What a difference a day makes. I awoke and looked outside to see dry streets.
With enthusiasm, I got everything ready, and I was soon on my way. Gernika, as I mentioned yesterday, is a modern city, with very few remnants of the old town from before the bombing. So I did not spend time looking for old buildings or monuments. One of the features that I noted was the murals here and there. I often think that these murals are so much more effective at conveying a message than any of the scrawled graffiti that I see too often these days.
On the edge of town, I came across an artistic representation of a pilgrim. Do I look like that? And a little further on, another more abstract artwork. That one made me smile. The stone on the left looks like some kind of eye, watching the travelers go past.
The trail ascended steeply after that, and after leveling out, I found myself looking back at the mist-shrouded town. It was clear that this was going to be a good day, and any remaining mist would soon disappear. I could enjoy the walk and the scenery. I had only had a light breakfast, so when I came to a lady selling refreshments outside her house, I was glad of the top-up. This kind of thing was common on the French part of my journey in previous years, but less so in Spain. I passed a marker stone, though again, as in other cases her in Spain, I am not sure what it represents.
With the sun shining, and mostly good walking surfaces, this was a day to revel in the Basque scenery, and just enjoy the journey.
The only downside to such a scenic walk is that there are no towns or villages along the way. After about sixteen kilometers, I came to Goikolexea. It seems to be a residential town, with no shops or tabernas. And the church was closed. But just over a kilometer farther on I came to the town of Larrabetzu in perfect time for lunch.
After Larrabetzu, the trail becomes quite uninteresting. It is simply a footpath beside the road. Just three kilometers from Larrabetzu, I came to the first of the suburban villages of Bilbao, a place called Lezama. There then followed the villages of Kurtzea and Zamudio. By now, the only scenery around me was car dealerships, shops, fitness centres, schools and apartment buildings. Worse still, the route which should have taken me over a forested hill into Bilbao seemed closed, with a diversion in place following the road. So when I reached Derio, I decided enough is enough, and I got the train for the last few kilometers into the city. Does this destroy the ethos of my walk? I don’t think so. I had already walked about 25km today, so the last few kilometers don’t make a difference.
I am staying a day in Bilbao. I picked a place in the old part of the city, where I am close to everything, including, for better or worse, the night life.
And my step count for the day was 43,937.
Walkingman 