The skies and the weather forecasts were threatening rain so we geared up with our rain kit for our 10 mile hike to Santander. We started off from Guemes on country roads which led back to the coast. The skies were gray but still no rain.

We walked along the cliff’s edge, stopping now and then to admire the views unfolding below us: crashing waves upon the rocks, interesting tide pools cut from eons of erosion, and crescent beaches catching the swells and transforming them into evenly breaking waves for the surfers who had come from all over Europe.

Finally the path led us down onto a very long sandy beach at the end of which was Somo, the village where you catch the ferry to Santander. Just as we were walking past the Solymar bar in Somo, the skies opened up with euro-sized rain drops. We popped into the Solymar for second breakfast and when we finished the rain had stopped. We made our way down to the end of the street just as the ferry arrived. This was our third ferry ride of the trip. This one took us to Santander.

Arriving in Santander was a bit of a bittersweet moment. This was the final destination along the Camino for Peter. We visited some tapas bars, the Cathedral and a Pre-history museum before finally saying adios. Peter will fly back to California tomorrow and I will continue on the Norte to Oviedo, and then the Primitivo to Santiago de Compostela.

It was a 45 minute walk from our hotel down the streets of Laredo to catch the ferry to Santoña. All the passengers were pilgrims including a couple on bicycles. Once on the other side we found a coffee bar and had our breakfast, along with most of the pilgrims.

We left Santoña passing by a prison on the beach — this was no Devil’s Island but rather the place I want to be sent when they finally catch up with me. We headed up and over a promontory along a rocky trail which deposited us on the beach leading to Najos, another seaside village catering to tourists. It was low tide, exposing outcrops of limestone covered in black alga and green moss.

We pushed on past Najos after being thwarted in our efforts to grab a meal — we were mistaken for rich tourists willing to pay 10 € for a bowl of soup. In the distance, dark clouds were heading our way. Soon a persistent mist enveloped is. We donned rain gear and pressed on to San Miguel where we found a local coffee shop and ducked under cover for a bite. The rain temporarily stopped and we continued on towards Guemes, our destination for the night. Soon the mist caught us again and became heavier— not quite rain, but enough to leave us soaking by the time we arrived at our posada, the Angel de La Guarda. We checked in dripping wet and headed for our rooms, a shower, and dry clothes.

The innkeeper assured us the Bar Luis was open for meals but we found it was closed for descanso on Mondays. We noticed the parking lot of the church across the street was packed full and went over to investigate. It turned out to be a crowded funeral mass for a man who certainly had a lot of friends.

Next door to the church was another eating establishment and we entered hoping for a bite to eat. The kitchen would not open for another two hours, we were told, so we grabbed a glass of Rioja and joined a group from London, consisting of three adventurous sisters and the husband of one of them. They were not doing the full Camino. They had started a few days before and would be heading back to London from Santander. They were also waiting for dinner and we had an interesting evening with them. It turned out they were staying at the same posada so we will meet them again for breakfast. It will be a planning session to see if we can all get to Santander without getting wet.

By the way, Rafa, the YouTuber I met yesterday has posted his video. You can catch his interview with me at time stamp 21:40. (Search TeleLiendo on YouTube and look for his latest video, titled Camino de Santiago de Liendo…). It will give you an idea of walking the Camino. And give him a “like”; he would be thrilled.

Cantabria is nestled between Euskadi, the Basque country, and Asturias on the north coast of Spain and is named after the Cantabri, a Celtic people who settled the region during the Iron Age more than 1000 years BC. They fought as mercenaries for the Carthaginians against Rome during the second Punic Wars which ended about 20 BC. After the fall of Rome four hundred years later, the Cantabri fell under the rule of the Visigoths. On 714, the Moors conquered that part of Cantabria, forcing them to unite with their Asturiana neighbors. Cantabria is the richest region in the world for archaeological sites from the Upper Paleolithic period (Cro-Magnons), ranging from 50,000 to 10,000 years ago. The most significant site for cave paintings is that in the cave of Altamira, dating from about 37,000 BCE and declared World Heritage Sites by UNESCO, along with nine other Cantabrian caves. (Thanks to Eupedia for this history lesson. Hope you found it of interest.)

Today, I walked through some of the beautiful farming and horse country of Cantabria, and along some incredible coastal cliffs where the mountains meet the sea.

I arrived in Laredo and checked into the Hotel Cosmopol. I decided to wait for Peter who had a much longer walk than I did at the Pescador, a seafood restaurant just up the street. By the time he arrived, I had put away a plate of anchovies in olive oil and a bowl of steaming clams a la marinera.

I hiked eleven miles today, a leisurely walk along the coast and then a slightly more difficult climb inland to La Posada de Fernanda in Rio Seco where I am staying tonight. The trail was well marked, though I do keep my Buen Camino app handy which includes my gps position on satellite view map.

About 5 km out of Castro-Urdiales, just outside Cerdigo, I came across a church that was actually open. Most of them are locked up tighter than the pearly gates, so I happily entered. I sat in a pew towards the back and unburdened myself from my day bag and backpack. There was a woman tidying up the church. “Romanesque,” she told me. “From the 12th century.” She pointed out the original walls and arches of the church. I nodded, then closed my eyes. A peaceful feeling came over me and I sat there relaxing in it. “My peace I give to you” came to mind. Such a gift! If only I could give it! Afterward, being in that mood, I looked up today’s gospel and the last words continued to ring softly through my mind as I continued on my way, transformed a bit: “From peace I came into the world; now I leave the world and return to peace.”

Between Cerdigo and Islares, on a path towards the rocky coast, I came upon a most beautiful and enchanted path. The dark branches of the trees arched over to form a passageway towards a blue light, which turned out to be the ocean.

Peace be with you all.

Peter and I worked out our plans for the next few days and celebrated with a dinner of mussel curry, ox-tail risotto and lomo Ibérico with Jack Daniel’s bbq sauce. Peter will take one of the several options for leaving Bilbao and walk to Pobeña. I decided to take the metro train to Portulagete and avoid some of the urban and industrial sprawl of this buoyant city. We will meet up again in Guemes, ahead of our entrance into the great city of Santander, capital of Cantabria. As I left the hotel this morning, I realized this was the start of week #2. My Time Machine keeps lurching into the future! I looked down at my shoes, caked in dry mud from last week’s peregrination, in contrast with the Carlton’s clean carpet. These are a badge of honor, I thought, which will distinguish me from others who may be starting their trek from Bilbao, from those who did not slog it out on those first three viscous, soggy days out of Irun.

I took the metro to Portulagete, had a coffee and realized I was on the yellow arrows. They led to a very nice asphalted bike and pedestrian trail which led all the way to Pobeña, about 12 km (7.5 m). Just before Pobeña I had a fresh orange juice. (I am going to try to eat and drink better this week). I met three men and a dog in Pobeña and we talked about how far I was from home and how one reaches San Sebastián step by step, day by day. They told me there had been a desprendimiento, or landslide, on the coastal Camino path and I would have to take a desviación.

It was great to be back on the coast again, even if I missed the bit that the landslide closed, with the waves crashing against the rocky shore, the sweeping views and brisk salty breeze. I grew up close to the ocean and spent much of my career on offshore rigs. We all come from the sea and feel a sense of home when we are near it.

Who is that boy down on the beach,
Daring the waves, his sand to breach?
And when they crash upon his turf
He chases them off into the surf, 
And surging through the frothy wall 
He claims the deep and rules it all. 

And who the girl upon the land
Who writes her name into the sand
And watches as the waters play, 
Then retreat and wash it all away?
You’ll not have me, she tells the main
And etches in her name again. 

Who the boy, why of course it’s me!
And the girl?  My lovely queen to be!

As might benefit the start of a new week, I have left Basque country and entered Cantabria. Now, I find myself in Castro-Urdiales, a pleasant town popular with the tourists. I had a nice meal of anchovies and merluza with some local Cantabrian white wine, while looking over the harbor and shooing pigeons away.

Today was a long but not topographically challenging hike. Tomorrow will be coastal and then inland again but only about 10 miles in total. That’s okay. My feet are already crying for a break.

I took a break from the Camino and explored Bilbao from the medieval Casco Viejo to the ultra-modern Guggenheim Museum. There were people everywhere enjoying the sights and food on a pleasant sunny day.

I had my coffee at a nice place down from the Carlton hotel and then Peter and I visited the Guggenheim. We stopped by Bilbao’s Museum of Fine Arts along the way and then walked around the outside of the Guggenheim which was surrounded with tourists, buskers, and trinket salespersons.

Afterwards, we visited the Basilica de Beroña dedicated to Our Lady. The floor has a noticeable incline up to the altar above which stands the Virgin Begonia, patron saint of Biscay. I sat down and said a few prayers for three people in particular.

Bilbao was a great place to to take a break. But I am ready for tomorrow’s trek to Casto-Urdiales.

I hope many of you had a chance to watch The Way, Emilio Estevez’ film starring his dad Martin which takes place along the Camino Francés. It was re-released Tuesday for a one day run. It gives a good feel for both the camaraderie and the inner reflection and self-discovery which can occur on the Camino. Of course, there is only one way to experience anything in life and that is to do it, whether it is rafting down the Colorado River or taking the kids to a dude ranch in Wyoming.

I have learned something on the Camino del Norte. It is so much different than the Francés! Naturally, there are many similarities, like hiking for miles a day, enjoying the great beauty of the countryside and suffering from sore feet. And to be sure, this is my second time around so I don’t get all the newbie surprises. Even so, this experience is very different. My mental and physical response to the season, the weather, the scenery, the terrain and the topography combine to make this Camino a totally new experience. And which one is better? It is like your children: they are different but you love them all!

From Gernika, Peter and I had planned to walk to Lezama but could not secure accommodation. We thought we would walk to Lezama and then grab a bus or train into Bilbao. We walked past Lezama and had lunch in Zamudio. Refreshed, we decided to continue on to Bilbao. It turned into a 21-mile trek. Since we arrived a day earlier than planned, we will take a break day tomorrow and visit the city. It will be nice to walk around without carrying a horse on my shoulders.

The trail took us through more hilly countryside but the sun was out most of the day. I have noticed a lot of trees being cut down and replaced with eucalyptus. My quest for next few days is to find out why. I did not capture a lot of photos today -I was too busy catching my breath! But here are few to enjoy.

Today’s walk brought us to Gernika, the village bombed by German and Italian warplanes during the Spanish Civil War. We crossed through Bolibar, the ancestral home of Simon Bolivar where we visited a museum commemorating the city’s history and its famous son.

We hiked a solid 16 miles of good trail through hilly farming countryside. Rain did not threaten and the sun began shining here and there. My feet and legs were sore but otherwise felt good. I will keep this post short and leave you with a few pictures.

Today celebrates the feast day of San Isidro, Isidore the Laborer, patron Saint of farmers and by extension, those who live and work in the countryside. Luis, who runs the Pikua Landetxia Casa Rural where Peter and I spent the night, considers himself a country worker but laments that he does not get to celebrate the holiday because his business runs 24/7. His Casa Rural attracts pilgrims because it is right on the official Camino route and he showed us special respect because we were pilgrims. In the name of San Isidro, I salute Luis.

Today started out well with generally good trails but it was uphill to about the halfway point. I noticed more people on the trail today. We lunched midway through our trek with Joel and Anny from Quebec, whom we had forest met at breakfast. We also came across a breed of cattle known as larrebeixac, or the wild cattle of the Geopark coast. In the past, these indigenous cattle were brought down to the towns to celebrate in their festivities. Today, they are protected and live in wild.

We bumped into an assortment of other people. One fellow was hiking with his Pyrenees cattle dog outfitted with a backpack. There were some Americans who were still in high speed mode. But the most interesting, I think, was George theFrenchman, who had lost count of how many Caminos he had done. As Peter remarked, he probably felt more at home on the trail than he did back in France. I am not sure where in France he was from, but he was wearing a kilt.

About two hours before we reached Marquina the raindrops caught up with us and we had a wet final run into town. We found our apartment and explored the small village. I thought I would take Peter to enjoy a Pilgrim’s mass which were interesting events last year on the Francés. We attended mass, but unfortunately it was a somber affair with no recognition or celebration of pilgrimage. It was a beautiful church but the mass was in a drab and unadorned side chapel. I will keep on the lookout for a proper Pilgrim’s mass so Peter can enjoy that special Camino experience.

To Paula and Juan Miguel and Rafael and Ignacio, and Juan Lago and anyone else in Madrid, may San Isidro bless you abundantly.

I woke up this morning and fitted a plastic cover over my backpack because rain was predicted all day until late afternoon. I stepped out of the hotel and a vicious wind ripped my plastic cover off. I went back inside to do some more engineering, then went over to Peter’s hotel. My cover survived. We had breakfast and then ventured outside. The skies were grey and the wind was ripping.

We managed to avoid rain all day, but once we passed the seaport down of Getaria, the going got very rough. There were steep slopes rising and falling off again. The earth was oozing water and the trail was muddy and slippery-worse than yesterday. But the ocean crashing against the earth made it all worthwhile. We hiked along several miles of the Basque Coast Geopark. The flysch cliffs arranged along the coast record 60 million years of unbroken deposition of marine sediments from the Cretaceous period through into the Pleistocene and Eocene stages of the succeeding Palaeogene period. (Okay, I confess I copied that least sentence from Wikipedia).

After slipping a sliding for 7 hours, we reached Deba. We had not gone as far as the day before but the steep ascents and descents on the wet clay paths made the going very slow. After a meal of pintxos in Deba, we decided to give our legs a break and take a taxi to our Casa Rural, the Pikua Landetxia and rest up for tomorrow’s journey inland to Marquina.