Day 3 - San Vincenta de la Barquera to Miranda do Douro
My diet went alright yesterday. I had an apple and a yoghurt. Party on, dudes..
I'm up after a great night of zzzz's at little past 7am. I can see that the tiles on the balcony are wet. Its still raining. Hey ho.
On going down to breakfast I'm greeted by the little man behind the desk with no English. He looks out of the window, shrugs his shoulders and says "Agua". Quite. We've plenty of time so we'll see how things pan out, maybe it'll improve.
Thought for the trip: Make the lagers long a cool, make the breakfasts long and leisurely..
Time to pack up. After my last trip saw my phone ruined by the damp I'm not taking any chances, so I'm deploying this herbert. Evidently you can go swimming with it (quite why you would want to is beyond me) but as long as it is rainyroadproof I'll be happy enough.
[/]
So I'm now en route to the Picos. It's raining and dreary but by the time I've dropped on to the road into Potes the rain is easing and the riding is enjoyable. Heading in from the North the road becomes a great little technical affair, narrow and winding, carving through the gorge, and with very little traffic it's a real hoot.
A brief stop in Potes, home of Picos related Eurotat.
Ah Cider, or Sidre. It's not all bad, I suppose
Snaffled. I know someone who'll appreciate that..
Whilst shopping I run into a group of four Brits from the ferry and chat to 800GS guy. "The hotel chap is saying there's snow forecast over the San Glorio Pass, so we're going North instead" he says.
Hmm. It's a long way round from where I'm headed so in for a penny and I think I'll give it a try. The San Glorio is about 25km on from Potes. Although there is zero traffic coming or going I'm heartened when I reach the pass sign which says 'Abierto' (it is also green so that's a clue if 'no hablo espanol'). Again, the riding is superb- me on my little private road.
We make the climb up the mountain and I keep an eye on the temp guage. 9, 8, 7, 6, 5.5, 5, 4.5, 4.. And that's it; it doesn't get any worse than that. Excellent. As we head to the top visibility has disappeared and there's a fair amount of snow around, although the road is immaculate. I just keep out of the shadows and the glossy bits, and Bob's yer uncle.
Up on the pass.
I thought this photo was alright until I saw it on the laptop. Bit suspect, I reckon. 'Bambi worrier..'
Heading over and we're greeted with the Leon province sign. Not for the first time in these parts I experience the change in weather 'over the top'. The sun is peeking through the puffy clouds and it's clearer ahead
The sun, snow, mountains, colour.. Spectacular. Quoting a foreign friend of mines amusing English catchphrase.. 'Better cannot be'.
And one more..
More Brits ahead- I start to run into the Maserati convoy coming up the other way, this area does attract us alright.. you can't blame us though.
The run down to Riano is glorious. A few villages aside it is a brisk little section. My riding was tip-top, even if I do say so myself, these days few runs get me keyed up to really get going, I've become a bimbler you see, but this is one fine exception, and the run along the lake up to Riano is very quick and (I'm sure you WC GS'ers will love it when you're not wheelieing over speed bumps, eh Nutty? )
A mid-morning stop is taken once I reach Riano. You have to love Spain, right..
Suitably refreshed and it is back to the tarmac, heading South West. It's now lovely sunshine amongst the puffy white clouds. Again the run is very good and pretty brisk. We head down past Leon on fairly nondescript roads, but the sun is out and that changes the mundane to the extremely pleasant.
A castle and a piece of Lemon Cake stowed from breakfast in Valencia de Don Juan. Sun is out, so pop a little factor 8 on. Later discover 8 was not enough, cue bright red nose.
On we go. A quick snap at one of the Advertisement formerly known as Tio Pepe's bull..
I'm now in the rolling hills approaching the Duoro valley.
Lovely tricky little uneven roads, proper GS country and everything is in its stride. A small bit of drama when I'm passing a field of sheep and a dog, gnashing and barking vaults the fence on to the road. Evasive action is taken and I'm past him. That would have been the end of Fido and I'd most likely have taken a tumble. I've never splatted a dog so I couldn't tell you.
Dramas over I take another minor route to cross the Duoro, as I make the descent I'm flagged down by a humourless speccy twat in a fetching pink roadworks van. He's annoyed and gesturing me to turn around. I can now see they're resurfacing the bridge. A sign would have been nice before I ride 10km down here, but there you go. I stop for a snap and I can see he's waiting up top for me to turn around. So I deliberately take my time. Some manners would be nice.
So as I loop around I make my new discovery of the day. Garmin don't regard Portugal as part of Western Europe, despite being the most Western part of Western Europe. Spain is there on the Zumo, but not Portugal. I get that white background with crissy crossy motif. When you get to it you get the main drag and bugger all else. Groan.
A but of faffing around finds the hotel. Another good find, erm once I found it anyway.. The Flor do douro hotel. A room with a balcony overlooking the river and the damn, a garage for the bike and an incredibly friendly owner. He has no English, but he has French so that's enough for us to be well set.
Out for stroll. There's the river, way down there..
.. a Pizza at the very friendly Pizzeria Gorgonzola..
..and the very nice view it has out to the Duoro. The damn is where I crossed over, and on the other side is Spain.
All topped off with a swift half in the Benfica Bar.
Tie on a Superbock stout or three back at the Pizzeria and watch the final parts of Benfica going through to the Europa Cup Final. There's some shouting and tooting of horns in the streets.
Back to HQ. So let's see. A room for 25 euro, dinner and drinks for less than 20, and just under 40 to top the bike up (do fill up in Spain, by the way). Anyhow, a complete full-on day for seventy quid.
The bloke in the room next door snores. I know there's a family in the next room over so I restrain myself from shouting at him to belt up. Even with that noisy git I'm still finding it hard to fault today.
My diet went alright yesterday. I had an apple and a yoghurt. Party on, dudes..
I'm up after a great night of zzzz's at little past 7am. I can see that the tiles on the balcony are wet. Its still raining. Hey ho.
On going down to breakfast I'm greeted by the little man behind the desk with no English. He looks out of the window, shrugs his shoulders and says "Agua". Quite. We've plenty of time so we'll see how things pan out, maybe it'll improve.
Thought for the trip: Make the lagers long a cool, make the breakfasts long and leisurely..
Time to pack up. After my last trip saw my phone ruined by the damp I'm not taking any chances, so I'm deploying this herbert. Evidently you can go swimming with it (quite why you would want to is beyond me) but as long as it is rainyroadproof I'll be happy enough.
[/]
So I'm now en route to the Picos. It's raining and dreary but by the time I've dropped on to the road into Potes the rain is easing and the riding is enjoyable. Heading in from the North the road becomes a great little technical affair, narrow and winding, carving through the gorge, and with very little traffic it's a real hoot.
A brief stop in Potes, home of Picos related Eurotat.
Ah Cider, or Sidre. It's not all bad, I suppose
Snaffled. I know someone who'll appreciate that..
Whilst shopping I run into a group of four Brits from the ferry and chat to 800GS guy. "The hotel chap is saying there's snow forecast over the San Glorio Pass, so we're going North instead" he says.
Hmm. It's a long way round from where I'm headed so in for a penny and I think I'll give it a try. The San Glorio is about 25km on from Potes. Although there is zero traffic coming or going I'm heartened when I reach the pass sign which says 'Abierto' (it is also green so that's a clue if 'no hablo espanol'). Again, the riding is superb- me on my little private road.
We make the climb up the mountain and I keep an eye on the temp guage. 9, 8, 7, 6, 5.5, 5, 4.5, 4.. And that's it; it doesn't get any worse than that. Excellent. As we head to the top visibility has disappeared and there's a fair amount of snow around, although the road is immaculate. I just keep out of the shadows and the glossy bits, and Bob's yer uncle.
Up on the pass.
I thought this photo was alright until I saw it on the laptop. Bit suspect, I reckon. 'Bambi worrier..'
Heading over and we're greeted with the Leon province sign. Not for the first time in these parts I experience the change in weather 'over the top'. The sun is peeking through the puffy clouds and it's clearer ahead
The sun, snow, mountains, colour.. Spectacular. Quoting a foreign friend of mines amusing English catchphrase.. 'Better cannot be'.
And one more..
More Brits ahead- I start to run into the Maserati convoy coming up the other way, this area does attract us alright.. you can't blame us though.
The run down to Riano is glorious. A few villages aside it is a brisk little section. My riding was tip-top, even if I do say so myself, these days few runs get me keyed up to really get going, I've become a bimbler you see, but this is one fine exception, and the run along the lake up to Riano is very quick and (I'm sure you WC GS'ers will love it when you're not wheelieing over speed bumps, eh Nutty? )
A mid-morning stop is taken once I reach Riano. You have to love Spain, right..
Suitably refreshed and it is back to the tarmac, heading South West. It's now lovely sunshine amongst the puffy white clouds. Again the run is very good and pretty brisk. We head down past Leon on fairly nondescript roads, but the sun is out and that changes the mundane to the extremely pleasant.
A castle and a piece of Lemon Cake stowed from breakfast in Valencia de Don Juan. Sun is out, so pop a little factor 8 on. Later discover 8 was not enough, cue bright red nose.
On we go. A quick snap at one of the Advertisement formerly known as Tio Pepe's bull..
I'm now in the rolling hills approaching the Duoro valley.
Lovely tricky little uneven roads, proper GS country and everything is in its stride. A small bit of drama when I'm passing a field of sheep and a dog, gnashing and barking vaults the fence on to the road. Evasive action is taken and I'm past him. That would have been the end of Fido and I'd most likely have taken a tumble. I've never splatted a dog so I couldn't tell you.
Dramas over I take another minor route to cross the Duoro, as I make the descent I'm flagged down by a humourless speccy twat in a fetching pink roadworks van. He's annoyed and gesturing me to turn around. I can now see they're resurfacing the bridge. A sign would have been nice before I ride 10km down here, but there you go. I stop for a snap and I can see he's waiting up top for me to turn around. So I deliberately take my time. Some manners would be nice.
So as I loop around I make my new discovery of the day. Garmin don't regard Portugal as part of Western Europe, despite being the most Western part of Western Europe. Spain is there on the Zumo, but not Portugal. I get that white background with crissy crossy motif. When you get to it you get the main drag and bugger all else. Groan.
A but of faffing around finds the hotel. Another good find, erm once I found it anyway.. The Flor do douro hotel. A room with a balcony overlooking the river and the damn, a garage for the bike and an incredibly friendly owner. He has no English, but he has French so that's enough for us to be well set.
Out for stroll. There's the river, way down there..
.. a Pizza at the very friendly Pizzeria Gorgonzola..
..and the very nice view it has out to the Duoro. The damn is where I crossed over, and on the other side is Spain.
All topped off with a swift half in the Benfica Bar.
Tie on a Superbock stout or three back at the Pizzeria and watch the final parts of Benfica going through to the Europa Cup Final. There's some shouting and tooting of horns in the streets.
Back to HQ. So let's see. A room for 25 euro, dinner and drinks for less than 20, and just under 40 to top the bike up (do fill up in Spain, by the way). Anyhow, a complete full-on day for seventy quid.
The bloke in the room next door snores. I know there's a family in the next room over so I restrain myself from shouting at him to belt up. Even with that noisy git I'm still finding it hard to fault today.