Gorliz

The tide is out at Playa de Gorliz and the Cantabrian Sea has left a surprise: a natural rock pool the size of a football pitch, warm as a bath and full of crabs the colour of paprika. Grandparents roll up their trousers to wade in, toddlers chase shrimp with plastic nets, and a teenager in a wetsuit marches past carrying Nordic walking poles he’s just borrowed from the tourist office. Nobody pays the lifeguard any attention—he’s busy adjusting the floating lane markers for the 500-metre sea-swimming circuit that opens every morning at ten, free of charge.

This is Gorliz on a sunny weekday in May, 25 minutes by car from Bilbao’s airport and even closer as the gull flies. From June to August the same sand is towel-to-towel with families who have driven down from the city for the evening paseo, but outside peak season the village slips back into its default setting: 5,000 residents, one working fishing boat, and a promenade wide enough for pushchairs, dogs and the occasional mobility scooter without anyone having to swerve.

The Beach That Thinks It’s a Lake

Gorliz’s trump card is a crescent of sand almost two kilometres long, facing north-east so the Atlantic swell arrives already softened. British swim-camps rate it “beginner-friendly” because the gradient is gentle and the currents predictable; on breezy days you can still body-board without being dragged to Portugal. The council rakes the sand daily in summer and provides showers that are actually warm—useful if you’ve brought the dog, because four-legged friends are allowed on the western end all year and there’s even a tap labelled “perros” that delivers fresh water at paw height.

Mornings are best. Turn up before eleven and you can park for free on the frontage road; after that you’ll be circling with the rest of Bilbao. If the barrier is down, follow the locals to the left-hand ramp behind the hospital—signed “Faro”—where spaces usually remain even at midday. From the ramp a smooth gravel path climbs gently to the clifftop, wheelchair-friendly and pushchair-proof, leading to the 18th-century lighthouse that now doubles as a viewpoint over the Abra estuary. On a clear day you can clock the outline of Gaztelugatxe, the dragon-stair islet made famous by Game of Thrones, and plan to arrive there before the tour buses leave Bilbao at ten.

Lunch, Basque-Style, Without the Bill Shock

The promenade cafes look touristy but the prices haven’t caught up. A plate of pollo a la brasa—golden rotisserie chicken seasoned only with salt and patience—costs €7.50 and arrives with a foil pouch of chips big enough to share. Add a jarra of txakoli, the local white that fizzes slightly when poured from height, and lunch for two is still under €25. Children are welcomed with colouring pencils and a complimentary “Gilda” pintxo: an olive, anchovy and mild guindilla pepper skewered together, salty enough to make the soft drink taste sweeter.

If you prefer to self-cater, hop on the L3 bus for five minutes to Urduliz where Mercadona stays open through siesta. Back in the village, stock up before two o’clock: the mini-marts roll down their shutters until five and the only thing left on the shelves will be tinned squid in its own ink—delicious, but a brave choice for a beach picnic.

Walking Off the Calamari

Gorliz sits on the Camino del Norte, so the council has way-marked trails in three directions. Eastwards the path hugs the cliff to Plentzia, twenty minutes of sea air and wheeling gulls; the surface is tarmac, level and buggy-friendly. Westwards it’s wilder: a stony track climbs through coastal pines to Armintza, a tiny harbour where fishing boats are hauled up a slipway that groans like an old floorboard. Allow an hour each way and wear trainers—flip-flops will be punished by loose shale.

For a longer outing, continue past Armintza to the flysch cliffs at Barrika, striped rock that looks like a giant liquorice all-sort. The return loop is 12 km; buses back to Gorliz are infrequent, so download the Bizkaibus app and check the last departure before you set off. Winter walkers should note that the path can turn viscous after rain—pack a spare pair of socks and don’t trust the brown “shortcut” signs that lead straight across a golf course; the greenkeeper has no sense of humour.

When the Weather Turns

Gorliz has its own micro-climate, the result of the mountains behind and the bay in front. April often delivers four consecutive days of sunshine while Bilbao drizzles under a grey lid. Conversely, when a galerna wind roars in from the Atlantic, temperatures drop ten degrees in half an hour and the sand becomes a sandblaster. Smart visitors keep a lightweight cagoule in the day-pack; the ones who don’t can be identified by the redder half of their face as they battle back to the car park.

Winter is quiet but not closed. The council installs floodlights on the promenade so locals can power-walk after work, and the bars still serve hot chocolate thick enough to stand a churro in. On 28 December, the “Día de los Santos Inocentes” pranksters tape paper cut-outs to tourists’ backs; laugh, buy the bar a round of coffee, and you’ll be invited to the New Year’s Eve sardine barbecue on the beach at midnight—wellies recommended.

Getting There, Getting Away

Public transport is straightforward. The A3518 Bizkaibus leaves Bilbao’s Termibus every 30 minutes; the journey is 35 minutes and costs €1.65 if you buy a Barik card at the airport. Drivers take the BI-631 coast road—scenic, but expect queues on summer Saturdays. If you’re combining Gorliz with Bilbao, stay on the coast and commute in; hotels in the city charge twice the rate and you’ll swap sea views for traffic noise.

Check-out time in most apartments is 11 a.m.; if your flight is late, ask for the luggage room key and spend the last few hours on the eastern end of the beach where dogs are allowed. The outdoor shower by the surf school has hot water, so you can rinse the sand off the Labrador before the drive back to the airport. Remember to return the Nordic walking poles—Monday to Friday only, and the office shuts for lunch.