So, here I was, back in Algeciras, back in Europe.
Ferry booked from Bilbao for the 7th and any which way to get there. No plans in particular but Sevilla seemed like a plan for a Saturday night and I fancied taking in Portugal and the Picos De Europa, both places I’d never been to before.
It was a lovely, relaxing, not in any particular hurry, sort of ride. Always having the time to stop whenever I fancied.
Highlights and jumbled thoughts follow................
First night in Spain and I’m in Jerez. Via the wonders of the internet I find a veggie restaurant. Spain is probably one of the most difficult places in Europe to get veggie food so to find a veggie restaurant in the heart of Andalucía was a bonus to say the least.
Popping into a bar opposite for a pre dinner Manzanilla I got chatting to the woman behind the bar. She spoke a bit of English and we made a pact that I’d only speak Spanish and she’d only speak English........got a bit confusing that did
Leaving to go for grub she made me promise to come back after for a drink; some mates would be popping over later for a sing song. To be honest, I was shattered and would rather have gone straight back to the hotel and didn’t really have any intention of going back for a drink.
The meal was fab, the restaurant was run by a Spanish and Welsh guy and although busy they were struggling
I ended up staying back and talking shop with them (I used to have a veggie restaurant) and suitably fortified, tottered back over the road to the bar with the intention of just one night cap
What transpired was one of those ‘you had to be there’ moments that will live with me for a long time. Some mates had indeed turned up for a sing song and were playing guitars and singing flamenco. This was the real thing, washed down with copious Manzanilla and Ducados and interspersed with laughter and shouting.
It was also the first time I’ve been involved in a lock-in in Spain! Turns out the owner and his wife were bikers (he owned a Capnord) and as I asked, for the last time, to be let out the sun was rising and they refused to let me pay for any drinks
What an evening
and the next day was a bit of a write off
It’s funny how unexpected and unplanned things like that can be so good, so spontaneous and yet the next night in Sevilla with its expectations of a proper nights R&R never materialised – the nearest I got was being accosted by and extremely drunk Irish guy who decided to latch onto me and not let go..........you know the sort
Heading off into Portugal I was immediately struck by how different both the country and people were to Spain. I also realised I spoke not one word of Portuguese – not something I felt comfortable with.
Highlights of Portugal – staying in a sleepy fishing village on the Algarve and finding a lone ‘English bar’ full of the sort of pissed up English that make you (well me, anyway) embarrassed to be English and then off to an Indian restaurant for one of the best Indian meals I’ve ever had.
Booking into a ‘cheap’ hotel in Lisbon. The receptionist was gorgeous and very delicately explained to me that the rooms were normally booked ‘by the hour’, ho hum !!!!! I then booked into a dead posh designer hotel with my very own silver leather arm chair in my room, well, I was impressed
I loved the south of the country, travelling inland from the Algarve and spent hours exploring the tracks that criss crossed the mountains there. To be honest, I have never seen so many (good surfaced) tracks in one place and would love to go back and explore the area properly.
The Duro (spelling?) valley was pretty impressive, the roads climbing very high and one particular memory is of seeing the valleys below a thin horizontal line of smoke where there had been no wind to disturb the smoke rising from hundreds of small bonfires
I guess the smoke hit a temperature change in the air and couldn’t rise any more – looked way cool
Despite all the nice bits of Portugal I have to admit I didn’t really warm to the place though.
Driving standards were, I thought, pretty appalling (the worst I think I have experienced on any of my travels) and the roads often surprisingly busy. And to say that Portugal is part of the Iberian peninsula the people could not be more different to the Spanish if they tried (this was a genuine surprise to me). I found them to be mostly surly, nay miserable and with none of the passion and enthusiasm that the Spaniards seem to have in spades. They even look, to my eyes, very different to the Spanish; shorter, paler and nowhere near as handsome (men and women).
So, heading up into Galicia, I have to say I was quite relieved to be back in Spain again.
I bimbled around the north coast and on my penultimate night stayed in a small town just west of the Picos. I was really excited to be travelling up into the mountains as this would be my first visit. Getting up early I headed up into the mountains and could see snow capped peaks in the distance, very pretty but thought nothing of it
The scenery was beautiful, the roads empty and the bars I stopped at for coffee friendly and proper, middle of nowhere, local
As I climbed higher and higher I started to see signs of snow ahead and before long hit a snow line of sorts so thought I’d take a piccie for ‘old time sake’
Ha, how I laughed when I came over the next rise and saw the mountains ahead covered in snow...................
I carried on as I didn’t really have much choice. There aren’t many other roads to choose from in the mountains after all. The only option would to be to back track many klicks and back to the coast so, I carried on.
The same old story unfolded......the odd patch of ice then snow would be lying on shaded areas of road...then after a few more klicks the road was mostly snow. Even with my Heidi ‘snow tyres’ the bike was moving around more than I felt comfortable with. This time it was melted and refrozen snow which was much less predictable than fresh snow and thoughts of falling and doing myself a mischief when nearly at the end of my journey were never far from my mind
Eventually, after a few close shaves and within only a couple of klicks of the top of the pass I came up against a bit of a traffic jam.
If you look at the top of the of the queue there is a yellow truck. This was a snow plough and a car coming the other way had skidded, hit the plough and buried itself in the Armco
As I turned around and started heading back the way I came the police and ambulance passed me on their way up.
Stopping in the next village I asked if there were any other routes through the mountains rather than having to retrace all my steps. A amp was drawn on a scrap of paper and the rest of the day was spent riding a fantastic track linking small isolated villages, partly tarmac but mostly gravel and sometimes full on deeply rutted mud. What a way to spend my penultimate day of the trip, on yet another mini-adventure
I spent two nights in Bilbao, spending nearly a whole day at the Guggenheim. I love the place and never bore of it
It’s always a great place to meet and chat to peeps and indeed I did, spending a very pleasant lunch with a couple of Danish students that were travelling down to Portugal and back through Spain.
And that was it, up early the next morning and onto the ferry. Hooked up with a Kiwi who had pretty much travelled the world and was very good company.
Getting off at Portsmouth it was just as Id left our fair isle; below freezing and snowing.
Synchronicity.
Four hours later and I was home, Amanda was there to greet me with grub and bubbly and I slept very, very well.
Andres