3 Big adults and 2 little kids on 1 small boat!
The next day we woke to initially cloudy skies and set out again. The mist concealed the higher peaks of the rugged, lush and green coastline, an area that alternated between plunging cliffs and sandy bays with small towns tucked away in sheltered river valleys. This was a much a more interesting landscape, always changing and evolving. Malcolm and Sonsoles constantly debated where we were gonna stop for the day – whether we were going to stop for tapas in San Sabastian…or not. This conversation extended all the way to San Sabastian itself…the regions principal town and apparently a legendary culinary hotspot…then a decision was finally made and we decided to continue. We headed to the lovely sheltered bay of the small, historic town, Getaria, where we dropped the anchor. I wondered around the town, the first time on land for few days, feeling a bit ‘landsick’, the earth seemingly moving underneath me…It’s always a weird sensation. It was a lovely spot, built under an elegant sandstone church. The square was thrumming with life, with people drinking and laughing, listening to live music. Getaria was the home of Juan Sabastian Elcanor – captain of the sole surviving ship of Magellan’s fleet, and the first man to sail around the world (although surely his crew were also worthy of this title?). We had dinner in a nice restaurant on the waterfront, then headed back to the boat to sleep, the lights of the town playing over the black water.
We had a relaxed morning…I went for extended snorkel amongst the rocks bordering the shoreline and parents and kids did the same, closer to the boat. We set off around 10 am, heading along the coast to what Malcolm had prescribed as our next stop, the tiny little port called El Anchove…or to give it its Basque spelling El Antxobe. According to the pilot book, this was ‘the epitome of a tiny Basque fishing village.’ We passed some fascinating rock formations on the coast, sandstone layers, uplifted to various angles on steep cliffs. As the day wore on the sun appeared again, on a section of coast wilder and more beautiful than any other on the trip. Looking at some sections you could be forgiven for thinking we were sailing these shores centuries before. Forests cloaked the mountains with only small isolated glades and homesteads breaking the trees. The water below us was deep blue and crystal clear.
We were approaching El Antxobe. ‘Looking at this water is making me want to go swimming!’ observed Malcolm. ‘I was just thinking the same thing….’ I replied. I would soon get the chance!
The village sat below a vertical rocky peninsular, carved at its base by deep caves and an impressive natural arch at its snout. The kind of place I’d imagine sea dragons living in as a kid. The village itself clung to a steep hill to the south. The port was small and surrounded by a tall harbour wall with a narrow entrance. Basque fishing boats chugged in and out of port. The idea was to anchor off the village, sheltered by the Peninsular. The pilot book said that some sandy sections that could be used as anchorages. The first attempt we seemed to only hit rock. My job became that of the snorkeller…checking the seabed to find the ‘jackpot’ of a bit of sand in between the boulder fields and rocky seabed. I was in there for ages but the pilot book was full of shit – there was hardly a scrap of sand to be found! At this point, Malcolm tried the idea of the port, only to realize that he didn’t have enough rope to tie up to the harbour wall…and he was unsure as to the depth of the water in the port itself anyway. Malcolm was a perfectly fine captain generally, but these kinds of moments separate the amateurs from the pros. Having sailed with a couple of real experts (my brother included – the kind of guy who could build a boat from the keel up) it was obvious that Malcolm was an amateur, a good one…but an amateur nevertheless. We sailed out of port again and after one final fruitless anchoring attempt we sailed on round the peninsular and continued to the surfing hotspot of Mundaka. The town is renowned for barrel wave that can be ridden as a tube for up to 200m. It seemed a strange place to anchor, but we dropped next another yacht (the only one, ominously!), and it caught the sand! Amazing! We had a fairly comfortable night and it was a pretty spot. A beautiful triangular mountain lay upstream, where a river flowed into the bay.
The next day we headed into the huge commercial port of Bilbao and this particular sailing trip was over. The kids seemed to be driving Sonsoles round the bend! A break was required. They decided to leave the boat in Bilbao and my mission was complete. I explored Bilbao that evening and headed back to Granada…all the way back across Spain on the train the next day. It had been a good trip, with some up and downs, but generally good…Malcolm and Sonsoles were good company…and Hugo and Olivia…well they were just about tolerable. It had been a laugh and another adventure to chalk up on the board of memories…Biscay to Bilbao, the watery way!!
