Trujillo to Albufeira
We leave Trujillo to hit the AutoVia. The request is for a few days at the beach, so we're going to hit the Algarve.
Breakfast is courtesy of Repsol, little packets of Vanilla Croissants that turn out to be quite nice. Bull sticker purchased and applied. We kill off 100 or so easy miles and then head off towards Huelva, back on to the interesting tarmac. Good riding is had, all is well with the world.
A coffee in the little castle town of Fregenal de la Sierra. Clearly they don't see many visitors here, and it's what I'd term as 'very Spain'.
I set to order a coffee with milk. 'OK' says the waiter cheerily. 'Don't worry, be happy', he smiles. He comes back to chat but it happens that the only English he's got is 'Don't worry, be happy'. But we get by and have a good non-language based chat. He looks at the map; I show him where we're going, towards Huelva. He points at the bike, assumes a biking pose and sways from side so side and sticks his thumbs up. That's promising.
Kinda liked the sign of the shop next door..
Back to the road. Our guy isn't wrong; it is excellent going and flowing twisties, just right for the bike too when loaded up so much.
After an hour or so of fun we stop for a great tapas lunch sat under roadside lime trees.. So we grab a couple off the branches. Now, where can I find that vodka and lemonade tree then?
General Tapas Nicey-ness..
Soon enough we're just outside Huelva, and on the road to Portugal..
We cross the border over the bridge at Castro Marim. On the Portugese side the motorway has recently become a toll road. There are hi-viz clad young attendants along a slip road marked for 'Strangers'. I guess strange describes us alright, so that's where we go. The system reads number plates, so you put your card in at special bike lane and then you're charged for relevant sections that you pass. The 50km run to Faro is 5 Euros, so I guess getting around Portugal in haste could very well turn to be expensive.
We jump off at Tavira. We look at a couple of campsites on the POI database on the Zumo. One was across a non-existent bridge to an island, so that was a no-no, and the second just turned out to be a gravel patch where there was a gathering of local plod gathered having a good giggle.
The GS doing what it says on the screen..
So we rejoined the A22 to head down the coast a little where; the next town is Albufeira. A quick look on the phone and we've got a hotel on the cheap, so that'll be it.
Unusual tour bus seen on the road. That tour might be interesting..
We saw more groups of local Police, two cars again with a giggling ensemble gathered underneath the motorway bridge. They must be the happiest rozzers on the planet.
And so it is to the Hotel, which is conveniently or inconveniently, depending on how you see it, located close to 'The Strip'. But Super Bock beckons, and it's very reasonably priced, and the atmosphere is very fun and friendly. Can't go wrong, so this boring old fart on a GS is partying it up good and proper..
Late on for nibbles and a nightcap. Nope, I'm not Pat Jennings, and I haven't got a Saturday job in the Sellafield Visitor Centre. They really do small beers..
Cool place!