Day 1: Irún to San Sebastián

Date: Saturday, June 15

Start: Irún, Gipuzkoa, Basque Country

End: San Sebastián , Gipuzkoa, Basque Country

Daily Mileage: ~17 mi (27.4km)

Total Mileage: ~17 mi (27.4km)

Wow! What a first day!

If we were looking for a day to reassure us that it was the right decision to leave the CDT and head for greener pastures, today was certainly that day.

The morning in Irún started a bit overcast, actually. Leaving our hotel around 7:40a or so, we donned our raincoats for the light misty drizzle in the air, and walked only a couple of blocks to a cafe to start our day with coffees and croissants, the way days are meant be started.

As we entered the cafe a couple other groups of ‘peregrinos’ (pilgrims) were just finishing their own breakfasts and heading out to start their hike. We would see several pilgrims throughout the day.

An image compliments of AirTags... our goal over the next five weeks: move the crazy face (us) to the backpack (the bag we mailed ahead) in Santiago de Compostela.

Finishing up our coffees, we hiked about half a mile to the border of Spain and France, the official start of the Camino del Norte. Though a light fog hung in the air, we could see the mountains that bordered Irún to the south, thick with green trees.

Framed by the Cantabrian Sea to the north and the beautiful Aiako Harria and Monte Jaizkibel massifs to the south and west, Irún had a stunning setting. The border of Spain and France here followed the Bidasoa River, whose branches met not far from where we stood to empty into the sea. 

The view inland from the start of the Camino del Norte.

In fact, though we could not see it from where we stood, there was an island down the easternmost branch of the Bidasoa River called Pheasant Island. Located right in the middle of the France/Spain border, it belongs to both countries and apparently changes ‘owner’ every six months. What an arrangement. 

As the border was delineated by the river here, we stood on a bridge, half of which was (technically) in France, the other half in Spain... and so, we did a brief sojourn into France (i.e., we walked past the halfway point of the bridge), just because it seemed like the thing to do. A local crew team rowed the river below us, warming up in two- and four-person boats as they head to the wider part of the river to the north of the bridge.

All of the miles ahead of us.

The border here was the official start of the Camino del Norte! And so, after snapping the obligatory ‘start line’ photos, we were off!

From here, it was time to head west. The route directed us back through town, first along the river, where locals were out for their Saturday long run, and then through the downtown. On the eastern edge of town, we left the roads, heading into the hillsides and out of town.

Shawn at one of the early Camino route markers.

Through the morning we would climb gently through the hillsides, past chicken coops, grazing cattle, and sleeping horses, over rocky trail and views to the sea, to reach the Santuario de Guadalupe, a 16th century church with views over the Bidosoa Valley.

Not far past the sanctuary, there was a fork in the trail. There were two options from here (and sources vary on which one they consider the ‘official’ Camino): (1) the high level route, which would climb to the summit of Mount Jazkibel and along the ridgeline, and (2) a low level route, which followed a trail to the south of the ridgeline, an easier route with less altitude gain. In good weather, the high level route was the recommended route, offering amazing views over the valleys and out to the sea. 

Given that it had been morphing into a beautiful day, the sun shining through puffy white clouds, we opted for the high route... which was fantastic. 

The route actually started off quite steeply - enough to make you wonder why you were taking the high route. However, after a bit the climb calmed, and though it continued to undulate en route to and along the ridge, it was a much more relaxed climb. The views were spectacular.

Looking eastward, back toward Irún. 

Along the climb, we passed several of Mount Jazkibel towers, built during the Carlist Wars of the 1800s which were fought both over the rightful successor to King Ferdinand VII of Spain and the battle between a traditional vs constitutional monarchy. For my part, they added an interesting element to the landscape and were set in areas with sweeping views over the lush green valleys, mountains, and sea. 5 stars. Would recommend. 

This picture was taken just in front of one of the towers. 

A beautiful Saturday morning, the trail was filled with plenty of runners, hikers, and mountain bikers out enjoying the day. We also saw plenty of other pilgrims out - some recognizable by the scallop shell emblem on their backpacks. The scallop shell is the official symbol of the Camino and the pilgrimage, used in art and architecture along the Camino - including the decoration of some churches and cathedrals, such as in doorways and arches. The symbol is also used to mark the pilgrimage route to Santiago de Compostela. Shawn and I had been following the shells all morning.

One of the Mount Jazkibel towers along the ridgeline.

There is a lot of uncertainty about the origins of this emblematic symbol, however some historians suggest that the symbol may have emerged in the Middle Ages when pilgrims would collect scallop shells along the shores of Galicia as evidence of their journey. These shells would then be affixed to their clothes or hats, and became a recognizable symbol of the pilgrimage. The practice has continued today, with many pilgrims affixing scallop shell symbols to their packs. 

Among other symbolism, the shell is said to represent the journey of the pilgrim, where the groves of the shell represent the various paths that lead to the same destination. Likewise, the grooves and ridges represent the many paths that can be taken in life.

A few of the pilgrims we saw this morning had shells affixed to their pack already; however even without the shells, most pilgrims were recognizable simply because they were carrying hiking backpacks and following the shells. We don’t have shells on our own packs yet, but hopefully will find some that we can affix soon. 

From the summit of Mount Jazkibel, the trail wound down a rocky trail with more expansive views to the coast. Though the route was likely beautiful regardless of the weather, I think the appearance of the sun midmorning really helped things along... the piercing blues of the ocean and greens of the mountains and hillsides seemed like they would have been a bit lackluster on a gray day. We were very lucky. 

Throughout the morning, we would also get plenty of opportunities to practice our Basque language skills, which at this point include only the words “thank you” and “hello”. Recently, we’d been informed by a fellow pilgrim who has hiked the Camino del Norte in the past that saying “a scary Costco” was about as close as a foreigner can get to saying “thank you” in Basque. After several runners thanking us for stepping aside on the trail this morning when they ran by, we can confirm that this is pretty much exactly how “thank you” sounds, so that was a great little tip... and we’ve been thanking everyone in Basque ever since. (Thanks, Jeanne!)

We also had a couple of Basque “hellos” lobbed at us on the trail and, after confirming on Google translate that this was what we were hearing, we are now able to lob them back. Though there are still a lot of “holas” as well.

The route would weave us between rocky trail, forest roads, a bit of paved road and path, and finally a staircase into the town of Pasajes de San Juan, or Pasaia, as each town has both a Spanish and a Basque name. Set on an inlet, small restaurants hugged the water and Basque flags flew from the buildings along narrow cobbled streets. It was a charming little town. 

We were ready for lunch. 

Looking back down the inlet toward Pasajes de San Juan/Pasaia.

Now if this was the CDT, we would pull out a grubby bag of meat, cheese, and crackers, or tuck into cold soaked ramen or Knorr rice. But this was not the CDT. We were about 11.5-ish miles into our day and had only about five miles left to hike for the day. We had time for a nice lunch. 

And a nice lunch we had - fresh fish soup, baked cod, peppers, warm bread,  and even wine. We were very happy with our current life choices. We were a bit worried when we poked our heads into the restaurant and saw the tables set in white linens and fancy tableware, but we were shown to a table and served a delicious meal - which was all that really mattered.

We could get used to this.

To top it all off, we ended the meal with a coffee, because nothing says ‘I’m not in a hurry to go anywhere’ like an afternoon coffee.

The meal was excellent, maybe even a little too excellent, because now, after a very short boat crossing of the inlet, we needed to haul our full bellies up what the Buen Camino app noted as ‘harsh stairs ahead!”

Starting up the switchbacks of ‘harsh’ stairs.

Along the coast of Pasaia, we switchbacked our way up these harsh stairs, aided by the breezes over the water. When the trail finally reached its hig point, it meandered gently through forest with breaks in the trees opening to more beautiful coastal views. It was hard not to be having a great day.

The last several miles undulated a bit through forested trail and a bit of shaded roadway connecting the trail sections, before beginning the final descent. Most of the descent was along forested dirt trail and we chatted with a couple from San Francisco that was on vacation here. They were nice to talk to and helped us pass the time of the last mile or so. 

Toward the end, the trail morphed into a concrete path and then stairs which plopped us right into San Sebastian near the eastern end of Zurriola Beach. We bid our friends safe travels and continued onto the beach boardwalk, filled with the hoards that descend upon San Sebastián over the weekends and summer holidays.

The beach was a melee of activities - sunbathers, surfers, and beach volleyball players all occupying their own spaces of sand and waves. Tomorrow was supposed to bring nice warm weather, so we would likely join the crowds on one of San Sebastiàn’s three beaches.

It was a short walk down the boardwalk and to the old town, where we’d booked a pensión for the night. Actually two nights. That’s right, after one day of hiking, It’s already time for a zero.

After checking into our room, showering, and relaxing for a bit, we strolled back out into the streets of San Sebastiàn’s old town, looking for another meal. We immediately realized we’d made a mistake... it was getting later in the evening and the tapas bars were packed, patrons spilling into the streets. Places that accepted reservations were full up until their 10pm seating. 

Luckily, we were able to find a bit of space, bellying up a bar for some delicious tapas and adult beverages, which we followed with gelato and a stroll through the old town to cap off a fantastic day.

Hot tip: the best gelato is at the places where you can’t actually see it, those where it’s set inside these canisters with lids.

Yes, I think it’s safe to say this walk is shaping up to be far less miserable than the CDT.