Bilbao

Our voyage to Bilbao was in stark contrast to our brief sojourn in Leketio, it was very hot and we wore shorts in preference to our anoraks.  The trip started windless and we motored for most of the way, with the mainsail up and sheeted hard in to dampen the rolling motion caused by the swell.  The scenery of this coast is striking; mountains falling away into the sea and the land is so wooded and green.  Some colossal manmade scenery provided another harsh contrast:  Three miles out to sea, a vast oilrig, and the first one we have seen in daylight.

By the middle of the afternoon the wind started to rise and as we entered Bilbao we had twenty knots of breeze pushing us along at seven knots with just a splash of sail up.  The harbour offers plenty of shelter however and we were protected from the wind while we gingerly approached the port, busy with commercial shipping, and made our way into the marina.

Bilbao seemed to be expecting us!  As we rounded the Port Control buildings fireworks started exploding in the evening sky and a gigantic armada of small boats seemed intent on ramming us at full speed.  We waved graciously and then noticed a large traditional yacht, dressed overall, in the heart of the melee that seemed to be the centre of attention.  The whole parade passed us by and continued to escort the veteran yacht out of the harbour.

Getxo marina where we berthed was very new, large and clean with quite definitely the best showers yet and just a short walk to the nearest underground station.

We used Bilbao’s new underground the next day to visit the Guggenheim.  This small railway places the London Underground firmly in the same class as Trumpton’s fine, if quaint, service.  Imagine if you can, a French TGV hurtling along the Piccadilly line.  Now replace the image in your mind of Covent Garden’s rambling, tiled warrens with a scene reminiscent of the bridge of the Starship Enterprise and you are half way there!

The Guggenheim museum is a breathtaking building and a piece of art in its own right.  I am sure the architecture is not to everyone’s taste and was probably a controversial decision on the part of Bilbao’s planning committees but in our opinion it puts some of the exhibits firmly in the shade.

As we entered, Chris’ eyes lit up as the ‘headlining’ exhibition was the ‘Art of the Motorcycle’ and there, just inside the entrance, was his last bike, a Ducati 916.  Sat in our garage it had looked quite pretty, but here on a pedestal the curators and lighting engineers had done a fine job of making it look like a piece of art.  Think I’ll stick to paintings though . . . . .  After levering Chris away, and after looking at a few other exhibits, we left both agreeing that the most extraordinary section was not in fact the Ducati, but a series of very large black and white portrait photographs of waxworks of historic people by Hiroshi Sugimoto.  The photographs were so realistic that at first we did not realise the subject matter was made of Bee excretion, especially as you were first led past contemporary subjects and only later did you start to wonder how they had obtained photos of Voltaire, Napoleon and Wellington!

While in Bilbao we made the decision to press on with the next stage of our voyage a little faster.  We had met another Brit’, called Robert, in the laundry at the marina and, while chatting about our respective trips, we were persuaded that if we continued at our snails pace we might still be rounding Cape Finisterre during the equinoxial gales.  Robert’s advice was to try to reach Lisbon by the beginning of September.  Over dinner that evening we pondered this advice and spent a few hours pouring over the charts and pilot books and devised the ‘new and improved cunning plan’, which will hopefully see us South of Lisbon by the first week of September.  Beyond Lisbon we should be able to potter southwards at our usual snail’s pace through most of the winter.