Before Christmas 2001 we decided to look at Spain in 2002. To
avoid the heat and to be near a French region we had not yet
explored, we agreed on Pamplona and the Basque country. Jim and
Mary went down to the Garronne to St Macaire to find the site had
closed 2 years ago. We drove from Calais to Poitiers staying
overnight at the Jauney Clan services and eating a poor meal in
the cafe. We left for Angoulême and the St Emilion
vinyards, in the morning. With the aid of text messages we met at
St Pierre d'Aurriac; another super-quiet site on the Garonne, but
without the spectacular ramparts and ancient buildings (which are
still open) 2 kms away. A day off for rest and relaxation, then
back to the straight-line from Calais to Pamplona through the
busy market at St John de Pied Port and up and over the border
through a misty, forested gash in the Pyrenees. Easy, no problem
for either our Disco or Jim's new Citroen Berlingo.
Pamplona (Iruna), gaurded by rifle-holding Civil Soldiers
stopping vehicles without British number plates, had to be driven
through with the dubious aid of the tiny Spanish road signs. Saw
nothing of interest and headed for the autopista in search of a
services for an eat and sleep. We found these on a high and very
windy hill. The staff wore patriotic Basque red, as did the
chicken and pasta.
We had hoped that Spanish campsites
would be as common as the French. Our trip from Pamplona to
Vitoria (Gastiez) raised concerns because our Michelin map showed
some sites and these, it seems, are all there are. The diversion
in Vitoria petered out amid high-rise blocks and an hombre in a
bookshop drew a series of air-rotundas whilst pointing to the
left and right. 'No problem', is a universally incorrect
expression. Past the car-main-dealers and Aldi, Camping Ibaya is
adjacent to a sports ground. Spanish electrical sockets won't
take French plugs and the spots are marked by trees. The
facilities are excellent and there is a quiet bar and cafe at the
entrance adjacent to a service station with restaurant.
The Basque name for Vitoria is Gastiez, and parking is free
on festival days. We visited on Garlic Festival day. An outdoor
garlic market followed by bands and red bandana men jumping at
each-other, spilling drink and spotting each-other with their
cigars, whilst going in the direction of the Corrida. Later,
bulls would be teased to death. The lovely old stone city is
narrow; ancient terraces bound together with electrical cables.
The cathedral was closed for renovations.
The Guggenheim museum at Bilbao, said Bob in England, is a must. (It seems that we could have had 8 for the price of 1 Dome.) From it's carpark in a building site next door, one is inspired by the vision of a thrown together, children's lean-to den, built of stone and glass, partly covered with sheet metal and guarded by a floral dog. The terrace cafe service and food were each terrible and all cameras were bagged at the entrance. No photography - this is not the Hermitage in St Petersburg! However the interior is amazing in size and architecture. There were one or two exhibits there as well. There was nothing else in Bilbao offering itself for interest so next time I want to visit an amazing modern building, I'll go to England's 'Salford Lowry' and eat at the Quays.
Fifty British
bikers had arrived when we returned to the Site.
Tiredfrom the run up from Salamanca,
they were on their way back from a Gathering near Faro. Helpful
advice concerning roads and camp sites. Sadly (and maybe a little
suspiciously) both of the cafes had closed, so they had to eat
and drink cold from Aldi. A splendid bunch, well pleased with
their adventure and looking
forward to their next rally in England they left in
orderly fashion next morning.
Bilbao had been the only specific target and so we decided to
stay in the (cooler) north and go over towards Santiago but to
avoid the possibly crowded north coast beaches. We took a
moderately straight route via Burgos, Osorno, Leon and Ostarga
towards Ponferrada and the west. The pull-up onto the plateau
before Burgos was easy and the top was as flat as East Anglia,
only brown. We drove down into Burgos then back up to be tracked
by un unfinished autopista. In Leon we left the vans at the
supermarket and visited the cathedral. Truly amazing glass and
very cool! The local bookshop sold us two, different, slim
volumes about Spanish camping and after cold drinks we continued
westwards noting that Spanish diesel costs about 40p/l. The
sparsity of campsites sparked a search for a truck-stop. However,
we soon concluded that when the Spanish build motorways, they
don't build services thus preserving those on the old roads.
We followed signs and stopped. 'Si' said the owner so we put
the legs down and went in to eat. A German trucker, who spoke
fluent Spanish and English, translated for us and we had a meal
to remember. Only the boss insisted that we drink toasts with
local liqueurs and some beer. Slept well. In the morning, heeded
warnings about going down-hill - which we did for about 2 hours.
The weather became overcast as we drove down though a cloud. We
were aiming for a town called Guitiriz and Camping ...........
which we reached after lunch time, 1232 miles from Calais.
Guitiriz town has nothing to recommend it but the site was quiet,
very small and the welcome genuine. We visited the cathedral and
town of Santiago de Compostella and bought excellent map of Spain
with CD ROM. On another day the massive harbour and coastal town
of A Coruna, both well worth the trips for entirely different
reasons before the lack of sunshine and some rain decided us to
up-legs and go back to Viloda and then turn southwards to the
bikers recommended city of Salamanca.
So uphill to the
plains and then, using the slim book and the CD in a lap-top, an
easy run to the campsite at Sta Cristina de la Polvorosa near
Benavente. By the side of a river and under the woven-together
boughs of trees we stayed the night; to the sound of music from
the local pubs which closed at 0200. From there to Camping La
Capea near Aldeaseca de Armuna, 4 miles north of Salamanca
centre. Not the biker's site on the south side; which the slim
book described as brilliant, (but for younger people with a small
family) but a small ('cramped' even) family-owned site with a
small pool and rectangular spots with high hedges, some roofed
over! We drove into the city noting the huge Carrefour
supermarket on the right after 3 miles.
Salamanca is, in
2002, the European Cultural City and well deserves it. (Salford
still has some way to go to catch-up.) The 3rd oldest University
in Europe, 2 cathedrals, an ancient and lived-in city centre, the
Art-deco museum, Roman bridge, the river, cafe's, restaurants and
shops. Clean, tidy and respected, with a similar, though more
casual, ambience to Paris; like Chartres, Tubingen, Orkney,
Banska Bystrica, the Brenner Pass and a tiny village in the
Auvergne, it's a place to go back to. Ok, it's hot; but this is
the middle of Iberia so don't complain. And anyway, like the
Massif Central in France, one good storm will clear the air. (No
such storm.) So, decided on a run-out in the Disco, westwards, to
the massive lake beyond Ledesma - but we agreed to leave Portugal
for another year. The Hermitage at ......... was deserted but the
church in the hill-top village of Ledesma was just being vacated
and we were able to see the interior and the relics before it was
locked. In the museum, opposite, there is a considerable
collection of folk instruments, just dying to be played! The bar
served welcome cold drinks. And so, on to the lake which we
couldn't see from the main road. The map has a road to the
north-west to Almeida from Monleras but doesn't explain how it
crosses the lake. Well it doesn't. Actually there was no lake but
the asphalt on the dried-up bed has long-since dissolved. No
problem for the Disco so we then turned off the track and drove
down the flat bed in search of water to find locals andtheir cars
camped out and fishing whilst ignoring the seriously impressive
cattle. Dangled feet in cold water. Excellent passtime. Watched
dragonfly's. Need cafe. Enjoyed off-road again and found Almendra
with a bar before drive back to look for a restaurant. Ate great
meal at specially re-opened transport cafe on main road half a
mile south of the camp-site.
And that's it really.
Another day to tidy-up and relax and then the start back north.
2195 miles so far. Jim and Mary went off towards Valencia on the
Mediterranean coast. We drove through Valladolid, Burgos, and San
Sebastian to Tarbes in southern France, a day's trip of 470
miles, finally saying goodbye to the sun - most unusual for a
summer in France.
My Spain was uncomfortably hot, eating out was good - especially in little places - shop bought meat was excellent, diesel was so cheap, camping was more expensive than our (preferred) small municipal French sites and the buildings - probably because the second world war didn't really get so far - whether small or large, old or new, are worthy of photographs and more. Maybe next time we go in May, June or September. But there will be a next time - and further south.
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