Word Of Mouse

Our ride out of San Sebastian was softened by the fact of being already several hundred metres up in the campsite at Mounte Igeldo. A dramatic ride took us back down to sea level along a quiet mountain road, where we had to rejoin the busy N road that twisted and turned as it snaked its way back out to the coast past the surfing town of Zarautz. From here we took a minor, though still busy, road along the coast through Mutriku, arriving in a thin drizzle and just in time to pitch the tent and make it to the showers before the heavens opened in a truly spectacular cloudburst that left the gutters overflowing, and me nervous about what we would find back at the tent.

The tent held up surprisingly well, with only a small amount of water having entered, and we were able to cook supper from the shelter of the tent. The rain cleared up and the clouds disappeared to leave a lovely evening sky and the promise of a fine day ahead.

The next day we went along the flattish coast road to Leitriko, that contoured around the headlands through forests of what looked like young eucalyptus trees. After the previous day´s rain the air felt moist and steamy, almost tropical. Leitriko is stunningly beautiful, with a large curving beach and a rocky island just offshore: we sat on the harbour front and ate our lunch before continuing on inland along what our map (the best that Spain had to offer) indicated would be a gentle river valley. It wasn´t particularly gentle, but at least we could sail back down the hill on the other side, through the town of Gernika-Lumo, to the coast road out to Mundaka and the campsite there.

We should by now have been more cautious about our interpretation of the map. The coast road, which by all indications should have been a straight flat blast along the edge of the estuary, turned out to be a roller coaster ride along a narrow and very busy road populated by fast cement lorries and logging trucks. This was a horrible end to the day and we ended up walking the last stretch to the campsite, hot, tired and irritable, and cursing the Spanish lorry drivers and their itchy horn fingers.

The campsite at Mundaka was good though crammed full to bursting, and a quiet walk into town soothed our nerves.

The ride from Mundaka onwards through Bakio to Sopelana brought dramatic sea views as we rounded Cabo Machicito, followed by a long grind uphill and a descent to Mungia. We were very glad to reach Sopelana and pitch the tent in a shadeless and crowded field. We threw our cossies on and headed for the beach: a long sweep of sand, densely populated but surprisingly no one seemed to be swimming. The reason became clear: the beach marshalls were forcing everyone who wanted to swim to do so in a narrow stretch maybe 50m wide, which was consequently more crowded than Oxford Circus on a busy Saturday. Anyone outside this band got whistled at by the marshalls.

The surf was huge, at least 3-4 metres (well that seems pretty huge to me). Swimming was exhilarating. Swimming is not really the word: it was more continuously ducking under the waves and snatching a breath before the next big one hit.