Three superb experiences in Northern Spain:
- Ride the Fuente Dé cableway in the Picos de Europa – dazzling Heidi scenery towering above unspoilt green valleys
- Walk the Bajo los Picos trail – a gorgeous meander through woodlands and verdant pastures
- Head to Bilbao’s Mercado de la Ribera – exceptional Basque produce from up-level pintxos to fresh oysters
From the jaw-dropping Picos to the spicy chistorra starters, northern Spain has an extraordinary amount to offer
Words and photographs Tess Paterson
“It’s not exactly what I expected.” That’s my sister-in-law Annalet, sounding just a tad less excited than she ought on her first venture to Europe. We’d just spent an epic week in France – all chateaux and stunning Bordeaux reds and cherry-laden trees in the back yard of our gite. From Bordeaux we’d driven towards Spain, the Pyrenees silvery and snow-topped to our left, the promise of the Bay of Biscay to our right. Passing the revered towns of Biarritz and San Sebastian, we’d reluctantly traded their sweeping bays and midnight tapas in favour of making some distance westwards. To be honest, what emerged was not entirely pretty.
Naively I’d expected a gentle extension of France, a few Gallicly chic villages where we could practice our Spanish while plotting a visit to the Guggenheim at Bilbao. The reality of the Bizkaia province on the northern Spanish coastline is that it’s properly industrial. Much of the lovely green hills have been terminally afflicted by high-tech steel and petrochemical plants. The region’s well known for its aeronautics and automotive hubs too; the latter accounting for a quarter of the Basque country’s GDP.
It’s a sort of bi-polar landscape – part exquisite verdant coastline, part interminable high-rise blocks
What’s interesting is that this is nothing new. According to my guidebook, over 80% of the iron brought into England in the 15th century came from the Basque provinces. The exploitation of natural resources has been happening for a while. And the upshot? A sort of bi-polar landscape that’s part exquisite verdant coastline, part interminable high-rise blocks. The architecture has a Swiss-chalet type sameness – a sort of Heidi meets Hillbrow, which as Annalet points out, is not entirely the unspoilt Riviera we’d imagined.
Undeterred, and with only one full day to explore, we choose a stretch of coastline north of Bilbao. Our base is the Errota Barri hotel – a ‘casa rural’ run by the delightful Maria Lourdes Rodriguez Echevarria. Maria speaks five languages fluently, and at breakfast I overhear her switching effortlessly from Dutch to German. “Si, you could head to Bakio,” she suggests, “and carry on eastwards from there.” Huddled around a lovely bay, Bakio is a short drive from San Juan de Gaztelugatxe. This 10th century hermitage sits atop a natural islet, connected to the land by a meandering stone bridge. Once you’ve panted up all 240 steps and braved the wind, the reward is a glorious, forever view of the Atlantic. It is innately peaceful – a timeless reminder of the innumerable prayers and footsteps that have gone before.
Amid the high-rise development of Bizkaia, some of the natural world has thankfully been preserved. The Urdaibai Biopshere Reserve covers 23 000 ha, including the Mundaka estuary mouth which is the most important wetland in the Basque country. Not far from Guernica, the Urdaibai Bird Centre is a well-run gem. With indoor viewing across the wetland and genuinely helpful staff, it’s a welcome respite for nature lovers. Right now they’re trying to encourage the breeding of migratory ospreys.
At Elantxobe you can imagine a pre-motorised world when fishing was the be-all of this beautiful coast
Our last stop is Elantxobe, the epitome of small, fishing-village charm. We’re ahead of the summer crowds, and on a Sunday afternoon there’s a smattering of local families pottering around with boats. Treed hills rise steeply behind the colourful blocks of flats. For a quiet moment, you can imagine a pre-motorised world when fishing was the be-all of this beautiful coast.
The following day it’s off to Bilbao. We’d agonised over whether to overnight here, opting instead for an extra day in the Picos de Europa. Half a day’s better than none at all, and via funicular and tram we arrive at the Guggenheim Museum. For 20 years I’d dreamed about seeing this up close – Frank Gehry’s titanium-clad spectacle on the banks of the Nervión River. The travel gods, though, are having a bit of a laugh, because it’s Monday – the only day that the museum is closed. We marvel at the gleaming facade, take selfies with Maman, the 9m high spider sculpture, before seeking consolation at the food market.
The pintxos stalls are irresistible – pricey but filling snacks laden with any number of combinations
Walking into the Mercado de la Ribera is a cacophony of sound, colours and aromas. We’re talking three floors of fresh, Basque country produce and not much English. We’ll be self-catering for the next few days, and stock up with everything from spicy txistorra sausage and sheep’s milk cheese to glossy green olives and fruity Txakoli de Getaria wine. The pintxos stalls are irresistible – pricey but filling snacks laden with any number of combinations. Roasted red peppers, anchovies, calamari, salt cod, warm camembert. With the car loaded to the hilt, we drive on westwards.
We’ve rented a villa in the heart of the Picos de Europa in Cantabria. 200km from Bilbao, but just 20km from the coast, this rugged mountain range rises sharply to 2 600m. The real joy of the drive starts at the Desfiladero de la Hermida – a stunning ravine that follows the Deva River. On a gentle green hill near the town of Potes, the villa is a solid stone-built beauty. While I check out the spacious interior, my husband’s first question is “where’s the braai?” An hour later, we’re gazing through the wood smoke at snow-clad peaks, the clamour of cow bells nearby; wine in hand.
The Picos is walking country, and we opt for a 9 km hike, starting at the village of Mongrovejo. The Bajo lo Picos trail stretches along the eastern massif, a mix of farmland and deciduous woodland with some steep hills for good measure. On an early spring day it’s sheer heaven; I can’t think of a better way to spend a morning out. On the way back, puffed and happy, we savour a few rounds of icy Estrella beers.
In the Picos we’re met by real Heidi scenery – rugged peaks and crisp air that’s uncannily like the Swiss Alps
On our last day we drive to the Fuente Dé cableway. Sometimes it pays not to do too much research, because to be honest, nothing could have prepared us for the view at the top. High above the peaceful green valley, we’re met by real Heidi scenery – rugged peaks and crisp air that’s uncannily like the Swiss Alps. The men disappear, in search of some of the still-frozen snow drifts. After an easy ramble in this breathtaking spot, Annalet and I head to the self-help restaurant. Armed with coffee and a wedge of Madeira cake, we put our feet up and people-watch like it’s St Moritz.
Northern Spain may have had less air time than the south, but there is some exceptional beauty amid the industrial chaos. We’ve barely scratched the surface – there are countless drawcards, from the fêted San Sebastian eating scene and Rioja bodegas, to the more introspective Camino de Santiago. Life is short, you should definitely go.
This article was originally published in SA Garden & Home magazine.
Tess Paterson - Travel Writing - True north