Day 2: The Voyage'

I've long been fond of slightly archaic modes of travel, and a day long sea voyage to Spain well into the era of jet travel would certainly seem to count.

My impression of the cruise-ferry is that it is an elegant mode of travel; it allows a traveler to attain a state of repose beyond the reach of those traveling by air. It certainly suits me down to the ground. Two of my failings when it comes to holidaying are that I hate to wait and I'm not very good at just relaxing. The cruise ferry seems to be a good solution to this problem, as I'm making progress whilst relaxing. I've a cabin, there is a cafe', restaurant and bars, amongst other facilities, so the effect is like chilling in a hotel, but I'm actually making headway. The engines produce a gentle thrum. The swell causes a rocking of the ship, barely perceptible whist sat, but quite noticeable when walking the deck. The fittings in my cabbing make a quite, slightly forlorn creaking as the ship pitches, which I imagine to be not far off the sounds that the timbers of a sailing schooner, or man-of-war might have made were I making this voyage 300 years ago. Altogether I find it quite therapeutic, as it reminds me that I'm on my journey.

I was woken in the night by one particularly pronounced roll of the ship, but I've fortunately experienced no sea sickness or the like.

By the time I rose, we had passed Brest and were off Nantes in the Bay-of-Biscay. Around noon I caught my first sight of wild dolphins, playing in the wake of the ship. A guide from the Orca association assured us that we were yet to enter prime Whale and dolphin spotting territory, which begins about 3 hours out from Bilbao, but I saw only a handful more (and none close enough to be properly photographed).

The rest of the afternoon was occupied with watching for whale and dolphin and reading on the deck (Jules Verne's "Around the World in 80 days") and generally attempting the pretense of being rather more civilized than I consider my self to be.


The sea wall protecting the harbor at Bilbao, topped with wind turbines and seen from the porthole of my cabin on the Cap Finestre.

Once I disembarked from the ship, things got rather more sketchy. Navigating out of Bilbao was difficult to say the least (my electronic mapping pulling the old trick of showing non-existent roads). I believe I made an unintended and (as is always the case when riding a three wheeled bike) all too conspicuous visit to the red-light district. On the plus side I did get a few cheers of "Wales" on account of my flag, and a filthy look from a gentleman driving a mini with a St George cross on the roof.


A Cathedral in Bilbao.

In the end I wound up taking an inland route rather than the coastal one I had indented. Consequently come 23:00 I had encountered no camp sites, and not wishing to continue in the dark I propped my self up against the bike on a back-road and had a snooze.