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!

The road to Segovia

If in doubt, have a look:

When in Aranda I studied or rather glanced at my road map for that's all I have for the way to Segovia.  It seemed to be one long journey on the same road.  There was a camp site marked at Cantalejo which was around half way so it made for 2 reasonably short days which I felt I needed as I'm still acclimatising to the heat and a wee bit saddle sore.

Although it's the main road between 2 significant cities it's still fairly quiet with probably an average of 1 car passing me every 3 minutes or so.  Both days were hot and the road ahead seemed long, probably as it was often visible for several miles ahead.

 

 

I've learnt that it's best to buy lunch before leaving civilisation in the morning because it's not always possible to find something during the day.  The road to Cantelejo was short on villages to stop in as on previous days, all signposted villages were a big diversion from the road.  

After around 3 hours riding I generally look for a village to stop in rather than just stop at the roadside.  I tend to head for the church where there is normally a Fuente to replenish water stocks and a bench to sit on.

It's normally called Plaza Mayor, there is normally a dog which remonstrates at my presence but loses interest fairly quickly and there are usually very few if any people to be seen.

I was getting desperate for a stop and sustenance having ridden for longer than I wanted to in the heat.  In the distance I saw some buildings which barely looked like a village, more a collection of farm buildings and I couldn't even see a church, a bad sign.  I turned off the road anyway to have a look.  It was a village, there was a small church, a Plaza Mayor and a barking dog.  Furthermore there was a village duck pond where I spent half an hour devouring my lunch but sharing bread with the ducks.  Entertainment was provided by busy newts on the wall surrouding the pond.  Two old boys sat on a bench passing the time of day and taking no notice of the strange foreigner on an overloaded bike.  I liked Tajares, there wasn't much there but it seemed like a nice place to live.

I was pleased that I'd investigated so the following day in similar circumstnces I did the same. 

This time I ate my lunch watching and being watched by Storks nesting in the church belltower.

As I write I'm on my first of 2 nights in Segovia so tomorrow I'll get to have a look around a city I've looked forward to seeing. 

A couple of place names that caught my eye along the way:-

I thought about stopping here for

Steak and Chips but thought better

of it so I pressed on to the next village but it took me a long time to reach it!

Settling in to a routine

Life on the road:

I'm on a pleasant camp site in Cantalejo between Aranda and Segovia. It''s 6pm and cool in the dappled shade with a gentle breeze, I've had 2 cups of tea and slugged down lots of water since arriving and now feel human again.

Today was hot. The road was long and straight and seemed to go on forever. The scenery has markedly changed from the verdant hills of Cantabria, the Basque country and even the northern part of the huge province of Castilla y Leon. I'm still in Castilla y Leon but things are now a more arid. My tent pegs could be pushed in with a soggy tissue today, the ground is very sandy and covered with Pine tree detritus, not to mention fag ends!

Not for the first time I'm the only tent on the site. There are wooden bungalows here but none seem to be occupied. There were a few people around but I think they were day visitors, it's some sort of nature park with bikes for hire. (Addendum: It's a centre for outdoor activities for the Rio Duraton National Park, mainly Kayaking on the river further north).

My supply of Meths for my Trangia 'may' last tonight but I'll need to find some tomorrow. I'm sure

my perfect pronunciation of 'Alcohol de Quemar' will bring instant results very much in the way that I've been understood immediately every time I've stopped someone for directions or asked for a Panaderia or Fuente! They look at me as though I came in from the planet Mars but in the end say exactly the word I've been saying and point me in the right direction. I guess the locals don't speak Spanish as well as me!

I have to say, the locals everywhere have been incredibly friendly, they actually look pleased that I stopped to ask them something. Several times I've had a friendly squeeze of my arm as I depart, how often does that happen in the UK?

Anyway, about my wind problem!

I had a run of 3 or 4 days when after slogging uphill for most of the day I've had a big descent in the afternoon, usually dropping down to a town for the night. As I'm travelling generally south all the time I'm finding that the afternoon sun on the southern slopes of the hill is creating an Anabatic wind so strong that unless the descent is steep, I've had to pedal downhill as well! I suppose that's something I'll have to get used to as most of my journey will be due south.

I fitted a handle-bar mounted compass just before I came away and it's a great bit of kit.

It's got me through major towns and confusing villages, I just glance down and if the North arrow is pointing towards me, I'm heading south and all is well.

I'd mentioned in a previous post the Spanish couple camped opposite me at my camp in Trespaderne, the first stopping off point after Bilbao.  As is becoming a pattern, I was the only tent on the site, it was very quiet and as I requested a plot near the 'servicios'  - not because I have a weak bladder, although I do, but so that I don't have to resort to either going for a pee on my bike (not 'on' my bike) or having to resort to the walking stick.  I'd been sandwiched between 2 unoccupied bungalows with no one else in site which  suited me fine.  Little did I realise that my peace was about to be shattered by Spain's noisiest couple.

Incidentally I'd been offered the use of the veranda of the adjacent bungalows along with a table and chair which I found all a bit too decadent but accepted the use of a plastic chair, luxury!

The couple arrived and unlocked their in-situ touring caravan.  They set about attaching a huge awning to the caravan with a constant dialogue at such an amplitude that my eardrums hurt.  They both seemed incapable of communicating with anything other than ardent shouting, even when they were stood next to each other.

He was a stocky man, considerably over nourished with a deep manly voice, she was much larger and had a deeper voice.  Eventually they finished the erection of the awning, I was relieved that their work was done and hoped I may get some peace.

Peace? They'd barely started.  Out of the caravan came another large bag which turned out to be an extra tent (seen in the picture above) - the cacophony continued unabated.  Out came a chest of drawers and then a sink unit for the extension tent.  Next a full sized fridge!  The volume never lessened, in a normal relationship either one of these characters would be by far the dominant partner but I couldn't choose between them.  I wouldn't want to tangle with either!  Once the extension was complete, out came the ground sheets.  All around the caravan and extension they fitted plastic sheeting to isolate them totally from nature.  The chap disappeared for a while but then his head popped up at the back of the caravan followed by the biggest aerial array I've ever seen.

Finally, their job was complete and they sat outside the awning watching TV which was inside the awning and so very loud.  They cracked open a bottle of wine and sat half watching TV but still shouting at each other.

Good on them.

Anabatic woes

The hills are hard and some of the descents are not so easy.

I'm a few days behind with my blog which doesn't concern me as it's case of posting when I get the chance and if I have the inclination.  I wouldn't be posting now if I could walk around town and explore the place.  The town in question is Aranda de Duero on the river of the same name and the capitol of the Ribero wine growing district.  

So far I spent nights in Somo, Bilbao (x2), Traspaderne, Burgos, Covarrubiillas (sp), and now Aranda.  I've camped the last 3 nights so was due for a treat.  I rode into town ignoring all the decent looking Hotels and headed for the back streets, I know my place.  I found an establishment that looks suitably squalid so rattled on the door to get a price - 25 euro, acceptable.  The room is 'rustic and interesting' but far superior to my hovel in Bilbao.  The tv even worked once I'd found a scart lead!

The camping has been reasonably priced, I'd heard bad things about Spanish camp sites charging 20 euro+ but the last 3 were, 12, 9 and 12 euro.  The quality of location has been varied with the one on the 2nd night, in Laredo the best so far and last night in the place I can't spell the least salubrious!

 Laredo: Each pitch had it's own sink!

The view across the bay from

the Laredo camp.

My bike precariously strapped (with 1 bungee cord) to the small ferry on the crossing from Santander to Somo on the first day in Spain.

I'll explain about my wind problem on my next post, I need food.  It was a hard day!

I'll also tell you about the Spanish couple on the camp site at Trespaderne, don't let me forget!

Hasta luego

Start of the journey south.

I enjoyed Bilbao, it was certainly worth visiting although hell will freeze over before I revisit the Pension Don Claudio.  There is a plaque on the door which indicates a 1 star rating, I think this was awarded for having adequate foundations, I can think of no other reason.  I've stayed in places before that don't promise too much from the outside but then prove to be pleasant enough inside.  The exterior of this hotel did not bode well but in fact was it's best feature!

I'd wondered how much hassle it would be to cycle through Bilbao to leave the city heading south, I managed to weave a way through industrial areas on fairly quiet roads and soon found myself on a country road above a river and finally making some small progress towards the Med.  The way was gradually rising but with no real effort for the first couple of hours.  That didn't last, as the cloud cleared and things got unpleasantly hot the ascent made itself felt.  I rode from sea level over a pass at 2100ft,  enough of an effort on any bike but when grinding 'The Tank' uphill it didn't do much for my confidence for the days and weeks ahead.  I made it though and the scenery was compensation for the toil.  I was crossing the Cordilliera Cantabrica, the hard work lasted for a couple of hours.  The hills are very impressive and topped by long lines of Limestone cliffs, I don't know if the area is popular for climbing but if it were in the UK it would be a Mecca for hard climbing.

I covered 50 miles which was what I'd initially planned but had given up hope of doing after my 'difficult' day cycling over the coastal hills to Bilbao.  I camped in a place called Trespaderne, the only tent on the site.

The final descent into Trespaderne