Day 0: Arrival in Irún
After a fantastic week in Barcelona – visiting art museums and Gaudí architecture, strolling neighborhoods and parks, and enjoying a variety of tapas, paellas, and wines – it was time to head on. Today we set out for the city of Irún, the starting point of the Camino del Norte.
We woke to a cloudy day, the streets of Barcelona’s Gothic Quarter quiet in the early morning. The graffitied metal doors of the shops along the pedestrian street were pulled shut... Spain not a country that wakes particularly early. Late mornings, afternoon siestas... what a culture. This was a schedule I could get behind. (The very late dinners, not so much).
At Plaça de Catalunya, we ducked beneath the streets into the metro, catching a city train just one stop to Barcelona Sants, one of the largest train stations in Barcelona, with long distance trains arriving and departing for destinations around the country and beyond.
In an abundance of caution, not knowing the station, we had arrived early. Early enough that our platform was not yet posted, so we grabbed coffee and croissants while we waited. Once the platform was posted, we made our way through the ticket check and luggage security to the various staging lines formed for our train based on your train car number. This ended up being mostly an exercise in patiently queuing, as the train arrived (and departed) about 10-15 minutes late.
On the train, we settled in.
Sunny Barcelona.
Of the many ways to travel – and I feel that we have experienced most of them (even camels) – my favorite way to travel is by train.
Compared to its alternatives, train travel typically involves less hassle at the station than the check-in, security lines, and boarding process at an airport. It is more relaxing for all parties than car travel, since no one has to drive or navigate, and – as someone who easily gets motion sick – it is more enjoyable than boat travel and winding bus or car rides. Because rail travel is relatively stable, this isn’t typically an issue on trains. All the traveler needs to do is sit back, relax, and enjoy the scenery. The perfect form of travel.
Overnight rail travel also falls into a special category for which I have a lot of fond memories, but I digress.
I will concede that there is a time and place for all modes of transportation, but when it comes to general transpration, the train can’t be beat.
And so, under the pressure of my favoritism and optimism, our train set out for northern Spain.
Gray skies heading out of Barcelona.
Leaving Barcelona the skies were morose, the base of the clouds heavy with gray... threatening rain even. We’d had a decent amount of rain while we were in the city, though luckily nothing that interfered with our plans much.
We’d been informed that Barcelona had been in a drought for nearly the last three years, really, so rain was needed and welcome. All of that is good and fine – and you’re quite happy for them and their necessary showers – until you want to take a photo with a picture-perfect blue bird sky, the radiance of the sun shining through your [insert locale - wine country/mountain monastery/Mediterranean beach] shot like the exuberance of your mood on vacation.
We did get plenty of nice sunny days though - and a bit of puddle hopping in between.
As we head north out of the city, the skies began to clear. Sunny skies perked up the views of wheat fields and rolling hillsides. The clouds that graced the sky were now bright white, shaped like large lazy brush strokes in every direction across the sky, the painter hurrying to finish his scene.
The morning went by like this - fields of wheat and other indiscernible crops from the train window. In some areas, the barren fields were an ashen white, the map of Spain in this region the same color as the light beige used to denote the Sahara. Very dry.
Just north of Zaragoza, we crossed the greenish-brown waters of the Ebro River, Spain’s longest river. Originating from springs in the Cantabrian Mountains of northern Spain, the Ebro flows 615 miles through narrow gorges and wide valleys before finally emptying into the Mediterranean Sea. Our hike along the coast would be north of its source in Fantibre.
The Ebro River and some indiscernible reflections. Probably my sandwich.
Not long before crossing through the city of Pamplona, we passed by the Aqueduct de Noáin, its impressive arches stretching across the field into the distance.
If the internet is to be believed, the aqueduct dates to the 18th century, its construction commissioned during the reign of Charles III of Spain to deliver drinking water from the Subiza spring, located along the northern slope of the Sierra del Perdón, to the city of Pamplona. Construction was completed in 1790 and it supplied water to Pamplona through 1895.
While the aqueduct originally had 96 arches, the highest of which stood at 18 meters, several of the arches have been lost due to construction of the highway and the very train rail we traveled upon. Progress. It is still quite an impressive site though.
Aqueduct de Noáin - a bit of historical architecture just south of Pamplona.
As nerdy as I am, it would be conceivable to think that I had researched this route and was waiting anxiously for the sighting of this historic piece of architecture. In reality, the aqueduct sighting was owed to the fortune of looking up and out the window at just the right time. I quickly snapped a photo as the train went by and looked up the information about it afterwards. Since we all know that everything we read on the internet is true, I’m sure everything I’ve written above is correct and there is no need to fact check.
Skirting around Pamplona the train took a decisive turn west. If you were to explore the map of Spain, you would see that this was not the direction we wanted to go. In fact, Irún sits northeast of Pamplona; however when searching for tickets online, this was the route that was provided. And so, we would head west for a bit before returning eastward.
Heading west from Pamplona, the landscape bordering the train was filled with more swaying wheat fields. Other fields sat barren. Mountains in the distance. A little before 2:30p, we pulled into the destination station for our train transfer, Vitoria-Gasteiz.
Besides running just a bit behind schedule, the journey had been fine. Well, other than the frequent smell of rotten eggs that was either emanating from the train or a nearby passenger. If the latter is the case, this person needs to seek immediate medical attention. Otherwise, when the gas works were not full tilt, it was a rather pleasant journey.
From here, we would catch a train heading to San Sebastián, and then a smaller local train on to Irún. A full day of trains.
Only 20 minutes later, our train to San Sebastián pulled out of the station... our seats on this leg facing opposite the direction of travel. I do not love facing away from the direction of travel, but booking through Rail Europe, I hadn’t been able to pick the actual seats. So, here we were. Oh well.
The train returned east, back along part of the route that we had just traveled, before heading northeast. This landscape quickly became very green - the landscape that the Basque Country is known for. Small towns and rural homes dotted the mountainsides, which were otherwise covered in forest and lush green meadow. A hazy mist had also begun to settle over the mountains, which added a bit of a moody mysterious atmosphere to the already beautiful setting.
Trees also lined most of the railway along this route, blocking a lot of the scenery. I really love trees until they are in the way of my view. Then they are a bit of a nuisance, really. Pulp em, I say. (I’m KIDDING).
The journey to San Sebastián was an easy two hours, and before long we were climbing off the train again. From the station, it was about a 15 minute walk to a different, local, train station, from which we caught our final train of the day – about 30 minutes to Irún. All this so we can walk 17-ish miles back to San Sebastián tomorrow! 🤣
I know what you’re thinking... but the stretch of the Camino del Norte from Irún to San Sebastián is supposed to be one of the most fantastic of the whole route, so we don’t want to miss it. Also, we are really keen on starting at the beginning.
Irún sits just on the border of Spain and France, and I have to say, we were a bit surprised by how big and busy it is as we made the walk from the train station to our hotel for the night. I suppose a population of just over 60,000 is pretty big. For some reason, the pictures that I’d seen had made it look much smaller.
Irún Coat of Arms.
As Camino del Norte ‘pilgrims’, we have the opportunity to stay in albergues along the route. These are typically dorm-style, low cost or donation-based accommodations that operate on a first-come first-served basis. I’ll mention these again more when we start staying in them, but for tonight, since we were arriving later in the evening and weren’t sure there would be space left at the public albergue in Irún, we had booked a hotel for the night. Also, I mean, isn’t having your own space just great? We think so. We plan to do a mix of albergues, hotels, pensions (guesthouses), etc.
Checking in at our hotel, we also got our Pilgrim Credential, a little book that we will present at albergues and other sites along the way to receive stamps. This basically serves as proof of our journey - which I’ll also talk about a bit more in a future blog.
The first stamp in our credential, and we haven’t walked a lick yet.
After getting checked in, we walked around Irún a bit. The gray clouds that had begun following us on our train to the coast had opened up a bit and the skies were now a misty drizzle.
Despite the rain, the streets were full of pedestrians, something that I love about Europe. Or really most places outside of the U.S., where we only seem to have vibrant street life in the big cities.
We made our way down to one of Irún’s central plazas, Mercadillo Urdanibia Plaza, where a large concert stage was set up and a band was running sound checks. A little Friday night entertainment. But that’s not why we were here. We entered a small tapas bar at the corner, which started serving food at 7pm (fairly early for Spain standards).
While we eventually hope to dig into some tasty Basque cuisine, tonight we simply had burgers and some bolas de queso (basically giant fried cheesy potato balls). Bolas may be Basque dish, I don’t know... but probably not the burgers.
The Baroque facade of the Irún town hall.
After dinner, we did a short walk around a bit of the Old Quarter. Irún is one of the most historic towns in Basque Country, with over 2000 years of history. Unfortunately much of the city was destroyed during various battles, so most of the cityscape is relatively modern.
A brief bit of history in the Cicerone Camino del Norte guidebook notes “As a border town, [Irún] has been a frequent site of diplomatic wrangling. Franco and Hitler met across the river at Hendaye rail station. In exchange for Spanish support, Franco demanded significant territorial promises, none of which Hitler was willing to concede. Hitler was bored by the general and skeptical of Spanish military capability; Spain thus remained neutral throughout World War II. However, the dissolution of Franco and Hitler’s relationship came too late for Irún, which had seen its historic core obliterated by German bombers (at Franco’s behest) during the Spanish Civil War.”
The Spanish have no love loss for the Franco dictatorship, which lasted from 1936 to 1975. On our tour to Montserrat earlier in the week, the guide noted that Franco did one great thing for the Spanish people: “He died”. After his death in 1975, Spain transitioned into a democracy.
Parish of Santa Maria de Juncal, Irún.
A few historic buildings are still about the city center, including the Parish of Santa Maria del Juncal, which is listed as a National Historic Monument and the St. Elena Chapel (though I believe this is part of the Museo Romano Oiasso, which was closed). There was also a palace that dated back to the Renaissance Period, though it was completely covered in scaffolding, unsurprising to me, as I have sought out many a scaffolding-encased structure in my time.
As it was still fairly drizzly and we were tired from the long day of travel, we called it a day, back to our hotel by 8pm.
All of the great views from the train today have us excited to get started. Tomorrow is Day 1! On to the Camino!