To Bilbao

I am sitting in the dark wood and blue tiled surroundings of a traditional Spanish bar in old town Bilbao, a coffee and some tapas in front of me, early Saturday evening busyness in the rain-wet square outside. Today has proved a mixed bag: on the plus side, Bilbao has proved more pleasant than I expected. Less positive though, my onward plans have not yet been finalised owing to Semana Santa holiday fever. It will not be until tomorrow before I am clear on my options.

Lee's journey started with a two day ferry to Vigo. Mine started with two nights on a ferry to this industrial Basque city, sea routes to Vigo from Britain having ceased long ago. My half-empty ferry arrived at eight in the morning after thirty-six hours at sea, thirty-six hours with the hum of air conditioning, the throb of engines and views of the Bay of Biscay for company. Sleeping, reading and audio dramas provided limited opportunities to stave off the boredom and I was glad to arrive and to put that part of the trip behind me.

Back on dry land, twelve miles of cycling took me to the city, twelve miles that were more enjoyable than I had anticipated. A cycle path just outside the terminal paralleled a quiet road towards the centre. A mile or so of concrete, hangers and rows of coloured but tatty cargo containers evidenced the extent of the port and its commercial and consumerist function. This merged into the city suburbs and the first delight of the day: the Vizcaya transporter bridge across the river Nervión. Built in the same year as the Eiffel Tower, this high metal structure over the water provided free access for sailing ships while a suspended gondola provided - and still provides- the means to cross for vehicles and pedestrians.

Over the river another cycle path passed through Saturday-quiet streets and along a calm road following the long curves of the river. I had anticipated busy traffic and fast routes to reach the centre so this was another lift to my spirits. Rounding each curve revealed a little more of the expanding city, of steep hills that closed in on the river and buildings clinging to their edges - Bilbao seems nestled into them like an oversized Lakeland village. One last bend and I was facing the Bilbao Guggenheim in all its gold-grey titanium covered and randomly curving glory. It is without doubt a stunning building and when I visited it later after finding my accommodation and dropping my bike I found it to be a stunning space inside too. The contents of that space however were for the most part - at least for me - not so stunning; contemporary art, some familiar, some bewildering and others best described as interesting. 

Where I fell foul today was with my onward travel plans. My first port of call was the station to get a ticket to Leon, the first stop en route to Vigo. I was told that there was nothing because of Semana Santa. Alternative dates and destinations got the same result. I downloaded the train-line app in desperation and - relief! - found tickets for me and my bike. Then checking the route I found it was an intercity train - folding bikes only. Cancel ticket. A car hire office was conveniently next to the train ticket office: 'one way hire, no problem'. 'In the next few days? Impossible - Semana Santa'. I had checked accommodation over the Easter period and found plenty of options but had not considered that public transport would be problematic. By now I was seriously considering cycling to the start of the route (my desire to do things 'properly' precluded an option to drop down to join it). 

More investigation and a little help and it appears that tickets for the slow trains, which I knew to be the only options for taking my bike, are purchased from a completely different office despite being run by the same company. A trip there later in the day yielded 'no problem' as a response to my queries, although for some reason I can only buy a ticket on the day of travel. So the end result of my efforts so far, as I sit here enjoying my coffee and tapas, is that I still do not know whether I will be able to get out of Bilbao other than under my own steam.