Well, this turned out to be one long day, I can assure you of that. But first a slight recap.
The albergue in Bilbao was great for a couple of connected reasons. It was being run by 'hospitaleros' who were members of an organisation "the friends of St Jacques", which I gather operates at a number of levels. Having considerable collective experience of walking the camino, our hosts Vicente and Carlos provided a hearty welcome and were never short of good humour or advice.
We found a number of others already installed (including André) and there was something of a lively sense about the place as opposed to the generally quiet and restrained ambience I have found in most places (understandable considering that people tend to be tired after their exertions).
What we already knew on arrival was that this was the last night that the hostel was open. Due to constraints from the local council, the place shuts at the end of September until the next April/May. Perhaps with the ongoing increase in pilgrim numbers over recent years (and particularly dramatic increases in certain areas) the council may rethink its policy but under present arrangements we arrived on the last day of opening.
One excellent benefit of this fact was that the hospitaleros had planned a final meal, so we were delighted to discover that freshly grilled chops with aligot were available for just 5 euros per head. I think I may have eaten two! Some chocolate involved in the desert and red wine thrown in made for an excellent finish to a strenuous day. The walk across Bilbao is considerable, and not all of it is interesting or inspiring, so it was nice to finish on such a positive note.
So, on to the present (or a sense of): We left Bilbao on a cloudy and damp morning. A light rain had started just after first light, so it was on with the ponchos for the morning's walking.
The path out took us down, then up, then down again and under the various motorways and trunk roads that seem to fan out from the city. Not the most interesting of walks.
We then made a considerable climb up to the Ermita, where the rain stopped although the skies remained overcast and fairly chilly.
The descent took us back into the outskirts of Bilbao and we passed through the connected suburbs of Barrakaldo and Sestao feeling as if we'd not actually shaken off the city. The walking was easy though - we were on the flat. We walked past miles of retail frontage and out past one of the largest out of town shopping precincts I've seen. This path took us onto a municipal walkway and cycle path and I have to say that it was very impressive inasmuch as this provided a safe, enjoyable and high quality passage for walkers, joggers, cyclists, dog walkers and anyone who wished to take the exercise. It went on for kilometre after kilometre and dropped us conveniently into Portugalete. Here's a piece of "urban art" on the harbour walkway:
As one might imagine there is often talk in the hostels of an evening which revolves around the best way to tackle a particular stage (there seem to be as many guidebooks as there are languages and each has different information and suggestions), as well as advance information about the following stages. Bilbao was no exception and we had been informed of the closure of the albergue in Portugalete. No problem really since this was only a 16km walk and we hadn't planned to stop there. But there were implications for further ahead. One of our options (and a recommended stop) was Pobeña, some 12km further on (leaving us with an etape of around 27km). We had also been informed that this hostel had closed becaues of bed bugs. Bed bugs would seem to be something of an ongoing problem along the camino and each hospitalero tends to react differently. While some (on other routes) will ignore the problem, it seems that those along the Camino del Norte wish to remain bug free. So while it was somewhat inconvenient to find the entire building closed for cleaning it was also reassuring.
We stopped to see some of the sights of Portugalete such as the famous suspended bridge built in 1883 - a time of expansion in iron engineering and a bridge that belongs to the era of the Eiffel Tower.
The old town hall and the old buildings, from the time when Portugalete was one of the principal ports on the coast for the export of wool and the iron that was mined intensively along the coast, leave traces of the past splendour and importance of this port now somewhat in the shadow of nearby Bilbao. One thing I did miss, largely because I wasn't aware of it at the time, was the Basilica of Saint Mary. An original edifice erected in the early 15th century in a primitive style was quickly replaced with a late gothic church. Inside is an enormous renaissance retable (which information I found in a guidebook afterwards!). The building was suggestive enough of its history to prompt an external shot:
We had to press on, not least because the issue of accommodation was not solved. One option we'd been told about was to continue along the coast to Playa de las Arenas (an imaginative name) and ask about renting one of the holiday apartments. Not only is it now somewhat out of season but we had met two more pilgrims by the bridge in Portugalete who were open to the idea of splitting the cost of a four bed apartment for the night. We went on ahead with a mobile phone number for contact.
Arriving in the seaside village I asked about rentals. I was shown into a very compact two room apartment with a shower room squeezed in. At 85 euros for the night this was still expensive and the owner seemed unwilling to negotiate so we decided (Roland and I) to press on.
The slight downside of pressing on is that the next place known to have any suitable accommodation was Castro-Urdiales, a further 17km via the camino. We pressed on - it was now 15:00hrs. Our path out of town (and close to the main roads, which were noisy and unattractive) took us past this rather grand cemetery. Since Roland was/is an architect, and since it looked interesting anyway, we popped in and decided to ignore the notice about no photography. While I understand that one needs to respect the dead, it seemed such a shame to leave such art hidden:
As we left the village we bumped into two fellow pilgrims we'd met the night before in Bilbao, and we continued in a strange flexible train - first bunching and chatting and then flexing apart - towards Castro. Once again we took up the public paths, which made the first part of the walk very easy, before we again dropped down to sea level and the town below:
It was agreed that to reach a town called Ontón and then branch off on the coastal road was a perfectly acceptable shortcut under the circumstances. I for one was in no mood to tackle an additional 8km that included another reasonable climb.
The afternoon was actually rather lovely despite the general weariness. The path climbed up off the beach and along the side of the coast, passing the old mine works which were illustrated at various points with panels showing how the mining was carried out and how the minerals made their way onto the boats. There were remains of infrastructure dotted about, and the sun was well and truly out by now, so there was plenty to cheer - especially after a pretty dull morning's walk.
There was a small section of this coastal path which cut into a tunnel, which at least made for an interesting photo ;0)
We found several further small shortcuts along the route, including one which surprised me.
Just before Castro-Urdiales lies the village of Sámano. We passed an old house, now the property of the neighbourhood cats:
We passed an old church by the side of the road, the statues having been broken off during the civil war (was the general feeling)
From here the highway passes in a long loop back into the hill before heading out again towards our destination. There was the whiff of a track which left the road to our right, before the village, and descended onto the beach and back up the other side - presumably to rejoin the main road. Roland and I decided to try it, and Rosa and Antonio opted for the safer bet and go via Sámano. Here's a shot taken towards our destination, just before we headed off down the hill:
As it turned out the way down was not only simple but we also noticed the ubiquitous yellow arrows! This, it seems, was once a stretch of the camino. Quite why it had been rerouted a further eight kilometres and up a mountain is a bit of a mystery, unless it were to avoid having pilgrims walking on a main road. This is certainly something I feel was foremost in any such decision making, as any time the camino needs to cross a main road there is always a largre warning sign, complete with the scallop shell markings. As we began our climb up the other side, we passed a small cave at ground level, which had now become a sanctuary. I poked the camera through the grill and took a quick shot:
So, we saved a further 1500 metres or more and found ourselves emering into the outskirts of Castro-Urdiales.
I stopped at the nearest likely place (a restaurant) and asked for directions. Good news and bad. The albergue was easy to find, but it was around 3km further along on the opposite end of the town. Oh well, nothing for it but to push the now very tired feet onto our destination. As we pushed on, all attention now focused on arrival, I quickly snapped one of the important historic houses of the town. We were to leave sightseeing to the following morning:
We finally burst into the Albergue around 19:20 that evening (after eleven and a half hours of walking) to find a nice clean, tidy municipal albergue with plenty of beds. Nice. And to make things better the very kind hospitalero, once he understood how tired we were, offered to make the short return walk into town to purchase supper.
I prepared a panful of rice, tuna, lentils, tomato and sweetcorn. Nothing fancy but sufficient nourishment. It was gratefully receieved.
I should perhaps mention at this point that I also seem to have picked up a slight injury. Well, probably "injury" is too strong a word for it. One of the muscles on my left shin has a tendency to become a little overworked if I walk particularly far or fast. Today I had probably done both, and it had been hurting for the past several hours. Having to now force the final few kilometres wasn't a particularly welcome experience but needs must.
Having rested for a few hours, the slightly swollen muscle in my left leg was now quite painful. Hopefully all it needs is a good night's rest.
The albergue in Bilbao was great for a couple of connected reasons. It was being run by 'hospitaleros' who were members of an organisation "the friends of St Jacques", which I gather operates at a number of levels. Having considerable collective experience of walking the camino, our hosts Vicente and Carlos provided a hearty welcome and were never short of good humour or advice.
We found a number of others already installed (including André) and there was something of a lively sense about the place as opposed to the generally quiet and restrained ambience I have found in most places (understandable considering that people tend to be tired after their exertions).
What we already knew on arrival was that this was the last night that the hostel was open. Due to constraints from the local council, the place shuts at the end of September until the next April/May. Perhaps with the ongoing increase in pilgrim numbers over recent years (and particularly dramatic increases in certain areas) the council may rethink its policy but under present arrangements we arrived on the last day of opening.
One excellent benefit of this fact was that the hospitaleros had planned a final meal, so we were delighted to discover that freshly grilled chops with aligot were available for just 5 euros per head. I think I may have eaten two! Some chocolate involved in the desert and red wine thrown in made for an excellent finish to a strenuous day. The walk across Bilbao is considerable, and not all of it is interesting or inspiring, so it was nice to finish on such a positive note.
So, on to the present (or a sense of): We left Bilbao on a cloudy and damp morning. A light rain had started just after first light, so it was on with the ponchos for the morning's walking.
The path out took us down, then up, then down again and under the various motorways and trunk roads that seem to fan out from the city. Not the most interesting of walks.
We then made a considerable climb up to the Ermita, where the rain stopped although the skies remained overcast and fairly chilly.
The descent took us back into the outskirts of Bilbao and we passed through the connected suburbs of Barrakaldo and Sestao feeling as if we'd not actually shaken off the city. The walking was easy though - we were on the flat. We walked past miles of retail frontage and out past one of the largest out of town shopping precincts I've seen. This path took us onto a municipal walkway and cycle path and I have to say that it was very impressive inasmuch as this provided a safe, enjoyable and high quality passage for walkers, joggers, cyclists, dog walkers and anyone who wished to take the exercise. It went on for kilometre after kilometre and dropped us conveniently into Portugalete. Here's a piece of "urban art" on the harbour walkway:
As one might imagine there is often talk in the hostels of an evening which revolves around the best way to tackle a particular stage (there seem to be as many guidebooks as there are languages and each has different information and suggestions), as well as advance information about the following stages. Bilbao was no exception and we had been informed of the closure of the albergue in Portugalete. No problem really since this was only a 16km walk and we hadn't planned to stop there. But there were implications for further ahead. One of our options (and a recommended stop) was Pobeña, some 12km further on (leaving us with an etape of around 27km). We had also been informed that this hostel had closed becaues of bed bugs. Bed bugs would seem to be something of an ongoing problem along the camino and each hospitalero tends to react differently. While some (on other routes) will ignore the problem, it seems that those along the Camino del Norte wish to remain bug free. So while it was somewhat inconvenient to find the entire building closed for cleaning it was also reassuring.
We stopped to see some of the sights of Portugalete such as the famous suspended bridge built in 1883 - a time of expansion in iron engineering and a bridge that belongs to the era of the Eiffel Tower.
The old town hall and the old buildings, from the time when Portugalete was one of the principal ports on the coast for the export of wool and the iron that was mined intensively along the coast, leave traces of the past splendour and importance of this port now somewhat in the shadow of nearby Bilbao. One thing I did miss, largely because I wasn't aware of it at the time, was the Basilica of Saint Mary. An original edifice erected in the early 15th century in a primitive style was quickly replaced with a late gothic church. Inside is an enormous renaissance retable (which information I found in a guidebook afterwards!). The building was suggestive enough of its history to prompt an external shot:
We had to press on, not least because the issue of accommodation was not solved. One option we'd been told about was to continue along the coast to Playa de las Arenas (an imaginative name) and ask about renting one of the holiday apartments. Not only is it now somewhat out of season but we had met two more pilgrims by the bridge in Portugalete who were open to the idea of splitting the cost of a four bed apartment for the night. We went on ahead with a mobile phone number for contact.
Arriving in the seaside village I asked about rentals. I was shown into a very compact two room apartment with a shower room squeezed in. At 85 euros for the night this was still expensive and the owner seemed unwilling to negotiate so we decided (Roland and I) to press on.
The slight downside of pressing on is that the next place known to have any suitable accommodation was Castro-Urdiales, a further 17km via the camino. We pressed on - it was now 15:00hrs. Our path out of town (and close to the main roads, which were noisy and unattractive) took us past this rather grand cemetery. Since Roland was/is an architect, and since it looked interesting anyway, we popped in and decided to ignore the notice about no photography. While I understand that one needs to respect the dead, it seemed such a shame to leave such art hidden:
As we left the village we bumped into two fellow pilgrims we'd met the night before in Bilbao, and we continued in a strange flexible train - first bunching and chatting and then flexing apart - towards Castro. Once again we took up the public paths, which made the first part of the walk very easy, before we again dropped down to sea level and the town below:
It was agreed that to reach a town called Ontón and then branch off on the coastal road was a perfectly acceptable shortcut under the circumstances. I for one was in no mood to tackle an additional 8km that included another reasonable climb.
The afternoon was actually rather lovely despite the general weariness. The path climbed up off the beach and along the side of the coast, passing the old mine works which were illustrated at various points with panels showing how the mining was carried out and how the minerals made their way onto the boats. There were remains of infrastructure dotted about, and the sun was well and truly out by now, so there was plenty to cheer - especially after a pretty dull morning's walk.
There was a small section of this coastal path which cut into a tunnel, which at least made for an interesting photo ;0)
We found several further small shortcuts along the route, including one which surprised me.
Just before Castro-Urdiales lies the village of Sámano. We passed an old house, now the property of the neighbourhood cats:
We passed an old church by the side of the road, the statues having been broken off during the civil war (was the general feeling)
From here the highway passes in a long loop back into the hill before heading out again towards our destination. There was the whiff of a track which left the road to our right, before the village, and descended onto the beach and back up the other side - presumably to rejoin the main road. Roland and I decided to try it, and Rosa and Antonio opted for the safer bet and go via Sámano. Here's a shot taken towards our destination, just before we headed off down the hill:
As it turned out the way down was not only simple but we also noticed the ubiquitous yellow arrows! This, it seems, was once a stretch of the camino. Quite why it had been rerouted a further eight kilometres and up a mountain is a bit of a mystery, unless it were to avoid having pilgrims walking on a main road. This is certainly something I feel was foremost in any such decision making, as any time the camino needs to cross a main road there is always a largre warning sign, complete with the scallop shell markings. As we began our climb up the other side, we passed a small cave at ground level, which had now become a sanctuary. I poked the camera through the grill and took a quick shot:
So, we saved a further 1500 metres or more and found ourselves emering into the outskirts of Castro-Urdiales.
I stopped at the nearest likely place (a restaurant) and asked for directions. Good news and bad. The albergue was easy to find, but it was around 3km further along on the opposite end of the town. Oh well, nothing for it but to push the now very tired feet onto our destination. As we pushed on, all attention now focused on arrival, I quickly snapped one of the important historic houses of the town. We were to leave sightseeing to the following morning:
We finally burst into the Albergue around 19:20 that evening (after eleven and a half hours of walking) to find a nice clean, tidy municipal albergue with plenty of beds. Nice. And to make things better the very kind hospitalero, once he understood how tired we were, offered to make the short return walk into town to purchase supper.
I prepared a panful of rice, tuna, lentils, tomato and sweetcorn. Nothing fancy but sufficient nourishment. It was gratefully receieved.
I should perhaps mention at this point that I also seem to have picked up a slight injury. Well, probably "injury" is too strong a word for it. One of the muscles on my left shin has a tendency to become a little overworked if I walk particularly far or fast. Today I had probably done both, and it had been hurting for the past several hours. Having to now force the final few kilometres wasn't a particularly welcome experience but needs must.
Having rested for a few hours, the slightly swollen muscle in my left leg was now quite painful. Hopefully all it needs is a good night's rest.
It seems that halfway between Bilbao and Portalete on the coast there is a half built nuclear power station...
ReplyDeleteCan't say I noticed it... Maybe it was the bit I thought was a shopping centre! No wonder it looked pretty ugly :0)
ReplyDelete