The last regata of the summer

We walked down to the Puerto Viejo just as the light was going, not really expecting much, and found half of Getxo already lining the breakwater. The traineras were still specks out past the pier.

When the first boat came into view the noise started — a low «¡aupa!» that rolled down the sea wall and got louder as they closed on the line. The kids caught it immediately and were soon shouting along with strangers, all of us leaning over the railing.

By the time the crews rowed in it was properly dark and the bars behind us had filled up. We stayed until the last boat was tied off, then walked home the long way, past the lit-up gondola.