Word Of Mouse

Sunday took us the metro to Bibao where the chief draw was the stunning Guggenheim museum. It was not a disappointment and we spent several happy hopurs exploring the building and the exhibitions. Jenny, specially for you again, there were a couple of Van Dyck pics including a self-portrait. Both of us felt a bit tired at the end of teh day and nto quite up to trecking round restaurants failing to find anything vegetarian so we headed back to the campsite and in the end, coz we couldn´t face cooking either, faced the grumpy waiter (all teh staff theer were grumpy) and inspite of his unhelpfulness managed to order and eat. i only had to eat teh bacon off one of Malc´s diches!

We enjoyed a more relaxed day (compared to the hectic saturday as described by Malc above)on the beach at Sopelana on Monday and checked our email for recommendations from my brother Ben as to where to head next. We might have stopped to do an update but it was a weird dingy smokey little internet cafe full of ten year olds playing scarily realistic violent action games, and on top of that we were´t feeling in the best frame of mind having discovered that alll shops selling any sort of food in Sopelana weren´t open on Monday afternoon. Hey ho!

Anyway, although Bilbao had been fantastic and we´d had teh chance to swim in surf like I´d never seen before, I wasn´t sorry to be moving on in seatrch of quieter costal towns and campsites.

Tuesday was a day of at least two firsts for me. the former was apleasant experience of crossing the river from Areeta to Portugalete on a transporter bridge. It was particularly good as it saved us riding through all the city traffic into Bilbao. The second was experienced just moments later as we climbed the steep hill up from teh bridge. ther was an exceptionally loud bang and the bike went very wobbly. I then did by reflex exactly what the person on the back is not allowed to do except under instruction and pulled hard on the brake. This added to malc´s fear but fortunately we pulled off out of the traffic without toppling over. Our replacement tyre was not up to the job and had popped. Gulp. so that meant our morning in Pau sorting out the bike and terh tent was a TOTAL waste of time. nevermind, we were able to laugh about it, though perhaps it was a sort of nervous laughter in teh knowledge that we´d had a lucky escapre from a burst at 40 mph down a twisty hill. Got to find a good bike shop now.

We decided to cheer ourselves up with a lunch out, but ended up having a very greasy msg filled chinese meal that made it very hard to face the afternoon´s hills. At the end of the afternoon we were delighted to be so warmly welcomed at the small beachside campsite at Islares. A quick dip and some theraputic moonlit wave watching improved what had been a tough day.

We set off the next morning for Santander there was a lot of climbing between the rugged stony peaks reminscent of Croatia´s Adriatic coast. Santander seemed a long way off. we ploughed on and eventually got somewheer near when we got sucked onto a scary big road and had to get off and reconsider plans. i was reluctant to accept that all teh campsites marked on teh map were over there over a another big step hill, but eventually had to give in. it wasn´t so bad after all and we got a to Virgen del Mar with time to pitch and enjoy teh beach. Again teh campsite was very welcoming and we were fortunate that our complete inability to comprehend the man who greeted us resulted in good humoured laughter. I had to conclude that he must be used to stupid foreigners. having pitched we were keen to get some food. we´d not really provided for teh evening thinking we would be closer to Santander and its amenites than it turned out. the helpful woman at reception directed is to the campsite supermarket. we have become used to eh fact that these tend to carry less lines than might merit the title but this was exceptionally poorly stocked adn run by a very friendly young man who systematically advised against buying anything he sold, indicating the restaurant and bar down teh road. We did eventually have to return as teh restaurant (yet another sponsored by coca-cola) didn´t have anything we could eat. We are seriously disabled when it comes to Spanish eating it seems. Malc doesn´t eat meat or fish (which is a concept hard tp convey here) and I´d rather not feed on factory farmed pork (justa little is added to everything) and being a fussy brat find it hard to swallow eggs or mayonnaise (which has been slopped on most food that we´ve ordered).

A day in Santander didn´t result in much - we didn´t find a bike shop or internet cafe, fiound teh planetarium open only to groups, had a very mediocre meal and had to catch what seemed to be the last bus back to teh campsite before the Paul Klee exhibition opened again for teh afternoon. Ah well! things did improve in teh evening we walked out onto the island at Virgen del Mar and spent some very happy time in teh sunshine watching crashing waves below. we evene risked the fair which right next to the campsite, though only dared go on the big wheel which at 60m was quite scary enough for me.

We spent some time talking about home and the house and that left me thinking about everybody and life back in Hereford and I felt quite homesick for while. still, there are more adventures to be had yet...

Friday took us on along the caost and teh slightly inland, now through more gently rolling countryside to the medieval town of Santillana del Mar. It wasa bit strange really, a consequence of having preserved everything so well is that the town has become a museum of cobbled streets and tourist takaraka and has a very unreal feeling. I was intrigued though by teh large scale rigging operation gong on for what looked likely to be an exciting bit of theatre due to take place around teh town, but we couldn´t see when and teh next town beckoned so we headed off once again.

The campsite at Comillas was run by a most extraordinary system. we were directed from ahut in a camping field to a reception hut over teh road. Here they took malcolm´s passport and asked us to wait for ´the boy´to be shown to our pitch. ´the boy´having been radioed by an increasingly irate receptionist eventually shipped up and walked us some distance across the campsite past a large number of vacant flat pitches to a small sloping corner where he indicated we should pitch. Malc then had to go to another office (with an all important wooden token he´d been given in exchange for his passport at the first). Here he was able to pay (once they radioed to other office to check passport details) upon which he was given a receipt which he could take to ther first office to collect his passport. errrr? Still teh sea was beautiful and we swam in teh evening sunshine cooked a meal of many courses adn headed off into teh old town where we were treated with unexpected live music. Ah this felt a whole lot more liek what we hioped Spain would be. Also as we venture further west the traffic seemed to ease off and teh industrialisation was less evident, though buildings are going up at some rate. It seems it´s all second home (grrr).

The ride on from Comillas was an absolute treat (inspite of our first puncture of the trip). We climbed to a beautiful view of san Vicente with the Picos behind, we then climed out of town to another gorgeous view in the opposite direction continuing with our last bit of coast for a while until we hung a left into the Picos. We were in beautiful craggy mountains and on a smooth road climbing more steadily and much more easily than along the coast. The traffic was manageable and on we went with eyes and mouths wide open suckingin the sights.

A stiff climb out of Potes to the campsite at the end of a tiring day didn´t leave us in teh best frame of mind to hear that there were no pitches. still, we could stay if we waited to pitch til 8.30 and moved our tent by 9 teh next morning. in fact it wasn´t too bad and sleeping on teh bowls yard meant at least we had a flat bed. the morning´s mountain viws were enough to convince us to stay an extra day. We´re now hatching plans to cross a pass by what looks in Spanish to be a dirt road but in Egnglish translation is a cart track. we think we have established from local mountain types that it will be passablbe by bike. It´s going to be a real treat if hard work. watch this space...