Coming into Portugalete, we saw the famous suspension bridge. Built in 1893, it was the first significant example of a transporter bridge in the world. It is essentially a ferry that doesn't touch the water. I looked at the monumental work and imagined it being built in the 19th century and wondered why they didn't just put a rope ferry across the river.
We asked around for the pilgrim shelter. Many people didn't know, others directed us through town to a hall that was apparently used as a sort of school. There was no one at the reception. We asked some of the people passing through, but no one seemed to know whether Portugalete had a pilgrim shelter. We tried to ask our way to the city's information center, but that had moved recently, so we walked around through the city. Eventually we found it, but, like almost everything in Spain, it was closed for the afternoon. Lone sat down on a park bench. I found another bench, removed my boots, and lay down to rest. An hour later the info center opened.
As we walked in, a petite redhead with a backpack walked in as well. I had already noticed her at the hostel in Bilbao, partly because she walked around with two staves. It looked quite funny, since these were sticks picked up in the woods and not "professional" nordic walking sticks. She was another pilgrim also looking for a shelter. Her name was Anabel.
The receptionist at the info office told us that Portugalete's pilgrim shelter is a seasonal thing; during the summers one can spend the night in that hall where Lone and I had first been led to. But, as it was still April, we would have to spend the night in a hotel. We asked about price, and she said the cheapest was 22 Euros.
Lone decided she would go with that, but I thought I'd rather continue walking and spend the night outside somewhere. Anabel seemed undecided. "You'll sleep outside?" she asked me.
"Yes," I said. "I don't feel like paying for a hotel, and the weather report said that it wouldn't rain." I had made sure to catch the weather at the Bilbao hostel.
"But then where do you sleep?"
I shrugged. "A patch of grass somewhere. Or a beach. I've done it a few times on this trip already."
"I think I'll try that too."
"Great."
I still wanted to see if I could buy a Spanish New Testament, and Anabel wanted to find a photo store where she could dump the pictures from her digital camera onto a CD. Lone had a few things to buy as well, so the three of us went roaming the streets together.
AnabelPortugalete is the only city I know that has motorized walkways on the sidewalks outside. There were many steep streets, so it was helpful to not have to walk all that way. But it did feel strange.
Anabel and Lone on a conveyor sidewalk in Portugalete
