Author: anthill

It was my goal to leave Spain today. My route would take me inland slightly but then back out to the coast to cross into France through the backdoor, so to speak.

I’d picked up a map from the tourist information office the day before so I had a visual representation of my route and distance as opposed to my usual guess work or reliance on the GPS. I went through a few more coastal towns before heading inland through the mountains.

You can keep following the coast but I’d figured it looked more direct to go inland and cut the corner off. As soon as I headed inland I’d started to climb a winding mountain road.

On the descent into La Bisbal D’Emporda I was joined by a swiss cyclist out on a Saturday circuit. He rode with me for a bit, asking about my trip, the usual. He was impressed with the speed I was keeping, although I did have the wind behind me and I was going downhill.<\p>

I then followed a dual carriageway all the way to Figueres, what I considered the last big town before reaching Spain. So I drew out some money just in case I didn’t see another bank.

To get out of Figueres was a bit complicated so I relied on the GPS. It usually does a good job, but it didn’t want to take me on the N260, the way I had planned. Instead it took me east to the coast then up into the mountains. The only reason I can think it would do such a thing is because the N260 doesn’t allow bicycles, yet when I finally got to Llanca and joined the N260 there was no indication that cyclists weren’t allowed. By this point it was too late anyway, and I had had some beautiful views of the coast while climbing up into the mountains.

Next stop, France. Spain had one last sting in the tail with some huge mountains. I’d thought that perhaps the Pyrenees my fizzle out at the coast but I was wrong.

Hasta Luego Espana. I’d spent so long there it was sad to leave. Spain has some amazingly friendly people to name just one of its many charms. I’ll be back soon, just not on this trip.

For some reason I’d imagined the land to flatten out over the border crossing, as if to mark the border between Spain and France. Unfortunately the mountains were still ahead of me and I had many more climbs before finally reaching my destination for the day, Argeles Sur Mer.

That evening I’d met an experienced bicycle tourer from Canada. He said he’d been cycling tours since 1986 through most of Europe, Asia and the Americas. He was in Barcelona just for a few days but wasn’t touring, just cycling to and from the city. He didn’t seem very interested in my trip, he wanted to tell me “One time when I was in……”. This went on for some time.

I also met a nice young Australian couple who had bought a cheap ford transit from the UK and had spent three months driving it around Europe. We spent most of the evening chatting and they gave me a seat to sit on. Oh how I miss a seat!

I slept badly after thunderstorms most of the night. I woke to the a few spots of rain. Packed my stuff up and was off. I’d only just left the campsite when It started to rain really heavy. I ended up on a busy three lane carriageway in rush hour in the pouring rain which was a bit nerve wrecking. I’d never felt so vulnerable. Although according to the signs cyclists were allowed on this road.

After a quick cycle up and down La Rambla in the centre of Barcelona I carried on along the cost. It was still raining at this point although it had slowed slightly. The coast road isn’t very pretty. They’ve tried to make it nice but there are railway lines that separate the sea front from the towns.

I then headed to one of the worst towns since Salou, Lloret de Mar, with its fish and chips and pubs called The Red Lion, I sailed on through as quick as I could. I thought Tossa de mar would be the same but it wasn’t a little more pleasant, so I stopped for a Menu Del Dia for 8 Euro 50 Cents.

I then carried on up onto the cliffs to follow the coast road to Saint Feliu d Guixois. Another road perched on the edge of a cliff. It would go steep up, then steep down, then steep up, etc, etc for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually, I reached my destination and booked into the expensive one and only campsite.

After a nice relaxing dip in the campsite swimming pool and good old pasta and sauce, I retired to my bed. Not the most comfortable campsite as I was sleeping on gravel. My sleeping mat has developed a tendency to deflate during the night leading to a very uncomfortable wake-up call.

The day started hot and sunny and stayed like that for the rest of the day. Starting back on the N340 I headed in the direction of Barcelona.

The N340 is busy at the best of times but I’d managed to catch the morning rush hour just perfect. After a while you begin to block out the endless noise of traffic going past but it did start to give me a bit of a headache.

I made a big mistake and ate dinner too early. Way too early, I stopped in Salou for a McDonalds. I knew it had one because I’d been there once or twice before. It’s a hideous town full of tourists but it has a pretty decent theme park nearby.

Luckily, but not before tackling Tarragona, I headed off the N340 on to the quitter C31. This would take me a less direct but prettier route along the coast to Barcelona It also took me directly to the campsite I’d had in mind.

At one point the road is perched on the side of the cliff as it swooped in and out of the coves. Would have been much more enjoyable if I’d had a place to ride but I was in with the traffic and the closer to Barcelona the heavier it got.

I arrived at my campsite in Gava, just 12km south of Barcelona, the closest campsite to the city.

I had a nice relaxing time at my dad’s house. He owns a beautiful little house in the middle of olive trees and mountains. It was good to see him and catch up over many glasses of red wine and beer. It also gave me the opportunity to clean some clothes, maintain my bike, and re-tape my handlebars.

He left with me early in the morning to cycle some of the way. There was a slight headwind but nothing too difficult. It didn’t seem to take long before he had left to go home and I was on my own once again.

I had a slight tail wind towards the coast where I finally caught sight of the Mediterranean. From Vinaros I joined the N340. For those who don’t know, the N340 is a hideous road that skirts the entire coast of Spain. It’s a handy road but it has some really heavy traffic and is littered with prostitutes.

I rode over a live snake today. I’ve only seen dead ones. I’m not sure if I killed him but it made me squirm when I felt him go under my wheels.

I bumped into some French cycle tourers who had got a puncture. We had language difficulties so we didn’t chat for long. I just made sure they didn’t need any help and carried on my way.

The N340 road will be my main route up the coast to Barcelona, but for today I managed 95 miles to the small coastal town of L’Almadrava. Tomorrow I’m heading towards Barcelona. I’m not stopping though, I’m a frequent visitor so I’d prefer to carry on and get some miles under my belt.

Today marks the second month since I left the UK. It feels longer but I’ve enjoyed every second and can’t wait to see the rest of Europe. I just hope I can do it all in time.

Happy Birthday my gorgeous Keri. Hope you have an amazing day.

The ride out of Teruel is slow towards the junction of the A23 to Valencia. It seems to be a steady incline all the way but isn’t obvious. This makes riding very frustrating. It didn’t last for long though, as soon as I reached the A23 and joined the service road it flattened out and the wind picked up behind me. I was flying.

I flew all the way down to La Puebla de Valverde where I headed north into the mountains. The route would take my up onto a high ledge and run all the way down from Mora de Rubielos through Rubielos de Mora to Cortes de Arenoso.

Today I was heading to my Dad’s house near Useras and he’d come to join me a Rubielos de Mora to cycle the remaining 70 miles. I don’t usually enjoy riding with anyone but it was nice to have the company of someone I knew.

The views were absolutely stunning being so high up and some of the downhills were exhilarating but hard on the brakes. After all good downhills there is a steep climb, the one up to Zucaina was no exception.

After stopping for a Menu Del Dia in Lucena Del Cid we quickly covered the remaining 20 kilometres, most of which were downhill.

I’m now at my Dad’s place. I’m hoping to stop here until next week before I continue up the east coast towards Barcelona. There seems to be a lot more campsites so I’ll be able to camp next to the coast and hopefully have a few good swims in the Mediterranean.

Apparently there was a two day fiesta in Cuenca so all the supermarkets were shut. I didn’t see much of a fiesta but I certainly couldn’t find any supermarkets that were open. Instead, all these little Chinese owned bazars were open selling all what I needed at inflated prices.

It was a chilly morning and didn’t really warm up until the late afternoon. Out of Cuenca there are two roads to Turuel. A north road that has many climbs, or a south road that climbs for longer but has a steep downhill towards the end. I chose the latter and think I picked the best route.

The road was really quiet. I went through some beautiful gorges where a river flowed south and the hills were covered in a blanket of trees.

Once reaching the peak I descended quickly, a fantastic downhill on an almost straight road. With a strong headwind I still got a pretty good pace, although the wind was so strong at times I’m surprised I still have any clothes left on my back.

I then climbed out of yet another pretty gorge where the farmers had made good use of the river and filtered off channels around there land for irrigation.

One last climb into Turuel and I had arrived. I was staying at a small Hostel just outside the centre.

Pictures to follow…

One good thing about Ibis hotels is the breakfasts start at 0630. Allowing me to get up and make an early start. Only problem was I overslept and didn’t have breakfast until 0730. Still, its earlier than I’m used to.

The route today would take me to Cuenca. I have no real interest with Cuenca it’s just on the way to my dad’s house and it’s a decent distance away. Unfortunately, as I was still close to Madrid the only way of getting to Cuenca is by motorway. So I had to head into the hills and take the “back route” to join the Autopista service road about 70 kilometres from Cuenca.

The day warmed up quickly and the rush hour traffic was really heavy. The roads weren’t very wide so I was a little nervy with the lorries going past.

As soon as I’d left the traffic behind I was pretty much by myself. The landscape opened up and I could see 180 degrees of distant countryside. It was gorgeous.

I worked my way down to the service road. I’m guessing the service road is the road before the motorway was built. It was quiet, throughout the whole 70 km I saw maybe 2 cars. The motorway had taken its victims, a lot of bars and restaurants had lost the passing trade and closed down.

I finally got to Cuenca and checked into the Hostel I had pre-booked the night before. Tomorrow I have another long trek to Teruel. So I’m going to make sure I go to bed early and get up early this time.

I started the day with a hearty buffet breakfast at the hotel before leaving Avila. The owner of the hotel said the weather looked promising even after the wet start. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Only five minutes in and it started to rain. Just a few spots but it looked like there would be more.

There were two large climbs planned for today, the first one much larger than the second. I settled into a rhythm and slowly crawled my way up the first. It wasn’t until I got to the top that the heavens opened. From the earlier warming I had put my waterproofs on but hadn’t bothered with the waterproof socks. My feet were sopping even though the downpour only lasted a couple of minutes.

I stopped at a café to change into my waterproof socks before continuing on, this time for the second climb. Would have taken more pictures of the views but because of the rain and low cloud it wasn’t the best day for photos.

I finally had a lovely descent down past El Escorial. This town looked like a nice place to visit, but I’d gained so much momentum down the hill, and put so much effort in to get up it, I just couldn’t bring myself to apply the brakes, so sailed on past. Note to self: Visit El Escorial next time you have the chance!

Another 30 or so kilometres and I was touching the outskirts of Madrid. It didn’t take me too long to take a wrong turn. Madrid seems like it was built for the car and a testing ground for motorways. It’s almost impossible to navigate through the city without being directed onto a motorway. They circle it, go through it, cross it, everywhere you turn there is another motorway.

I’ve been to Madrid before, by car. I didn’t like the place then and today was no different. It’s just too big. I’ve not experienced a city this big before. I like the country and the quiet, the sooner I could get out the better.

Another hours cycling and I’d reach Arganda, my destination for the day. I had been looking forward to camping but the campsite looked more like a graveyard for caravans. There were lots of motorhomes and caravans but no people. Rusty bikes lay on the floor, gates hanging off hinges. I decided that this wasn’t the place to be, got my driving license back off the man in the grotty house and left as quick as I could. Unfortunately this has meant I’ve had to fork out for another hotel and another evening meal.

On the whole I had a really good ride today. I like the variety of the landscape, keeps things interesting. I even enjoyed the rain, it kept me cool. I rode about 94 miles and could have carried on.

Salamanca is a beautiful city. I only wish I had more time to visit. I could sit in the Plaza Mayor all day long and people watch. The restaurants that circle the Plaza don’t seem to be in any rush to serve small tables, more fool them. I had a nice sit down in the shade and drank my bottle of water.

All the cattle I had seen grazing the previous day were bulls. I read in the tourist information that Salamanca has deep routed tradition in bull fighting so I guess the bulls I had passed the day before were possibly destined for the placa de toros. Slightly tempted to see what it’s all about but not enough time.

I didn’t sleep well Saturday night. There was a bug outside my tent that kept making a loud noise every few seconds. So I woke with heavy eyes and not feeling fully refreshed. Incidentally, I hadn’t slept well Friday night either because I’d had too much to drink. It was the barmaids fault for buying me that one extra pint.

With two huge croissants and a café con leche inside me I headed off towards Avila. The ride started well. I managed to get a pace going I hadn’t achieved over the last few days, and although it was sunny it was quite pleasant and not too hot.

Halfway I had stopped to put some sun cream on and eat a snack when another cycle tourer went past in the opposite direction. He pulled up next to me. His name was Han from the Netherlands. There are a number of caminos in Spain other than the one I had cycled. Han had pretty much cycled all of them. He loves riding Spain and he is almost 70 years old. That’s pretty impressive.

Continuing on I had only 40 kilometres to go when the wind got up, and unfortunately it was coming from the direction I was heading. This made for really hard cycling. At times I was down to a crawl. The last 40 km seemed more like 60. I’m hoping this will die down tomorrow.

The next few days are going to be quite tough. I want to get to Madrid on Monday then Cuenca on Tuesday. These are both hefty distances around 100 miles each. I’ll see how I get on. Otherwise I’ll just have to spread the distance out over an extra day. Fingers crossed for no wind!

Tonight I’m staying in the hotel Han had recommended. My bike is safely stored downstairs and I have a large double bed. The hotel rates are 100 Euro a night so how I have this room for 40 I have no idea. I’ve had a short walk around Avila. It’s a walled city, a pretty impressive wall at that. I’d compare the city to a mini Toledo but without all the tourists.

After a pretty good nights sleep I woke to an overcast day. Finally, my wish had come true.

I left early and made my way North along the border with Spain. I didn’t want to cross into the border just yet as I wanted to join the CL-517 which would take me directly to Salamanca.

This part of the ride was pleasant and cool with a great downhill just before the border crossing. Crossing into Spain I joined the CL-517. At first I thought I was climbing more mountains but I was in fact climbing out of a deep gorge that marks the border. This went on for some time, I didn’t see a soul.

At the top of the gorge the CL-517 straightens out, it pretty much stays like this the rest of the way to Salamanca. The landscape now is grassy and flat where mainly cattle graze. It wasn’t long before I was getting bored. I’d wondered a few times what the cows were thinking, then bored again. The CL-517 is a monotonous road that just goes on for ever and doesn’t seem to change. It did rain on me a little but not enough to soak me so no need for waterproofs.

I arrived at Salamanca in the early evening and made my way to the nearest campsite.

That’s as exciting as my day got. I’ve done 176 miles in two days and I’m really feeling it. Tomorrow is a day for washing my clothes, sightseeing Salamanca and doing some shopping. Sounds like a busy rest day.