Today's the photo-heavy day, also the most transport-focused, so if you're target audience can I encourage you to head over to Flickr and gorge on 48 photos of public transport in Bilbao.
I was pleased to discover that Citymapper works in The Basque Country. It also offers some fairly unusual transport choices.
Metro Bilbao
Bilbao's Metro is the third busiest in Spain and was many decades in the making. Money and engineering eventually came together in the late 1980s with an existing railway line bolted onto a new underground section through the city centre. Line 1 opened in 1995, followed in 2002 by a bifurcation along the opposite bank of the estuary. Line 3 is much shorter and operated by a separate company, all three lines interchanging in the old town at Zazpikaleak/Casco Viejo. There are currently 48 stations along 31 miles of track, fares are cheap and if you want more background than this brief summary may I direct youelsewhere.
What makes the Bilbao Metro stand out is that its stations were designed by Sir Norman Foster, also most of them look identical. At ground level access is via glass/steelentrances called 'Fosteritos', these resembling dazzling larvae burrowing into the ground. The downside to the gorgeousness is that station names are often very hard to spot. On the outer parts of Line 1 the entrances are less rounded, often with a prominent lift, because the stations are less deep below street level. The new underground stations were generally built by 'cut and cover' methods, which caused years of disruption, but the uniform design does mean that you instantly become familiar with the layout.
Stations are generally double-ended, improving access, with a bank of escalators (and perhaps a long passageway) to shepherd you towards the platform. A few of the stations are quite deep so should the escalators be out of commission and the queue for the lifts long, changing level could really tire you out. The bank of ticketgates comes just before the platforms, also a rack of information including maps and actual pocket timetables. And then you step out onto a mezzanine which hangs directly above the tracks, with shortstaircases down on either side to platform level. It almost always looks like this.
Trains run roughly every 10 minutes on each line, so every 5 minutes over the shared section in the centre, with indicators showing the next two trains by time and destination. Annoyingly they don't show the number of the line, also there are no maps anywhere on the platforms, only upstairs, so I nearly got on completely the wrong train when an unfamiliar short-stopping terminus was displayed. The trains themselves are fairly standard European 4-car models with more standing room than seats. Above the doors are analogue diagrams which light up to show the progress of the train, although these have restricted sightlines so if the announcements are muffled it can be hard to determine which identical-looking station is up next. A big thumbs up for simplicity, though.
The Metro is the ideal way to visit the next unusual means of transport which is located six miles down the estuary. We took the train to Portugalete on Line 2 and returned from Areeta on Line 1.
Transbordador de Vizcaya
Bilbao has the world's first transporter bridge, a dramatic aerial transfer system built in 1883 to cross the mouth of the Nervión river. Very few transporterbridges were ever built worldwide and hardly any still operate, for example in the UK the Newport and Middlesbrough giants are closed for hopefulrenovation and Warrington's is seriously disused. But the Vizcaya bridge not only still works but is a key part of the Bilbao transport network, shuttling usefully every eight minutes, indeed its usefulness and cheap fares put the Dangleway to shame. It was thus very much at the top of my list of must-sees when I came to the Basque Country. UNESCO also officially approve.
The bridge is 160m long, 45m high and made of iron. The structure is supported by 70 steel suspension cables, truly pioneering for its time, and was designed by local engineer Alberto Palacio, a student of Gustave Eiffel. The gondola is rather more recent and can carry six vehicles as well as dozens of pedestrians in two side cabins. One side is in the ancient town of Portugalete and the other notionally in Getxo, although more properly in the more recent suburb of Las Arenas. We arrived on the old side while the town was setting up its annual summer fiesta, stepping down to the waterfront to gain our first view of the enormous span. It's certainly a majestic sight, comfortably to scale in its riverside landscape, on this occasion with several ocean liners visible underneath at the far end of the estuary.
There are two ways to cross the bridge, one on the gondola (0.60€) and one via the elevated walkway over the top (11€). I'd long been mulling whether I'd have the nerve to cross at height, walking within the iron structure with a sheer drop beneath and the gondola mechanism rolling by every few minutes. I understand there's even a sign which says Please don't all jump every 0.8 seconds else the bridge will swing or words to that effect, which doesn't help. Obviously I should have gone up having come all this way, but... hmmm, why was the upper walkway entirely empty? Also hmm, the steps to the lift were securely locked and the souvenir shop selling tickets was closed, this apparently because only the lift on the opposite bank was operational mid-afternoon. So we took the lower option.
If you don't have the local transport card you buy a ticket from the machine, then pass through to a waiting area and file aboard the gondola when it arrives. It's not a glamorous cabin, neither are there any seats, but you won't be aboard for long and there is a good view through the windows as you cross. We had mild drama as an American man was rebuked for attempting to jump aboard just before departure, aghast his wife had boarded without him, so vaulted the turnstiles in an attempt to sneak in via the side entrance. Our attendant was having none of it and gave him a proper earful, banishing him to wait shame-faced for all of the next eight minutes, and we nearly applauded.
On the Getxo side we took lunch in the nearest cafe because it was the height of the afternoon and because its set menu was far cheaper than the tourist traps in town. I thus spent an hour on the terrace watching the gondola shuttle back and forth while working my way through steak and chips and a bottle of red wine, which is one of the very finest ways to experience a transporter bridge. In all that time the elevator never moved and no visitors ever appeared on the upper walkway, even though the website would have happily have sold me a ticket. I concluded the bridge walk had never been an option on this particular day and was simultaneously peeved and relieved. Only much later did a message appear online saying "Due to a technical problem the elevator will operate temporarily from 10am to 2pm and from 4pm to 8pm", so there had been an opportunity except by chance we'd arrived at 2.05pm and left at 3.55pm. If there's ever a next time, hmmm, maybe.
Citymapper features three Basque ferries, one of which crosses the Nervión just south of the transporter bridge every 5 minutes for those who can't be bothered to wait for the gondola.
Artxanda Funicular
Bilbao has two funicular railways, the mostcentral of which climbs a steep hill not far from the Guggenheim. It opened in 1915 as access to an elevated viewpoint on Mount Artxanda, the upper level now also home to a hotel, recreational facilities and a very minor suburb. The two current vehicles date from 1983 and comprise five staggered cabins with a maximum capacity of 70, one starting at the bottom and one simultaneously at the top with a tiny passing place halfway. The journey takes just three minutes, the maximum slope is 45° and we thought it'd be a jolly little excursion. Unfortunately lots of others had had the same idea, it was an unusually hot day and we spent longer than expected in a diagonal oven.
The timetable's notionally every 10 minutes but seemed to operate only every 15, hence the queue at the lower terminal nudged forwards less frequently than we hoped. You had to pity anyone who lived or worked up top but found themselves caught in all this tourist hoo-ha. When finally a service arrived with sufficient space we all crammed on, then stood in close proximity for 12 minutes while the stuffy compartment heated up. A better-staffed operation would have kept us on the platform before ushering us aboard. So bad was the heat that on the journey back down someone in our carriage actually fainted, which put TfL's endless messages about carrying water in perspective. This won't happen to you unless it's a hot day so don't let me put you off, but suboptimal transport procedures can of course be found everywhere.
The view from the top was thankfully spectacular, the swooshy viewpoint located a very short walk from the upper terminal. The city is spread outbelow in front of a mountainous backdrop, at least once you get past the chain of thick red letters spelling out 'Bilbao'. It's not perfect because a rim of trees part-obscures several of the best bits, including half-the Guggenheim and the nearby river, but best not complain. Also the exposed setting could be a shock to the system in poor weather, but we loved the breeze that helped steel us for the journey back down.
In a deliberate act of selective pricing a return trip on the funicular costs 6€ if you pay at the terminal but only 1.46€ if you turn up with a Barik card, the local equivalent of Oyster. This is such good value that the lady at the Tourist Office tried to warn me off buying the 10€ Bizkaia Card that permits free travel in the city for 24 hours. Even after making three Metro journeys, two tram rides and a funicular return I was still 3€ down, but as a tourist in an unfamiliar city all I wanted was a magic card that let me travel everywhere for the day rather than a mysterious top-uppable product.
The tram network is fairly restrictive but we rode it twice, mainly because it was hot and we were being lazy. We didn't ride any buses, although I was intrigued that several had four-digit route numbers. We left the suburban rail service alone.
I thank BestMate and BestMate'sOtherHalf for their patience while I explored more transport options than they would normally choose and took far too many photographs. You can see a small fraction on Flickr, so do take a look.
Pamplona is the capital of the Autonomous Community of Navarre, a semi-Basque province to the south of the Pyrenees. Pamplona is the Spanish name whereas the Basques call it Iruña - both names are used on signs. It has a very long and tumultuous history, as befits a strategic border city, but is probably best known for its bulls. Every July the notorious San Ferminfestival sees the beasts let loose to charge through the city centre from the riverside to the bullring, and thousands come to prove their machismo by dodging alongside, eight days running. A large bronze memorial called Monumentoal Encierro depicts a group of six bulls and ten runners in mid-flow, both as a dynamic celebration of the event and a tribute to the fifteen participants who've been fatally gored over the years, the last in 2009.
At 8am a firecracker announces that the bulls have been released from the corral, then the 850mdash starts with a fast uphill run towards Town Hall Square. A hormonal mêlée dressed in white and red is then pursued up a sidestreet and rounds Dead Man's Corner before a fast 300m straight along Calle de la Estafeta. The safest place to watch is from a balcony, many of which are hired out for the morning, or from the seats overlooking the arena in Plaza de Toros where the surviving participants end up. Only the bullrings in Mexico City and Madrid are larger. A digital clock outside a t-shirt shop counts down the time until the next bullrun takes place, in our case 326 days 20 hours and 41 minutes (or if you find the entire event wholly questionable displays how much longer remains for normal shopping).
The man who brought Pamplona's horned exploits to a wider audience was the writer Ernest Hemingway who attended San Fermin three times in the 1920s, on one occasion running himself. The experience inspired his novel The Sun Also Rises. The city celebrated his passion by erecting a grizzled statue outside the bullring, arms folded, and also named the adjacent street after him. A second statue, this time in bronze, can be found propping up the bar inside CaféIruña which faces the city's largest square. Hemingway liked a drink in the dazzling fin de siècle interior, but we had a lunch booking elsewhere so only got as far as the terrace out front where a grizzled old maid holds up the menu for tourists to peruse.
If bulls aren't your thing then the chief attraction in Pamplona is its fortifications. Ancient walls continue to defend the hilltop from approach by river, with all sorts of walkways and triangular bastions to explore. A much larger star-shapedfortress was built to the southwest, with five enormous points and a deep zigzag moat. It's called the Citadel and was initiated by King Philip II in the 1560s to defend, ultimately unsuccessfully, against the French outpost of Independent Navarre. 400 years later locals voted to turn it into a park, of which the lushest part is the interior where the old granary and 'oven' can still be seen. The zigzaggingmoat between the outer bastions is entirely separate, a peripheral hike of three-quarters a mile with minimal connectivity, so if the sun's beating down best stick up top.
One walled outpost of the Citadel now forms the centrepiece of Takonera Gardens, an elevated park created in 1830 in Belle Époque style. The sunkencentrepiece is a menagerie stocked with female deer, swans, turkeys and also several peacocks (some of whom we assumed were dead but it turned out they were just sprawled on the grass having a siesta). From the northern terrace there's a decent view of the elevated walls of Casco Antiquo and a much better view of the urban sprawl ancient Pamplona has evolved into. Like many Spanish cities the old boundaries restricted growth for centuries, in Pamplona's case until WW1 proved its defences were obsolete, after which substantial suburbs grew in all directions. For the best touristexperience stick to the centre where the bulls run.
We didn't get as much done in Pamplona as intended because it was bloody hot. Back in London that day people were whingeing about it being 38°C but we had 39°C and it was too fierce to be doing much. Apparently it's not normally like this, high temperatures being more the hallmark of the Spanish interior and the south, but that's climate-change tourism for you.
Pamplona is one of the stopping points on the Camino de Santiago, the extremely-long-distance pilgrimage route that ends at the great cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in western Spain. Not every pilgrim comes this way, there being multipleroutes across the Basque Country, but if you head inland along the Camino Francés rather than take the coastal Camino del Norte you'll pass through Pamplona 400 miles before reaching your ultimate destination. The Camino's not for the faint-hearted, but a proper pilgrimage never should be.
The Camino's symbol is the scallop shell, a common sight on the Galician coast, either the older literal version or the more modern yellow abstract. The pilgrimage only operates one-way so the shell acts as an arrow, always pointing in the right direction. In the countryside the markers might be a long way apart but in cities you spot them more frequently, even if you're not deliberately walking the route. My tally in Pamplona included two streetsigns by the Taconera Gardens, a fingerpost outside the Citadel and a scallop where the route enters the city at the Gate of France.
Most of the route is in deep countryside so when it hits a major urban centre many of the pilgrims make the most of the chance to stock up, stay somewhere that isn't a hostel and eat something less rustic. Up the hill by the cathedral I spotted a Camino supplies outlet (or maybe just a small souvenir shop cynically offering wares to travellers), into which tired souls weighed down by rucksacks were dribbling. It might also have been one of the eleven places in the city where you can get your Credential stamped, this the document you must get marked daily if you seek to complete the pilgrimage properly.
I'd hoped to walk some of the Camino while I was in Spain but precise routes are hard to find online, search engines generally offering instead the websites of tour companies over-keen to organise your pilgrimage. I thus only checked the routes properly after I got home, discovering that I had in fact walked eight short sections across four cities. The scallop above is from a 500m path through Parque Florida in Vitoria, one of my more intentional stretches. Vitoria is however only on the less-trodden Inland Basque Way which connects the two better-known trails across a high sierra.
Camino Vasco del Interior (in Vitoria-Gasteiz): 900m + 500m + 600m = 2.0km Camino del Norte (in San Sebastian):2.3km [my longest consecutive stretch] Camino del Norte (in Bilbao & Portugalete): 100m + 500m = 0.6km Camino Francés (in Pamplona): 50m + 50m = 0.1km[map]
My Pamplona contribution is particularly pathetic but it did bring my total to 5km precisely. You have to have walked at least 100km to claim your final Compostela (pilgrim certificate) at the cathedral so technically I only have 95km more to go. Don't hold your breath.
Last Saturday a temporary bus route was introduced in North Cray while water main replacement works block the main road. It's the 592, it supports a few hundred people who'd otherwise be busless for three weeks and it's not been introduced very well.
Route 592: Sidcup Station to Mount Mascal Farm Location: southeast London, outer Length of journey: 3 miles, 15 minutes
Normally you'd catch the 492 from Sidcup from North Cray Road but no traffic can get down the narrow northern stretch while it's being dug up so TfL have devised the 592 instead. Other than providing two double deckers they haven't thrown much effort at it. There are no bus blinds, only sheets of paper stuck to the front window. There are no tiles at bus stops, only poorly worded yellow posters. There are no timetables, seemingly anywhere. There are no live updates on apps so you have to guess when it's coming. There's no mention on the normally obsessive Bus Changes webpage. And there are no maps because TfL hate maps, but you knew that already.
The lack of a map is a right pain - where does the bus go, and more particularly where can you catch it? There's more than one stop called Sidcup Station, not all of which are served by the 592, so with no tiles on bus stops it's a bit of a guessing game. The yellow posters contain 250 densely-packed words but none of them define the start point, display the route or state that the service runs every 30 minutes. Thankfully Citymapper was able to chip in with a scheduled departure time, but the traffic on Station Road was mostly stationary thanks to roadworks on The Green so that time proved essentially fictional. With a bit of patience I did get eventually get a ride, but I'm not sure I'd have appreciated the ambiguities had I been trying to get home.
The traffic eased as not many of us rode down through Foots Cray and turned left at Ruxley Corner. Ahead lay the mile-and-a-half the 592 exists to serve, half of it built-up and the remainder almost rural. At the first stop the driver waited for a minute while a woman panted slowly towards us, she precisely the 592's intended clientele, although it turned out later she actually wanted to go the other way. This is usually a busy dual carriageway but there was virtually no traffic because there was no exit at the far end so we fair sped along. Only one other genuine passenger made it to the roundabout, where the driver dutifully turned back and dropped us 200m in the opposite direction because rules say only proper bus stops count.
It took almost 15 minutes to walk through the closed-off part to the heart of Old Bexley village, thankfully past Thames Water operatives doing actual digging. Here I just missed a 492 heading north, now back on line of route, which because it too runs half hourly was a further misjudged loss. So whilst it's great the 592 exists its implementation has been sub-optimal to say the least, almost like peripheral Londoners don't matter, and if you are the TfL manager responsible for disseminating the relevant information perhaps stop obsessing with pernickety written instructions and try to get the basics right.
If you were wondering why you haven't seen any new DLR trains recently, I think I might have found them.
Last week we were driving from Vitoria towards Pamplona on the Autovía del Norte (or A-1), a key Spanish motorway. The scenery was typical, a dual carriageway carving down a valley flanked on either side by towering mountains. Big blue arrows marking exit number 392. A sign welcoming us to the province of Navarre. Middle of nowhere. A sudden (and somewhat uncharacteristic) burst of rain.
And just one mile past that particular junction, in an industrial park beside the main road, I spotted this.
WTF, I said to BestMate, is a DLR train doing in the middle of the Basque countryside?
It was indeed a new 5-car DLR train, approximately 600 miles from where it ought to be. The white and turquoise design was unmistakeable, as were the TfL roundels on the side, also the serial number confirmed it was unit number 247. That is absolutely ridiculous, I said. But not entirely improbable.
In 2019 TfL contracted Spanish company CAF to build 43 replacementtrains for the DLR's oldest rolling stock before it reached the end of its useful life. The order was later bumped up to 54 trains to boost capacity, with the first train expected to enter service in 2023. But Covid seriously impacted the start of production in Spain, then the collapse of the company building an enlarged depot in Beckton held things up even further. There thus isn't yet room for all the trains to come to London, the latest FoI request suggesting only 12 have so far made it across the Channel. And at least one of them is stuck in a marshalling yard beside a Spanish motorway.
CAF's manufacturing centre is at Beasain another 20 miles up the motorway, i.e. not here, so this looks more like storage than rolling stock under construction. The site belongs to Transportes Vicuña, a logistics company, whose facility here at Ziordia specialises in the storage and safekeeping of trams, trains and other rolling stock. In this case that includes trains that should be rattling around East London but as yet aren't.
I could only see the one DLR unit from the motorway, the trains behind it being different because they had a purple front. So I checked the site using Google's aerial photography and blimey, there appear to be a lot more units stashed behind.
The imagery is dated 2026 and shows several distinctive 5-car trains - I counted at least 16 in the photo. There are also several individual units that could be potentially combined to make several more trains, if indeed they are actual DLR components. Things have definitely shifted since the photo was taken because it doesn't show a train where I saw one, but I think we can conclusively say that a substantial number of the 40-or-so undelivered DLR trains are here.
The main reason you haven't seen any new DLR trains recently is because the first were withdrawn from passenger service in November due to slippage issues. One train failed to stop in wet weather and ever since TfL and CAF have been engaged on "a focused package of improvements including braking software upgrades to improve performance in the type of specific low rail adhesion conditions experienced during the incident." The latest date for the reappearance of trains in public service is 'late summer', but this could still be missed because slippage with dates has been almost as persistent as slippage on the tracks.
Only when the braking issue is sorted AND the Beckton depot is complete will the full complement of DLR trains enter service, bringing more frequent, more capacious journeys to all routes. In the meantime a lot of trains that don't yet quite work properly are stuck in Spain with nowhere else to go and nobody to ride them. Delivery could be a long way off, but next time I see unit number 247 I hope it's at Bow Church rather than beside a motorway in the Basque country, just outside Ziordia.
Some observations on Basque transport (could be Spain-wide, could be Basque-wide, could be one-offs)
Main roads
» A lot of Basque main roads carve through a hilly landscape at great height, the concrete viaducts arguably despoiling the landscape but far better than wending at ground level.
» This can mean a lot of tunnels through hillsides. Most Basque tunnels are of a similar design (twin-bore half-cylinders with a concrete shell). Each has a sign at the start saying how long it is (could be 106m, could be 3377m).
» All main roads have posts every kilometre stating which road it is and how many km along you are.
» Motorway junctions aren't numbered consecutively, instead matching the number of kilometres along the road. Thus exit 379 might be followed 6km later by exit 385. This also makes it easier to calculate the length of a journey, e.g. junction 12 (San Sebastián) to junction 115 (Bilbao) is 103km.
» Speed limits change a lot, often in steps of 20km/h, especially on the edge of town or approaching junctions. You might thus pass signs saying (80) then (60) then (40) to encourage slowing down.
» Some sections of road have permanent signs suggesting lower speed limits during wet weather, e.g. normally (120) but 🌧️(100).
» About 30% of Spanish motorways are toll roads, but annoyingly a much higher percentage in the Basque Country.
» Some tolls are a set amount, others variable (you pick up a ticket on entering the tolled section and pay on exit depending on how far you've travelled).
» Tolls can be petty (1.20€) or expensive (we got charged over 16€ for going partway from Vitoria to San Sebastián)
» There's always a (slower) untolled alternative.
Airports
» Bilbao is by far the busiest airport. Its millennial terminal was designed by Santiago Calatrava. We flew in.
» San Sebastián's sleepy airport is 10 miles east of the city, a few metres from the French border. We flew out.
» Vitoria's airport deals mostly with cargo traffic.
Urban centres
» The pedestrian countdown includes a green phase so you know how long you've got left to cross but also a red phase so you know how long until you can cross.
» At some crossings the animated green man speeds up his running during the last 5 seconds. Cute.
» Delivery bikes/mopeds/scooters exist but are not common.
» All three major Basque cities have trams. Leeds looks on enviously.
» More about the coastal cities next week.
Rail
» Trains are infrequent, indirect and generally inconvenient. Between the major cities express buses are by far the better option.
» There's no direct rail connection from Vitoria-Gasteiz to Bilbao. With a change of trains the journey can take hours.
» The direct rail connection from Vitoria-Gasteiz to San Sebastián is cheap but slow (2 hours) and there are less than ten services a day.
» Bilbao to San Sebastián is only 50 miles but the hourly trains take 2 hours 40 minutes because there are 37 stops.
» An expressrail service between the three cities is planned (the Basque 'Y') but is implausibly far from completion.
» It's a miracle the local economy copes when a few meandering fast roads are the only feasible means of communication.
One of Spain's most famous wine regions is Rioja, a large area spreading down the valley of the Ebro, the country's longest river. Most of it forms its own province (La Rioja) but the northernpart comes under the administration of Vitoria-Gasteiz and is known as Rioja Alavesa. It produces more concentrated wine than elsewhere but in smaller quantities due to the acidity of the soil. On the Sunday before the eclipse we went for a quick whizz round, seeing all kinds of places in not much detail. There were five of us in the car, namely me, BestMate, BestMate'sOtherHalf, BestMate'sOtherHalf'sBestMate and BestMate'sOtherHalf'sBestMate'sOtherHalf, so the trip wasn't especially conducive to focused sightseeing. Here's what we saw anyway.
Treviño enclave: On the drive south from Vitoria-Gasteiz the road to La Rioja passes through an administrative anomaly on a grand scale. The Treviño enclave is part of the province of Burgos but entirely surrounded by the province of Álava, this for complicated historical reasons and because the government of Castile and León absolutely refuses to give it up. The Basque Country thus contains a mountainous hole covering 100 square miles but with a population of just 1500, which is just the kind of territorial aberration people on YouTube like to make videos about. We didn't stop.
Balcón de la Rioja: The mountain road crosses the Sierra de Cantabria at a height of 1100m. Just beyond the upper pass is a viewpoint called Balcón de la Rioja, essentially a balcony from which to view the Ebro valley below, which thankfully has convenient parking. Staringdownwards what looked like a patchwork of green fields was in fact almost all vineyards, an abundant grape-y landscape blurring off towards mountains far beyond the river. A few hours later the entire range was brimmingover with fog so we got lucky.
Labastida: This fortified hillside town was celebrating its three-day summer fiesta when we arrived so was somewhat busier than normal. I'd like to have climbed the main street for the medieval architecture and for elevated views but we were actually here for a lengthy lunch so I was perfectly happy with stewy potatoes, saucy cod and Basque cheesecake. Had I realised that 'flan' is the Spanish word for creme caramel I would have been even happier with that instead.
Marqués de Riscal City of Wine: We had to visit a winery and picked perhaps the most ostentatious, the Marqués de Riscal in the heart of the town of Elciego. Admittedly we only had time for the gift shop and cafe but that was long enough to sit down with a glass of the local red and a small plate of chorizo and pretend to be connoisseurs. The extraordinary ribbon-likebuilding isn't the winery, it's a luxury hotel designed by Frank Gehry who's better known for a building in Bilbao I'll get to later. Those who stay here are also those who buy the ridiculously priced wines, for which the local economy is very grateful.
Baños de Ebro: A quick house visit because BestMate'sOtherHalf wanted to visit the family's rural second home before they sell it. Extraordinarily Basque inside, also extraordinary value by London standards, also packed with memories so hard to give up.
Laguardia: And finally to the jewel of Rioja Alavesa, the fortified city of Laguardia. This grew atop a strategic hilltop in the Middle Ages, is still surrounded on all sides by its walls and retains a cramped street pattern within. We parked below the cliff and ascended to the upper level in a thin eleven-storey elevator, entering the old town through a gate below a medieval belltower that was once part of a castle. We were six weeks too late for the town's bull-run but did see the wooden gates they close to keep the angry beasts within a single circuit. The marionettes beneath the clock in the main square instead come out four times a day, but annoyingly the mechanism runs two minutes fast so we almost missed their jolly dance.
Had we had more time we could have gone down into a wine cellar or two, or looked inside the two bookending churches, or visited the ridiculously corrugatedYsios winery designed by Santiago Calatrava, but instead made do with the splendidviews across the plain from the town's battlements. A glittering citadel amid a sea of vineyards, Laguardia is really very special indeed.
Valle Salado(Añana Salt Valley) Location: Salinas de Añana, Álava 01426, Spain (20 miles west of Vitoria Gasteiz) [map] Open: tours from 10am (some in English) Admission: 10€ Public transport: best not, only five buses a day Five word summary: harvesting salt the Roman way Website:vallesalado.com Time to set aside: an hour 10 photos:on Flickr
This is quite the place, a valley stacked with pure white terraces where salt has been produced for over 7500 years. Today they use more modern production methods, i.e. how the Romans did it, but salt scraped from these pans still finds its way to kitchens, cooking schools and top-class restaurants.
Five salty springs rise around this small triangular valley, overlooked by a small village whose residents have exploited them for centuries. The briny liquid is seven times saltier than the sea, hence its suitability for economic production, and is irrigated around the site in narrow gutterlike channels. From here it's scooped into small rectangular pans to a depth of a few centimetres, brushed flat and then left to dry out in the sun. Production tends to take place between May and September when evaporation is at its peak and before autumn rain gets a chance to reverse the process. If the temperature's right then by Day Two the salt crystals can be swept up into chestnutwood baskets and moved to storage under wooden arcades, and then the procedure restarts. Simple but laborious work, and all with a tasty outcome.
Valle Salado remained productive until the mid 20th century when competition from other sites encouraged the workers to cut costs. The clay pans were replaced by cement and the wooden structures around the site were insufficiently maintained so began to deteriorate, ultimately leading to the abandonment of salt production. Thankfully in 1984 the Spanish government declared this a culturally important site and pumped in money, leading to a recovery process that's thus far restored about a quarter of the valley. A cluster of pans at the lower end is used to make salt for restaurants and the shop, while the rest is less stringently maintained and left for tour groups to walk through. Ridiculously the river that runs between the salt pans comes from a different spring so isn't salty at all.
Parking isn't signposted so we missed the turning, cursed a lot while trying to turn the car round and only narrowly made the start of the tour. The others in our group included Americans, Brits and those from other European countries who thought they'd cope better with a guide speaking English than Spanish, Basque or French. It was a stonkingly hot day so we should perhaps have taken up the offer of a parasol rather than spending an hour baking across a highly reflective white surface. Our guide led us up one side of the valley and back down the other, pausing occasionally to explain in detail how everything worked. We were also encouraged to dip our fingers in the salty gutter (hell yes, that's strong) and to ask questions (which extended the tour by a good ten minutes). Our guide need not have apologised for her language not being up to scratch.
Towards the end we reached the commercial pans where today a staff of ten keeps things ticking over, rather than employing the whole of the village. We got a chance to peer in at the ladies packing the flakes for sale, a job which continues all year round, and obviously ended up in the shop where various salty products were available. But before that came a chance to dip our feet in the hypersaline waters of the Salt Spa, even to go for a paddle, remembering afterwards to rinse everything below the knee before heading off. For an additional fee you can visit the springs, go for a tasting or become a salt worker for yourself because the site tries to turn a profit, which quite frankly isn't bad going for a neolithic site employing Roman production methods.
20 places of interest in Vitoria-Gasteiz (assuming it isn't festival week)
1) Catedral de Santa Maria
What marks out Santa Maria Cathedral as special is that it very nearly fell down, hence even ten years ago you could only visit in a hard hat. It was built in the 13th century at the highest point hereabouts and along one edge doubled up as part of the city's defensive wall. Unfortunately the design failed to take into account the slope, the underlying geology and the importance of supports and by the 16th century problems with subsidence were already evident. In the 1960s architects made things worse by removing several internal arches and in 1994 the preponderance of cracks saw the cathedral closed to the public. Structural rehabilitation began in 1999 on a painstakingly broad scale, and only in the last few years has all the scaffolding come down permitting normal worship and helmet-free tours to resume. A few tours are delivered in English and if you're lucky you'll get Xuban running yours. [11€, 90 mins]
The tour starts in the crypt, a vast excavated undercroft that was once occupied by a medieval cemetery. Here thick concrete pillars were added early in the project to provide resistant capacity sufficient to keep the walls up, which is suitably reassuring as you walk through. None of this subterranean support is visible in the cathedral proper which now looks like any other magnificent religious space, although the lofty vaults still wiggle in an unstraight manner where compression has done its worst. Oddly for a cathedral tour the ground floor is the least visited space because next it's off up the back stairs to climb narrow passages to the triforium. This is the pillared gallery along the side of the nave, many metres up, and although the high walk wasn't quite enough to trigger my vertigo it did require considerable faith in the consolidation project.
Some reassuringly chunky stairs have been built up the belltower where the tour concludes with 360° views across the city. Closest are the red roofs of the old town, with Vitoria's three other significant towers proudly on view. Beyond that are increasingly modern flats, the city having built up in concentric rings over the last century, a planning masterstroke which means there's always room on the periphery for further accommodation. What you won't find up the belltower are any bells, this because the last thing a potentially unstable building needs is heavy weights at its highest point, hence they're all lined up outsideat ground level. More weirdly the bronze statue alongside is of Welsh author Ken Follett dressed in a suit and sensible shoes while stroking his chin. The follow-up to his most successful historical novel The Pillars of Earth was heavily inspired by the restoration project at Santa Maria, and the praise he's heaped on the cathedral has seen the city take him to their hearts.
Perversely the tour ends at the cathedral entrance, an enclosed portico with much intricate decorative stonework. Much was originally painted until foolish conservators in the 1960s scraped it off and in doing so damaged the statues underneath. Only Mary herself survives in her medieval finery, the 2020s plan being to project the original colours onto the walls instead. We were treated to an initial lightshow before being despatched after a fascinating ninety minutes, because sometimes the best tours of a cathedral barely touch on anything religious at all.
2) Fournier Museum of Playing Cards
Here's a splendidly niche attraction, a card-based offering based in a Renaissance palace in the old town. It's here because one of the world's largest playing card companies was founded here in 1870 by Heraclio Fournier González, with the word VITORIA displayed prominently on the design for the Ace of Spades. His son Félix started the collection which now comprises 20,000 decks from around the world, a selection of which appear across three floors around a central arched courtyard. Downstairs is an original press with a sheet of Latin-style cards, the four suits being cups, coins, swords and batons. Upstairs the cases contain historic and thematic examples, also displays where identical denominations are laid out for comparison.
The old designs could be either simple or complex but with no digits in the corner, thus the illustration had to convey all the meaning (count the swords!). Various royal figures appear in the European cards, also some fairly intricate aces, also Jack-Cavalier-King was sometimes numbered 10-11-12. From India comes a Kamasutra set you wouldn't use with minors, and from Vitoria some gorgeous childish sets you definitely would. Also on display are factual cards which were the Enlightenment version of Top Trumps, and of course tarot cards which are a whole different illustrative genre altogether. Throw in a temporary exhibitionon the 1860 eclipse, this because one of the De La Rue playing card dynasty came to see it, and you have a free museum that's a really good deal.
3) Arabako Arkeologia Museoa
The city's archaeological museum fills a modern building alongside the playing card museum to form a cultural duo known as BIBAT. Unfortunately both close mid-afternoon (as many Spanish institutions do) and by the time we'd finished the playing cards they were already sounding the 1.50pm chimes. I thus missed many floors of old things from Álava, a lunch of pintxos now the only viable option.
4) Artium
This subterranean gallery showcases the official Collection of Contemporary Art of the Basque Country. It's a millennial project thus all postmodern up top, with a lengthy labyrinth of white-walled chambers concealed underground. I liked the variety of the works on display from abstracts to architectural blueprints and lumpy sculptures to comicbook illustrations. One half covers the permanent collection while the other arm is for temporary exhibitions, the emptiest of which was a huge room of video installations exemplifying "a genealogy of practices influenced by decolonial thought, cybernetics and feminism". Basque artbolx is just insufferable as the British version. Visiting the Artium costs 5€ if you come in the 11am-2pm session but is free if you come 5pm-8pm. We visited in the post-siesta slot and could sense the discontent in the cashier's tone as she issued a free ticket with no optional donation.
5) Museo de Bellas Artes
The Basque Capital also has a museum of fine arts covering classic Basque and Spanish works. I didn't go in because if you visit a city with friends and want to keep them, sometimes you cut your losses.
6) Salburua
On the northeast outskirts of the city is a large reclaimed wetland area called Salburua. Formerly drained for agriculture, the 400 acre site now again has three lakes and a considerable wildlife population. We didn't spot any mink but in the shady borders we saw lizards, from the bird hides we saw deer and on the way to the hides perhaps a dozen storks circling in the sky. Alas drought conditions have shrunk much of the damp area to cracked mud else we might have seen more. On the farthest edge is a visitor centre with a lengthy cantilevered armshooting out over the smallest lake, oddly inaccessible from the cafe, and just beyond is the city's basketball arena which resembles a silver crown. A 20 mile Green Belt walk encircling the city starts and finishes at Salburua.
7) Palacio de Montehermoso 8) Palacio Escoriaza-Esquivel
Napoleon's brother stayed in the first of these before losing the key battle of Vitoria in 1813. It's now a cultural centre with nice gardens. The latter was the home of Henry VIII's doctor Fernando and his sweetheart Victoria, both of whom are depicted above the door presenting each other with a rose.
9) The city walls
A lot of Spanish cities demolished their walls when they expanded. Here short sections of the 11th century defences remain, somechunky and others reconstructed in cedarwood to show how tall they would have been.
10) The old town (Casco Viejo)
A lot of my report yesterday came from the old town, a truly atmospheric almond-shaped nucleus which merits lengthy wandering. Its narrow streets are named after the trades once carried out in each, for example knifemakers, cobblers, blacksmiths and painters. Changes in elevation are dealt with by long steps, a long arched colonnade and in a few places covered escalators, upwards only. Bars and cafes are endemic.
19) Centro Memorial de las Víctimas del Terrorismo
In 2021 the former Bank of Spain building was converted into the Victims of Terrorism Memorial Centre, a place of reflection in a territory where violence and terrorism lingered longer than most.
20) Euskotren
Like many Spanish cities Vitoria-Gasteiz has its own tram network, in this case two overlapping lines connecting the suburbs to the city centre. The first of 23 stops opened in 2008 with the latest extension to Salburua opening in 2023. Some of the earlier platforms are too short for the new 7-car trams. It's 2€ a ride or 0.74€ if you have the special Barik card which obviously everyone does, which is a bargain. Trams run only every 15 minutes and skip several areas, so we found it quicker to walk, but many British cities of a similar size would look on with jealousy at such a transport facility.
