Iberian Adventure - Part 12

 Burgos. It's a bit difficult to classify this city because it is a bit nondescript apart from some excellent riverside walks and a World Heritage Site cathedral. 

The riverside had artificial beaches, superb flat  cycling and walking routes, and some wildlife. There were plenty of people out walking and cycling, and there were even helpful distance markers for those testing themselves.

The cathedral, however, was superb. It had obviously been through a refurbishment recently, but nevertheless the inside seemed to be bigger than the outside - a Tardis.

It is difficult to describe the sheer opulence inside. Gold was everywhere, but I couldn't help but wonder where all the money for this opulence came from. It was just very.....Catholic.





Heading further north we ended up in Pamplona. You may have heard of it as the place where the bull run takes place through the centre of the old town.

We stayed for the night in an excellent small area set aside by the community just for motorhomes. For a minimal amount you get a level surface, security, electric hookup and waste disposal. 

Pamplona itself was a delight. Full of curious alleys, interesting architecture and a joie de vivre. Put it on your bucket list.






That evening, in the site, we met a Scotsman called Peter. The three of us had a great evening on a provided bench seat cracking jokes about a Scotsman, a Welshman and an Irishman meeting up. Peter generously produced a bottle of Strathspey single malt (probably the best part of 80 quid), and a few wee drams were thoughtfully sipped.

Being a rugby fan as well produced quite some 6 nations reminiscences. 



And that was the end of Spain. On Saturday we drove northwards via a less travelled route across the Pyrenees. Lord the scenery was magnificent, but again nowhere to pull over.

This is Basque country, and we stopped for a coffee at a pretty village called Ainhoa. It was really fascinating - the houses dated back to the 1600's, and the cafe we used was rugby themed - photos old and new everywhere. The landlady didn't speak English (quelle surprise!), but she seemed to appreciate  a couple of Welsh residents liking the decor.


And so into France, and rain. After a detour down the wrong motorway and paying tolls twice, we ended up at a site on that hundred mile beach from the Spanish border to Bordeaux. The town is called 

The site itself is fine, but France has recently become very expensive. Labenne is small, and its only claim to fame is access to that beach. However, to escape a squall we had moules frites Thai in a beachside bar until it blew over. The mussels were superb, as was the coconut and Thai curry based sauce.


Tomorrow we head up to Bordeaux. 



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