Wild life in Spain!

I've had a few close encounters on my travels through Spain.  Numerous occasions where dogs seem to think a cyclist is fair game, it's the little ones that are the worst, the big ones are either fenced in or too old to bother.  The little snappers seem to enjoy accompanying me for 50 metres or so and almost getting under my front wheels. I started braking to avoid them but now don't bother, if they get splattered so be it, they always seem to get out of the way though.

I've seen red squirrels, foxes, lots of hares.  Ants of all sizes are a constant companion on camps.  Birds of prey are common place, I just wish I new what they were.  A birder I met on a camp site said he'd been watching a Golden Eagle so I'm sure I've seen a few of those.  I was accompanied on a lonely country road by what looked like a Falcon flying just 30ft above, it crossed my path several times scouring the fields on both sides of the road.

My closest encounter was too close.  I was cruising on a descent up in the Sierra de Cabaneros when around 20 metres in front a big Deer appeared and started to cross the road in front of me.  I braked gently knowing there was time for the Deer to cross, unfortunately the Deer spotted me and in a blind panic decided to change direction, it did a half pirouette and fell in a heap in front of me.  I braked hard on the front and the Deer scrabbled to it's feet leaving scrape marks on the road from it's hooves.  It cleared my path just in time.  

If the deer had appeared a couple of seconds later there would have been a big pile of Venison and English beef for someone to clear up!

I see snakes every day, mostly dead on the road.  The biggest was a chunky 4 ft long silvery green thing which was providing lunch for a thousand flies.  I've glimpsed a few small dark ones sliding into the undergrowth at the side of the road.

Apart from one decapitated head I could see from my Hostal window, nothing else of any real note.

I thought for a moment the head was real until I realised I'd left Santa Eufemia far behiind.  I hope?

The Heat is on

The heat is getting to me. I've had a run of days in the hills which have left me 

wasted. Invariably there is a big climb to start the day, most of the villages 

in the hill country are in the valleys.  

A couple of days ago I left the camp site and immediately started climbing, not 

desperately steep but sustained. The climbing continued without respite for exactly 

an hour, I was spinning in the lowest gear of the middle ring and with relatively 

fresh legs and the enthusiasm of the morning I was going well.

I stocked up for lunch at the small town of Villaviciosa de Cordoba and set

 off on the next leg.  On the map and as the crow flies it looked little more 

than 15 miles to the next town, Posadas.  The way was constant gruelling climbs 

and short descents, twisting all the way over and through endless forested hills.

I was crossing the Sierra de la Hornachuelos which is a Natural Park. 

I kept checking my compass for the general trend as I could have been cycling

round in circles and doing the same hills over and over again for all I could tell.

I finally rolled in to Posados three and a half hours after leaving Villaviciosa.

I'd seen 3 or 4 cars and no other people.  I'd done four and a half hours without 

food and in the blistering heat, I was in a state.  I seem to be able to go for 

hours without food although I know it's bad form.  I think the bigger issue for my

is dehydration and loss of body salts.  I sweat constantly, it drips from my head 

continually on the climbs and rolls off my arms clouding my mirror with washed off 

sun cream.

I had drunk a lot during the morning but my reserves were low. 

After riding in the heat for a few hours the water in my bottles is warm enough

to bathe in, hardly refreshing but much needed. 

I searched the sizeable town of Posados for a Fuente, not as easy to find as in 

the small villages. I spotted an area with trees and benches, normally a good bet. 

I found 1 fountain which was dry.  I asked a local woman and she pointed me to a 

second in front of a church, it also was dry.  She suggested I try around the back 

of the church as there may be one there, there was.  It was alive with wasps but I 

didn't care.  I filled my bottle and tipped the whole thing over my head.

The second filling was gulped down in seconds.  The third was poured over my 

swollen right foot to great relief.  I drank 2 more then filled all 3 of my 

bottles before deciding the wasps were a problem when I moved away.

I found a shady bench in front of the church and set about my lunch just as the 

local secondary school was turning out.  The kids filed past, what they thought 

of a dripping cyclist with a knife in his hand trying to coordinate enough to 

slice a huge beefsteak tomato I can't imagine. 

I glanced up whilst having lunch outside the church

                                                 The church where I found my salvation, water!

I still had a fair distance to do to get to the camp site I was aiming for but 

I was down from the big hills and the 'relative' lowlands of the afternoon passed

in little over an hour.  

If the afternoons route had been as taxing as the mornings I simply wouldn't have

made it and it isn't easy to wild camp as this lower area is all agricultural.

The heat is a concern as I head towards June and my long trip through and over 

the many mountain ranges in Andalusia will be a challenge, for a fat bloke!

No room at the Inn

The Dark secret of Santa Eufemia:

Some days are harder than others, yesterday was more of a war of attrition than a days cycling.

After 5 hours riding I was spent, I was probably spent after 2 hours but did 5 anyway. It was hot, it's hot every day now but yesterday was humid, the breeze was hot and I couldn't get into a breathing pattern on the hills. It was a struggle all day but today was much better.

Probably as hot as yesterday but the breeze was fresh, it wasn't as desperately hilly and I felt better able to cope with the climbs anyway.  I made good progress and had covered over 90km, at around 4:30 I rolled into Santa Eufemia and thought I'd done enough for the day. It looked like a welcoming village and indeed had a big sign on entry reading 'Bienvenido'.

I saw one Hostal on the main road into town but thought I'd ride around to see if there was more choice. There was none, as usual the place was deserted. I returned to the first Hostal, parked the Tank and went inside. It seemed very dark, maybe because I'd come in from the bright sunlight outside but maybe because I sensed some terrible truth about the place.

The owner/barman looked a stern sort of chap, miserable and clearly with something to hide. He was playing with the till and didn't bother to come over to me. Two wild eyed locals deep in conversation at the bar suddenly stopped and looked at me, their faces showing none of the usual conviviality of locals in Spanish bars, clearly they were party to the dark secret.

I shouted over to the barman to ask if they had a room for the night although I'd kind of gone off the idea by now. 'No' he said with no further explanation. 'Are you full?' I asked. He came over to me and with a menacing glare said 'For you there is no room here' I asked if there were other Hostals in the village, he clarified what I think was his original point, 'There is no room for you in the village, you must go, either up to Almaden or down to the next village, El Viso'

'I'm cycling' I said, El Viso is a long way, is there camping in the village?' I said this knowing full well that there was no way I was spending a night under canvas within stalking distance of this lunatic and his Lieutenants.

'No camping, no room, you go now'. I felt like I'd arrived in a storm at The Slaughtered Lamb, high on the Yorkshire moors on a full moon. I pushed my luck by asking him to fill my water bottles which he did, glad that I'd finally got the message. I emerged into the sunshine, mounted the Tank and peddled as fast as my legs would take me. I whizzed past the sign saying Santa Eufemia and struck through with a red line, thankful that I'd escaped with my jugular intact!

El Viso, an easy enough 15km further south was in contrast, delightful. When I eventually found the only Hostal in town it was very welcoming with pleasant staff and friendly locals. I suspect they know nothing of the dark secret of Santa Eufemia.

Giant Ants aren't so bad

I'd had a couple of testing days, the climb out of Toledo and others climbs to follow were hard.  That day ended in Navahermosa 'the dodgy hostal'.  The following day was a little easier but the crossing of the Montes de Toledo and the Sierra de Cabaneros were tough for a fat bloke on a bike.  It was hot and the climbs were long and numerous.

I read somewhere that Spain is Europe's 2nd most mountainous country, presumably after Switzerland.  It's a damn silly choice then for a first proper cycle tour.  Maybe Holland or Belgium would have been more sensible although I've heard that the hills of the Flemish Ardennes can be challenging.

I'd be interested to know what the ratio of time spent climbing to time spent descending is on days where there is little level ground, it must be in the region of 85/15 so that's a lot of time grinding 'The Tank' uphill!

After Navahermosa I was bound for another camp site, this time in Hocajo des Montes not knowing whether it would be open?  It didn't look too impressive as I approached but it was at least open.  How wrong I was, it looked very inviting with a big swimming pool surrounded by lush green lawns.

Reception was closed.  A camper in residence said hello as I was admiring the pool, I asked about reception, the shop and most importantly, the bar.  'Reception may be open later' he said, 'but forget the shop and the bar, they're closed'!  That's a blow I said, I could have murdered a cold beer upon which the chap went to his camper van and returned with a bottle of well chilled beer.

I chose a pitch on the rock hard gravel, setup my Thermarest chair against a tree in the shade, leant back and had one of those 'Ice cold in Alex' moments, beer had never tasted better, thank you Roger.

Th camp site was so well placed with great views over the town below and the mountains.  I was almost tempted to stay a second night.  when I say almost, I was!  I had a big pool to myself in the early evening so a rest day, I mean of course a laundry and bike maintenance day was called for.  The following day was less serene as a dozen students from Barcelona University arrived at the pool just as I was preparing to take my afternoon swim.  They did what young people do in swimming pools, shout, scream, splash and dive bomb, I retired to the peace of my tent cursing the vitality of youth!

In northern Spain I had grassy pitches, no such luxury for the rest of the country.  Pitches are generally rock hard gravel or stones, no chance of getting a tent peg in so improvisation is required.  Usually there are a few large stones around to help.

This is a typical setup for meal times.  A tree is handy to lean on and provides shade but my Thermarest chair works well when no tree is available.  An empty pannier is used as a table, the only down side is once I'm settled there is always something I forgot so I have to stand up from sitting on the ground which isn't easy at my age.

It doesn't do to look too closely at the ground, it's usually alive with ants of various sizes.  This site was exclusively for giant ants, they were everywhere, the more you look, the more you see.  I just ignore them, they don't seem to bite.  Getting them out of the tent is fun, they seem to sense your approach and change direction constantly but I've become quite adept at pinching then between my fingers and throwing them out of the tent.  They just go and get lots of their mates and come back so I'm fighting a losing battle!

Toledo

A Great place to walk around:

 

With it's maze of steep and narrow cobbled alleyways,  endless impressive buildings and surprises around every corner Toledo is a wonderful place to spend a relaxing day pottering around on foot.  A bike is nothing less than an almighty embuggerance but I'm there on a bike or not at all and I wasn't going to miss out on seeing the city I'd battled through storm and tempest to get to.

The locals and tourists alike once again were surprisingly tolerant of a cyclist nudging through the crowded streets, they either moved out of the way or not but never was there any problem. (That I was aware of).

I liked Toledo, more so than Segovia.  It seemed more of a lived-in sort of place, more real.  There were tour parties but fewer and the city still seemed to belong to it's residents.  As always, I found some quiet corners. A quiet spot for a picnic lunch overlooking the Rio Tajo (River Tagus) where I was interviewed in some depth by a local elderly lady who was at some point a keen cyclist and wanted to know all about my trip.  A faltering exchange conducted in 2 different languages, Spanish and an unintelligible language I speak when I try to speak Spanish, nevertheless a charming encounter. 

I enjoyed Toledo but decided to avoid cities for a while and in fact I had little choice but to head into the hills on my journey south.  Little did I know just how many hills!

On the morning of my departure from Toledo I had some trouble finding the right road out of the city and it was only my now passionate conviction that the Spanish don't understand maps, or points of the compass that got me on my way.  I did however stop to take some photos of the city from the south to salvage something from the confusion.

Oh Deer, another dodgy Hostal!

Well, here I am in a hostal because the camp site, which according the Internet is open all year round, is closed. I had prior warning as I chatted to a Dutch couple at lunchtime who had tried to camp at the same site the previous night, they arrived at the site to be greeted by a sign which said 'Abierto todo el ano' (open all year) – next to that sign was another saying 'Cerrado' (Closed)!

Welcome to Spain!

I rolled into Navahermosa with the good intention of finding some water and heading into the hills to do my first wild camp of the trip. I was frazzled, my bits were hurting and I stopped at the first cheap looking Hostal I saw. It was 20 Euros for the night and it looked like a proper Spanish dive with locals playing cards and dominoes, and rubbish all over the floor so I checked-in.

The first thing I generally do in Hostals is let in some air and light into the room, I opened the curtains, 2 sets of sliding windows and the ubiquitous shutters and the splendour was revealed!

With monotonous regularity I was greeted with a building site, I'd be disappointed if I saw anything else. There was of course a feckin great deer in the yard next door but nothing there to surprise me!

I'd been assured that there was WiFi in the hotel and there was, but it didn't work. The conversation to resolve the technical issues was interesting and fruitless. The barmaid seemed quite offended that I would suggest they had a problem with their Internet. She drafted the owner in for support and she seemed 'up for a fight' - I wasn't, she was bigger than me!

Whilst on the subject of bar staff, I have the greatest respect for bar staff in Spain, They will be there when I leave the bar at 10:30pm (Claire may read this) and they are there again when I go for breakfast at 8:00am. They do everything, serve drinks, coffee, food, sweep the floor and everything else, usually single handed, you rarely see a Spanish barman/woman not doing anything.

I'm the last customer in the bar tonight, purely in the pursuit of updating my blog of course. As is usual I haven't got a clue where I'm heading tomorrow. I'll have a look at my road map sheets before I go to bed and see what's south of here. There have to be more building sites to discover as I inch ever closer to the Med?

Ps - there was something on the menu called Venado, I asked what it was, I should have known!
I had the Squid.

Losses, repairs and bodily impairments

A pain in the Proverbial:

I'm thankful that nothing too traumatic has befallen me so far and I hope I'm not tempting fate by saying so!

I've made it beyond Madrid so if the journeys ends tomorrow it will still have been worthwhile.  It's not without it's challenges but that's just what I needed and I'm enjoying ride.

Minor niggles are always to be expected:

Repairs:  My brand new Topeak extra large water bottle cage (accommodates a standard Euro 1.5l bottle) broke on day 1.  This was anticipated as the design is suspect so I'd put a 'fix' on standby before I came away (smart arse that I am) so that was no problem.

My lavishly expensive sunglasses bought from Lidl a few days before I departed broke on day 2 but are still usable.

More worryingly I had a broken spoke on the back wheel after a fairly tame off road section on about day five. Fortunately it was on the 'non gear' side of the hub so I was able to replace the spoke without removing the cassette.  I do have a cassette removal tool but not a big spanner to turn it so if a spoke goes on that side it's a bigger problem.  2 days later a 2nd spoke broke, again on the 'non gear' side!

This was a concern so I had a rethink on my packing and shifted some weight from the rear to the front panniers, this makes the steering even more twitchy but I had to reduce the weight on the back wheel.

Amazingly in the small town of Cantalejo I found a big bike shop where I bought 6 more spokes.  I'd brought 4 spares, used 2 so I now have 8 spares.  I haven't had any break 'touch wood' since I shifted the weight around.

'The Tank' after the first spoke repair, fully functional once again (as a washing line and water dispenser).

One problem is pumping the tyre up to a decent pressure after the spoke repairs, The tiny pump I carry takes forever but after a sufficient amount of sweat has been sacrificed it gets there or thereabouts.

Losses:  I left my fancy new washing line behind early on so have resorted to the faithful old spare guy line method.  The day after my warm clothing went home in the camper van (yes, just before the weather turned)  I lost one of my remaining gloves so I'm now down to 1 fingerless glove.  Thankfully it seems the bad weather is over, for now.

Body:  Despite my general decrepitude I seem to able to keep going.  My back is no better or worse, the Facet joint injections I had before I left the UK have had no effect.  

My first issue was sore toes on my right foot, I think my feet swell up in the heat and after a few hours my cycling shoes are crushing my toes.  I almost took a knife to the leather of my right shoe but tried something else which seems to work.  every night I soak my shoe in water and refresh it in the mornings before I start cycling, this allows just enough stretch to ease things.  It does mean I start every day with a wet right foot but it's worth it.

Both of my knees twinge daily, the left one, which still requires further surgery on the cartilege is worse and feels very flakey towards the end of the harder days.  It recovers overnight so it's hopefully just a case of not overdoing it.

I gashed my right calf on the chain ring when I changed down to the granny ring on a steep alley in Toledo, the chain jammed and I almost fell in a heap unable to unclip from the pedals but just about unclipped but not without landing on the chain ring.  Blood and oil everywhere, messy, I had to stop and cleam myself up as I was putting the tourists off their lunchtime tapas.

Other than a bit of sunburn, a few Mozzie bites from the Atlantic coast nothing much else is awry, apart of course from the big one!

I've had a troublesome issue for around 10 days now.  An issue in a place where no cyclist wants to have an issue.  I'll not elaborate further but it really is a pain in the arse.  Daily appliacations of chammy cream and nightly apllications of Savlon are keeping an unhappy medium but if I make the wrong move on the saddle the air turns blue.

Despite numerous requests to local barmaids for a soothing massage, incomprehensibly, none has been forthcoming!  So far?

Who needs sleep?

Bless them, they're young!

On arrival at the camp site at Pelayos de la Presa beteen Avila and Toledo I wasn't impressed.  It seemed to be, no it 'was' a construction site, all the access roads and area around the facilities were dug up and everywhere was a mess.

I asked as usual for a pitch not too far from the servicios so that I don't need to ride my bike to go for a pee.

I was offered a couple of pitches which were just loose dirt and gravel.  The only alternative was the long grass on some spare land behind what was described to me as a sanitation block.  It was the best option!

I was assured it was a quiet area which was good as I knew I had a biggish day tomorrow.

After my customary 30 minutes of Ipod induced entertainment I settled down for the night around 

11pm.  The noise started shortly after.  It seems the sanitation block is also the staff living accommdation, whether they party every night or just on Saturdays I don't know but they made a lot of noise.  No music but lots of shouting and screaming about 5 metres way from my tent.  When I say no music, I mean no music until midnight when the party really got going.  

I lay there trying to be chilled out about the situation, saying to myself  'they're just youngsters having fun' although if I'd had an Uzi available, I suspect it would have been used! 

The music only lasted for an hour but the general din went on and on, I last checked my watch at 3am.  I'm not sure if the noise stopped then or I fell asleep but I was awoken by them clattering around at 6:30am.

Once I was up and about at 6:45 they went quiet for the next couple of hours!  Youngsters eh!

The next day was a tough one, it started immediately with a steep climb of around half an hour.

Looking back at the first climb of the day from about half way up.

The day was 80km+ and the vast majority of it was into a strong and cold head wind.  It was a digging deep sort of a day.  I finally left the region of Castilla y Leon which I'd spent 5 or 6 days in and entered Castilla La Mancha.

Todays lunch stop for once didn't look overly promising.  I entered a fairly nondescript town and headed, as usual for the church.  No water fountain but a welcoming bench and as I approached I heard the combined voices of the village children singing hymns in the church. 

The town grew on me, even the architecture of the supermarket next to the church was sympathetic.

I don't know how long the kids had been in church but when they eventually ran out every one of them stopped dead at the door to shield their eyes from the bright sunshine.

I was fairly weary as I approached Toledo.  Around 10km outside town I came to an incredibly confusing junction of roads, mostly motorway either in use or under construction.  This is the second time the road into town seemed to disappear with no option other than motorway to continue.  On the approach to Avila a few days ago I did around 2km on the motorway because there was simply no other choice.

So it was again.  I set off up a slip road only to realise after a few hundred metres it was the motorway to Madrid.  I continued for a short distance and then went the wrong way (intentionally) down a slip road joining the motorway which turned out to be under construction and not in use.  I crossed a building site 'a bit like the camp site' and joined a dual-carraigeway going in the right direction.  I wasn't sure if  it was a motorway or not but it turned out to be the 'National' road and the right one for Toledo.

This road was fine for a few km until I reached another confusing roundabout with only what looked like motorway exits.  I took the road designated as a 'CM' road as motorways are normally 'A' 'AP' or 'E' roads.  I climbed a long steep slip road on very tired legs only to find a sign at the end saying 'Autovia' - definately a motorway.  Why couldn't they put the bloody sign at the bottom of the slip road.

I went back down the slip road, the wrong way 'again'.  At no point during all my traffic misdemeanors has anyone blasted me with their horn, the Spanish seem very tolerant.

As I got back down to the roundabout the heavens open and I was battered by driving rain.  I stopped under the bridge to put my waterproof jacket on, by the time I emerged from the other side the rain had turned to hail and my face and legs stung with the onslaught.  I took the other exit which also looked like a motorway but by this time I didn't care, it was going in the right direction.

I was on a long and steeply descending dual-carraigeway, soaked through and freezing cold but I could now see Toledo.  It looked impressive but I wasn't impressed with it's welcome.

It had been a long day but Claire had booked me in to a Hostal for 2 nights so all was well.

I just had to find it.

The dangers of travelling alone!

It's been a strange day!

After a while you start to do strange things, the thing is, strange things seem normal, perhaps they are?

Today I had a conversation with my beautiful lunch companion, Lucinda she was called.  She didn't say much but I was taken by her green breast and bright red face.

More worryingly, when cooking my camp dinner tonight I was so enamoured by my dancing sausages that I felt compelled to make a short video on my camera.  Please don't spend a minute of your life watching it, it's just a pointless diversion on my bizarre voyage.

By the way I'm sat in my tent on a camp site in the back of beyond whilst I upload a video from my camera to the Internet which I find more bizarre than anything!

Today has been wonderful.  Challenging, varied and with a frisson of excitement and uncertainty.  The day started with a good soaking in Avila.  I was already late getting started due to the heavy rain and as I left the delightful hotel behind the petrol station I immediately had to take shelter under the canopy of the car wash.

The rain didn't look like letting up so I set off into Avila to have a look around.  It was cold and I reflected on 'The law of Sod' having sent some of my kit home yesterday, I could have done with my full finger cycling gloves as it was wet, windy and cold.

I didn't see Avila in a good light or a good mood so I didn't really justify the detour from my journey from Segovia to Toledo. I took a few pictures but didn't get a feel for the place and was keen to press on knowing the poor weather forecast and that I had some big hills to get over.

Once the city limit was cleared I started climbing, the climbing continued, continued and continued. 

I stopped towards the top of the climb to check my altimeter:

4700ft

Shortly after I crossed the pass at the high point and the weather turned nasty.   All the time the weather had been worsening until at just about the highest point of my trip so far there were very strong winds and driving rain.  I was in shorts, fingerless gloves and the cheapest/lightest 'waterproof' jacket I have.  The descent was long, very long and I prayed for it to end.  My eyes were stinging with the wind blasted rain, I'd given up with sun glasses as they were unusable in the conditions.  I thought about stopping and putting more gear on but I thought I'd chill down more hanging around so I just descended as fast as I dare which isn't very fast for me,  eventually I levelled out and entered a village.  My fingers, face, legs and toes were frozen, I stopped at the first bar.  It became apparent how bad I was when I got off the bike and tried to walk the 5 metres to the bar.  My legs wouldn't work and I was dizzy, my head throbbing with the cold.

I warmed up in the bar for half an hour over a coffee, put more clothes on and continued on my way.

Now at a much lower level having descended a couple of thousand feet the weather improved.  I stopped for lunch at a reservoir (where I met Lucinda) and sat in the relative warmth reflecting on how an hour before I was in the early stages of hypothermia!

Embalse de Burguillo:  

The rest of the day was much easier going and I rolled into the camp site from hell around 5pm.

To be continued.....

Tea & Hobnobs, we are English

Today I rode from Segovia to Avila, reluctantly I took the N110 which is a 'National' road but I was assured that it's not too busy.  It was 70 odd kilometres and options for quieter roads were limited or more accurately, none existent.  It wasn't too bad, there is always a hard shoulder on these roads and most of the drivers give you a very wide berth.  Nevertheless it was a fast road and not ideal.  Anyway I'm in Avila now and failing to find a camp site I'm in a Hotel, the view from which was worth the slog along the N110.

Yesterday I could see the Roman aqueduct in Segovia from my hotel, albeit some distance away, today it's a 30ft concrete wall!

No big climbs today but continual rolling hills with 10 minute climbs 

and 2 minute descents which after 

a few hours take their toll.

This was a small town en-route which for

some reason had a huge church?  As is becoming

routine the roof was occupied by nesting Storks.

This is a Spanish motorway at 2:00 o'clock on a Friday afternoon!

This was just the start of today's offering in the way of lunchtime interest.  I headed for the village square as usual, the Plaza Major.  I found the Fuente to quench my thirst, as I slugged my first bottle a campervan with British plates pulled to a halt.  I ended up having a very pleasant lunch with the occupants, a lovely couple from Yorkshire whose cycling exploits put my little jaunt into perspective.  They once spent 6 years on the road and have toured all over the world.  The vans facilities were used to provide post lunch tea and biscuits, some French equivalent to chocolate Hobnobs, very nice too!

I'd been considering the option of dumping some of my kit, I'd brought too much as expected but for a miser like me I wasn't comfortable doing that.  I also thought about posting a parcel home and probably would have taken that option had I not had the kind offer of having my surplus kit travel home in style in a campervan.

So it was, in the middle of the Plaza Major I had a kit explosion and decided what could go:-

1 pair socks, 1 pair cycling shorts, 1 thermal top, 1 synthetic jacket, 1 spare buff and a fold-up washing bowl which I haven't found a use for yet.  If the weather turns now I may be sorry but at least I'm travelling a bit lighter and I have a bit of spare room in my panniers.

Oh, today I heard my first Cicadas so I must be making some progress south!

Segovia:

Spectacular city, but too many tourists!

I do realise that I'm one of them but it's the groups, the tour parties of 30+ being shepherded around by their tour guides.  That's the trouble with beautiful places, they're popular.  Maybe early morning or evening would be a better time to see Segovia, things may be closed then but that wouldn't worry me too much as I can't walk around them anyway.

I did however take the plunge. lock my bike up and pay my 3 euros to go inside the Cathedral, it seemed too impressive from the outside to miss the opportunity.

The inside was spectacular but no photos were permitted, below is a selection of pictures I didn't take!

The 2 main things I wanted to see in Segovia were the Roman Aqueduct and the Arabic Castle, the Alcazar.

The Aqueduct was constructed in the late 1st century AD.  Built from granite blocks with no mortar it was designed to bring water from the nearby hills into the city, it's just short of 100ft tall at it's highest point.

 I didn't go inside the Alcazar, from the outside it's drastic refurbishment makes it look a little too perfect and modern for me.  The fairytale turrets were apparently Walt Disney's inspiration for the castle in Sleeping beauty.

 

After a few hours doing the tourist thing I headed off the beaten track where I feel much more at home.  I found a back street bar, full of locals which did excellent tapas.  

A few more photos from around Segovia - 

I'd now better check the map to see where I'm going tomorrow, I suspect it may be a bit hilly!