Pedaling for Pain, Pastries, and Pintxos
Bikepacking along the Atlantic Coast from Bordeaux to the Basque Peaks near Bilbao
Rather than a usual account of my travels, I wanted to focus more on the key moments that influenced my journey. What is going on in my mind through these adventures?
Friends and Family
I’ve always been incredibly fortunate with my set of friends. From when I landed in Orly, my friend Luc made sure that I felt right at home. Later, Luc’s parents hosted me for an entire week, and treated me like their own son. I planned this entire bike trip and sourced most of the equipment with their help. I’m blessed to receive such love.
After a week in Paris, it was time to set off on my 2-week long tour from Bordeaux in southern France to Bilbao in Spain! Luc dropped me off at the Paris — Montparnasse station on a Sunday morning along with my bike and bags, and I was ready to set off aboard the super-fast TGV!
Baguettes and butterflies in my stomach
I reached Bordeaux’s St Jean Gare at noon, setup my bike, and started riding to explore the city. I felt the anticipation rise in me. I’m on my own now. Biking along the canal, I bumped into the bustling Sunday market — Marche des Quais. There were a variety of stalls selling breads (pain in French, by the way), pastries, wines, cheese, fish, clams, spices, and much more! After grabbing some lunch and supplies for the ride, I started hunting for the bike path that would take me to the Atlantic coast and eventually, south to Spain.
I headed west towards the Atlantic, through several villages along cycling back roads, and occasional dirt tracks. The biking routes were well marked, and it was not hard to catch the one I was looking for — the Eurovelo 1, or La Vélodyssée as the French section is called.
As I tried getting into a rhythm, my mind was still restless over minor logistics. Will I find a discreet camping spot easily? Where will I wash my clothes? Am I carrying enough food and water? Will it be too cold at night? As I settled in for the first night by a park near the town of Lège-Cap-Ferret, I wondered if the anxiety would stay for the entire trip. Meta-anxiety.
I’m always anxious on the first day of travel, whether it’s in a new city or out in the woods. The fear that something might go wrong looms over me till the first time something does go wrong. Once that happens, I actually feel relieved! This isn’t as bad as I feared it would be. This anxiety is highest on the first day since nothing has gone wrong yet. Butterflies of the beginning day.
A shower everyday
As I rode further south on the Atlantic coast, everyday, I would take a dip in any lake, canal, or beach I passed by. This counts as a shower! The Atlantic was still very cold, and usually, I was the only one in the water without a wet suit. Despite this, I wanted to get rid of the sticky, sweaty feeling after a long day’s ride. I felt energized after these excursions. The beaches along the coast were adorned with massive sand dunes that even engulfed some abandoned buildings! The coast became more stunning as I inched closer to the Spanish border, with the Basque mountains in the background reminding me that that the adventure is yet to begin.
Basque-ing in biking
Starting from Bordeaux, I covered a distance of about 375 km in 4 days to cross the French border and reach San Sebastian in Spain. The Basque region forms the northwestern part of Spain, and is unique in its geography, language, food (free pintxos with a beer!), and culture. Being a bigger city, I opted to stay in a hostel at San Sebastian that night instead of stealth camping. I appreciate warm showers and a cozy bed much more.
The next morning, after gorging on the free breakfast, I set out to find the trail that leads to the first set of mountains. As I was struggling with my phone’s GPS, a fellow biker stopped by to check-in. He asked me where I was headed and offered to ride along till there, even though he was headed in a different direction. He was narrating his adventures across Europe from Spain to Russia in his 20s on the same bike, and he was now in his 70s! I wonder how bike touring must have been in those days without all this technology.
After a few initial steep climbs on gravel, I was soon on the flowy Via Verde del Plazaola which took me all the way to the foothills of Aralar mountains, in the Southern Basque country. I passed through several tunnels, few of which were several hundred meters long with the longest one being 2.6 km in length!
Click that picture NOW!
The next day, after a long road climb to the trailhead, I was thrilled to see wide gravel tracks all the way to the top! Aralar’s giant limestone massifs crowned the meadows and pastures which were once the habitat of humans in the Neolithic era.
Usually, I procrastinate in taking pictures when I come across something beautiful because stopping my momentum, finding the perfect shot, and setting it up drains me mentally more than physically. Am I stopping for silly pictures? I intentionally allowed myself to enjoy the little things during this trip. I WILL take it easy and savor this moment. It felt strange at first but soon I was more laidback and spent time wandering off-path if I spotted something interesting!
Riding in the rain
After a hike down a dried, rocky river bed, I was out of the Aralar ranges, and headed towards the next mountains — Urbasa — along a short road section. I restocked for the next couple of meals at Arbizu, which was the only big village I’d pass for a while.
That night, I camped close to the trailhead in the Andia-Urbasa Nature Park. Surrounded by cattle, I prepared for the first rainy night of the trip. Soon, the night sky got lit up with brilliant lightning and monstrous thunders! One lightning strike stood out in my memory — it was so brilliant that even with my eyes shut tight inside the tent, I could see the flash. I felt the rumble that followed through my body as the Earth below me shook!
The next morning, I waited for the rain to slow down before setting off at the first opportunity. The whole trail was muddy and had rolling hills. I was completely drenched and dirty. Soon, the dirt trail vanished into grasslands. It looked freshly grown and there were no signs of wear on it. Looks like no one has ridden here in a while. It was hard to navigate as there were not a lot of trail markers either.
As I exited the park, I was greeted dramatically by a gigantic gorge. It was a drastic change in scenery from the forest and grasslands I was riding on a few minutes ago. The Balcón de Pilatos is a stunning 300 m deep gorge at the Southern edge of the Andia-Urbasa park. I stopped there for lunch, soaking in the stunning views of the valley in the company of a handful of golden eagles. Huh, all the tough times were worth it after all.
Mistakes in the mountains
I ended the day’s ride in a tiny hostel in the medieval Basque capital of Vittoria-Gasteiz. Being a Saturday, the old city was absolutely packed with tons of tourists and locals partying to the fullest. I retired to bed soon, after roaming the streets for a while.
The toughest day of the tour was up ahead — the mountains of Gorbeia. Despite the rain forecast, I decided to set off from Vittoria-Gastiez that morning. It says showers. How bad can it be? The day started off on local hiking routes. The climbs were very steep. At times, I couldn’t pull my bike up with the panniers on it! I had to haul the bags to the top first and then pull my bike up. This is hard. The views at the top were fantastic. After 5 hours, I covered only 20 km, and stopped at a farm to grab some lunch at 2 PM. I was still very optimistic — I only had 10 more km to the top with 750 m of climbing. Worst case, I’ll be at the peak by 5 PM.
I started the final climb in rain and it was more than just “showers”. The few hikers who passed by cheered me on as I was ploughing through the mud. Another 2 hours passed and I was now a kilometer away from the peak. The rain stopped for a bit and I admired the views of the rugged cliffs around. That wasn’t too bad. I realized the peak was completely immersed in clouds. I couldn’t see the peak or the trail that led to the peak. These clouds will disperse once the sun is out.
There is a difference between being optimistic and being stupid. I continued dragging my bike up waiting for the clouds to open up. They, of course, had a different plan. The temperature suddenly dropped and precipitation began. Thin ice started forming on the back of my hands. Oh no, this is bad. It was impossible to check the maps on my phone in the rain and with my frozen hands. I had also severely underestimated the lack of visibility earlier. Oooo I think I made a mistake. After an hour of scouting around, I finally stumbled onto the Gorbeia Cross that marks the peak of the trail. Usually, the cross is visible from the valley floor. That day, I couldn’t see the cross until I almost bumped into it. I made a huge mistake coming to the peak in these clouds.
Luckily, it was all downhill from here. How hard can it be? With zero visibility, I searched for the trail that led down to the next valley. I turned on the tiny headlight on the bike and started walking straight 50 steps at a time in different directions till I hit the trail. Each time I’d look back, my bike would vanish into the clouds after 30 steps or so. My heart sank each time. I WILL make it down no matter how long it takes. I suddenly found this sense of utter stubbornness in me. Soon, I found the trail. The descent was very rocky and I couldn’t bike down at all in the treacherous conditions. In the next hour, I made it down a few hundred meters where I finally saw a mountain refuge. Unfortunately, the refuge was closed but I found a roof under which I laid my tent, dried myself, and tried to stay warm in multiple layers inside the sleeping bag.
To add to the adversity, my phone died due to the moisture and cold. It wouldn’t turn on despite having more than 60% battery left! The rear cameras were frozen from the inside. To be prepared for emergencies, I usually have a paper with emergency contacts and details written down. As I groveled for it, it dawned on me that I might have left it back in Paris! I don’t remember Luc’s phone number nor his address! I’m so stupid aaarrrrghhhhh! I was extremely disappointed with myself and didn’t eat much that night. I knew it was -2℃ at the peak and it was definitely freezing where I was. The cold and the anxiety were going to make this a long night.
Bilbao and beyond!
The journey is not over yet! Adversities to overcome, adventures to fulfil, and a whole lot of fun! Here’s a glimpse of what’s to come —surviving without a phone and reaching Bilbao, partying with a former German soldier who was on a 900 km pilgrimage and an Austrian man who biked from home all the way to Thailand! Also, ever wondered where Game of Thrones got its stunning locations from? Stay tuned to find out!
