On your left, you will see a sprawling modern complex set beside sunken concrete dry docks, all anchored by a towering, bright red crane.
We have arrived at our final destination, the Itsasmuseum Bilbao. This vast space, covering twenty seven thousand square meters, sits on the very ground where the massive Euskalduna Shipyards once operated. In two thousand nineteen, the museum updated its name to include the Basque word for sea, itsas. It was a deliberate choice to modernize its image while anchoring it firmly to local roots.
The most striking feature here is the bright red stork crane, known as La Carola. Built in the nineteen fifties, it was once the most powerful lifting machine in Spain, capable of hoisting sixty tons. Its construction is a marvel of the era. The steel plates were joined using rivets, thick metal pins heated to nine hundred degrees Celsius and pounded into place with mallets. But the crane owes its name to a much lighter piece of local lore. It was named after a woman named Carol Iglesias, who crossed the river every day to go to work. According to urban legend, she was so striking that whenever she passed by, the shipyard workers would drop their tools and stare, bringing production to a complete halt. Now, La Carola remains a beloved emblem, illuminated at night by thirteen dynamic spotlights to serve as a symbolic lighthouse for the city.
Yet beneath this charming folklore lies a much harsher reality. During the nineteen eighty four Battle of Euskalduna we just discussed, this exact ground became a war zone. Desperate to save their livelihoods, workers set up flaming barricades and burned buses. They even used giant slingshots to fire heavy metal scraps, cut with blowtorches right here in the yard, at the riot police. It was a brutal conflict that left dozens injured. Despite their fierce resistance, the shipyards finally closed in nineteen eighty eight.
That transition, from an active, soot covered industrial powerhouse to a clean, curated museum, has not been without friction. There is always a tension over who gets to define a city's memory. For years, a historic wooden fishing boat called the Nuevo Antxustegi sat rotting in the elements here, until public outcry forced the museum to launch a specialized woodworking program just to restore it. More recently, a foreign investor tried to turn one of the historic wet docks into a commercial wave pool and indoor skydiving center. It took a judge's ruling in two thousand twenty two to permanently block the project and protect the docks as industrial heritage.
There is another, more joyful survivor resting in these docks. The Gabarra, a humble nineteen sixties barge originally used to haul iron, was repurposed in nineteen eighty three to parade the victorious Athletic Club soccer team down the river. Over a million people lined the banks. It sailed again in two thousand twenty four, cementing its place as a floating monument to the city's triumphs.
Bilbao's maritime and industrial past is no longer something lived in the grime and sweat of the shipyards. Instead, through efforts like the museum's thoughtful rebranding to honor its Basque roots and the fierce preservation of the Carola crane, the city has successfully transformed its scars into powerful symbols of an evolving identity. As our walk ends, take a moment to look out over the dry docks, and reflect on the generations of struggle and pride that forged the ground beneath your feet.
