A Swell Weekend in Biarritz
Long sandy beaches, elegantly accommodating Atlantic rollers. This is where surfers await the big one, The Wave, their stage for a virtuoso performance lasting just a few, important, seconds. Hang Ten, guys. Or maybe you might just want to visit the Casino?
In Biarritz, traces of pre-war elegance can still be glimpsed among the surfer bars, the cafes and restaurants created for the no-frills, low cost traveller. It’s not the Cote d'Azur, it’s a bright and breezy alternative on the Spanish border, a Basque town with a vibrancy of its own. This is a different party, favoured by smart Parisians who regard Mediterranean resorts as a little gauche, once a principal winter destination for English sophisticates, and dudes.
It’s small, but when the local rugby team has won, it makes a noise. Dressed as Red Indians, the fanatical support dance and sing, whistle and sound their horns late into the night, while down on the beach, where the surfers sleep, European teenagers dance to a different rhythm, drinking and rollicking around in the warm night air (in summer anyway), illuminated by the moon and occasional fire-eaters.
And in the bars and bodegas which sell carafes of sangria, pichets of rose, and Spanish beers, and stay open too, relaxed visitors wander to and fro, grazing on tapas as they go.
Biarritz is a happy place.
How to get here
Biarritz is near the French border with Spain, a central city in the 'Basque region' which straddles the two countries. From the UK and Ireland, Ryanair and Easyjet operate summer schedules. They also fly from other European cities, as do Air France.
The green alternative, all year round, is the train. Biarritz is 5 hours direct from Paris Montparnasse by superfast TGV, details from Rail Europe.
Total driving time from Calais is 10 hours by car, probably twice that in a VW campervan loaded with full-size surfboards. But if you get the long ferry to Santander in Spain from Plymouth or Portsmouth, it's just a couple of hours east from there.
OK. WE’RE HERE.
There's a romantic aura about Biarritz, almost raffish in places, which stretches back to the days when European aristocracy used to visit regularly. There are grand villas on the surrounding headlands - now mostly converted into apartments - and the large hotels in town are outnumbered by smaller, nattier places for weekends rather than full fortnights.
Bayonne is adjacent, so you can expect a lot of delicious, salty ham spread throughout the predominately fish diet. It's sunny in summer and bracing in winter, the surf forever breaking on the sandy beach.
Just 18 kilometres from the border with Spain, this is a cosmopolitan resort, where French restaurant and cafe staff speak Spanish, then English, and serve Sangria as readily as wine. It's in the Basque Region, but in that part of France which is 'unofficially' Basque. Separatists want unification with the official, Spanish Basque area, and of the many forms this movement takes the flag, the Ikurrina, will be strangely familiar to Brits, being a red and green version of the Union Flag.
It's a carefree resort revolving around the beaches that in summer are populated by families happily coexisting with surfing dudes. In winter, those rubber-clad surfers have la Grande Plage to themselves, but are watched closely from the promenade by graceful retirees walking their tiny yapping dogs. On Sundays, local families engage in a little promenading, what the Italians would call passeggiata, a slow stroll in the early evening to meet and chat with the neighbours in the warm glow of the setting sun.








