Heading home - last lap from Spain to deepest Oxfordshire

No planes, no boats, no taxis, no Ubers; just trains (including the odd metro) and buses ... and it could have been accomplished in one day.

Above: the bridges (and their reflections) across the Bidasoa River that separates Spain from France; Hondarribia (formerly Fuenterrabía) from Hendaye.

So! What we are saying is that we chickened out and opted for a stopover in Hendaye rather than doing the whole Monty from Donostia (formerly San Sebastián) to Faringdon.

As one can see from the map below, we could have enjoyed our last burnt cheesecake of the year in Donostia's fabled La Vińa pintxos (formerly[1] known as tapas) bar. But we didn't. We dropped our hire car at Donostia station (see previous blog) and hot-footed it to Hendaye in France. I suppose the fact that there seems to be no way not to change trains there influenced this decision. The Donostia to Hendaye train literally creeps over the bridge across the dividing river and dumps you unceremoniously a few metres from the main station that dispatches super-fast, luxurious trains to Paris.

Above photomontage (top-bottom, L-R): The picture that didn't happen on 9 October, 2024, of Shan hijacking my burnt cheesecake at la Vińa, but might've if we'd had the cojones to stay in Donostia for our last night; a map showing our actual journey although, in our case, unnecessarily spread over two days; we sat outside Paris Gare du Nord consuming wine during our delay; bus finally arriving in Faringdon on the same day we'd set off.

If we'd thought about our chickening out with a stop at Hendaye we could have made a meal of it and overnighted in Hondarribia in memory of our first trip into the region in 1983 when we stayed in  paradors for a pittance. Back in the day when paradors were provided by the Spanish government as reasonably-priced quality attractions for Spaniards and tourists alike. They're still not a ripoff considering their quality but £200 for a pitstop seemed a bit expensive for us in 2024.

In 1983 we'd been relative paupers but had been able to afford accommodation in two paradors, the previous one the night before in Olite. Given the obscure, and possibly gratuitous, reason for including the following 4 Hondarribia/Fuenterrabia pictures in this blog, I need to confess that we slid past the Spanish-Basque town by a whisker on our way home this past autumn.

Above: a 1983 view of the Hodarribia Parador on the outside and leading to Shan sitting in the wall gazing out at her domain below.

Instead, we had a splendid lunchtime pizza opposite the Hendaye (French-Basque?) railway station and followed the scenic boardwalk back to our guesthouse, noting a couple of restaurants along the way for dinner that night.

Returning to and from our evening meal on the penultimate day of our wonderful month-long journey, we were beguiled by the river, the activities taking place on and above it and the splendid bridges joining the two EU countries, who have yet to integrate their rail services.

Feeling rather smug as we nestled into bed in the knowledge that we were poised for a hassle-free and relaxed journey home (Montparnasse Metro notwithstanding) we were already planning our next rail extravaganza as we dozed off.

Of course, it had to happen! Checking my email early the following morning I noticed a message from Eurostar. I almost didn't read it, assuming it was one of those reminders to bring one's passport etc.. Lucky I did though because it informed me that our train from Paris Nord to London St Pancras had been cancelled. Yes. Cancelled. Not even postponed ... the wording was pretty unfriendly. It was trying to push us a few days back, notifying me of the process to rebook.

​I reacted immediately, keeping my temper at bay (which was a miracle in itself) and started the rebooking process. I quickly discovered that there were tickets available on Eurostar Plus two hours later than our original booking (which had been on Eurostar Plus!!!).

You could say it was a minor inconvenience, especially as we did manage to get home on the same day albeit just before midnight.

​Bizarrely, the same would have applied if we'd set off from Donostia that morning but then we'd have had two[2] sore heads: one from doing the pintxos rounds the night before and one from the large (very expensive) carafe of wine consumed in the bar overlooking Paris Gare du Nord (see first photomontage above).

In mitigation for the inconvenience caused by Eurostar (but not in compensation as we'd already paid for it), the meal and wine of the train was pretty good and delivered to and consumed in our comfortable seating.

All in all, we travelled on three trains (including one through the undersea Eurotunnel and one from London Marylebone to Oxford whose pace seemed glacial after what had gone before), two metro/underground trains and one bus, our trusty S6 from Oxford to Faringdon.

In conclusion

It would have been perfectly feasible to travel more than 1,400 km in less than 11 hours (see map in initial photomontage). This is arguably a roughly similar duration as catching a bus from Donostia to Bilbao, hanging around for the normal 2 hours plus at Bilbao Airport, flying to Gatwick, hanging about for luggage and then getting from Gatwick to wherever in the UK, in our case, Faringdon in Oxfordshire.  
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​The overall experience had been a wondrous one and one we were/are determined to repeat, armed with our newly gained knowledge. I cannot say we'll never fly again, given our worldwide diaspora of family, but rail (especially in mainland Europe) will definitely now be our #1 choice.

I must give a shout out to "The Man in Seat 61", a veritable treasure trove of rail information, and to David Janata (DJ) for pointing us in that direction  https://www.seat61.com/

Coming next

Having become grandparents to Niamh Ava Lyon over the Christmas period, it may be a year or so before we set off on another mega-adventure. But we are taking our granddog, Georgie, to walk some of the Welsh Coastal path near St David's, the UK's tiniest city, in March. In April we will succumb to a Spain vs South Africa BBQ[3] in our garden.

[Endnotes]:

1. Perhaps I'm being disingenuous with all the "formerly" stuff but I mean zero disrespect and it is there merely to form a connection between when Shan and I first visited the area 40 years ago, before the lovely Basque names had been adopted.
2. (Actually 4, ed.. Also the imaginary pic in the photomontage was taken almost a month earlier when you did spend a few night in Donostia ,,, https://www.marksadventures.co.uk/classic-blogs/goodbye-air-travel-the-real-journey-starts-in-montparnasse)
3. If you have to call it a "braai" so be it.