After Saturday, I swore—hand on heart, we were absolutely, positively done with the variant routes. But… well, Zumaia had other ideas. The official Camino path looped back through town like a polite but persistent chaperone. The variant? Practically winking at us from just a block away. What to do? Trauma aside, we steeled ourselves and ventured once more towards the coastal trail.
The hike out of town had shades of déjà vu, Saturday’s cliffhanger episode still fresh in our minds, complete with crumbling paths and cliffside melodrama. Today’s trail was at least a touch more generous, a little wider, a bit friendlier… but the ghost of that first white-knuckled day was still whispering from somewhere deep in my bones.
But oh… the views.
The Basque Coast Geopark did not disappoint. The famous Flysch deposits stretched out along the cliffs, ancient and mysterious. Over 100 million years old, and still managing to show off like rockstar fossils at a prehistoric red carpet event. Layers upon layers of earth’s memory, sliced and stacked.
We got an early start today in hopes of beating the heat before it turned our backpacks into mobile saunas. The total elevation gain was around 1,500 feet, and at one point the trail was so steep we had to lean forward like intrepid little mountaineers—if we’d stood up straight, our packs might have pulled us backward like we’d suddenly lost a game of Jenga.
It was a day of constant climbs and drops, a seesaw trail that didn’t believe in flat land.
Well ……. there was a small stretch ……. But, we made it to our hotel early enough to sit down and eat something that didn’t come in a wrapper or require a pocketknife to open. A real meal, at long last!
I had a warm duck salad and clam chowder and I swear, it felt like a party in my belly. Poo went for the “Lasaña de Carne,” hearty and satisfying. We also tried a beer they had on tap, with lemon in it—like actual lemon, not just a hint of citrus. It was bright, bold, and bizarrely perfect. Super refreshing.
Later, we wandered through town to find tomorrow’s trailhead and stumbled across the Santuario de Nuestra Señora de Itziar, a 16th-century sanctuary watching over the town like a sleepy guardian.
We signed the guestbook, stamped our “Credential del Peregrino” and lit a candle for our loved ones who have gone before us.
Inside rests the image of the Virgin of Itziar, gently preserved through the ages. It was a quiet moment, ancient and comforting.
Another good day. A little sore, a little sun-kissed, but our spirits improving day by day.
Xoxo, Kate
