Yuma’s first time in Spain
Waking up in pleasant surroundings
After a rough crossing and our midnight arrival in the harbour of Castro Urdiales (Castro to the locals and for us from here on), the next morning didn’t see us crawl out of bed too early but eventually we did make the move. Yuma swung restlessly on her mooring, nestled in under Castro’s high seawall.
Yuma in the harbour of Castro Urdiales.
At the landward end of the sea wall, the gothic, yellow and grey stone Cathedral, fort and various keeps perched alert on rock outcrops, ready to defend against foes both spiritual and worldly. Beneath them, the fish market and a slew of restaurants and bars gathered around the old harbour square ready to defend against more corporeal concerns.
Sceneries from Castro’s harbour. Whaling was an important industry back in the day.
On the southern side of the harbour stood the town, a wall of buildings, many five and six stories high, lined along the promenade and spreading up towards the green hills behind. These were a mix of styles, colours and sizes and ages; some appeared to be from the 1800’s, others were clearly recent. Age and style, however, were no reliable indicator of condition. Altogether, it was a very pleasant scene.
Inside Iglesia de Santa Maria, with Maria and child looking slightly more content than in Mont Saint Michel.
Things to do in Castro
We ultimately spent a few days in Castro, using it as a jumping off point for Bilbao and a visit to the Guggenheim Museum and (unsuccessfully) for the prehistoric cave art in the mountains behind Castro. But, Castro came with a few of its own delights.
Beautiful variety of flowers and plants on the rocks. And, a huge eucalyptus tree! Of course, we had to go and have a sniff of home.
The town has a nice feel about it and it made for a pleasant if not exciting place to wander around, while the long promenade was an perfect venue for leisurely runs. The harbour-side bars did an excellent line in seafood snacks for lunch and dinner (called Pintxos) though in our opinion the Cantabrian version of bacalao isn’t nearly as good as the Norwegian take on the Portuguese version. Still, one has to try these things.
David ‘under the knife’ at the barbería.
It was also here that one of us got their unkempt beard shaved off and both of us got a haircut. The barbería was crowded and raucous and everyone, the barbers and the clientele, were more than a bit horrified by our plans to sail back to Australia.
The Guggenheim Museum
A day trip to Bilbao enabled us to visit the Guggenheim Museum – one of David’s mother’s favourite buildings. It is certainly is quite an amazing building from the outside, especially the riverside but the inside was a bit of a disappointment.
A few outs and ins of the Guggenheim in Bilbao.
Architecturally, it just seemed like by the time the architect got around to working on the interior he had exhausted himself and could only think of big white boxes in which to make the art seem small. Mind you, given the art making it seem small was a bit of a mercy. Sorry modern art lovers but… no, don’t get me started.
Richard Serra’s ‘The Matter of Time’. Fascinating sculptural forms that fit the museum’s scale. They also do weird things to the viewer’s propioception, not unlike seasickness, really…!
The Spanish National ‘Trainera’ Titles
Another treat during our stay in Castro was the rowing. Every evening we were treated to the shouts and splashes of the local rowing teams out in their traditional fishing/rowing boats and dashing up and down the full length of the harbour. Looked like hard work!
The national rowing competition in Castro’s harbour.
Then, on Saturday it turned out that we were moored between the practice track and the race track of the Spanish National Titles for this particular kind of rowing. And so, we had two days of even more intense shouting of the coxwains at their straining crews as they raced up and down the harbour.
The crowds came out in full force, with flags, vuvuzelas and small brass bands.
At the finish line near the harbour square, crowds cheered, music played and the bars and ice cream shops did a roaring trade.
I too was taken by the Guggenheim’s exterior and was also fascinated and confounded by Serra’s ‘sculpture’. I can imagine him conceiving the idea of those pieces but to then go on to create a 1034 tonne version from 50mm thick steel plates is beyond comprehension. My comprehension at least!