James' way

We set off from San Sebastián after breakfast. James the GPS was sulking so we drove around in circles for a while until we got some clear directions. We were heading along the Basque coast and because I am trying to avoid toll-roads James decided to use the slowest possible route. We drove through lots off 50kph, 40, 30 and even 20kph zones. It is incredibly hilly and green, but it is sometimes hard to tell where one town ends and the next starts. I don't think we did more that about a hundred yards without a turn. Some interesting country. Stretches of forest, stretches of Great Ocean Road type scenery, complete with surfers getting dressed on the road, some horrible towns and industrial areas. 

Because we were running so late we decided to stop for a comfort break. We chose, purely by chance, the town of Bermeo. Nice port area. Though the rest was pretty scrappy. We had a coffee at the base of the white building with a blue awning at the right.

We had been crossing the Camino de Santiago on our first drive, and today we crossed the coast route as well. We had wanted to do the camino and when this became a bit difficult, this trip was an alternate for us. So having James as our GPS is appropriate (St James is Santiago). So James' way will have to do.

He did OK for a picnic spot.

This is the hermitage of San Juan de Gaztelugatxe. I think Gaztelugatxe means place with huge black slugs. They were everywhere and they were huge. I saw this place in an Age piece by chance and thought it would be a nice addition to a northern itinerary. As it turned out the road was closed and danger signs posted so this was going to be as close as we got. Whilst lunching with this view, we noticed that there were people on the island, and someone drove up and proceeded to bypass all the warning signs in typical spanish style. Well we had come a long way, so we joined them. What a beautiful place.

After a long walk up, we were quite hot. Marjan rang the hermitage bell three times for luck. I figured I am already blessed both here and at home, so asking for more luck seemed a bit pushy. We got one of the locals to take a happy snap

And headed back. We were very grateful for the shade of the hazelnut trees. It was warm work.

After a litre of water we started driving again. James was in the good books and he sensed it. The roads were much better, and we even drove through some blue gum plantations. The web of motor ways around Bilbao were hairy and we had a couple of jaw clenching moments, but were soon driving out of the Pais Vasco. 

The change of scenery when entering Castilla Leon was almost immediate. Gone were the rolling green hills, replaced by drier, higher escarpments. This view is from the petrol station we stopped at. We could of course have picked up some chorizo, morcilla, queso or any other delicacy. We could also have had a long cold beer, on tap, and some tapas. Does anybody else do petrol station bars? Marjan resigned herself to an ice-cream.

The scenery just kept getting more dramatic, with more escarpments, until we entered the Valle De Manzanedo. The Rio Ebro shone in the sun among the yellowing leaves of poplars and other yellow leaved trees. We then climbed one of the escarpments and were out into a high plain. The Ebro has carved a nice canyon through this soft rock and Orbaneja Del Castillo sits half way up the canyon. 

We managed to get to our hotel through a network of steep narrow streets. Google map it and you will see what I mean. At one stage I was doing 2kmh with Marjan checking one wing mirror and I the other. Mere centimetres to spare. I think we are the only guests in the town. The guest house we are staying at is awesome and we have the lounge to ourselves. Nice view from the bedroom

You cannot see it but there are vultures hovering about in the canyon. As the only guests in the town we had the local bar to ourselves. The woman tended bar, took our food orders, cooked and waited tables. All this whilst watching an execrebale TV game show in which losing contestants have the floor drop out from under them. One of the locals came in and was asked what he wanted for dinner. He replied that it was too early for that as he wasn't French or English or some strange foreigner. All this when he knew I spoke spanish and was sitting there having a post-prandial coffee. A typical grumpy old spanish bastard. My future!

An experience, not to be missed.

Excuse the mistakes. The editor has gone to sleep. Apparently Real Betis holds no interest for her.