Zarautz (Zarauz)

The 2.5-kilometre beach is still in shadow when the first surfers jog past the bakery on Calle Nagusia. Boards under arm, they head for the break that rolls in off the Cantabrian Sea almost every morning of the year. By the time the sun clears the green ridge behind town, wet neoprene is already dripping from balconies and the lifeguard is hoisting the day's flag colour. This is Zarautz: a place where tourism is welcome but never the only pay packet in town.

A Promenade That Refuses to Rush

Unlike the cove beaches further west, Zarautz unfurls in one continuous sweep of sand. Even at the height of August you can usually find a clear patch without performing a towel tango. The promenade runs the full length, backed by a mix of Belle-Époque villas, 1970s apartment blocks and glass-fronted cafés whose terraces fill at coffee time—still 10.30 here, Brexit or not. Walk west and the blocks thin out; dunes and marsh take over at Iñurritza, a protected biotope where herons replace Instagrammers. A gravel path loops the river mouth in twenty minutes, fine in trainers if you don't fancy sand in your shoes.

The water is Atlantic, not Mediterranean. In July it reaches a balmy 21 °C; in February it drops to 12 °C yet the line-up stays busy. Surf schools operate year-round, charging around €35 for a 90-minute group lesson including board and wetsuit. Spectators get their own reward: the break is close enough to the promenade that you can follow the action without binoculars. When a swell hits, the wave peels cleanly left and right, giving beginners a long ride and experts something to carve.

Old-Quarter Pintxos Without the San Sebastián Squeeze

Turn inland at the medieval watchtower and you are in the casco histórico within three minutes. Streets are narrow, mostly traffic-free, and the pintxo bars still price skewers at €2–€3—half what you will pay 20 km east in Donostia. Locals recommend Bar Alameda for txangurro (spider-crab gratin, essentially fancy crab on toast) and Txalupa's gilda, the classic olive-anchovy-pepper stack that tastes saltier than it looks. Order one item at a time; the barman will chalk your tally on the bar top and you pay when you leave. Cards are increasingly accepted, but carry a €20 note to avoid blushing at the till.

The Gothic church of Santa María la Real squats at the centre, its sandstone façade blackened by centuries of sea air. You can step inside for free most mornings before the 12.00 Mass; the interior is unexpectedly light, thanks to 19th-century restorations that removed earlier clutter. Round the corner, the fifteenth-century Torre Luzea leans slightly, testimony to coastal subsidence. Don't expect stately-home interiors—Zarautz prefers its history on the outside, readable during a slow wander rather than a ticketed tour.

A Coast Path That Ends in Grilled Fish

The camino costero to Getaria leaves from the western end of the promenade. Three miles of cliff-top track, partly board-walked, deliver you to the harbour where Juan Mari Arzak and Pedro Subijana first learned to cook. Allow 90 minutes at British strolling speed; the gradient is gentle but the wind can double the effort. Getaria's medieval streets reward the hike with some of the coast's best grilled turbot—order a half fish for two at any harbour-side asador (€35–€40). If legs protest, Euskotren trundles back to Zarautz in 12 minutes for €2.70, leaving you free to sample the local txakoli, a lightly sparkling white poured from height to coax out bubbles.

When the Wind Dictates the Day

Weather is the unspoken curator. A morning that looks bright from your hotel window can turn brutal once the norte wind picks up. The beach posts a colour-coded flag system: green for safe bathing, yellow for caution, red for keep-out. Even green days can mean a shore dump that flips unsuspecting swimmers. Check the municipal Twitter feed (@ZarautzUdala) before packing the bucket and spade; lifeguards update daily at 10.00 and 15.00.

Winter travel has its own rhythm. Between November and March the town reverts to residents-only: cafés keep shorter hours, surf film screenings replace open-air concerts, and hotel rates drop by half. The upside is empty waves and a parking space wherever you fancy. The downside is rain that arrives horizontally; bring a proper coat, not a festival mac.

Getting Here, Staying Here, Moving On

Bilbao is the easiest gateway. EasyJet and BA run year-round from Heathrow, Bristol, Luton and Manchester; summer adds Edinburgh via Vueling. Direct ALSA buses meet most flights and reach Zarautz in 75 minutes (€9). Drivers take the AP-8 toll road—€6.50 each way—and should aim for the sign-posted Orbita underground car park; surface bays fill by 11.00 in July and August.

Accommodation clusters in three flavours: sea-front hotels with spa wings, family-run guesthouses in the old quarter, and self-catering flats above the shops. Prices spike during the Rip Curl Pro in mid-September; book early or shift your dates by a week. Train travellers need no car at all. Euskotren's narrow-gauge line links Zarautz to San Sebastián every 30 minutes; the journey costs €2.70 and drops you beside La Concha beach in 40 minutes. Bicycles can be hired at the station for €15 a day if you fancy pedalling the greenway that follows the Urola river inland.

What the Brochures Leave Out

Zarautz is not picture-postcard perfect. Post-war apartment blocks intrude between elegant villas, and the odd empty plot waits for investment. The west end of the beach turns stony at low tide—fine for rock-pooling, hopeless for sandcastles. Evening noise carries; Saturday night drifts can keep light sleepers awake until the bars close at 02.00. And while the town markets itself as a family resort, teenagers may find the nightlife tame after a single weekend.

Yet these rough edges are what keep the place alive in January when the deckchairs are stacked. Children still learn to surf in PE lessons, grandparents still gossip in the covered market, and the baker knows which way the wind will blow before the forecast does. Come for a night and you'll tick off a long beach, a decent pintxo crawl and a sunset selfie. Stay for three and you may find yourself checking the surf report over morning coffee, arguing about whether the wind will swing offshore by noon—just another local, temporarily.