Round 3: Ramble around Iberia

:popcorn :Motomartin

Gonna enjoy this Rob :thumb

Errr mmmm do I need to buy a new hat ;)

:beerjug:
 
Cracking, I love trips where the bargain local fare is the staple diet :D Looks like another brilliant trip. I'm jealous :D

Rob
:thumb
 
We'll hear nowt more now.... he'll be on the nest when he ain't in the saddle now.....

Jammy hoor!

:beerjug:
 
We'll hear nowt more now.... he'll be on the nest when he ain't in the saddle now.....

Jammy hoor!

:beerjug:

Don't think so Chris .... he's going away with a young lady and he takes, I quote 'Jim Jams' :eek:

:beerjug:
 
We'll hear nowt more now.... he'll be on the nest when he ain't in the saddle now.....

Jammy hoor!

:beerjug:

Nay lad. Just no wi-fi around here (well there sort of is but I'm not paying a fortune for it..) Plenty of drivel written, coiled and ready to post ;) :thumb2

Don't think so Chris .... he's going away with a young lady and he takes, I quote 'Jim Jams' :eek:

:beerjug:

:D
 
Pola de Somiedo to Villar Del Buey

Leaving the campsite we're treated to wonderful scenery for a relaxed ride. The plan is to cut across in to Portugal, and then maybe loop back in to Spain.

Local traffic jams in the Somiedo National Park..

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We leave the park and work our way across towards the border. Coffee. Pop quiz, what country are we in then? Come on, come on...

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The standards at Paradors have really dropped, haven't they? :D

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Crossing in to Portugal is a wholly unremarkable affair. There's nothing aside from a stone with a little plaque on it and I don't see it clearly as we rumble past. The road surface changes, there are different shaped lines, and yellow coloured bend markers. And for now that's it- no sign with speed limits or even anything saying you're in Portugal.

We stop at the first town we hit, Fontes. There's almost nothing here, and there's no-one here that's for sure. We stop and have a snack by the roadside. In the twenty minutes we're stopped we see only a single car pass- a pick up truck driven by a little old guy who has the look of Hans Moleman.

We work our way in to Braganca, but it isn't easy going. The road is finished and well surfaced, but there is no kerb- just gravel and sand, and where there is a bend cars have cut across the gravel and sand and dragged it on to the road. In fact, some corners are so sandy I'm surprised I don’t see sun loungers, umbrellas and deck chairs.. It needs careful riding. All of the electronics are messed up on the bike what with the speed sensor being off, so we get lots of disco light show from the yellow triangle, which is distracting, but the thing still rides fine so all ok. Electronics? Grumble grumble. Just something else to go wrong, isn't it. Give me an airhead any day.
Jeez, I'm starting to sound like my grandad.

We see hardly a soul until we hit the edge of town. Not a glorious ride by any means, so I'm glad for the break. Braganca is a pretty little place. I learn quickly that cobbles are the order of the day in Portugal's towns and soon enough they're playing havoc with my Johnny Giles. We make our way up to the castle, and the going is quite precarious, with steep cobbled inclines with dodgy junctions to navigate. But worth going, mind.

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Oooh, a retro Transit. Last time I saw one of these it was on ITV3 and John Thaw and Dennis Waterman were having a scrap up against it. Note the dog themed mud-flaps.

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Braganca is bid goodbye to, and we head back across the border a short distance south in a national park with an impressive hydro-electric dam. We check out camping, which is closed, so we loop back to a hotel I spied, 'Agro Turismo'. A deal is done for a room.

Dinner is first class. An innovative coat stand, which I think tells you everything about how the menu shapes up..

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No prizes for guessing eh..

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Lamb which was just ace..

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Perfecto.
 
What the feck am I doing here, alternatively sat at a 'puter and deep cleaning the bathroom :rolleyes:

Looks perfect - enjoy :beerjug:

Andres
 
Villar Del Buey to Trujillo

An early breakfast.. And we're to the road. Ah, reminders of watching some of the happy hammers' more woeful displays over at good old Upton Park a few seasons back. 'When the ball hits your head and you're sat in Row Z, that's Zamora…'

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We head directly South from the Hotel and we're most definitely off of the beaten track. The road is bumpy but we go fairly well (well I thought so despite complaints from those seated in business class). We pass through tiny villages, single track roads, gravel, churches in the middle of nowhere. Proper Fistful of Dollars sets, great stuff.

Sad to see the sunflowers going..

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Another little reminder of where we are, not that it was really needed mind..

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We hit a point to the south where there's no option but to head South West. The mountains are in the way, and there's no way over, so it's time for the AutoVia. Forty minutes of rapid going and we're then crossing the Monfraque Park, with a small stop for a Panaceta Bocadillo.. Sounds a little more exotic than 'Bacon Sandwich', that :D

Back to the road, and the gauge hits 37 degrees..

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Toasty Indeed. We reach Trujillo and look for accommodation. First thought is for camping, but here it seems sparse, certainly according to Garmin anyway. The only site appears to be about 5km outside town. We go to check it out, but stop short as we can see it unfolding. 'I am not camping with the cows in the desert' was the directive voiced from directly behind me. A most reasonable view, I felt. So, a little mobile internet sources the NH Palace Hotel at a very reasonable £48. I do like the NH chain, so it isn't hard to be persuaded, and the hotel turns out to be very nice indeed, if not a little complicated to find your way around. Whilst unloading the bike and a German lady approaches and asks what the 'WTF' sticker means. I tell her I can't tell her, because its rude. She is highly amused by this response 'as zis makes no sense' and therefore I 'vill be going off to google it zen' :D

Out for a walk and an Ice Cream, back to the hotel, dip in the pool. Trujillo is a gem..

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.. What a splendid little town :thumb2

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Somehow I've lost quite a few decent photos of the place which is a real shame as it was just lovely. Technology again.. harumph :mad:
 
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'.

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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..

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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?

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General Tapas Nicey-ness..

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Soon enough we're just outside Huelva, and on the road to Portugal..

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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..

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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..

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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.. :D

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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..

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Cool place!

:beerjug:
 
Stationary in the Algarve

And we're back. Well, time to start scribbling drivel again eh.

The next few days are really busy doing little with me passing my 100th consecutive day of doing not a great deal with a celebratory Super Bok or three. I'll spare you the beach photos and other general food piccies for now.

We've docked at Albefuira which is pretty much a tourist spot, probably sniggered at by elbow patched jacketed Guardian Travel Supplement page readers. It's a little out of season, which probably helps, but I'm gobsmacked on how genuinely friendly the natives are, and how polite and excellent the service is, and even in the face of a couple of colourful fellow countrymen that on one occasion that I saw.

It did feature my first try of Piri-Piri chicken which works very well, and soon enough we see that the sports channel on the TV is actually showing the bullfight. As was pointed out to me (Cheers Chris) cheering for the bull is not the done thing, as is giggling and pointing when the matador gets clumped. I blame the Super Bock.

Otherwise I do a bit of shopping. Now, what to buy?

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Not much else to mention, aside the apartment next door balcony neighbour that looks staggeringly like a particular guise of George Dawes, also sporting a tracksuit. I just have the urge to shout 'Peanuts' whenever I see him. Must resist.

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So not many updates, but Wi-Fi is like the lost ark here. Nothing at the apartment. You can stop at a bar. They'll give you the password, which doesn't work. Then you'll find one where the password works, and the internet doesn't. Then you'll find a place where it all works, but drops out after a couple of minutes. So don't expect to be well connected round these parts..

The bike hasn't done a lot aside be shoe-horned into a very small space for a few days. Credit to the apartment people though, better than being outside the place. Now permit me to think the worst of my well oiled fellow countrymen with my bike stuck in the street..
 
Albufeira to Nazare

Not much to talk of from a riding perspective. We're up early for an hour or two on the beach. As you do. Packed quickly, out stop for a breakfast in town and on the Motorway within about ten minutes of getting away from the coast.

Aside from a squabble at a toll booth with a machine that won't accept cash, card, barter or nowt not a lot to mention. After a day in the sun pootling along we hitch up at Nazare. Cheap hotel found and out we go. A beautiful sunset plays out over the Atlantic; we watch the fiery star crashing into the sea whilst the fishermen work..

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Then a stroll on the front looking for a restaurant. Most are pretty empty, so we decide to go for the back streets and find a locals place packed solid.

Fresh as you like.. Still wiggling..

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They fit us in and we sit snugly watching Benfica play on the TV with an old couple and are soon served with a Mixed Grilled Fish Platter..

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Get the hell away from my fish..

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A great day :thumb
 


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