BBK Music Festival

We set off heading for the BBK festival in Bilbao, the Spanish equivalent of Glastonbury, a little jaded after our exertions in Pamplona.

On the way we decided we should get the van sorted so that we could rationalise the number of bags we needed to carry with us to the festival, as we also needed to take the tent and sleeping stuff etc. We pulled into a garage and set about the task of emptying the van. We were well into the process when I spotted in the corner of my eye a police car approaching, here we go, I thought. Three police men got out of the car and started off aggressively asking questions. We hadn't got a clue what they were asking us but they didn't appear to be full of the joys of spring. We did the usual "English" and did our best to explain that we were on a European tour and going to the  BBK festival, which didn't really have any impact, but as soon as we said we had been to the San Firmin festival (Pamplona), we got a few guttural si, si's and they left as quick as they had arrived. To be fair to them as we reviewed the carnage of boxes, bags, crates of beer, strewn all around us, we probably did look a bit suspect.

The setting for the campsite and festival was stunning, high up in the mountains over looking the city of Bilbao. The camp site was at the top of the mountain and the festival half way down, with buses ferrying people between the campsite the festival and Bilbao. 

At the campsite we were led to the spot where we needed to pitch our tent. Now this was the first sign that we wern't the usual festival goers type! We'd gone for the luxury tent option, two double bedrooms, blow up mattresses the works, no slumming it for us. We put the tent up to lots of funny looks around us. It was a bit like Billy Smarts big top in amongst a field of one man pop up tents! Our Spanish neighbours asked us how many more people were joining us "no, its just us" we said, to much amusement on their part. We did offer to give them a guided tour of the tent once fully erected and equipped!

The festival itself was good but it was clear that our age put us in a minority group and it felt like we had jumped from the frying pan of Pamplona to fire of BBK, wacky bacci abounded and everyone was permanently pissed! I'm not going to go there re toilets and showers, suffice to say I didn't shower for three days.

For those of you who have teenagers you will be aware that their body clock is different to everybody else.  They don't get out of bed until early afternoon and come in from a night out in the early ours of a morning. This was the same clock the festival was operating on. The music started mid afternoon and went on until 4am, with the headline groups coming on stage about 2am. Now the problem was that our bodyclocks wern't wired in that way, so usually by about 1am, we'd get the bus back to our tent (we didn't have any problems spotting the big top in amongst the sea of the other somewhat smaller tents) and get to bed. On our first night we'd also spotted a bar just on the outside of the camp 'perimiter fence' which never appeared to be open!

Now the problem with mountains is that by definition the land isn't usually

Breakfast

flat, and in the camp site there were just varying degrees of slope on where you pitched your tent, so as we settled down in a somewhat peaceful campsite, it became a constant battle against the forces of gravity, and we spent most of the night pulling our mattresses and sleeping bags back up the north face of the Eiger! All was sort of good until about 4am when the festival finished and everyone reappeared at the campsite.

The bar just outside the campsite suddenly sprang to life and started blasting out music and everyone (except the two Victor Meldrew's) were sat outside their tents drinking smoking and chatting. By 7am the commotion died down and a sense of calm and tranquilly took over the camp, just as me and Bob had given up on getting any sleep and decided we should get up and get some breakfast. As we set off to try and find something we picked our way through bottles and rubbish strewn everywhere and finally dropped across somewhere selling coffee and doughnuts, all the other fooderies were shut until 12! So we grabbed what we could and headed off into Bilbao.

This pattern repeated itself for the remaining two nights, with the addition of Antonio. I think what started off as a shout for someone who had been separated from his group, quickly became adopted by everyone around the campsite, it was like a verbal Mexican wave just rolling round and round.

On the final night we decided an early start the following morning was called for, to get the tent down, packed away and off on the first bus back to civilisation.  After the usual hubbub, and I think through a total lack of sleep I must have drifted off into a deep sleep. I was woken by Bob shouting me, and when I came round, half the tent was down and packed away. If I'd have slept much longer I think Bob would have left me to it!

Oh the festival? Yes it was good, there were some good bands on at the including Lumineers, Bastille, Jack Johnson, Franz Ferdinand and Black Keys. Our favourite by far was Allen Stone - R&B music.

After spending 3 nights battling the bar music, Antonio and trying to anchor ourselves on a cliff edge, we were ready to head to San Sabastean for a couple of days recharge before heading back to Blighty. If we were jaded after Pamplona we now just needed sleep and a shower!