Back to 'Civilisation'

People, cars and Irish Bars:

I left the camp site at Las Negras soon forgetting my sleepless night and the dozen or so Mozzie bites.

I knew the first few kilometres was uphill as I'd descended the same road the day before.  The hills are not big on the Cabo de Gata peninsula but from sea level, it was enough to work up a good sweat.

I had my usual accompaniment of flies along the way.  I can usually out run them on the level and on the fast descents they are no trouble but on the slow climbs, when I'm mouth agape, gasping in as much air as possible they are a real blight.  I've swallowed several over the past few weeks.  Passing through Trevelez a few days ago I almost choked on one, I had to stop and for 4 or 5 seconds I coughed, spluttered and heaved until finally the fly was expelled and flew away, it was like a scene from 'The Green Mile'.

The big climb was followed by an exhilarating descent to a much flatter section.  The quiet road between Fernan Perez and Agua Amarga was a delight, flat and straight giving an opportunity to soak up the remote desert scenery.  A short section of relatively busy 'N' road led into Carboneras.  I stocked up on lunch and headed eastwards remembering a dramatic road climb ahead from previous trips (in the car!).

I stopped for lunch on my very own deserted beach.

After my customary lunch of ham, cheese, tomato and fresh crusty bread which after a month I still haven't tired of, I decided to take a swim.  I took off my cycling shoes and socks and immediately had to put the shoes back on, the sand was too hot to walk on.  I got to the waters edge and saw that just 3 metres out the beach shelved steeply into inky depths.  I didn't like the thought of the undertow and of drifting slowly out into the Med watching my faithful companion 'The Tank' get smaller and smaller.  I wimped out and went for a paddle up to my knees which I enjoyed anyway.

The 2 photos below were taken from the same spot, my preferred option - the beach down to the right and the actual onward route, the road above to the left!

And there's more!

Looking back at some of the climb, it really wasn't too bad, a fairly forgiving gradient.

I dropped down into the resort of Mojacar, the culture shock was immense, lots of people, cars, buildings.  It was like getting back to Manchester after a week in the highlands, a little overwhelming.  I eventually found the camp site in town and was registering when I asked about the bar, shop, restaurant etc 'all closed' - they don't bother to tell you this unless you ask.  I employed my UK booking Agent (Claire) to have a look on the Internet for a Hostal.  she quickly found one, didn't book it but gave me the address and said the place was fairly central.  It was on the Avenida Mediteraneo which is around 7 miles long and when I eventually gave up searching and stopped to ask I was told it was a further 3km to the east.

                                                         Proper big building, cars and all that!!

                                                                 And real people, dozens of em?

Probably unnoticed by many of Mojacar's visitors, the resort is overlooked by an impressive mountain range, the Sierra de Cabrera.

I'd planned to spend 2 nights in Mojacar and therefore have a rest day but the hostal was full for the following night so I moved just a few mile up the coast to Garrucha for the next night.  That left me with just 20 odd miles to head inland to my brothers and sisters places the following day. 

One last day of riding and my emotions were all over the place!

South of Granada

Getting closer:

I spent the night at truckers type hostal near the motorway about 20 miles west of Granada.  The room was fairly abysmal but after a day when I'd had to travel further than intended to find a room it was welcoming enough with friendly staff and generously sized tapas so no need to buy dinner as usual.

The view of course was beyond reproach!

I tried the next day to follow the 'Canal de Cacin' which is an irrigation system rather than a navigable canal.  It ran west to east, parallel to and a mile or south of the motorway so would suit my purposes for getting 15 miles or so closer to Granada before heading south.

I'd reluctantly decided not to visit Granada on this trip.  I'd spent time there a few years ago with Claire and have seen the main attractions including the incomparable Alhambra.  I didn't think I'd make the best of it on my bike so I skirted Granada to the west to head towards my beloved Las Alpujarrras.

I had thought of crossing the main Sierra Nevada range on my bike but my legs and lungs thought better of it.  I was also concerned about the breaking spoke situation, I'd had a third in recent days.  It was always a long shot anyway as there is normally too much snow on the route in early June, I was informed that this probably is the case now.

The canal wasn't easy to get started on, I'd been told the accompanying route was a good road although it was shown as a Camino on my road map.  I started on a road but it soon turned off in the wrong direction. 

I found myself on rough, shaley tracks which climbed and descended steeply as the canal went through a series of tunnels and over aqueducts.  The 15 miles would take all day at this rate.  At every property I passed I was welcomed by barking dogs, this gets fairly tiresome after a while.

I stopped at one house where 4 dogs were complaining about my arrival.  I asked a chap in the garden for directions.  He came out and pointed my in the right direction, I had to descend most of the height I'd gained.  He didn't seem to think there was on onward route by the canal so he directed me to the motorway where there is a camino running along side.  This is what they do in Spain when roads get upgraded to motorways, there is usually, but not always  a camino alongside for use by cyclists and local farm traffic.

It was very rough in places, my 'bits' did not approve of the route and it was very time consuming.  The camino came to a sudden end where I had to cross the motorway and continue on roads on the other side.

I crossed the motorway a 2nd time at a junction where I wanted to head south, a few miles west of Granada airport.  Again the roads didn't quite fit in with my map, I was going in the right general direction though and in fact ended up on the canal camino again for a good few miles.

As I got further east, towards Granada I caught my first glimpses of the distant Sierra Nevada range, still with snow on the tops, they were barely visible in the afternoon haze but I could see enough to reminisce about my days on these big mountains and I wondered if I'd get to explore them again.

I headed south with views of the Cumbres Verdes, the limestone foothills of the Sierra Nevada and saw the familiar profile of the impressive hill Trevenque, more memories of days in the hills.

I knew it was just one more night before I'd enter Las Alpujarras, my adopted second home and in particular the high village of Bubion.  I was like a kid on Christmas Eve!