Off our feet and into the saddle

S & C are now heading off to spend some time in the north west of Spain and we are heading to the north east, where we will be cycling from Bilbao in the Basque region all the way along the Cantabrian coastline and then to Ribadesella in the Asturias region. A total distance of about 300 km in 7 days. But before we do that we have to get from Santiago de Compostela to Bilbao. About a week before we arrived at Santiago de Compostela I started getting emails from Renfe, the Spanish train operator, advising that there would be buses replacing trains on a segment of the journey I had booked from Santiago de Compostela to Miranda de Ebro. The only problem with this is that I had also booked a connecting journey from Miranda de Ebro to Bilbao (the last service for the day), and the connection changeover time was quite a tight 30 minutes. Now my experience with rail replacement buses in Melbourne would indicate that 30 minutes is never going to be enough, so this delay, together with the fact that there appears to be no alternative transport options available, has heightened my anxiety levels somewhat. Beth on the other hand is quite relaxed. They are not going to leave us stranded in Miranda de Ebro, and if that does happen, we will just find somewhere to stay there. I wasn’t quite sure who “they” were, and remained unconvinced. Come journey time I had resigned myself to spending the night on a park bench in Miranda de Ebro. Nothing of the sort though. The bus replacement went relatively smoothly (although in my haste I did try to board the wrong bus), and we had at least 5 minutes to spare for our connection. As a bonus, the train and bus trip was a very pleasant one through some lovely mountain scenery.

Bilbao is a really nice riverside city with plenty of attractions. We arrive on Friday evening and start our ride on Sunday morning, which means we really only have an evening and one full day to explore this city. Not nearly enough time, but I had every confidence that Beth would be able to make a good fist of it. Once we arrived and were safely in our very comfortable hotel, my park bench anxiety was replaced by pangs of hunger. Our last meal was a rushed (but still very nice) breakfast at the Parador what seemed like a lifetime ago, so at 7:00 in the evening we head out in search of food. We had already learnt on the Camino that hoping to find dinner in Spain before 8:00 was just wishful thinking, but we were hungry and we were reasonably confident that we would be able to find a tapas bar somewhere. It didn’t take us long to find a street full of tapas bars, and surprisingly they were all open, and also all a bit busy. Perhaps Friday nights you are allowed to start early. We found a bar that looked ok, and had one table unoccupied , so we grabbed it, and ordered half a dozen pintxos (the Basque take on tapas, very much a snack, generally an assortment of foods held together by a toothpick and attached to a slice of baguette). The barman was a bit bemused. Generally pintxos are ordered as snacks to go with drinks, and here were we ordering a plateful as a meal, but he was good humoured about it. I think he could tell we were hungry. The pintxos were excellent and really hit the spot.

On Saturday we were out and about early to see how much of the city we could explore in one day. We did a pretty good job. The Guggenheim museum was first on our list and involved a walk down the river for a couple of kilometres. The river precinct was all very picturesque, so it made for a very pleasant walk. The Guggenheim was amazing, and by far the most impressive piece of work on display was the building itself. Just amazing. I couldn’t help myself, I kept reaching for my camera. The art and installations were pretty special as well. It was modern art of course, whose beauty I think is very much in the eye of the beholder. My eye certainly beheld some things which had no artistic merit whatsoever and some things which had me transfixed. It was well worth the trip to Bilbao just to see the Guggenheim.

The afternoon we spent walking around the vibrant, but enchanting old city where we happened upon an excited group of young people noisily, but happily protesting about something, or maybe they were celebrating something. I am not sure. I am generally not a fan of noise, but this splendid outpouring of passion was wonderfully entertaining to me. We found an excellent cafe called the barista club, which served the closest thing to a Melbourne latte as I have seen in a long time, and to really stoke my excitement, they served up a huge slice of basque cheesecake which I am sure was made in heaven. Definitely the nicest cheesecake I have ever tasted, and one I must try to replicate when I get home. So my day was made. Art, architecture, food and coffee. I could quite easily have gone home to the hotel satisfied with my day, but Beth had other ideas. She had seen that Bilbao had a funicular, and there was no way we were going home until we had travelled that funicular up to the top of the Artxanda hill to view the sights of Bilbao. Well worth the time spent, and as I have said before, if all that was available to get to the top was a set of stairs, we would be doing that, so I thank you funiculars of the world.

We had a date at 5:00 pm so needed to make sure we were back at the hotel before then. Yes, a date . Yes, in Bilbao. Several months ago, whilst chatting with one of our neighbours we mentioned our upcoming trip to Spain and Portugal. It appears he had family connections in Spain and was a frequent traveller there, so he had lots of helpful advice and insights. One less than welcome insight was that our proposed coastal cycle tour, which Beth assured me would be flat, was likely to involve more climbing than we expected. After a little more chatting it transpired that coincidentally we would be in Spain at the same time he and his wife were, and indeed in Bilbao on the same day. We resolved to catch up for coffee and after a bit of to-ing and fro-ing during our travels, a date was made. We had a very nice time chatting and drinking coffee and it finished off a very rewarding day nicely. I did however fear for our neighbours health and wellbeing. They were still in jet lag recovery territory, but since stepping into the country they had been wined and dined in the Spanish style by their local connections. Which means big, long running meals, eaten very late and then wine and banter into the wee small hours. Sleep it appears, is not highly rated. Given their gruelling regimen, they seemed in pretty good nick, but worse was yet to come. Evidently before meeting us at 5:00, they had just finished a very long lunch, and as a concession to their expressed need to get to bed early, the restaurant for their evening meal (and wine, and banter) had been booked for 9:00 pm rather than the customary 11:00. We do thank them for foregoing some of their downtime to catch up with us. We did hear from them later in our journey that they had survived their week in Spain and were now convalescing in a medieval village in rural France.

Several times we have been asked by our cycle tour company whether we are sure we don’t want e-bikes, and each time we say no, a hybrid bike powered by us pedalling will be fine. I must admit though that getting the question one more time when the bikes were dropped off did bother me somewhat, but surely it can’t be too hard, can it?? Our first day of riding is about 40 kilometres, and the first 20 km or so is very easy flat riding down the Bilbao river out to Getxo, where there are some grand houses on the riverfront to have a look at. We then ride back to the very interesting Vizcaya bridge, which is basically a very large gondola suspended on steel cables from a really tall iron structure spanning the river. Cars, bikes (including ours)and pedestrians pile onto the gondola in a reasonably orderly manner, and then they are transported across the river where they then disembark. A dangling ferry type of contraption. 150 years old and still going strong.

Whilst the ride was easy going, I have to admit that I was feeling a little nervous about how closely we were interacting with motorised forms of transport and at one point where we were riding along a very busy, but quite narrow street with a stream of cars behind us almost clipping our heels, we decided to bail and seek safer passage on the nearly deserted footpath. Bad decision it seems, because not more than 2 minutes after leaving the road a police car pulled up beside us, and the officer very tersely told us it was against the law to ride on the footpath. I think the only reason we escaped a fine is that the officer didn’t quite know how to prosecute a foreign national. The police officer moved on and we rejoined the traffic. Luckily we were soon out of the urban area and life became easier on the traffic front. But terrain was a very different matter. After 20 kilometres the flat turned into hills and after another 20 kilometres our legs turned into jelly.

We may have done a lot of walking lately, but we were certainly not bike fit. The next 7 days did something towards remedying that. The second half of day one to Castro Urdiales felt like torture as we had to tackle what seemed to us some pretty steep climbs. Day 2 to Santoña was torture the whole way with plenty of walking done up the steep hills. Day 3 to Santander, the hills were worse again, but by this stage we were pacing ourselves a little better and more time was spent in the saddle slowly pedalling rather than walking up the hills. By the last day we were well oiled machines and there was not a single hill that could defeat us. It took us 360 kilometres of distance and nearly 5,000 metres of climbing to get into shape. Although it was undoubtedly challenging for us, the bike ride was really well thought through and took us to many beautiful places, and we really enjoyed it.

Interestingly, a real highlight of the ride was the mountain scenery. Much as the Atlantic Ocean was our constant companion to the west on the Camino, the Picos de Europa was our constant companion to the south on our ride. We were forever gazing to our left at rocky and sometimes snow covered peaks, always terrified that our gps guide was going to take us up into them. The Cantabrian coastline of course was another constant to our right. It really was very beautiful. Cliffs, huge swells and crashing waves, gorgeous blue water bays with long sandy beaches. Beth was impressed, but she kept reminding me that although it was lovely, it was still some way behind the Great Ocean Road. I think she may be biased.

Each of the towns we stayed at were special in their own individual way, as were many of the towns we passed through along the way, but Santoña, Santillana del Mar, Laredo, Llanes and Ribadesella were highlights.

Laredo is a town we pass through on our way to Santoña and didn’t rate much of a mention in our notes, but we were happy to see it approaching because we were in serious need of the three “R”s. Rest, Replenishment and Relieving oneself. Laredo seemed like just another tired looking old town, but any port in a storm, so we tethered our trusty steeds and went on foot to seek out a cafe. The one we found was actually quite good, they had passable coffee and nice pintxos. We felt quite refreshed after our rest, but decided to wander around town a bit before hopping back on our bikes. Turns out that if you wander past the tired old bits on the outside of town, you find even tireder and older bits in the appropriately named old city. Old churches, old houses, old walls, old alleys and old people. All looking entirely authentic and charming.

Santoña is a small fishing village famous for its anchovies. Our entry into Santona was by ferry boat, which was quite fitting, as this was undeniably a town indelibly linked to the sea. The ferry took us from Laredo across the entrance to the Bay of Santoña. There was really no other way in without a very long road trip, which after 50 odd kms of riding, we were happy to avoid. As we rode through town there was much activity around the ports as the fishing boats were unloading their catch and a change of shifts took place at the cannery. The smells, sounds and general buzz about the place were quite enthralling. Our hotel was a little way out of town on the Playa de Barria (Barria Beach) and had a panoramic view from the top floor bedroom window out across a beautiful sandy beach, past the smattering of surfers to the Bay of Biscay beyond. Beautiful during the day, but magical during the night as you watched the fishing boats bobbing about with their lights flashing as they made their way out into the bay to find their tiny fish. It isn’t often that you are happy to sit in your hotel room to watch the world go by, but that we were. There is evidently another more sophisticated side of Santoña away from the industry of the port and cannery, but we eschewed that in favour of the dirty old town vibe.

Our entry into Santander was also by boat. After another quite long and hilly ride we needed to catch a small ferry from Pedrẽna across the entrance to Santander Bay into the port. Santander is quite a large city, and very picturesque from the water, even though by the time we boarded the boat it had started to rain heavily. It was very nice being delivered almost to the doorstep of our hotel, where our room was on the 10th floor with a wonderful view over the port and down the bay. Very nice. Because we are coming back to spend 3 days in Santander later in our holiday, we made a conscious decision to not spend time discovering things here. Inspired choice as it transpires, because the rain did not abate.

Santillana del Mar was an amazing old village with a 12th century church as its centrepiece and a heap of 14th to 18th century stone buildings making up the rest of town, and all in remarkable condition. Our hotel was an 18th century house originally built for the church organist, but subsequently used as a farm building before being renovated in the style of the original building and repurposed as a hotel. It was very nice. It was easy to spend a lot of time just wandering the streets and looking at all the wonderful old buildings and gardens, looking much as they would have 300 years ago. I could not quite figure out how this village survived intact and avoided 19th and 20th century crimes against architecture. I asked people (including google), but nobody could tell me. I can only assume that its somewhat nowhere location caused the 20th century to not quite realise it was there and pass it by. Anyway, whatever the reason, it means we now have a really charming, intact and authentic old village which we really enjoyed.

Whilst we were visiting the old church at Santillana del Mar a group of high school students descended upon the place, which caused me to shudder. I find that putting lots of children together in a public place generally results in much noise and antisocial behaviour. Beth thinks that I am less than charitable in my attitudes to juvenile behaviour and that perhaps I should work on my patience and tolerance. Perhaps she is right, but I shuddered nonetheless. However, in this case my disquiet was not warranted, the children seemed to be behaving tolerably well. They all made their way down to the church nave with their teacher in tow. Once there they seemed to be coaxing their young teacher into the centre of a circle they had formed and egging her on to do something or other. After a little bit of persuading, the teacher started to sing a hymn in the most beautiful soprano voice, which filled the old church and sent tingles up and down my spine. A wonderful experience.

Llanes was another very interesting town. It is a port town, and fishing again seems to be the mainstay. The weather was teasing us as we entered Llanes. The clouds hanging above the mountains which flanked the city were heavy and grey. They seemed to be saying come out if you dare. Always up for a dare, once settled into our very nice hotel (another historic building in the old city), we took up the gauntlet thrown down by the clouds, and ventured out to look around. What we found was a lovely old walled city, filled with atmosphere, particularly around the docks. An atmosphere only enhanced by the eerie weather.

Our cycle tour concluded in the seaside town of Ribadesella, another very picturesque small city, with a beautiful beach protected by a small promontory on the other side of a very nice river. On our way to Ribadesella whilst cycling on a country road, we heard what we initially thought were shotgun blasts happening quite frequently. The blasts got louder as we progressed. Just as we were starting to think of where we should go to avoid getting shot, we noticed in the distance a smoky trail zipping into the sky ahead of an explosion of sparkles. It was fireworks, not shotguns, so we thought it safe to progress. Eventually we came to a little white van stopped on the road, and from which an older man was flinging fireworks. After we passed, he drove further down the road and flung more fireworks. How peculiar. Then a police car came down the road. We thought the silly old man in his van was about to be arrested for being a public nuisance, but in fact the old man was heralding the approach of a parade through the streets, and the police were an escort. We had no idea what the parade was in aid of, but the townspeople in their immaculate traditional dress were a wonderful spectacle. We stopped our bikes and watched, enchanted.

Our Ribadesella hotel was over the river and on the beachfront. As we cycled towards the address of our hotel, Beth was quite taken by the number and quality of Indianos mansions on the beachfront. The Indianos houses are those built, generally in the early 20th century, by Spanish emigrants to South America, who had made their fortune and returned home displaying their wealth by building ostentatious homes. Beth had convinced herself (and me), that our hotel would be housed in one of these mansions, probably a reasonable assumption given our hotels to date. She had even chosen, from a distance, which one of the mansions would be our hotel. Unfortunately, no amount of wishing it to be so made it our place of rest for tonight. We could have stayed had we chosen to part with rather a large sum of money. No, our hotel was the modern building a few doors down. Possibly a tiny bit unreasonable of us to be disappointed in a lovely hotel with a nice, well appointed room and stunning views.

Just outside of Santillana del Mar are the Altamira caves, which house quite amazing Palaeolithic cave art 35,000 years old. Beth was quite intrigued by this, but unfortunately, to preserve the cave art, no visitors are allowed in the cave. We did read though, that there is the Tito Bustillo cave at Ribadesella, which also contains rock art and is more accessible to the public. When we looked though, tours were booked out. Not put off by this unavailability, Beth decided that we would venture out to the cave and try our luck anyway. The lady at the cave museum was very nice, but she couldn’t alter the fact that there were no places available. She did however suggest that we should have a look at the museum though, because it was very interesting, and because today was international day, it was also free. A bit of a consolation prize, but it was raining outside, and we had nothing else to do, so why not. Turns out that the museum was actually really interesting, and we spent the best part of two hours learning more about this amazing cave dwelling civilisation from 35,000 years ago. As we were leaving the museum, very satisfied with our work, one of the museum staff collared us before we left and asked if we were still interested in a cave tour. It seemed that someone had cancelled at the last minute, and two free tickets were up for grabs. We had a wonderful tour of the cave which really made our day, but did make me wonder whether we should have hung around a little longer outside the Indianos mansion to give the power of positive thinking a little more time to work.

Even though it was a bit challenging at times we had a wonderful time with this cycle tour, but now it is time to move on again. We are reuniting with C&S to spend some time with them in Madrid, then Beth and I will head back to the costa verde to visit San Sebastián and Santander before heading to the UK for more walking.