When Alberto came home from work in the early afternoon on my last day in Pamplona, we sat down and had lunch together. After thirty years of having lunch I figured out, that after a decently filling one you've got exactly two choices: either lie down and rest for about thirty minutes or go for a walk. Preferrably to a place where they sell coffee. On our last afternoon Alberto and I went for the latter and it's been so nice. There were such a lot of vibes in the little square around this cafe, people of all ages, children playing, chatting and laughter surrounding us.
Before I actually left we took a family photo in the living room, where we shifted tables and turned on all lights so to have a chance of taking a proper picture at only ISO 400, a fixed property of the film roll. Mama made me a bocadillo with Serrano ham for the trip and they also gave me two cans of coke and two Spanish salamis called salsichons.
I then drove through the night to the sounds of Angus and Julia stone. Direction Bilbao, or Playa da Laga to be more precise. Djinga chilling on the passenger seat next to me. Although it made me a bit sad to leave the family behind, I was also looking forward to getting back to the coast again. Decent sized, long-period swell with no wind or only a slight offshore breeze has been the forecast for the rest of the week.
The carpark/campsite at Laga, opposite Mundaka is probably the most chilled out area in the Basque country to camp in a van. Surrounded by huge rocks you find yourself in a quiet pine forest, stars above you, the sound of the sea, and the lighthouse in the distance with its beam cruising through the night. I went for a surf the next morning and the first duck dive in the cool water woke me up straight away. The waves were pretty small, so after breakfast I decided heading west to the more exposed spot of Playa da Gerra right next to San Vicente de la Barquera.
This little town is located at the far west end of Cantabria and as I find has some of the most stunning scenery on the planet. We arrived at the beach at night and as Djinga and I went for a walk along the beach, the view of the bay made my heart beat faster. Not only were there so many stars but also did the crescending moon illuminate the mountain ridge of the Picos de Europa National park with their peaks covered in snow, towering over the small fishing village.
From where I parked the van, I can see the lighthouse on the other side of the river. It always gives me the feeling of having arrived in a save harbour. Besides this, we have here everything that makes a good camp spot. First of all it's free and nice and leveled, of course. And although the little wooden toilet block is closed for the winter, the showers are still runnning. And there's a small eucalyptus forest nearby anyway.
The surf keeps me heaps excited. In the ten years I've been chasing waves I can't remember having seen such a forecast, not even in Indo: at a paradise-like left in Asturias, which can even get "hallucinogenic" when it's on, for tomorrow there's a 11 ft swell at 16 secs on the menu, with virtually no wind and up to 17 °C! But one golden rule says "Never leave a spot when it's on" so I'll stay at least for the first light. Funny enough, the forecast just continues that way for the whole next week and not only for Spain, but for the entire Iberian Atlantic coast.
Yesterday was already pumping and glassy and I got two sessions in with a sweet load of pancakes in between. I could imagine the sceptics at the table with me: 'man you already put sugar in the dough and now even more on top of that pancake? So much cinemon? Mate, you're aware there's already loads of sugar in that appelmoes, right?' I topped them even with flippin' slagroom haha! And a coffee at the side. And another. With sugar of course. And it actually felt good! Soooo good. And in extreme contrast to what I'd teach in any of my lessons, after that feast I went straight back in as the sun was about to go down already.
I've heard it loads of times this surf-eat-sleep-repeat thing. It sounds cool. And it is damn f**kin' awesome to actually do it! Every day you feel stronger, your paddles seem to become so much more efficient as you race through that liquid glass back out to where the last plunging peak has left it's trace.
It's the first time on that trip that I spend a couple of nights at the same surf spot just because it's on and there's no reason to leave. It makes such a difference. The van really turns into a house for I don't have to secure everything for a possible drive. And it's such a good spot to be. From the line-up I'm looking towards San Vicente and the Picos, watching red and blue fishing boats entering and leaving the little harbour all around the clock. Although there are some surfers around, there are usually not more than a handful of us at one of the peaks.
At night Djinga and I walk for an hour or so along the beach to the village for a small beer and to use the internet, with no torch needed because it's almost full moon now. Yesterday we got nearly cut off on our way back by the incoming tide but just made it with dry feet.