The Bay of Biscay is renowned for its turbulent waters, but as I fall off my surfboard for the fifth time during a family lesson at Anglet, near Biarritz, I realise this is more a case of “user error” than choppy sea conditions. While my husband and I are perfecting our wipe-outs and feeling like we’re trapped in the cold-spin cycle of a washing machine, our 13-year-old daughter is riding the waves like a pro. Her brother, aged 11, is getting the hang of it too. And despite the repetitive dunking, we’re having the time of our lives.
We’re in the French Basque Country for a week’s holiday, having taken the long, slow ferry route from Portsmouth to Santander in northern Spain. If I’m honest, I’d expected the Atlantic crossing to churn us around, but I was wrong. Our smooth, 40-hour trip is a holiday in itself; like a mini-cruise with excellent food and drink, dolphin-spotting and deck-strolling. Our four-bed (two-bunk) en suite cabin is compact, but with activities such as quizzes and trips to the onboard cinema, we do little more than sleep there. We disembark feeling relaxed and ready to explore this corner of Spain and France.
Bilbao, 75 minutes’ drive east of Santander, is our first overnight stop, giving us the chance to admire the striking curves of the Guggenheim before exploring the old town. At family-run restaurant Rio-Oja, we indulge in a Basque feast: our table is laden with plates of juicy anchovies, piquant peppers, meaty tuna and fluffy jamón croquettes.
After following the coast road across the border into France, we start to see the white and red timber-framed houses that are so characteristic of France’s Basque Country, and the coastline opens up into broad sweeping beaches. The rollers here attract world-class surfers as well as novice families like us. Our stylish abode is Villa Etchebri, a B&B in the holiday town of Anglet, on the northern edge of Biarritz and two hours from Bilbao.
Rainbow Surf School has our boards ready the next morning. We wriggle into wetsuits and are soon on the soft golden sand with Victor taking us through the moves, from lying down on the board to standing up, knees bent, surfing to the shore. “You can do it!” he yells as we follow him into the choppy water.
With him holding our boards still as we get on them, and helping us choose the right wave to catch, we have a better chance of success, but I still end up face down for much of the hour-and-a-half session. It is exhilarating, though, and the children’s smiles and success make our failures worthwhile.
We are exhausted when we get out of the water, and in need of a sugar hit. Nearby Bayonne happens to be the French capital of chocolate thanks to its history as a safe haven for Jewish chocolate makers expelled from Spain in the 16th century. After 20 years of gentle renovation, Bayonne’s narrow medieval streets are lined with enticing chocolateries, independent boutiques and excellent restaurants. And the perfect reward for a morning in the surf is at the century-old salon Chocolat Cazenave, where they whisk their hot chocolate in the traditional way with a wooden tool called a moussoir. We sip the frothy chocolat mousseux under the ornate glass cupola roof and heave happy sighs.
The next day, rain puts paid to our cycling plans, so we head to the nearby Hotel Atlanthal, which has swimming pools, lazy rivers and whirlpool baths (all using seawater). Thalassothérapie – seawater therapy put on the map by Napoleon III’s wife Empress Eugenie in the 19th century – is still popular here.
After our days by the coast, the mountains are calling, so we take the winding roads into the foothills of the Pyrenees to the village of Sare. Classed as one of France’s most beautiful villages by the Plus Beaux Villages de France association, it has narrow streets lined with red-shuttered houses and awe-inspiring views of the surrounding mountains.
The highest, La Rhune (905 metres), is reached via a cog railway that departs from a small station a few minutes’ drive from the village. We climb aboard the wood-panelled train and trundle up the mountain, breathing in the scent of gorse and bracken through the open-sided carriage. Fluffs of white cloud sketch the blue sky and as we slowly climb higher on the foxglove-lined track, we can see the summit.
The view from the top is stupendous: in one direction the Basque coast, where we spy the beach at Anglet beyond Biarritz’s headland, and the winding Nivelle River, which meets the sea at Saint-Jean-de-Luz. To the south stretch dramatic undulating hills and mountains that shelter small farms growing fruit and local espelette chillies.
That afternoon, we go from overground to underground at les Grottes de Sare, a network of beautifully lit caves that has, in the past 30,000 years, provided shelter for Neolithic tribes, shepherds, smugglers, second world war resistance fighters and colonies of bats – the latter still being in residence. Our guide, Jordi Lopez, leads our group into the caves, where the curves and crevices have been carved into beautiful shapes by millennia of ice, water and mud. “Ninety million years ago Europe was under a warm and shallow tropical sea, so as the water receded it left the fossilised shells,” he says as we peer at the outline of seashells in the rock. The final gallery sees us staring up into a dimly lit crevice where hundreds of tiny bats dangle from the rocks; others flit around above our heads.
When we head back to Sare, we have time for a wander, and note that although this village only consists of a few streets, it has two huge pelota courts. This ballgame is very popular in the Basque Country: players use a special hand basket-cum-racket to whack a soft ball against the wall, le fronton, as you would in squash.
The village is something of a foodie hotspot, with several restaurants to choose from. On our first night we stroll across the road from Hotel Arraya to Mimosa for a superb meal from chef Mathieu Thomas, who uses local ingredients including fish landed at Saint-Jean-de-Luz, less than 10 miles away. I go for the local duck dish, with wild asparagus and garlic purée.
The next night, we find everywhere closed except the trinquet, the pelota clubhouse, so we give it a try. Not only is the food excellent – family-pleasers such as burgers and steak, plus fish and calamari – but the manager also invites the children to have a go at pelota in the indoor court. So as my husband and I sip the sloe-based digestif patxaran alongside locals at the bar, the kids are content whacking a ball around until the sun goes down.
From our baptism in the Atlantic to joining in the pelota rituals, our week has seen us initiated into Basque life. We just have one last treat in store: the chance to bask in the sunshine on the deck of the slow boat home, as the Bay of Biscay proves it can also be kind.
Travel was provided by Brittany Ferries, which has crossings Portsmouth-Santander for a car and four people from £401 one-way in low season. Accommodation was provided by Villa Etchebri (doubles from €150 B&B) and Hôtel Arraya, both arranged through Sawday’s. For more information on the region, see the Pays Basque tourist office website: tourisme64.com
