Hot in Bilbao:

I'm torn between updating my blog and taking a siesta, after yesterday the latter is a higher priority but I'll do an update first, conscientious soul that I am!

I've realised already that to keep a detailed blog every step of the way will be too time consuming and this trip isn't about spending time on a computer so I'll post random snippets as and when I get the time and the opportunity.  

I won't elaborate too much on yesterdays ride from Laredo to Bilbao, I think I need to 'man-up' and get on with it, suffice to say that it was very hot, hilly and I got lost twice. 

The previous day riding from Somo to Laredo was less hot, less hilly and shorter and I managed to stay on track.  Tomorrow I head into the hills proper and considering the way I struggled on the lesser coastal hills I'm a little concerned to say the least.  

Today, in Bilbao it's been very hot, 35deg C right now.  It will be cooler tomorrow thankfully.  I had the choice of taking a train into the city today or cycling.  The 50 metre hobble to find some breakfast this morning (the hovel has nothing more than a vending machine by way of sustenance) was enough to make the decision for me, walking at all wasn't an option so with some trepidation about cycling in the city I took that option.

After a short but fruitless foray I discovered a largely traffic free road/track which ran the 3 or 4 km to the Guggenheim which was really the only thing I was determined to see, the building that is, I'd given up on the option of walking around the museum which I didn't mind too much, I'll survive without seeing the David Hockney exhibition.

The building is stunning, certainly the most interesting modern building I've seen.  It's titanium and limestone construction catch the light and the scale is impressive.

I rode further into the city enjoying the warmth (no hills to climb) and ventured into the old town where as is obligatory for me, I got hopelesly lost.  I'd have been dissappointd if I hadn't.

The city and it's inhabitants seemed very relaxed, I cycled through crowded pedestrianised streets and nobody seemed to mind.  One thing I don't understand is that I have hardly heard anyone in Bilbao speaking anything other than Castillian, where are all the Basque speakers?  Lots of loyal Athletic Bilbao supporters were wearing their 'Red and White' shirts despite the 0: 3: defeat last night.

Spider scuplture

The Basque National sport: Pelota

The Old Town  'Casco Viejo'

Typical Plaza

Now it's Siesta time - oh, maybe 1 more photo:-

The Hovel

I never did understand football

Come-on you Red & Whites!

I should probably be posting about my day cycling to Bilbao, or even the Hotel I'm staying in for 2 nights (which is 3 nights too long) but I'm sure I'd regret using the choice language necessary to describe either of these traumas.

Instead I'll post about football and specifically the Europa Cup final which was played tonight.  I arrived in Bilbao after a feck of a day (sorry, I promised not to) and very soon realised that a big match was imminent.

Every 3rd citizen of Bilbao was wearing a red/white vertical stripe shirt.  A small number of people were wearing a green shirt with a bit of red and white.  

I googled the match and found it was tonight at 8:45pm,  a fact becoming increasingly obvious by the continuous 'bangs' from fireworks.  The local boy racers with trailing scarves and flags (red & white) were in evidence as I entered Bilbao and at least 50% of the houses were suitably adorned with 'red & white'.

I ventured out in to a balmy Bilbao evening just around kick-off time with the primary goal of replenishing my chronically depleted Glycogen levels but not averse to having a beer and cheering on the lads in Red & White.  The 1st bar I enter is the Bar Arabic. The score, just a few minutes after kick-off is 1: 0: to the Red & Whites.  The clientele were a little too bohemian for football supporters and showed little enthusiasm for the match.

I should mention that the other team 'Athletico Madrid' were playing in the Green shirts I'd seen a few of around town, maybe there were a few brave Madrillenos in town?

The score on the T.V. was shown as ATL 1:  ATH 0: which for a match between Athletico Madrid and Athletic Bilbao wasn't very helpful.

The 1st bar had no food so I had to move on, the second bar had no food but I thought it rude not to have a beer so I did.  Curiously the locals here also showed so little enthusiasm for the match that my confusion about who was who continued.

The 3rd bar had some food, I ate 2 lumps of cardboard masquerading as Chorizo Omlette baguettes.  By this time it was 2: 0: to the Red & Whites so I asked the barmaid who was who?  It seems both teams play in the same vertival red & white stripes but Bilbao were in their Green away strip.  This explained the lack of enthusiasm, more so when the third Madrid goal went in!  

Forgive me for thinking all the fans dressed in Red & White might be supporting the team in Red & White, stupid assumption really!

I'm now back in my hovel, it seems having purchased lots of fire-crackers the locals are going to let them off regardless of the arse kicking their team received.  

I think I'll stick to cycling, or maybe after today, take up darts!

Lost in translation

I expected some problems with the language but.......

 
Ah well, I'm heading into Basque country tomorrow so that should nice & easy!!

Down on the Hoe:

National heroes, War Memorials and Fairground rides.

I spent the couple of spare hours I had yesterday afternoon after arriving in Plymouth down around the Hoe. The sun was shining and tourists and locals were enjoying the Bank Holiday weekend.

I found the placing of a 'Big Wheel' amoungst the historic monuments quite stark.

 It's as well Sir Francis Drake is concentrating on the view out to sea.

I've always found the endless view out to sea to be intriguing, it promises adventures in far away lands and gives an impression of scale and distance, so much more romantic than hopping on a plane.

Right on cue a Brittany Ferries ship leaves the dock and winds around bouys to the open sea.

I had another day to wait and grew ever more impatient.

Yesterday evening the all to familiar routine of hand washing my clothes began. I had a sink and a radiator, an opportunity not to be missed. 

So now I'm killing time waiting for my 15:45 ferry. Travelling I generally enjoy, apart of course from getting my bike on and off trains, but waiting to travel is so frustrating. I just want to get to Spain and get pedalling.

The Joys of Travel

The Art of Bike Wrestling:

A 5:00am alarm call confirmed that the day had finally arrived. I intentionally left little time to hang around so it was a slightly rushed breakfast, a quick goodbye and off into the morning chill. My first few metres cycling away from the drive was reminiscent of Coco the Clown as I was reminded just how unstable the bike is when fully loaded.

This was the third time in recent months that I'd done the ride in to Manchester and it always takes longer than expected? Fearing a puncture, which could have very expensive knock-on effects, I allowed plenty of time so had time to relax with a coffee at Piccadilly before the stress of getting 'The Tank' on board. The train was quiet,, no Wembley bound football supporters as feared. It was just as well as it took me 20 minutes to get my bike installed in one of the allocated spaces.

Manchester city centre at 7:00am
on a bank holiday Saturday.

The bike had to be mounted vertically which meant removing the front panniers and the slot was too narrow for my handlebars. A titanic struggle involving the loss of a small quantity of blood was required to complete the job. I then had 5 hours on the train to stress out about having to do it again.

I changed trains at Newton Abbott, the onward train to Plymouth was far from quiet! It was standing room only, there were a dozen people in front of me queueing to get on and one of them had a bike. All the bike slots on the train were already full. I self-consciously barged the Tank on to the train and completely blocked both the doorway and the corridor. Surprisingly everyone seemed good natured about the situation, I suspect it was a Bank holiday vibe and the situation would have been quite different on a work day. Needless to say I stood for the entire journey, continually shunting the Tank around to make way for people. I now view the train part of cycle-touring as something to be just tolerated, like the transit through Airports on other journeys.

Now I'm stuck in my bargain B & B in Plymouth unable to walk anywhere for food, the evening meal offered and booked seemingly not available at weekends?

My host has offered to let me order a take-away and eat in the dining so now it's a question of whether I dare have a curry the evening before a 22 hour sea crossing!

So, the day I'd least looked forward to is done and I can now embark on my Spanish oddysy.

I hope the Bay of Biscay isn't too lumpy tomorrow!

My bike is too heavy!

I'm not sure whether it's the 40 piece family cutlery set or the Le Cruset casserole dishes but my bike seems considerably heavier than makes any sense!  I can barely lift it off the ground so it should be fun trying to manhandle it on to a train tomorrow morning.  If I put my back out at Piccadilly station I'll just embark upon a hideous deception for the next few weeks and post a series of outrageously exciting adventures from my 'travels in Spain'.

I am carrying a few days supply of food to save some pennies and more clothes than I will hopefully need once I get established in Spain.  I'm sure my first encounters with northern Spain's mountains will promote a more lightweight approach.  I'll try to resist my hoarding instinct and ditch some kit when I get the chance.

A fully loaded touring bike

An overloaded touring bike

I'm hoping my train tomorrow won't be packed out with Liverpool supporters heading down to Wembley, I'd read there is a shortage of trains from Liverpool so it may be!  I need to change trains at Newton Abbott in Devon which means manhandling 'The Tank' again.  I'll stay in Plymouth tomorrow night but will try to resist a night out on Union Street!

I'm not sure when I'll next get the chance to update this blog, maybe from my Oxygen tent in a hospital in the Basque country? 

I think my pre-match nerves are on a par with those youngsters playing at Wembley tomorrow, can't wait for the whistle to blow!

Let the journey begin.

Project map?

An exercise in vagueness:

I arrive in Santander on Monday 7th May 2012, I'll then take a short ferry crossing to Somo where I'll spend my 1st night.  I then plan to take 2 days to cycle along the coast to Bilbao camping somewhere along the way.  After 2 nights in Bilbao allowing a day to see the city, I'll head inland.

My route isn't fixed at all and no further accommodation is planned. 

The plan is simply to 'Head to the Med'

The route below is one possible option depending on how I take to cycle touring, if my back and indeed the rest of my ageing body holds up and assuming I don't have a drastic re-think - which I probably will.


View Spanish project in a larger map

My sister and brother-in-law live in La Alforquia in Almeria province and my brother and sister-in-law are nearby in Zurgena.  The plan/hope is to visit them by which time it will be 'hot' in Andalusia,

I'll then need to start thinking about how to get home again?  

My preparations are almost complete now.  I was derailed yesterday when tidying a few things up at the bank.  I discovered that none of the 3 credit cards I intend to take actually work in the ATM.  Half an hour trying to sort out the mess was enough to get me a parking ticket and also almost make me late for my hospital appointment. 'The best laid plans'.....

My back injections yesterday don't seem to have had any ill-effects so the project will begin as planned on Saturday.  It remains to be seen over the next week or 2 whether there is any improvement in my condition.

Still a couple of days to unpack and repack several times before an early start on Saturday to ride Piccadilly station in Manchester.  I'd originally planned to take a train to Torquay and ride to a campsite on the edge of Dartmoor then on to Plymouth the following day.  With the recent weather in the southwest the prospect of arriving at the ferry for a 24 hour crossing soaking wet and carrying soggy kit didn't appeal too much so now it's 2 trains to Plymouth and the cheapest B & B in town.  Hopefully the rain will hold off for my ride to the ferry on Saturday.

Having said that the current weather in northern Spain looks positively Mancunian, I might change the name of my blog to '2 Wheels, a Walking stick and a Brolly'!