I grew up in the Basque Country, which means I’ve always known that the north is the best part of Spain. Fiercely Basque and unapologetically biased, I’ve spent years trying to convince others that a northern Spain road trip isn’t just an alternative to the south—it’s the upgrade. But let’s be honest: most people still flock to the Andalusian sun, flamenco, and sangria, thinking that’s the real Spain.
And then they come north.
Suddenly, everything changes. They taste cider poured from shoulder height in Asturias. They hear Galician bagpipes echo through foggy hillsides. They drive through Cantabrian cliffs that make coastal California look like a warm-up act. They eat pintxos in a San Sebastián bar so tiny it barely fits a jamón. And without fail, they look at me and say, “Why didn’t anyone tell me Spain was like this?”
Exactly. That’s what I’ve been saying.
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This northern Spain road trip took me across four regions: the Basque Country, Cantabria, Asturias, and Galicia—and reaffirmed everything I’ve always believed: the north isn’t Spain’s secret, it’s Spain’s soul. Wilder, greener, rainier (yes, bring a jacket), and bursting with local flavour, it’s the kind of place that gets under your skin in the best possible way.
So if you’re up for a road trip with more cliff-edge wow moments, more local wine and weird cheese, and more “how have I never heard of this village?” kind of detours—this guide is for you.
Ready? Let’s drive.
Before you start blasting Spanish rock and plotting your pintxos stops, let’s cover a few road trip basics. A northern Spain road trip is one of the most spectacular ways to explore the country—but it pays to be a little prepared (especially if you’d rather not reverse down a mountain road with a sheer drop on one side. Ask me how I know…)
Ideally, 2–3 weeks will give you the time to slow down, detour, and fall in love with at least one fishing village you’ll immediately plan to retire in. But if you’re pressed for time, a well-planned 10–14 day northern Spain road trip can still pack in the highlights—just be ruthless with your itinerary and don’t try to do everything. The magic is in the meandering.
The north doesn’t follow Spain’s sunny stereotypes. Spring (April–June) is gorgeously green, summer (July–August) is lively and warm but not roasting, and autumn (September–early October) brings fewer crowds and rich colours. Winter can be wet, wild, and very empty—great for writers, less so for beach lovers.
You’ll need one. Public transport can only get you so far, and it’s not exactly designed for scenic detours or pulling over to pet cows. Most major rental companies operate out of Bilbao, Santander, or Santiago airports. I recommend renting from a local company where possible—often better service, less upselling, and more flexibility with one-way rentals (Bilbao to Santiago is a great route if you don’t want to loop back).
I always book through Discover Cars as it scans all available providers and then ranks them not only by price but also by customer ratings. I’ve managed to get some real steals with them, including a 3-week rental for £57 (that is not a typo!).
Pro tip: book early in summer. Prices jump faster than a Basque grandmother defending her tortilla recipe.
You’ll encounter everything from slick highways to winding single-track roads that sheep treat like personal runways. Take it slow in the countryside, especially in Asturias and Galicia, where hairpin bends are a local sport.
Parking in cities can be a nightmare—park just outside the centre and walk in. Oh, and don’t even think about honking unless someone’s actually about to cause an accident. You’re in the north now. We’re calm here.
Need more help? I’ve got a full guide here: Tips for Driving in Spain
Layers. Lots of layers. The weather changes faster than your playlist, and you will get rain at some point. A waterproof jacket, good walking shoes, and a swimsuit (you never know!) are essential. Also, pack an open mind, an empty stomach, and something with a bit of stretch—trust me, you’ll need it after a week of fabada and fresh-baked bread.
Accommodation: Skip the big chains. Go for agroturismos, casas rurales, or pensions—cheaper, charming, and far more local. Airbnb and Booking.com are my go-tos for finding the best local spots!
Food: Lunchtime menús del día are your best friend—three courses and wine for under €15. Shop at markets for picnic supplies and eat like royalty with a baguette and local cheese on a cliff somewhere.
Before we dive into the day-by-day breakdown, let’s get our bearings. This northern Spain road trip winds through four of Spain’s most underrated regions—each wildly different in character, but all united by a deep sense of identity, hospitality, and “you’re not going to believe this view” kind of landscapes.
You’ll pass from chic seaside cities to misty mountain villages, from pintxos bars to cider houses, from Roman ruins to raw, wave-battered cliffs. And just when you think you’ve seen it all, Galicia throws in a haunted forest or two, because why not?
Here’s a quick taste of what’s to come:
This is where I grew up, so I’m entirely biased—but rightly so. The Basque Country has sharp coastlines, lush hills, Michelin stars, and ancient traditions that still feel alive today. You’ll find surfers and suited locals sharing pintxos in San Sebastián, modern art tucked between medieval alleys in Bilbao, and vineyards clinging to hillsides like they’re trying not to spill their secrets. It’s classy, a little rebellious, and utterly magnetic.
If Cantabria were a person, it’d be the quietly cool friend who always knows a scenic shortcut and has incredible taste in cheese. It’s a region full of charm and contrast—medieval villages with flower-filled balconies, prehistoric cave art, and beaches so pretty it’s almost rude. It’s also where I took one of the most terrifying mountain drives of my life, so… buckle up.
Asturias feels like stepping into a fantasy novel where everyone drinks cider and cows outnumber people. This place is unfiltered nature: jagged peaks, emerald valleys, dramatic coastal cliffs, and villages so untouched you’ll wonder if you’ve gone back in time. The food is hearty, the weather is unpredictable, and the people? Salt of the earth, but don’t expect small talk. They’re too busy hiking up mountains and pouring cider from a great height while making it look easy.
Galicia is the land of legends—of witches, wandering souls, and seafood so fresh it might still fight back. It’s rain-soaked and poetic, with windswept cliffs and forests that seem to whisper. You’ll find Celtic roots here, bagpipes and all, alongside Roman lighthouses, sacred pilgrim paths, and sleepy fishing villages that make you want to throw your phone into the sea and stay forever.
Ah, the Basque Country. My homeland, my heartland, and arguably the crown jewel of any northern Spain road trip (totally unbiased, of course). This is where the journey kicks off with sophistication, surf, and some of the best food you’ll eat in your entire life. Probably ever. No pressure.
Start your northern Spain road trip in San Sebastián, and prepare to be ruined for food forever. Pintxos are our version of tapas—but smaller, better, and with actual rules. The Old Town (Parte Vieja) is your playground. Here’s my personal pintxos crawl:
La Concha beach is the city’s showstopper, but if you want space to breathe—and fewer families armed with inflatable flamingos—head to Ondarreta, just around the bay. It’s where the locals go, and the vibe is more laid-back picnic than Instagram shoot.
Hop on the Monte Igueldo funicular, a creaky old thing that takes you up to the best view of the city—if you survive the ride. It feels like it might derail at any moment, but that’s part of the charm, right?
Hidden Gem: Chillida Leku Sculpture Park—an open-air art museum in a forested setting that’s so peaceful, you’ll forget you’re only 15 minutes from the city. It’s art-meets-nature done right.
Take a slow drive west to Zarautz, a surfy little town with a huge beach and even bigger waves. If you’re lucky, you’ll catch a surf competition. If you’re not, you’ll just enjoy watching people fall off boards while you sip coffee from a promenade café. Win-win.
From there, follow the coast to Getaria, a fishing village that punches well above its size in charm and fresh seafood. This is txakoli wine country—crisp, fizzy, and made from grapes that cling dramatically to hillsides like they’re auditioning for a telenovela.
If you’re up for a proper off-the-beaten-path moment, see if you can join a meet-the-fisherman tour. I did one once and ended up gutting a fish with someone’s granddad named Kepa. Don’t expect them to speak any English though!
Yes, the Guggenheim is iconic and looks like a futuristic armadillo. Go see it. But then venture into Zorrotzaurre, the old industrial district-turned-creative hub. There’s graffiti art, cool cafés in converted factories, and zero tourists. It’s where the soul of modern Bilbao really lives.
Grab lunch at La Ribera market—a beautiful blend of market hall and gourmet food court where you can taste-test your way through the region.
For somewhere to stay that doesn’t feel like a business conference centre, look for boutique guesthouses near Casco Viejo or across the river in Bilbao La Vieja—edgier, younger, and home to some of the city’s best bars.
From the sophisticated swagger of the Basque Country, your northern Spain road trip glides into Cantabria—one of those regions that nobody talks about, and honestly, I kind of hope it stays that way. It’s a place of secret beaches, storybook villages, and dramatic cliff-top drives that’ll have your co-pilot clenching the armrest.
They say Santillana del Mar is the town of three lies: it’s not a saint (santo), not flat (llana), and not by the sea (del mar). But it is outrageously pretty. Cobblestone streets, honey-coloured houses, and the kind of medieval vibes that make you want to buy a lute and start writing sonnets.
Just outside town are the Caves of Altamira—home to some of the oldest prehistoric art in the world. Okay, technically, you can’t see the original cave anymore (we’re humans; we ruined it). But the replica is so well done, I promise you’ll still get goosebumps.
If you’ve got a dark sense of humour or just a morbid curiosity, pop into the Museo de la Tortura (Torture Museum). It’s gruesome, yes, but surprisingly fascinating. I went in for “a quick look” and came out questioning the entire history of humanity.
A short drive away is Comillas, a seaside town sprinkled with modernist architecture and a dash of eccentric flair. El Capricho de Gaudí—a psychedelic summer house designed by the man himself—is the star of the show. Think ceramic sunflower tiles, twisting towers, and the sense that someone might have been slightly high when they drew the plans.
Wander down to the coast for a windswept walk along cliffs that drop dramatically into the Atlantic, or explore the town’s crumbling cemetery—it’s surprisingly beautiful, and the sea views are unbeatable for contemplating life (and death, obviously).
Time to leave the coast behind and head inland to the Picos de Europa, where things get steep, green, and gloriously remote. The drive to Potes is a jaw-dropper, especially if you take the Desfiladero de la Hermida gorge, a twisty road carved into limestone cliffs. One wrong move and you’re in the river, but hey, what’s a northern Spain road trip without a little adrenaline?
Once in Potes, settle into a mountain inn where the Wi-Fi is questionable but the cocido lebaniego stew is divine. This is slow travel at its finest—crackling fireplaces, fog rolling over the peaks, and locals who still wave at strangers.
Don’t miss the Fuente Dé cable car, which whisks you 750 meters straight up in four minutes. At the top, you’ll feel like you’re standing on the edge of the world—assuming you haven’t passed out from the altitude or the vertigo-inducing glass platform.
If Cantabria is quietly charming, Asturias is its wilder, moodier cousin who lives in the mountains, brews their own cider, and disappears into the forest every weekend for “fun.” It’s rugged, dramatic, and proudly off the tourist radar, which makes it an absolute dream for a northern Spain road trip. Expect jagged cliffs, prehistoric caves, misty hiking trails, and locals who pour cider from above their heads with deadly precision and zero spillage (how? Still a mystery).
Start your Asturian leg in Llanes, a colourful fishing town with a big personality and bigger waves. The old town has narrow streets and painted balconies, and the port has been transformed with quirky Cubist sculptures known as the Cubos de la Memoria—basically giant graffiti boulders by the sea.
Take a wander along the Senda Costera, a coastal trail that snakes its way to blowhole-ridden beaches like Bufones de Pría—a dramatic spot where the sea literally shoots up through holes in the cliffs like nature’s own geyser show. It’s wild. It’s loud. It’s nature showing off.
Tip: Make sure you time your visit with high tide!
Food-wise, you’re in for a treat. Try fabada asturiana, a rich bean stew with chunks of meat that could power you through a blizzard. Wash it down with sidra (cider)—but be warned: it’s flat, funky, and best enjoyed in a sidrería where the floor is sticky and the waiters are trained in cider theatrics.
Next, head inland to Covadonga, a sacred site nestled in the foothills of the Picos de Europa. It’s got a chapel in a cave, a waterfall beneath the altar, and some serious legend energy—this is where the Christian Reconquista is said to have begun. Dramatic much?
If you’re up for a hike—or a twisty drive that’ll test your nerves—the Lakes of Enol and Ercina are jaw-droppingly beautiful. Think alpine meadows, mirror-still lakes, and cows who honestly couldn’t care less that you’re taking 800 photos of them.
Swing back into civilisation with a stop in Oviedo, Asturias’ refined little capital. It’s clean, calm, and full of culture—but don’t let the tidy streets fool you. These people know how to party. And by party, I mean drink a lot of cider in very strange ways.
Check out the Pre-Romanesque churches on the city’s edge, then head to Calle Gascona, aka the Boulevard of Cider. Here, sidrerías line the street, and the cider is poured from height to aerate it. You have to drink it immediately after it’s poured or risk offending every Asturian in the vicinity. No pressure.
The last stop in Asturias is Cudillero, a fishing village so picturesque it makes your camera weep. The houses cascade down a cliff like pastel dominoes, and the harbour view from the top of the village is hands-down my favourite photo spot in all of Spain.
There’s not much to “do” here—and that’s the point. Wander. Sit. Order fresh fish. Watch the world go by. This is the kind of place that makes you fantasise about quitting everything and buying a blue house with a red roof and a small boat you’ll never learn to sail.
By the time you reach Galicia, you’ll feel like you’ve entered a different country—and in some ways, you kind of have. The language changes. The landscapes shift. Even the vibe takes a turn from rustic rebellion to mystical melancholy. This is where Galicia really earns its place on your northern Spain road trip: it’s atmospheric, full of ancient soul, and as lush and green as a Tolkien fantasy.
Start in Lugo, a small city with a massive secret—a perfectly preserved Roman wall you can walk the full circumference of. It’s 2,000 years old and still standing strong, which is more than I can say for most travel relationships.
The old town is wonderfully lived in. You won’t find trendy brunch spots or curated boutiques here—just tiny bars, local chatter, and octopus (pulpo) served on wooden plates with a healthy glug of olive oil and paprika. Hard to go wrong.
Bonus points for practicing your Galician here. Even if all you manage is “graciñas,” the locals will appreciate the effort—and probably feed you more.
Next up, A Coruña—a breezy seaside city that feels like it was designed for dramatic film scenes. The Tower of Hercules is a UNESCO World Heritage lighthouse that’s been guiding sailors since Roman times, and the Paseo Marítimo wraps around the coastline like a red ribbon, perfect for a long walk (or deep contemplation about your life choices).
If you’re craving beach time, there are hidden sandy coves just a short drive away, often with no one else on them except a couple of brave surfers and a dog named Pepe.
Also: the Empanada Gallega here? Life-changing.
Whether you’ve walked the Camino de Santiago or just driven here like a cheat (no judgement), this city marks the end of something big. Pilgrims shuffle into the grand cathedral square, some teary, some triumphant, some quietly wondering if their blisters were worth it. They were! Especially if your reward is cake.
Because yes, Tarta de Santiago is reason enough to walk 45 days across the country. It is made with almonds, sugar, eggs, and lemon zest. This humble cake is dense, moist, and dusted with icing sugar in the shape of the Cross of Saint James. It’s gluten-free, blessed by tradition, and best with a strong coffee and a smug smile.
Beyond the sugar high, the old town is buzzing with life. Get lost in the crooked alleyways, eavesdrop on pilgrim reunions, and join a local feast in a taberna where someone’s Abuela is stirring the pot. Santiago may be a spiritual destination, but it also knows how to celebrate.
If you’ve got time—and a taste for the wild—keep going west to the Costa da Morte, or “Coast of Death.” Cheerful name, right? Blame the shipwrecks.
Finisterre was once believed to be the end of the known world, and honestly, standing on the wind-whipped cliffs as the Atlantic crashes below, it still feels like it. You’ll find lighthouses, stone crosses, and possibly a witch or two (Galicia is full of them).
And the seafood? Let’s just say I’ve eaten barnacles here that tasted like the ocean had a baby with butter.
If you’re doing a northern Spain road trip right, you’re not booking a chain hotel next to a roundabout and calling it a night. You’re tucking yourself into stone guesthouses, seaside pensions, and mountain inns where the owner still milks the cows in the morning and makes your breakfast from scratch. That’s the magic.
Skip the sterile stuff. This is a region full of agroturismos, casas rurales, and charming family-run guesthouses. You want creaky wooden floors, hand-embroidered pillowcases, and maybe a host named Maribel who insists you try her homemade quince jam before you leave.
Top tip: when browsing, ignore the star rating and read the reviews. You’re looking for repeated mentions of:
Sometimes, the best travel stories start with where you sleep. And northern Spain—being the overachiever it is—delivers some truly unforgettable places to rest your head. If you’re up for a bit of adventure (and bragging rights), swap the standard hotel room for one of these gems:
A Lighthouse Hotel on the Galician Coast
Ever wanted to fall asleep to the sound of crashing waves and wake up with a lighthouse beam sweeping across your pillow? At O Semáforo de Fisterra, perched on the dramatic cliffs of Finisterre, you can do just that. It’s remote, wild, and a little eerie—perfect for channelling your inner moody novelist.
A Restored Monastery in the Mountains
Tucked in the Asturian countryside near the Picos de Europa, Parador de Cangas de Onís offers monastic calm, without the vow of silence. Think vaulted ceilings, ancient cloisters, and the most peaceful sleep of your life (unless you find it too quiet and start imagining ghosts).
A Designer Cabin in the Cantabrian Forest
If you’re craving off-grid but make it chic, Villas de la Roca near Comillas offers tiny architect-designed cabins set into the hillside. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows mean you’re basically sleeping in nature, only with excellent Wi-Fi and very Instagrammable coffee setups.
If your northern Spain road trip doesn’t include a moment where you stare lovingly at a wedge of cheese or almost propose to a plate of octopus, then you’re doing it wrong. This region is a food lover’s dream—and not just in a fancy-restaurant way. It’s rustic, it’s real, and it’s ridiculously good. Here’s what to eat, drink, and detour for.
Forget tapas. In the north, we do pintxos—bite-sized bursts of flavour perched artfully on bread or skewers. And while you’ll find them across the region, San Sebastián is the undisputed capital.
My San Sebastián Pintxos Crawl (Bring stretchy pants):
In Bilbao, skip the overdone spots near the Guggenheim and head to the Casco Viejo (Old Town). The pintxos here are grittier, louder, and a bit more experimental.
Top picks:
Every region has its own edible identity, and you’ll taste your way through four distinct culinary cultures on this northern Spain road trip.
Basque Country
Cantabria
Asturias
Galicia
Drinks here are as local as the accents—and just as varied.
Pro tip: ask for what the locals drink and try it, even if it comes in a chipped glass in a bar where the chairs don’t match. Especially then.
There’s no better way to experience a region than by eating your way through its market stalls.
One of the joys of a northern Spain road trip is that you’re not just crossing regions—you’re crossing cultures, dialects, and worldviews. The north is fiercely proud of its roots, and while most people do speak Spanish, dropping a word or two in Basque, Asturian, or Galician can win you instant respect, a smile, and maybe even a free slice of cake.
Basque Country (Euskara)
Basque is unlike any other language in Europe. It’s older than any other language in Europe. Locals won’t expect you to speak it, but using a phrase or two shows you’re not just here for the Instagram shots.
Asturias (Asturian / Bable)
Asturian is still spoken in rural areas and used on signs, but it’s more of a cultural badge than a daily necessity. Locals will love your effort though!
Galicia (Galego)
Galician sounds like a melodic cousin of Portuguese, and you’ll hear it in everything from bar chatter to road signs to the weather report. Throwing in a few words will earn you serious local points.
This is not a fast-food culture. A northern Spain road trip is all about slow travel, and that includes lunch. Don’t expect quick service, and please don’t chug your wine like it’s a race. If you’re in a hurry, grab a bocadillo. Otherwise, settle in. You’re here to savour.
A quick “hola” or “buenos días” when entering a shop, bar, or elevator goes a long way. In villages, not saying hello is basically a criminal offence. Say it with a smile, even if you’re soaked from coastal rain and 47% hangry.
Locals love helping curious travellers—especially those who aren’t asking where to get a Starbucks. Try:
“¿Dónde coméis vosotros?” – Where do you eat?
“¿Qué me recomiendas?” – What do you recommend?
Then go wherever they point and order whatever they say. That’s how you end up eating tripe stew in a bar full of farmers—and having the best meal of your trip.
There’s a special kind of joy in finding a place that makes you whisper, “Should we even be here?”—usually followed by awe, silence, and at least one terrible attempt at a panoramic photo. This northern Spain road trip is full of those moments, but here are three that most guides leave out (and selfishly, part of me hopes they stay that way).
Deep in the Asturian mountains near Arenas de Cabrales, there’s a literal cheese cave where wheels of Cabrales mature slowly in dank, delicious darkness. It’s a blue cheese so potent it could clear a room—but also so full of character you’ll be dreaming about it for weeks.
I visited Quesería Vega de Tordín, where they took me into the cave, handed me a slab the size of my face, and poured local cider like it was a religious rite. The best part? You can buy a wedge straight from the source and have a picnic overlooking the Picos de Europa while your mouth tingles with creamy, salty goodness.
Just don’t store it in your rental car overnight unless you want to drive around with the windows down for the rest of the trip.
Between Comillas and Potes, you’ll be tempted to stick to the fastest route. Don’t. Instead, take the long, winding road through Cabuérniga Valley, past villages like Carmona and Renedo that feel frozen in time.
This route meanders through pine forests, meadows, and tiny hamlets where stone houses huddle together like gossiping aunties. You won’t see tour buses. You will see cows in the road, chimney smoke curling from old stone cottages, and possibly a man in a beret carrying a loaf of bread the size of a canoe.
Stop at Venta de Fresnedo for coffee, or lunch if you time it right. It’s the kind of roadside inn where you ask what’s on the menu and the answer is “What’s in the pot.” That’s how you know it’s good.
In the region of Ourense, not far from the better-known hot springs, there’s a place called Fervenza do Toxa—a waterfall hidden in the forest that feels straight out of a fairytale.
The walk down is leafy and peaceful, and then suddenly you hear it—a roar of water tumbling 30 metres down a moss-covered cliff. The best part? To get there, you cross a Roman bridge that’s somehow still standing, and probably haunted (but in a good way).
There’s no ticket booth, no crowd, and no souvenir shop. Just the smell of wet earth, the occasional frog, and that brilliant feeling that you’ve stumbled onto something magical.
Before you set off with your rental car, Spotify playlist, and dreams of coastal cheese picnics, here are a few of the most common (and occasionally ridiculous) questions I get about doing a northern Spain road trip. Some of them I asked myself on my very first solo adventure—where, spoiler alert, I had absolutely no plan and somehow still had the time of my life.
It was actually the destination for my very first solo trip. I had no itinerary, no reservations, and no clue what I was doing. I just followed brown tourist signs, random “mirador” (viewpoint) pins on Google Maps, and a very vague sense of west. When I got tired, I’d look for the cheapest hotel.
It was messy. It was magical. I never felt unsafe, never felt lonely (unless I wanted to), and somehow had deeper, more spontaneous connections than I’d had on any group trip. So yes—a northern Spain road trip is perfect for solo travellers. Just say yes to detours, don’t over-plan, and always pack snacks.
Absolutely. Spain has an active vanlife and camping culture, especially in the north, where the landscapes beg for sunrise coffees and cliffside dinners.
There are campsites all along the route—some rustic, some fancy, and most with epic views. Wild camping is a bit of a grey area and technically not allowed in most regions, but you’ll often see vans parked in scenic spots overnight. Be respectful, tidy, and avoid setting up camp where you’re clearly not supposed to be. (Hint: if a cow is staring at you judgmentally, move along.)
Apps like Park4Night and Campercontact are gold mines for finding good spots with reviews and amenities.
Mostly yes—but it depends on your definition of “safe.” The roads can get narrow, winding, and steep in places like the Picos de Europa and the Galician interior, but they’re generally well-maintained and well-signposted.
If you’re nervous, take it slow, avoid driving at night in rural areas, and absolutely read my full guide here:
Tips for Driving in Spain Like a Pro (Even in the Mountains)
It can be surprisingly affordable—especially compared to southern Spain or France—but it really depends on your travel style.
Here’s a rough daily breakdown:
Style | Budget (per day) | What It Gets You |
Shoestring | €40–60 | Basic guesthouse, menu del día lunches, supermarket snacks, maybe a cheeky cider |
Mid-range | €70–120 | Boutique stays, a few splurge meals, entry to attractions, and proper local wine |
Fancy | €150–250+ | Designer hotels, tasting menus, spa time, and probably a scenic hot air balloon |
Vanlifers can shave that budget way down, while foodies should budget up—because once you start tasting txakoli with freshly grilled squid, all financial restraint goes out the window.
Ah yes—the Asturian sidra ritual. It’s practically sacred, and offending your pourer is… well, let’s just avoid that, shall we?
Here’s how not to mess it up:
Follow those steps, nod respectfully, and you’ll fit right in.
I’ve travelled a lot—sometimes with a colour-coded itinerary, sometimes with nothing but a gut feeling and a full tank of petrol. But this northern Spain road trip? It shifted something. It was slower. It was messier. It was quieter in all the right ways.
Unlike the polished postcards of southern Spain, the north doesn’t try to seduce you with obvious charm. It sneaks up on you. A moment on a misty hillside. A bowl of stew served by someone’s grandmother who calls you mi niña. A random detour that turns into the highlight of your week. It’s not showy. It’s soulful.
What struck me most was how deeply rooted everything felt—from the languages to the landscapes to the lunch menus that haven’t changed in fifty years. Travelling here reminded me that there’s beauty in not rushing. That the best experiences aren’t always the ones you plan. That getting a little lost on a mountain road is sometimes the best thing that can happen to you.
So if you’re teetering on the edge of “should I?”—take the leap. Pack the snacks. Follow the brown signs. Say yes to detours, yes to second helpings, yes to the tiny bar with the handwritten menu you can’t decipher. A northern Spain road trip isn’t just a route—it’s a reminder that the road less travelled often has the best food, the best views, and the best stories.
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