Deba

Last night, we had a French couple next to us. We discussed, that when we're in France, the French always give us a wide berth on the aires, always preferring to park next to someone else. But here in Spain, we are all "foreigners, in a foreign land".

Before we left this morning, we took a walk out along by the water, than ran behind us.

John discovered a large fig tree heavily laden with ripe fruit (but pale golden fruits), and took his fill.

Our journey today, has taken us just ten miles further on, to the coastal town of Deba.

We stopped at the viewpoint car park along the way, to photograph the coastline back towards Zumaia.

Deba, is yet another surfing resort along this coast. Arriving just before lunchtime, we were able to secure a place for Marge in the free car park alongside the beach. In a nearby car park, we spotted the parking attendant, and asked her if we could stay overnight there if we wished, to which she confirmed we could. So here we decided to stay for the night.

Before our lunch, (we've started to eat our meals later now), we walked into the town, which was bustling with pilgrims walking to Santiago. In the tourist office, John rudely, commented on their personal hygiene, as we gathered some literature.

The basque Gothic style church of Santa Maria was stunning, with beautifully painted stone around its entrance, and inside, the cloisters striking, their stone enhanced by the bright sunlight.

On the way back to Marge, we saw a bridge, that had suffered damage, and had been shored up with scaffolding and supports.

Also, we noticed a lift, to take people up to the upper level of the town, if they were not able to, or didn't want to take the stairs. These made us think of John's sister who has recently bought a house in South Wales with 42 steps up to the front door!

After lunch, John decided to tackle our leaking sink problem in Marge's bathroom, despite it being very hot, the temperature outside 29c. We then spent some time reading our guide books, and enjoying the time to just sit, before we ventured out.

It was early evening, and we walked up the hill alongside the coast road to the beach, where we looked at the Flysch, an interesting rock formation, prevalent in this area. John was hoping to find a fossil, but to no avail. We then walked back into the town, which was busy with families and couples, out for an evening stroll.

We were amused to see two young boys playing bull fighting, with their improvised homemade bulls, their friend the bullfighter. All around children played together, whist their parents enjoyed an evening aperitivo. Angela was particularly pleased that between the children and the adults, no one had their face in a screen! A quick look around the supermarket on our way back, we saw cava at 1.95 euros a bottle. Anyone want to put in an order?

This evening, as the nearby trains rumbled by, and the sun faded, and a few clouds formed in the pink sky, we knew tomorrow the sun would shine, the surfers would return, and Deba would come alive again.

Zumaia

Last night it rained heavily, the constant drumming waking us on and off. We knew a band of unsettled weather was due to pass through, but didn't expect it to be so bad. This morning, our onward route took us out of Bayonne and inland over the hills. The road in places narrow, and steep. Oh dear Marge, here we go again! At one point the rain came down so heavily, the visibility was almost nothing. These are the moments that scare us, but also steel us. As we were quite close to leaving France, we stopped once again at a supermarket to buy some camembert cheeses, which are very expensive in Spain.

At five minutes to one, we crossed the border into Spain. The weather was now a little more settled, shame we couldn't say the same about the driving, never mind after Italy, we're ready! Our first stop was for fuel. We were in Spain, now and a litre of diesel was 1.19 euros, compared to France at 1.39 euros.

On the way to tonight's aire, we stopped at the coastal town of Getaria, the home town of Juan Sebastain Elcano, the first man to sail around the world. We walked around the town, the rain now gone, and despite the wind it was warm.

Our nostrils were filled with the aromas of fish and meat cooking on barbecues outside the busy restaurants.

We visited the church, where just inside the entrance was Juan Sebastain Elcano's gravestone. The church is unusual, because the stone floor inside is sloping.

Back outside, the sea waters of the Bay of Biscay rolled on to the shore fast and furious.

For the surfers, bobbing in and out of the white foaming waves, paradise.

This evening, just as the sky was darkening, we walked into the town. We stayed here last year, in Marge 1, so this time did not need to see all the sights.

We sauntered along enjoying the warm evening air, despite the breeze. The tall windows of the apartments above the shops and restaurants were open, and we took the opportunity to look in, an intrusion into somebody else's life for a few seconds, just to satisfy our own curiosity.

By nine thirty, the sky was a dark inky blue. For a few moments, the moon appeared, then hastily retreated, pulling the dark curtain over its face.

Across the water, the lights blazed at the ship builders. It reminded us of Poole in Dorset, where the Sunseeker factory operates twenty four hours a day building luxury yachts.

Tomorrow we will continue along the coast of Northern Spain, looking to stop at some of the coves we missed last year, as we motored by on the fast road above.

Here we are right in Basque country, a people with a unique language unrelated to any other.

Bayonne

We woke late this morning, nine twenty, having had an undisturbed night from the oak tree above. Therefore it was late morning before we left. We stopped a few miles down the road to buy fruit, vegetables, long life milk and mineral water. How much? We were glad that after our trip earlier this year, we had, had the foresight to bring a good supply of tinned tomatoes, butter beans, rice, pasta, pesto, eggs and cereal.

As we bowled along a motorway with barely any traffic on it, a message came from home saying, "enjoy your two month holiday". We will. A sequence of events over the last couple of years, has made us realise that you must make the most of the abundance of opportunity that comes your way, and live your life. You don't get another go around!

At one point we left the motorway and drove down a single track road just wide enough for Marge's tyres to fit onto before rejoining the motorway, satnavs can be wonderful things.

Late this afternoon, we arrived into the chaos of Biarritz. As we descended down the hill into the town, we caught our first sighting of the mountains of the Pyrenees.

We took a walk along the promenade, where we spotted a sign asking for people to clean up their dog's excrement, a message we felt would not be noticed or fall on deaf ears. We watched the surfers battle against the waves, falling off their boards, only to go back into the rolling waves for more action.

We had intended to stay the night in one of the parking areas behind the promenade, but there seemed to be some confusion as to whether this was allowed or not at this time of the year.

So now, we are sited in a small car park at Bayonne, just by the river Nive, that flows through the French basque country. There is one other van here, belonging to a young man, and we have a beautiful view down the river towards the mountains. After dinner, we took a short walk out beside the river.. A heron flew over on a landing course, its form, a dark silhouette in the fading light. We are glad we decided not to stay overnight in Biarritz. This spot so is quiet and tranquil.

Tomorrow we will cross the border into Spain.

Lanton

First thing this morning, a pooper malfunction at the aire. "Monsieur, Monsieur", shouts John, whilst pointing at the chemical toilet disposal point. "There, not through the grid for the grey water!" An early morning barbecue impression avoided!!

This morning, our journey took us past acres and acres of vineyards. As the road sliced between them, we could see the large bunches of bulbous grapes weighing down the vines.

Shortly after, we stopped at an aire to replenish Marge's hundred litre fresh water tank. This water we use for washing ourselves, the dishes, our clothes and flushing our toilet. We always use 'potable' (drinking water), or bought bottled water for drinking and cooking. Once on the coast, fresh water is normally chargeable, so this was an important stop.

We arrived at tonight's aire at around two o'clock.

After lunch, we took a walk along the beach, where we found a sheltered spot.

Despite it being very warm, the wind was brisk. For a couple of hours we enjoyed some time reading and dozing on the warm sand. By the time we awoke from our slumber, the tide had drawn back from us, and the small boats opposite were now marooned on the soft, curved banks of sand.

Back at Marge, the acorns from the oak tree above fell on her bonnet and roof, with a loud popping sound as they hit the panels. It could be an annoying night!

After dinner, we took a walk, literally a few metres, back to the beach to catch the last of the sunset. The sky adorned with whisps of pink candy floss.

Another town, another library, this one almost on the beach.