The Basque Coast

The Basque Coast was the first stop of our two-week slow-motion crawl through Northern Spain. At first, it made us wistful for California.

But slowly, we must admit, we began to feel downright disloyal. 

It was quite simply the most beautiful coast-line we've ever seen. 

(Yes, that's a church atop that tiny little island. And you can walk there. And it's not even a tourist trap.)

In fact, there are tiny churches at every turn. Here, a five-minute stroll from our little guest house in San Bartolome, is a chapel for fisherman, complete with fish statues dangling inside.

Unfortunately, there are so many churches that it would be impossible to keep them all open. (There were at least four others within walking distance!) We had to crain our necks to see inside them. "Churches in Basque country are usually closed," explained the lady at the Gernika visitors' center matter-of-factly. 

They were lovely anyway. And so was the land of the estuary (which stretches from Gernika all the way up to Mundaka, where the serious surfing begins) -- gray, full of birds, full of loveliness, with trails along the tidal zone linking the towns together. 

Or, more precisely, that sent Nick running happily through the drizzling rain. Talk about bliss. 

It was a half hour walk in the evenings to the most perfect picnic spot we could imagine.

A baguette and some cheese and olives.....and crazy sunsets.

And an hour run up the mountain trail behind our inn to find ourselves on top of the world.

It was a longer walk to the beach towns themselves, which boast uncrowded beaches and tiny islands to explore. Not to mention gorgeous pixtos (Basque country's version of tapas). Here's the Mundaka variety: 

And these gems are from Gernika.