On Foot in Basque Country

Our Basque guide, Joserra, took yellow ribbon from his pack and tied it onto a tree branch. Our small band of hikers looked quizzically at one another. “What are you doing that for?” I asked him.

“I want to try a shortcut,” he said. “If it doesn’t work, after you kill me, you can find your way back to the road by following these ribbons.” We followed him trustingly as he led us through a dark forest, then across an alpine meadow covered with wildflowers. Within an hour we were back on the main trail, making homicide unnecessary.

My husband, Ralph, and I had come to the Basque country (known as Euskal Herria in the Basque language) in June for a weeklong walking tour. We’d seen enough European cities on previous trips; we wanted to visit the countryside and villages of this land that, in an area smaller than New Hampshire, comprises seven provinces: three in France and four in Spain.

A friend had sent us a brochure for a tour operator called Country Walkers, and we were intrigued by an itinerary that would take us from Bilbao to the Pyrenees mountains on the southwestern border of France, then south to Spain’s Ebro Valley, then back north to the Bay of Biscay.

According to Joserra (whose full name is Jose Ramon Combarro), this region should be called Basqueland because it’s not really a country. It is a land defined by the ancient language, distinct physical traits and cultural heritage of its people. The Basques have been known for fishing, herding and farming; they have given the world such things as jai alai, salt cod (called bacalao) and berets. St. Ignatius of Loyola, founder of Catholicism’s Jesuit Order, hailed from here.

These days there has been a resurgence in the Basque language, and the area is becoming known for nueva cocina vasca (new Basque cuisine) and for art. The Frank Gehry-designed Guggenheim Museum alone has transformed Bilbao.

We spent two days in Bilbao before the tour convened, staying at the elegant, French-inspired Hotel Carlton. We walked a few blocks to the magnificent Guggenheim, which opened in 1997. The museum is like a huge sculpture in glass, stone and metal, and the views of the city and the Nervion River are as impressive as the art.

That night I sampled two renowned Basque cod dishes, bacalao al pil-pil and bacalao a la vizcaina, at Matxinbenta Restaurant. Both were excellent, but I preferred the vizcaina’s red pepper sauce over the pil-pil, which is an emulsification of olive oil and gelatin from the fish.

The next morning we met Joserra and our other guide, Mikel del Reguero, as well as our fellow walkers. We clambered onto a bus, which carried us less than two hours across the French border to the lovely village of Sare (pronounced sarr), nestled in the Pyrenees a few miles from the beaches of Biarritz.

We warmed up with a three-mile walk through a forest of oak and chestnut, emerging to views of rolling pastureland. The intense green meant frequent rainfall, and I wondered if we would escape it in the next six days. For now, though, it was sunny and warm.

Later we met in the hotel’s garden. Joserra said we would gather each day at 8 a.m. for breakfast and set out on our walks by 8:45. Hikes would average about seven miles, more downhill than up, and we would carry a lunch prepared by the hotel. We would meet each night at 8:30 to learn the next day’s itinerary, then eat together. I looked around at the other participants, all Americans: one 13-year-old boy and 12 adults whose ages, I guessed, spanned four decades. Would we blend together as a group?

The Hotel Arraya in Sare is a 16th century house, described as a maze by the host, who showed us to our antique-filled room and handed us the heavy iron key. A gift boutique near the lobby featured linens emblazoned with the talismanic Basque cross, or laburua, which looks like a curvaceous four-leaf clover. I began to see it everywhere, including the tombstones in the churchyard across the street.

Dinner that night at our hotel demonstrated the best of Basque cuisine: menestre, a medley of miniature vegetables topped with morsels of ham, followed by duck confit in a cloak of crisp, thin potatoes and mushroom sauce. Dessert was chocolate mousse cake, lemon custard and sorbet served in a cookie shell--not a choice, but all three.

Our first long hike started on a hill in the Pyrenees near Lizarrieta Pass, a few miles from Sare. We walked uphill under a hot sun through open meadows, hearing a symphony of bells from horses, sheep and goats nearby. The path was steep. Looking up, I saw what appeared to be three cloaked men huddling on a rock, so I asked Mikel about them. “Those aren’t men,” he said, “they’re griffin vultures.” He clapped his hands and the massive birds took to the sky, making unhurried circles above.

We came to the village of Zugarramurdi, known for its limestone caves and the events of 1610. As we walked through the dim caves, Joserra told us how witch-hunting hysteria had seized the town and Basque women were executed as witches.

We had more hiking in the days that followed, along a route taken by thousands since the 9th century: the Camino de Santiago, the Way of St. James. We stopped in the bustling French town of St. Jean Pied-de-Port, traditional starting place of one of the routes to Santiago de Compostela, 500 miles to the west. For centuries pilgrims have walked to pay homage to St. James or to atone for past sins. Here in St. Jean Pied-de-Port, pilgrims receive an official carnet, a document stamped in towns along the route.

The bus climbed toward Iban~eta Pass heading for Spain on an unbelievably narrow road. I was looking forward to the downhill walk into the Spanish town of Roncesvalles through a forest of beech trees. The dense canopy cut out sunlight and all sounds except for the songs of birds high in the trees. The trail exited the forest at Roncesvalles (Orreaga in Basque), an unusual cluster of buildings: a hostel for pilgrims, a bar, a cathedral, a museum, a cloister and “Charlemagne’s Silo,” an ossuary containing bones of pilgrims who died before reaching their goal. I especially liked the Chapel of St. Augustine, which had vivid stained-glass windows depicting the battle of Navas de Tolosa in 1212, when Christians defeated Moors in one important contest of their centuries-long war.

The next day’s coach ride descended south from the Pyrenees to fields of grain sprinkled with red poppies called amapolas. The peaceful scenery gave me a chance to think about how lucky we were. Everyone in the group was punctual and cheerful. Conversations revolved around books, travels, music and places we were seeing.

Our guides were knowledgeable, and I liked having someone else worry about transportation, parking, hotels and restaurants. And we only needed to carry money for souvenirs and incidentals.

We stopped to walk around Pamplona, then continued along the Camino de Santiago, our bus whizzing past pilgrims walking along the highway. We stopped briefly in Puente la Reina to see the graceful Romanesque bridge, and Estella, whose many churches built during its heyday in the 11th through 13th centuries still stand.

Finally we came to where vineyards stretched to the horizon. We were in the Rioja Alavesa wine district, in the southern Basque region. We’d spend the next two nights in the town of Laguardia, which rises from the plains like a ship on calm seas.

We were lodged in a stone castle that had been transformed into the eight-room hotel Castillo el Collado, renovated and opened five years ago by owner Javier Acillona. I loved the bold colors of gold, red, green and blue, the brocaded draperies, carved wood ceilings and gleaming tiled bathrooms.

Laguardia (Biasteri in Basque) is a walled city, replete with gates and towers, founded in the 10th century. Its narrow streets are somewhat claustrophobic, but at least there is no traffic; all parking is outside the walls.

The following day we headed for the scenic Urkiola Natural Park. We started downhill, contouring around the peak of Anboto, the highest mountain in the park at 4,367 feet and home of Mari, a mythological goddess. We ate lunch gazing up at its limestone face. David, our 13-year-old friend, showed a generosity beyond his years when he shared his last chocolate bar with the group.

After lunch the downhill steepened, descending through a moss-covered beech forest where the trees are shaped like candelabra, most of their limbs harvested to make charcoal for iron smelting.

Our week ended in Fuenterrabia (Hondarribia in Basque), a seaside town on the Bay of Biscay. Rain threatened but never materialized as we took an urban stroll in nearby San Sebastian (Donostia).

Our last night’s dinner began with the Basque custom of drinking sidra (fermented cider) at one of the local cider houses. We lined up in front of a huge cask called a kupela, and Joserra explained the technique: “You have to ‘break’ the cider by letting it splash against the side of the glass and then drink it down in one gulp.”

He opened a spigot, and we each in turn thrust our glass under the gushing stream of cider. I soon understood the reason for drinking it in one gulp: It tasted harsh and acidic. But the second glass was better; perhaps it’s just an acquired taste.

We had come together as a group, soldered by shared experiences. We knew we had barely scratched the surface of Basqueland, where one saying goes, “Adiskide onekin, orduak labur”: Time flies when you are among friends.

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GUIDEBOOK

Hiking Through the Pyrenees

Getting there: From LAX to Bilbao, Spain, British Airways, Air France and Lufthansa offer connecting service (at least one change of planes). Restricted round-trip fares begin at $1,151.

Getting around: We booked our bus-and-walking tour through Country Walkers, P.O. Box 180, Waterbury, VT 05676; telephone (800) 464-9255, fax (802) 244-5661, Internet https://www.countrywalkers.com. Our weeklong tour was $2,595 per person, including lodging and all but two meals. (We bought our plane tickets separately.)

Other companies run tours of the Basque country. A sampling includes Backroads, tel. (800) 462-2848, Internet https://www.backroads.com; Butterfield & Robinson, tel. (800) 678-1147, Internet https://www.butterfield.com; and Cross-Culture, tel. (800) 491-1148, Internet https://www.crosscultureinc.com.

Where to stay: In Bilbao, the Hotel Carlton is elegant and centrally located; doubles start at $100 a night. Plaza Federico Moyua 2; tel. 011-34-94-416-2200, fax 011-34-94-416-4628.

In Sare, France, the Fagoaga family’s Ho^tel Arraya is historic and comfortable, with excellent dining; doubles start at about $93. Place du Village; tel. 011-33-5-5954-2046.

In Laguardia, Spain, Castillo el Collado has dramatic and romantic rooms; doubles start at about $93. Paseo el Collado 1; tel. 011-34-94-112-1200, fax 011-34-94-160-0878.

Where to eat: In Bilbao, Zortziko serves innovative seafood dishes, plus steak and poultry; most entrees run $16 to $22. Alameda Mazarredo 17; local tel. 94-423-9743.

In Laguardia, we liked the Basque specialties at Marixa; entrees start at about $13. Sancho Abarca 8; tel. 94-160-0165.

In Fuenterrabia, we ate at Restaurante Alameda; most entrees are $9 to $25. Minasoroeta 1; tel. 94-364-2789.

For more information: Tourist Office of Spain, 8383 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 956, Beverly Hills, CA 90211; tel. (323) 658-7188, fax (323) 658-1061, Internet https://www.okspain.org.

French Government Tourist Office, 9454 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 715, Beverly Hills, CA 90212; tel. (310) 271-6665 or (410) 286-8310 (France-on-Call hotline), fax (310) 276-2835, Internet https://www.francetourism.com.