Maria Labbato, PhD

Day 3, Zumaia to Mutriku: ~12 miles, 2,500 ft gain

I’m sure you can still picture the fantastical scenes in Game of Thrones. Much of the series was set in northern Spain, including the 60 million-year-old rock formation called the Flysch in Zumaia. This was the backdrop for the Targaryen’s homeland, Dragonstone and is a Basque Coast UNESCO Global Geopark. 

I left the yellow arrows and shells today for the GR red and white trail blazers, the local coastal hiking path. It takes you right along the coast all day – I’m not sure why the official camino way would not opt for such a beautiful hike. Very soon after leaving the town of Zumaia, you’re climbing up to the Flysch. I spent a good amount of time taking it in, taking lots of photos. Many groups were there, including school kids on a day trip. As you continue walking, you can continue to see these cliffs of sedimentary deposits that accumulated over tens of millions of years and were the result of tectonic plate movement between the continents. Dave Whitson has an episode on The Camino Podcast where he hosts an expert geologist (episode 86). Give it a listen! 

At low tide you can walk out along the horizontal sediment

While I never had a full cry on the camino, these magnificent views made my eyes swell and I did get emotional. In our daily lives, we infrequently, if ever, get to witness the drama, age, endurance, mystery, magnitude of our earth. Of course, we’re always surrounded by small, constant reminders if you open your eyes and heart, but the dramatic evidence is usually too far out of reach for us city-dwellers. This was one of only a few experiences I’ve had that could put into perspective how minuscule we are. But at the same time that reminds us how short lived our lives are, a fraction of a second in the universe, which is what makes living so great. It makes our ability to leave an impact on another person so special. I thought about that, how little I mattered and precisely why the little and simple things in life matter so much. What problem can be so big when you are so small? 

Walking past the teens on their field trip, one sarcastically called out buen camino, another blurted/coughed “tourista!” Later in Galicia, I would feel or sense an overwhelming welcome of visitors; unfortunately, the smaller towns rely greatly on a pilgrim economy, since most of the working age population will move away to larger cities. But, in the Basque region it was definitely more mixed. I had also seen graffiti on the path “tourists go home!” I understand it. The coast attracts so many tourists, there is a history of heavy industry and strong economy, and pilgrims are also tourists. I used Airbnb and Uber a couple of times, but not using them at all would have been better.

These things combined also put me in awe. So many hamlets or very small villages are solely occupied by elders. I am doing a single trek through this rocky and dramatic landscape, they live and walk it daily. Just going to a bus stop or restaurant in a nearby town requires what I consider to be a hike requiring effort. It’s amazing that communities have made lives here over thousands of years, protecting and loving such places that are difficult to live in, and without modern conveniences or transportation. I appreciated that I could not take as much for granted here.

Today I finally walked part of the way with others, Lourenzo from Italy and a younger woman from France. They had become “camino family,” Lourenzo said, and he kept waiting or checking in on his companion to make sure she was OK. They made the walk go by, mentally, faster. We shared a snack from a beautiful ocean viewing point, and took pictures with each other walking out on part of the Flysch. This included a lot of stopping, and I suspected the woman wanted some alone time. She kept stopping, Lourenzo thinking it was her heavy pack, but rather than wait with him for her to catch up, I eventually kept going. There were steep uphills and I had a lot of miles left. I was staying in an albergue outside of the larger city of Deba. I wasn’t sure exactly if I was going to walk there or if a bus or taxi would be easy to grab. 

The cliffside animals today were a joy, at one point walking through the cow and horse pasture. I still kept a respectful distance. Sort of. Overall the trail was wonderful today. No pavement that I recall now, and if so, very little. The latter part of the hike was through forest too, with a few ocean outlooks. I loved it and was grateful I had some alone time, too. Lourenzo never did catch up, even in Deba. 

In Deba I had an amazing menú del día, as it is easy to find affordable Michelin restaurants in the Basque Country. I was hungry and my LarBear airtag showed my backpack in the city, not at the albergue several kilometers away. After eating and plenty of wine – they will offer a whole bottle for the table (of 1), which I did not finish – I realized the gps on my airtag was just wrong, my bag was, in fact, waiting on the albergue. Now I didn’t have much excuse to taxi there with only my regular day pack. With a full belly and sleepy from wine, I caught a bus to Mutriku and expected a manageable walk to the albergue from there. How wrong was I…

When getting off of the bus in the town center, I checked my Google maps: 45 minutes (all uphill) to the albergue, on a road with no shoulder or sidewalk and in direct sun during the hottest part of the day. I struggled. I didn’t reach the albergue until 6:30 PM, just enough time to quickly shower and make communal dinner at 7.

This place is very special. Seemingly an old barn converted to a dormitory, it was rustic, to say the least, but it felt very comfortable or comforting at the same time. This was my first albergue and evening that I would spend with other pilgrims. I really enjoyed the experience. 

Albergue Izarbide aterpetxea

The hospitalero was Adon and he said he had been a bartender, feeling like he was Tom Cruise in Cocktail. He was fun and personable, enjoyed practicing English. He said we were alike, both very curious people. At the dinner table to talked of ancient Basque history, other pilgrimages, our pasts and what brought us there… He and another guy served us communal dinner and afterwards a few pilgrims grabbed a bottle of wine to sit outside, continued that chat, and enjoyed the peaceful scenery. Marta, from Poland and living in Norway, Ricardo from Mexico and living in Canada, Veronika from Germany, and a few more friends. Again, the conversation was fun yet deep, connecting over our shared and differing journeys, the Norwegian royal scandal, the beauty of mathematics, following a “purist” pilgrimage or not, having enough money to simply be happy, do we change with technology, with AI? During experiences such as these, no one expects anything from you. Everyone is accepted as they are. There’s no agenda. You may cross paths again, you probably won’t. And that’s the beautiful part of the connection.

Rudy, the albergue boar, finishing community dinner

I learned how essential it is to reach your accommodation early enough to hand wash your clothes and hang them with hours of sun still available for drying. I didn’t wash my clothes until after dinner – no sun – and I woke with clothes just as wet from when I left them. I draped damp clothes to the outside of my backpack with clothespins for drying while I walked throughout the day. Someone later would joke that this made me recognizable a few days later, having my shirt and underwear trailing behind me.

Today was a good day.

Share your most awe-struck natural encounter!

Peace and happy hiking,

Maria