The adventures of the red van: December 2010

As soon as we cross the border into Spain the scenery changes immediately there are all white unit blocks with all forms of colourful laundry hanging from every window. We arrive in San Sebastian with Nikki and grant a Brissy couple we met at Hossegor. We find a campground 5 km out of town perched ontop of a steep mountain so our idea of cycling into town is squashed. Our mountain home appears to have it's own micro climate as hailstorm after hailstorm rolls thru- lou's pink board has now seen more hail than surf!

With our umbrellas being turned inside out from wild winds our only option is to find refuge in the old town (parte vieja) and drink and eat the day away! We find a great Tapas bar called Astelena and a friendly waiter who decodes the menu for us and even lets Lou behind the bar to pour Cider the old fashioned way (as far away from the glass as possible). Our food consumption goes something like this......chorizo, prawns skewers, meat skewers, baby octopus, pistachio croquettes, beef cheek stew, salmon crepes, tuna taco and frogs legs. Needless to say we leave full and burping chorizo all the way back up the mountain.

More tapas for lunch the next day, crowded little bar, not enough room to even put your food to your mouth. When you are done throw your napkin, toothpick etc on the ground and tell the bartender how much you’ve eaten! No not to show off ….. It’s an honesty system for paying. Next we moved onto Zarautz- green rolling hills and a golf course all the way down to the ocean. Yet again we find a way to camp at the very top of any hill…..great sunset views but a killer workout to get into town or surf. All four of us ((Nikki, Grant, Paul and Lou) decide it’s time to go out for dinner and try the local cider. With what we think is a great local tip we head to a nearby cider house (at 8pm we are the first to arrive). Stale bread should’ve been a big hint but we continued to order the “special menu” , an hour late after a plate of fried food, low quality lamb chops and Sara-lee dessert we were less than satisfied! Maybe the “special menu” is for “special tourists”.

A few days later we arrive at Mundaka surf heaven, the waves are triple overhead, local surf shop owner towing guys in on jet ski says 20 boards were broken that day. He is clutching his back cause he hurt it in surf and says he’s off to the Chiro….Lou keeps mouth shut! Our attempt to find a carpark in town (which is actually only a couple of streets) ends with a guy donning a fluro vest trying to clean up mess of cars we’ve created and one crazy Spaniard waving arms frantically yelling Grande Grande pointing to Nikki and Grant's massive motorhome.

Strolling around town we lock eyes with two old men sitting on a bench in traditional black berets. Paul who has been our Spanish translator takes it upon himself to say a cheerful “ola” which is met with silence and heads turned swiftly away he is devastated and still talking about it hours later.

The next day we are off to explore the beaches further west of Mundaka tom tom says we are 10 mins away when all of a sudden the road is closed, no signs, no detour. There is however a small dirt track nearby with ‘open’ gates, we decide it must be the alternate route so the little red van goes up up and away. The higher we go the more convinced we are that it’s a mine site, and sure enough eventually a dump trunk tells us to turn around.

We say goodbye to our new friends and set off for Portugal, about an hour from the border we are pulled over by an overly enthusiastic highway patrol officer, who hits us with a 40 euro fine for not having a warning sign on our bike rack! “Soy Australiano” I am Australian doesn’t seem to impress him much and neither does asking for a warning only- “not possible” he says in very good english!