaved between the buildings and their individual accommodations each with a tiny balcony, some with flower pots, some dripping with colourful washing and all with satellite dishes and television aerials.  It really wasn’t very attractive at all and we were pleased when the motorway split in two and we started to head south and away from the city.

What we weren’t pleased about however was the weather because as we headed into the mountains it continued to deteriorate as stormy weather closed in like a cloak and yesterday’s white lace bonnets were today grey skull caps and as it continued to rain the spray from the traffic made the journey difficult and miserable.  In the rear view mirror we could see that it was brighter behind us and to the west so after a couple of junctions we abandoned the excursion to Vitoria-Gasteiz, left the motorway and began a much earlier than planned return journey.

We kept away from the motorway however and plotted a route that kept us inland and on the minor roads through the small villages and green fields of the Basque Country and as we drove west the weather improved and it stopped raining.  We had no plans now so we just drove through the swirling mists of the clouds as they crawled over the sides of the hills and down into the valleys and then we reached the little town of Artziniega, which looked busy and interesting so we parked the car and went to investigate.

It was only a small town but with an interesting historical centre with narrow cobbled streets, grand villas (some abandoned), honey coloured stone buildings and an altogether different style to that in Cantabria.  Whatever had been happening ten minutes previously and had encouraged us to stop however was clearly all over now because the town was languid and quiet and we met only a few people as we dawdled around the attractive streets stopping regularly to admire views of the surrounding countryside that was so green a leprechaun would surely feel at home.

We drove on and although it remained overcast the weather was still improving when we reached the larger town of Balmaseda and stopped again.  There was nothing especially picturesque about the town which has a rather functional appearance but it seemed friendly enough and this being a weekend and a festival day as well (May 1^st, Labour Day) the main square in front of the Town Hall and Church was full of people just wandering aimlessly from one conversation to another in that sociable, Saturday morning sort of way that Spanish people do.

After a drink in a traditional bar with a room full of excitable local people we left Balmaseda and continued our journey on a route that unexpectedly took us out of the Basque Country and for a few kilometres through neighbouring Castilla y Leon on our way towards the town of Valle de Villaverde.  Due to a historical quirk Valle de Villaverde is a municipality with an interesting geographical arrangement because it is an exclave Cantabrian town that is surrounded by the Basque municipalities of Carranza, Arcentales and Trucíos.  Basque nationalists want to incorporate Valle de Villaverde into the surrounding Basque province but Cantabria is not minded to cooperate and Basque nationalism is less strong in the west of the region and the residents of Valle de Villaverde are generally speaking happy to remain Cantabrian.

Cantabria, Lunch, Laredo and Liendo

The Bar La Solana was at the top of the village of La Apericida overlooking a panoramic view of an impossibly green valley and we parked the car nearby.  I think they were surprised to see us because we were the only customers and the family owners were sitting around reading newspapers and watching the television.

We ordered some food from the small chalkboard menu on the wall and sat outside in what was now full sunshine and towering blue skies and watched the small lizards who were all no doubt pleased with the improvement in the weather.  So pleased in fact that a couple of them were copulating under our very noses!  When the food arrived we were delighted with a rustic lunch that included quite the best calamari we had ever tasted, better even that on the island of Ios which we have always declared to be our favourite and where we have returned three years running for the squid!

After a couple of San Miguels we strolled around and enjoyed the views, walked around the hill top church and monastery and then returned to the car and back to the coast where we were heading for the town of Laredo which, with a five kilometre sandy beach, is one of the most important seaside towns in Cantabria and which in the summer is a favourite destination for thousands of Spanish holidaymakers.  But this was the last day of April so the atmosphere was laid back and relaxed and we parked the car without any difficulty directly on the sea front and walked over the dunes next to the road and down to the beach.

Grey clouds were gathering again now and the sky was transforming to chalky white as we walked across the hard sand avoiding the puddles of breeze rippled water down as close as we could get to the water’s edge.  The bay was long and wide and we had it practically to ourselves but I expect it gets a whole lot busier and crowded in the summer.  At one end was the old town and harbour and at the other were the rows and rows of holiday hotels, which to be honest didn’t look especially thrilling.  We were right in the middle so didn’t walk to either end but after a while returned to the car and with the weather deteriorating again drove through the town without stopping and returned to Liendo, sitting at the bottom of its saucer shaped valley surrounded by green hills and to the Posada La Torre de la Quintana.

We didn’t go straight back to the hotel but walked instead into the quiet village centre, through streets of white buildings with red tiled roofs, the village square, a couple of empty bars and a church.  We were looking for another of Marta’s recommendations but this placed didn’t show any signs of life so we decided that tonight we would return to El Roble.   The shops were closed for the siesta for the next half an hour or so, so we walked back and then after a few minutes I went back again to buy some more supplies of wine.

I really liked this place, mostly because it was so authentic and the shopping was a real experience.  The shopkeeper knew even less English than I know Spanish but with the help of another well-intentioned customer, who also knew no English, he helped me make a selection of local wines.  There were no prices on the bottles so I worried about the cost but I had no need to because when he cashed up they were only a couple of euro or so each .  I really like trying to communicate with Spanish people especially when it is clear that we cannot understand each other but they carry on anyway with the conversation at great speed and when it is all over look at you as though you have understood every word.  This is the time to nod appreciatively, say gracias and then adios and move on.

Later we sat in the garden and drank some wine, when it turned cool we went inside and played some pool and waited for Marta and Luz to leave but this evening there were some more guests coming from Madrid for tomorrow’s festival so tonight we would not have the place all to ourselves again.  They arrived at about eight o’clock just as we were preparing to go out for dinner when we returned to El Roble and had a plate of Iberian Ham to share and a main course each of succulent cod prepared in two alternative styles.

There was no sign of the Spanish guests when we returned so with the hotel to ourselves we played some more pool and drank the excellent local rioja and when we finally ended the evening we reflected on an excellent and relaxing day and wondered what the weather would bring in the morning?