Basque Country

The full moon is back. We have covered a lot of territory since we last saw it. We ferried and drove from Croatia to Spain in ten days. And between the Acustica Music Festival in Figueres and FiraTarrega, we have partied until three in the morning for the majority of our nights in Spain. We spent Monday afternoon in San Sebastian. Then we drove into the sunset to find Ixtaspe. It is hardly a village. Just a gas station, a restaurant, a few farms, more hiking trails than roads, and a campsite. The camp site has the Atlantic Ocean/Bay of Biscay on three sides. Hilly green fields of goats and cows make up the fourth.

We planned to stay one night here. This is our third night. It is a good place to rest. They have free WiFi and few campers. The tent stakes go into the ground without any hammering. They have good sinks for doing laundry. Our campsite is spacious enough to hang all of our laundry on one long clothes line. It is a mile hike down the hill to the beach. The beach is rocky. Big smooth round rocks the size of our heads. The beach is squeezed between the Atlantic's impressive waves and 800-foot limestone cliffs. At high tide, it doesn't exist. At low tide, it leaves mollusk and crab-covered caves.

So, after laundry and some Internet time, we spent our first afternoon climbing around the cliffs and caves. We always keep an eye behind us, so as not to be stranded by the incoming tide. With each minute of exploration seemingly barren cliffs and tidal pools come to life before our eyes. I think that simple fact is one of life's greatest beauties. If you look at something long enough, an incredible world of vivacious detail appears. And mostly we don't notice this. I think the sea and the desert are best for these discoveries, but cities, especially old ones, have this quality too.

The guide books are right about tourist season in Europe. The pace in September, once the kids are back in school and their parents back at work, is much nicer. We sleep and wake up to "moos" and the jingling of cow bells. We haven't heard this sounds since the Bavarian Alps. This morning we woke up to rain for the first time since we reached the Mediterranean.

The Camino de Santiago runs between our campsite and the sea. This evening I hiked two kilometers to the top of the limestone cliff behind our beach. It is majestic and quiet up there. I only hear three things: 1) the occasional bleating of the freshly shaven goats whose field I occupy; 2) the sound of waves crashing on the rocks below me; and 3) the sound of tumbling rocks on the beach, pulled into the sea by the receding wave. This third sound is incredible. It is a growl. As if the shore is in a tug-of-war with the sea. The waves crash and splash toward the shore. The shore growls and rolls toward the sea. They take turns, in rhythm, like our breath.

Tomorrow, we expect to go back to civililzation. With the help of our SOS travel insurance, we should confirm an appointment with a dentist in Bilbao. Hopefully, that will resolve Annette's pain in the gums. Then onto northern Portugal for a long weekend before heading back to Madrid. There we return our car. We have an appointment for 5 p.m., September 21st, Renault Eurodrive office, near the airport. That day we mail some stuff home and take the rest on our backs.