Ataun

Ataun doesn’t do postcards. The village centre is a tight knot of stone houses around the 16th-century church of San Gregorio, but the real settlement is strung out over eight kilometres of valley: farmsteads on ridge lines, hay barns half-swallowed by forest, lanes that taper into tractor tracks. Drive in from the A-1 and the first thing you notice is the sound—cows on the upper pastures, a tractor ticking over, a river you can’t yet see. Mobile reception flickers. The valley feels like it was laid out for people who already know where they’re going.

A Valley, Not a Postcode

Administratively Ataun is one municipality; geographically it’s three separate hill districts—Izortzaga, Aia-Ataun and Zumarraundi—linked by a road that keeps climbing until it dead-ends at the Aizkorri-Aratz Natural Park. Stone houses are spaced for privacy; barns are built into slopes so hay can be pitched straight onto the upper floor. The style is practical rather than pretty, but the overall effect—green meadows tilting toward beech woods—draws ramblers from Bilbao who arrive speaking Basque and leave with cheese wrapped in newspaper.

The best way to understand the layout is to treat the Lizarrusti visitor centre (free parking, loos, English leaflets) as base camp. From here a five-minute walk brings you onto the GR-283, the Idiazabal Cheese Trail, a 45-kilometre loop that never rises above 1,100 m and can be walked in day sections. Waymarks are yellow-and-white, but after rain the limestone turns slick; boots with tread are non-negotiable. In April the meadows are full of marsh-marigold and the first wild garlic; by late June the grass is thigh-high and the track narrows to a tunnel.

Cheese, Cider and the Monday Problem

Idiazabal is a town 20 km east, yet the cheese carries the valley’s accent: smoked, nutty, sometimes still wrapped in the gauze used to press it. Half a dozen farms along the GR-283 offer tastings on the honour system—leave €6 for a 250 g wedge. Look for the green “Queseria” sign, knock hard; if no one answers, the cheesemaker is probably up the mountain. Payment is cash only; the nearest ATM is back in the village and it empties on Fridays.

Evening meals are simpler than San Sebastián’s pintxo circuit. Urbitarte, ten minutes above the church, serves txuleta (bone-in rib-eye) for two at €42; ask for it “medium” and the waiter will nod without judgement. Cider houses open from late January to April, pouring cloudy sagarno from 1,000-litre barrels. The set menu—salt-cod omelette, steak, cheese and walnuts—costs €30 including as much cider as you can catch in your glass. Outside those months most restaurants close on Monday and Tuesday; arrive mid-week and you’ll be picnicking on cheese and supermarket tortillas.

Myths, Maps and Mud

The Barandiaran Museum occupies a former schoolhouse beside the cemetery. Inside, glass cases hold dragon-toothed stone idols and a 1930s field notebook in which the priest-ethnographer José Miguel sketched a forest spirit that looks suspiciously like a haystack with legs. Free English tours run on the first Saturday of the month; e-mail ahead because groups are capped at twelve. Even if the museum is shut, the terrace gives a clear sight-line north to the Aizkorri ridge, useful for deciding whether the cloud base will let you walk.

Weather is the valley’s traffic warden. When the southerly wind blows, morning fog lifts by eleven and you can see the Cantabrian coast 40 km away. When it rains, the limestone turns to soap and every path becomes a stream. The tourist office keeps a blackboard updated daily: green for “go”, amber for “poles advised”, red for “stay in the pub”. British hill-walkers used to Dartmoor bogs will recognise the amber category: doable, but add half an hour per mile and expect wet socks.

Getting There, Getting Round

Bilbao airport is 95 km west, Biarritz 85 km north-east; both drives take roughly 80 minutes on fast motorways followed by 20 minutes of twisting GI-263. Car hire is essential unless you fancy two buses and a €25 taxi from San Sebastián. In winter the last 4 km to Lizarrusti can ice over; carry snow chains December-February. Ataun has no petrol station—fill up in Beasain, 12 km south.

Public transport exists but feels like an afterthought. The Lurraldebus line from San Sebastián reaches the village twice daily; the 09:30 arrival gives you six hours before the return journey, enough for the shortest cheese-trail loop. Sunday service is cancelled without notice if the driver decides the road is too quiet to bother.

When to Cut Your Losses

August weekends bring Spanish families who rent whole farmhouses and fire up barbecues until 02:00. Accommodation is scarce; prices double. May and late September are the sweet spots: daylight until 20:30, wildflowers or autumn colour, and cider houses reopening after summer closure. Hotel Villuerca, the only place in the upper valley, has twelve rooms overlooking the beech wood; breakfast includes Idiazabal so fresh it still holds the imprint of the mould.

If the cloud is down and the museum is shut, cut your losses and drive ten minutes south to Segura. The old quarter has a proper plaza, a coffee machine that works on Mondays and a ruined castle where vultures nest in the keep. From the battlements you can look back at Ataun’s ridge and plan tomorrow’s walk when—inevitably—the valley tempts you to return.