Campervan Therapy

After parking up in Gran Camping Zarautz, we walk down the steps along the Camino de Santiago to the long arc of silver sand, serenaded by a Zitting Cisticola.

We pass the old debarkation docks for the precious metals mined in the nearby mountains, which you’d be forgiven for thinking they’re Roman ruins.

A snake eating a lizard, its mouth swollen with the head, the lizard’s tail flicking brings us to a halt. A jolly surfer passes us.

              “Nature doing its thing,” he says as he hefts his surfboard higher.

We paddle along the beach, watching the surfers like so many seals doing circus tricks on the waves.

The Basque fishing village of Getaria is all gracious old houses and narrow-cobbled streets.  We pause at Elcano’s birthplace. He discovered how the winds worked in the Pacific to allow the first circumnavigation of the world.

Crowds stroll by the restaurants’ huge metal braziers barbecuing the day’s catch. We can’t resist the church where the altar is uphill, the whole building on a slant.

Supper in the centre of Zarautz is one of those menus of the day, with only three things to choose for each course – always a sign that the food will be good.  Mixed salad with white asparagus, followed by veal escalope are a treat.

The next day sees us walking along the Camino once more to Orio, through a valley of vines, donkeys and oak beamed, stout stone houses. Then there’s the Oria River which we trace to the inlet on the ocean, and we’re ready for one of those Spanish lunch menus.

The discovery of the day is the salt cod, chive and potato stew. You can imagine this hearty dish being served up to hungry fishermen bringing home the catch. There’s something magical about simple ingredients cooked with care to make a little food go a long way, as so many people had to do in the past.

When we decide to get the bus to Bilbao to finally see the Guggenheim Gallery, we’re stymied trying to work out how the buses work, only to discover that if we had wanted the bus to stop at Zarautz we needed to book it 30 minutes beforehand. Instead, we beetle off to the train station for the twenty-minute journey into San Sebastian. We’re nothing if not consistently disorganised.

Having visited San Sebastian over many years, I’m not expecting any surprises, but the one thing you can be sure of about this city is that there’s always a treat waiting round the corner, like the time we arrived in late August for a festival where giant puppets whacked each other with pigs’ bladders.

Today is St. James’ feast day and there’s a time trial of the long-rowing boat teams. The wind is blowing a hooley and the waves smash against the quay, yet these teams of young Basque men and women take to the ocean with vim.

Of course, watching these brave Basques battling with huge wave, necessitates us having a slap-up meal of octopus, Iberico ham croquetas and tomato carpaccio in the local restaurant beside the campsite, Bar Goiko Kanpina, which buzzes with local families.