September 21, 2022
- Route: Bolívar to Eskerika to Portugalete
- Distance: 40.9 kilometers (25.4 miles)
- Cumulative Distance: 171.6 km
An amazing thing happened at the rural albergue where I slept at last night. They were seven pilgrims sleeping in bunks, and not a single person snored all night! You rarely get such quiet in a shared sleep space.
There was one noise that did wake me though. The person in the bunk above me set his phone alarm to go off at 6 am. Interestingly, he did not get up with it, and he still wasn’t up by the time when I departed the albergue more than an hour later. What a weirdo!
Meanwhile, Charles, Renato, and I were all up before the sun. We were headed to our biggest town yet – Bilbao. Not only was this one of the largest ports in northern Spain, but I’d planned to turn it into a 40 kilometer day, and my biggest day thus far on this Camino.
The first 20 kilometers would be take me through the countryside and into Bilbao’s old city. And the second 20 kilometers would wind through the metropolis itself unit I got to the suburb of Portugalete.
There were multiple signed Camino routes to follow through Bilbao, depending on what you wanted to see or experience in the city, and my goal today was to see two things.
- The first attraction was the famous Guggenheim museum with its shiny metal exterior that reminded me of boats sailing the ocean.
- And the second was that the Vizcaya a bridge, a transporter bridge on the far end of Bilbao’s outskirts.
But that meant a lot of walking and an another early morning!
GETTING LOST
And, as luck would have it, getting to Bilbao wasn’t going to be simple or easy. By 8 o’clock I’d already made an epic wrong turn! I was just walking along through the forest on a wide forest road and not paying too much attention to the route. Charles and Renato were somewhere behind me, but moving a bit slower, so I forged ahead without them.
And somehow, I missed the new re-route of the Camino and ended up on an older route that was less than ideal. I was more than a kilometer past the turn before I realized my mistake, and was undecided whether to continue forward or backtrack and lose even more time.
The old route was still waymarked with Camino signs, so I just plowed ahead, even though it took me out onto a busy highway shoulder where cars were whizzing by at 100 kph. After doing traffic hurtling around bends in the road for several kilometers, a Camino sign directed me off the road. But it wasn’t that much better. The rest of the route took be down an overgrown trail (the looked more like a drainage ditch) before depositing me in a tiny village that probably hadn’t seen any pilgrims in years.
As I looked down at my watch, I began to fret. I was making horrible time on this alternate route, and I was just starting to believe I might end up an hours behind everyone else today. But, just as the old route merged back together with the new route in Larrabetzu, who did I see l walking toward me from the opposite direction? It was Charles!
He and Renato departed the albergue only minutes behind me and taken the new Camino, and they were walking through town at the same time as me. So, in the end, I probably didn’t lose too much time with my unexpected detour after all. I just got the less safe and less scenic version of their Camino route.
Second Breakfast
Now that I was back with Charles and Renato, the three of us ended up walking together for the rest of the morning. Our next town stop was Lezama, which required a long roadwalk along another busy road and a few other unusual obstacles.
Today was trash day, and we had to make our way around the giant recycling trucks hoisting up the giant curbside recycling containers on a crane-like device.
These community recycling bins normally sit beside a sidewalk so anyone who walks by can put their refuse into the appropriate container. The blue ones were for paper, brown for organic material, yellow for plastic bottles and can, and then black for the remainding trash.
And these weren’t like the small cans you see in the US. They were literally the size of small cars. Recycling in the EU is no joke. The lack of space for landfills means they’ve had treat the the issue with a lot more urgency than the US has.
In fact, I remember having four different recycling cans at our house when we lived in Germany, and you could get fined for putting the wrong material in each one. But now and 92% of post-consumer plastic waste is recycled in the EU, and nobody even blinks an eye at the notion of recycling. The Europeans just incorporated the habit into their lives. And you know what? I wish we could follow suit so easily.
When we finally made it into Lezama’s town square, I spotted a little bakery and my stomach made the decision to stop for more caffeine and food. I’d only eaten a small breakfast of toast and coffee at the albergue this morning, and I needed to feed the beast.
The ‘hiker hunger’ was beginning to kick in now that I’ve been out here hiking 15-20 miles a day up and down these mountains for nearly a week. It seems as if I’m starving all the time, and any chance to stop for a café con leche and croissant was a welcome one!
Charles and Renato gladly stopped for their mid-morning break too, and the three of us enjoyed a leisurely second breakfast at an outdoor table while trying to muster the energy for the upcoming climb. It was only ten more kilometers from Lezama to Bilbao’s old city, but Mt. Avril was between here and there, and that would entail one decidedly steep ascent.
Old Bilbao City
The route out of Lezama took us past more churches, a honeybee farm, and lots of dirt roads that ascended the mountains above Bilbao. We didn’t have to summit Mt. Avril, but our route took us immediately adjacent to its peak in a giant park that overlooked the city.
Sweat was pouring off of me by the time I reach the apex of the climb, and my calves were burning from the strain of going uphill. But my real concern was the hot spot that had been forming on the ball of my right foot for the last two kilometers.
I had no choice but to stop and tape it up in the park, and I searched for a bench sit down on so I could remove my shoes and pull out my first aid kit. So far on this Camino journey, I’ve been pretty luck with blisters. I’ve seen so many pilgrims whose feet are just destroyed.
Unfortunately, my impatience on finishing the climb before treating my feet meant I’d I waited too long to deal with this particular hots pot. A small blister had already developed. Dammit! I knew I’d be feeling that for days.
The newly-formed blister was about the size of a dime, and it was directly on the ball of my foot where I’d feel it with every step. The best I could do in that moment was just tape it up so it didn’t get worse as I walked through Bilbao.
As I returned to a standing position, I walked out to park’s edge take a few pictures of the panoramic views of Bilbao down below. But in the process, my right knee suddenly started to pop and click with every step. What the heck?!?! I was just physically falling apart today!
My knee continued to be a major problem for the steep descent down to Bilbao’s Casco Viejo (old city). Pressure was building behind my patella and every step was becoming more and more painful. And just when I thought I would’t be able to handle it anymore, my knee popped one final time and the pain subsided.
Uh oh. Was that a good thing or a bad thing?? I figured it could go either way.
It could be like when your elbow locks up a bit and you have to flex it a few times before it pops and then the pain and pressure disappears. Or it could be one of the ligaments being so strained that it finally tore, leading to a whole host of new issues. Only time (or a visit to the orthopedist) would tell, I guessed. Until then, I’d just keep walking.
I refocused my sights on the old city and the stunning views of the Basilica de Nuestra Señora of Begoña that sprawled out in front of me. This cathedral was undoubtedly the most spectacular one I’d seen since I’d come to Spain.
Charles, Renato, and I agreed we had to stop and go inside and visit this one. And what a treat it was! The inside was just as magnificently beautiful as its exterior. I’d definitely put it in my top five favorite churches or cathedrals I’d visited in my lifetime.
Beyond the basilica, the old city was crowded with tourists tightly packed into the narrow streets between historical buildings. Buskers provided a charming musical backdrop, just like any major tourist city. Yet the markers through the old cobblestone streets were so much harder to follow with so many distractions.
I really had to search for the yellow arrow and scallop shells. Sometimes they were up high on buildings, while other times they’d be down on the ground where tourists were often standing on them or otherwise blocking them from view. Luckily though, I had two extra set of eyes with Charles and Renato weaving their way through the cramped streets beside me.
As we finally crossed over the river out of the Casco Viejo and into Bilbao proper, it was time for us to part ways. Charles want to follow the main Camino route through Bilbao and stop at an albergue in town. Meanwhile, I wanted to follow the river for another 20 kilometers today – up to the Guggenheim Museum and then continuing along the water all the way to Portugalete where I would ride the transporter at Vizcaya Bridge.
A 40-kilometer day was not in the cards for them. They were going to sightsee in central Bilbao instead. And so, we bid each other, “Buen Camino.” Hopefully, I will see them again up the coast, but for now, we each needed to take our own journeys.
Bilbao
Back on my own again, I knew I had a few housekeeping chores to attend to ASAP. I needed to eat (again!) and I had to find some free wi-fi.
Bilbao was a big city with lots of albergues, hostels, and hotels to chose from. But, like San Sebastián, it was also a place where plenty of tourists visited and pilgrims liked to spend extra days sightseeing. I’d need a reservation here for sure, and I so I got to work fulfilling those basic tasks.
With full belly and a reservation at an albergue in Portugalete (on the far end of Bilbao), I was ready to walk the remaining 20 kilometers ahead of me and see the sights.
My route through Bilbao was on one of the alternates that basically followed the Nervión River as it bisected the city. The first few kilometers followed a wide riverfront promenade, but there was little in the way of shade along the river. I felt as if I was baking on this hot, sunny September afternoon, and I really could have used a breeze to cool me down.
After 45 minutes, I made it to the base of the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, which I think is one of the most interesting buildings ever in terms of its architecture.
Frank Lloyd Wright designed the iconic circular Guggenheim Museum in New York City, whose collection of post-Impressionist, early modern, and contemporary art is among the best in the entire world.
But Frank Gehry’s design for Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao is probably even more recognizable, in my opinion. The massive building houses one of the largest museums collections in Spain, and the stunning exterior is a piece of sculptural art entirely in its own league.
Almost everyone who sees the building’s image, recognizes and loves its innovative curves. I can’t put it any better than Calvin Tomkins, who characterized the structure as, “a fantastic dream ship of undulating form in a cloak of titanium.” The only other building I can think of that seems to seems to evoke the same level of universal admiration is the Sydney Opera House.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t planning to take a full day to explore the museum’s collection while I was in Bilbao. I had too far to walk today. So I’d only get to spend time visiting the various sculptural exhibitions on the exterior – like the giant Louise Bourgeois metal spider sculpture, Maman, or Anish Kappor’s Tall Tree & the Eye.
Riverwalking
After the Guggenheim, I crossed the river once again to walk on its northern side, past the the University of Deustu’s grand buildings, and through interesting neighborhoods that pushed up against the waterfront.
I had to pick up my pace as I continued to pound the miles now. It was so hot, and I wanted nothing more than to sit down with a cold beer. But the albergue I’d booked required guests to check-in by 6 pm or forfeit their reservation. If I was going finish this incredibly long 40-kilometer day in time I couldn’t dilly dally.
I did my best to limit my breaks to a handful of benches, but I could feel my feet starting to swell. The blister on the ball of my right foot was becoming more and more of a nuisance, but I needed to just keep going.
Eventually, the outskirts of Bilbao’s northern end turned into nothing but commercial buildings and large warehouses. I ran out of sidewalk and promenade a few times, but then a nice bike and pedestrian path emerged.
Too bad there was nothing else of visual interest to capture my attention through these miles. It was mind numbingly dull. I eventually gave in to the boredom, and just accepted it before putting my ear buds in so I could listen to an audiobook.
Vizcaya Bridge
Around 4:30 pm, the Vicaya Bridge finally came into view, signaling my that I was nearing my destination. The main reason I was walking on this side of the river, instead of on the all the other routes through Bilbao’s south bank, was for this unique bridge connecting Portugalete to Las Arenas.
Vicaya Bridge is a UNESCO world heritage site, and was the world’s first transporter bridges. Built in 1893, the bridge’s goal was to carry passengers and cargo across the river without disrupting the maritime traffic heading down the river toward Bilbao.
Thus, the bridge’s architect built a massive crossbeam 150-feet above the river that allowed the river traffic continue, while a gondola suspended from steel ropes shuttled its load across the river in just 90 seconds’ time.
The bridge has been in continuous operation for nearly 130 years — with the exception of a four-year interruption during the Spanish Civil War when the upper section was dynamited and partially destroyed.
Today, each of the bridge’s gondolas can ferry up to six cars on its center deck, while dozens of passengers fill the enclosed viewing cabins on the outer length of the gondola.
Additionally, the crossbeam above the cables forms a pedestrian bridge, where brave souls can take an elevator located in each of the 170-foot pillars and then walk across the 538-foot length of decking.
I’d deliberately walked down the river’s north bank just so I was perfectly poised to use the transporter bridge to ride over the Nervión River. My end point today was an albergue in Portugalete (on the river’s south bank), and I was eager to experience this unusual mode of transportation.
The bridge’s gondolas were running across the river every eight minutes this afternoon, so I had plenty of time to watch one travel across before I needed to head over to the machine to purchase my €0.50 ticket to ride on the next one.
And, as with all the public transportation in Spain in 2022 (i.e., ferries, trains, busses, etc), I needed to mask up before entering the enclosed cabin. It certainly was a good thing I’d remembered to stash a few extra face masks in my pack for this purpose.
I’ll admit, the gondola ride was over almost too fast, but it was probably for the best. I needed to get to my albergue before it got too late. I didn’t want to risk losing my bed in this busy city!
As I found the Camino markers again, I was a bit exasperated to discover that the south side of the river was much steeper than the opposite side had been. I almost felt as if I was walking through the streets of San Francisco.
My feet were tired, and so was my back, and my legs, and just about every other part of my body. But, then I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the city of Portugalete had installed outdoor moving walkways (like the ones you find at airports) to help pedestrians ascend these steep uphill streets. All I needed to do was hop on the flat metal walkway and it transported me up a block. Then just hop onto the next one to get up the next block, and so on.
I’d never seen this type of assistance out on public sidewalks before, completely exposed to the elements. But I wasn’t complaining. It was 5 pm, and I was utterly exhausted from walking nearly 25 miles today. I’d take all the help I could get at this point.
When I made it to the albergue about 10 minutes later, the place was hopping. Nearly every bed was filled with someone’s belongings, and pilgrims were busy washing clothes, making food in the kitchen, or watching a soccer game on TV.
Thank goodness I’d had the forethought to make myself a reservation at lunch this afternoon. The albergue’s host was busy answer the phone as it rung off the hook. At least three people called to check on availability for the night while she simultaneously tried to check me, and she had to demur each time. All the beds were already reserved today. The crazy bed race on the Camino was real, it seemed — even in late September!
