Spanish Figary & Other Stories

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 36 Monday May 02

Still not made it to Ronda!

I slept well despite a steady stream of boy racers roaring upwards to the fiesta during the night and was up and leaving for 10 am. I'd a big, steep climb ahead of me but I was ready for it. Like yesterday, I turned the wrong way and started climbing the wrong hill!! I have such a bad sense of direction it's a wonder I've made it this far!

Yesterday I'd climbed 400m in 4 km. Today? not a feck was given about the big climb

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The Danish chap is heading for Sevilla. A forecast for rain has made him change his plans. I was bemused having come through the rainy season on the other side of the world. Or was I just being cocky? Time would tell.

It was a lovely climb! - words I never thought I would write!

I do like a good tree and I had lots to choose from

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It was cool, only 18C and lots of trees provided lots of shade. It was practically traffic free and almost silent, except for the musical tinkling of cowbells. How I love that sound! The bells weren't attached to cows, however, but sheep. Birds singing provided the harmony! I was feeling so good I didn't contribute my usual grunting and swearing to the tranquil soundscape. It was delightful.

It's not often that "idyllic" and "climb" arrange themselves together in my vocabulary, especially since the climb was entirely self inflicted but I was really enjoying myself

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On mornings like these I feel very grateful and really appreciate the place where I am and what I am doing. It's like being in another world. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally too.

I don't consider myself an "outdoors" person, the idea of hiking sends a shiver down my spine. Watching people heading off on day hikes? Uuuegh! Or runners! Double Uuuegh! Triple Uuuegh.
Strangely, going for a walk is a lovely thing, especially with company - a social event.
Yet, stick me on a bike and I'll happily set off. Destination unknown. Language can be a funny thing.

Looking back as the heat is rising

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As well as the natural beauty all around me and my gratitude to the Touring Gods and to myself I was also contemplating the book I had finished this morning over my coffee, Timmy Mallet's account of his Camino on a bike.

Now, I don't know Mr. Mallet from Adam not having grown up with UK tv for years but I do know his hit song. I gather that he's quite marmite - people either love or hate him. I know nothing about that but he tells a good story. The Camino can be so much more than just another bike tour and his was poignant because he took it as an opportunity to remember and pay homage to his dead brother. He also stopped to paint along the way.
It was an uplifting account and I'd recommend it to anyone contemplating doing something similar.

No speed records being set today!

Algatocín appeared up ahead of me and as I approached the bells started to ring. It's always nice when the locals welcome me with the bells!
Unfortunately, the pealing of the bells seemed to set all the dogs in the town barking - and there can be a lot of dogs in these towns! My calm, musical soundtrack was shattered!

Wonderful flashes of colour - even better in the flesh

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I stopped at a café for a celebratory coffee amongst the few locals. Someone had bought a new pair of boots and they were handed around from person to person to be assessed and commented upon.
Sitting outside enjoying a smoke in the sun I was amused to see the lady from behind the bar wander off to do some shopping. I hadn't paid yet but that seemed to be OK! Small towns!
I had a little poke around the town but frankly wanted to be rolling again because so far it had been so pleasant.

Layers of mountains. And so still and quiet! Except for the cowbells and birds

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Ha! Two nights ago I hadn't wanted to speed through, last night I was grumpy and out of sorts and wanted to do the town justice and today, a perfect, sunny day I thought "meh, I'll keep on rolling! "

Leaving Algatocín

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The climbing wasn't over but the main road wasn't that busy and the views were great, with regular places to stop and pull in. I only had two problems, the first being the wind which could be gusty and the second a grinding coming from my left pedal.

Not only is the view not too shabby I loved the railings! These are the conventional crash barriers but covered with wood panels. I can detect no practical use to this practice an can see a significant increase in the maintenance required but I just love the attitude! The wood really created a different atmosphere to the usual shiny, metal ones as well as giving a non-burning place to plonk my ass!

And sometimes they laid on a wall!

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To be continued.......

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 36 Monday May 02

Still not made it to Ronda! Part II

This is Cowboy country in my mind. I keep looking at that outcrop waiting for an Indian to pop up!

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Feeling a tad guilty for my "love it and leave it" approach in Algatocín I pulled in to Benadalid for a wander and an explore. I "lost" a load of time and gently chastised myself thinking 'll never get anywhere at this rate only to promptly pull in to explore Atajate.

Going Slow…..

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These white, mountain towns are really getting to me. They are so compact - there is no urban sprawl and I doubt that the towns have spread much in the past century.

As well as nature on the roadside there is always history too

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I met the Danish guy again on road as I was stopped ogling the view. In one of those rare alignments of the stars I was actually the most organised bike tourist in the campground and had left first! I was confused because I assumed that Sevilla was in the opposite direction but he was going via Ronda. Lighter than me and seemingly not into ogling nature he'd be arriving first and promised to keep a spot for me in the campground. He'd checked - it was open!

Yeah…… I was making almost no progress .-)

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The climbing continued until I passed the 1000m mark - a tad more impressive than the other day and then the long descent towards Ronda began.
The road surface went to pot and the sky became ominous and angry. The wind became even more blustery and carried pregnant raindrops from far away to pelt me at random. I stopped, fired up some music and decided to race the weather!

A lighter road, a better wheel and those little roads look like a lot of fun!

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I'm not a racer but I tend to root for the underdog so I was feeling optimistic although I was being blown by the wind and rattled by subsidence in the road. Guy Forsyth's song "Mona" came on and I changed the lyrics to"Ronda". It worked quite well! Anything to keep me amused and my focus away from the angry clouds.

Fabulous countryside

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It had been my intention to hit the town before setting up camp but with the weather, the late hour (too much dawdling along the way and I was supposed to be here yesterday, remember!) and the fact that I'd pass the campground on the way to town I was expecting to change plans.

The wind is shredding the clouds

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I got to the campground and went to check in. The lady was fabulous, French, I think, and complimented me on my Spanish. She had one of those "20 unfiltered Gauloises a day" gravelly, sexy voices that I could have listened to all day - until that sexy voice told me that my "friend" had already checked in and my pitch was right beside his! Maybe it was something in my expression but she had a look at me and then added that I could use any space I wanted.

1000 meters! A bit more respectable than 320 a few days ago

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This place had a tent area, and grass! I wasn't going to be too close to the Danish guy but not too far away either. And there was another tent there too - another cyclist.
It was a young Canadian, first ever bike tour, over to explore Europe. Very pleasant chap who was making it up as he went along using Google maps. He'll learn! (I was amused. He'd found himself in some tricky spots thanks to Google but was resistant to trying anything else.) He had a drone with him - I resisted the urge to smash it!

Beginning the descent, the road goes to pot, the wind picks up and dark clouds start to appear…..

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I didn't see a lot of point of rushing to get into Ronda (about 3km away) so did my laundry, showered, cooked up some dinner and got into the tent as the rain started to fall. I'd see Ronda tomorrow as I passed through.

A fabulous tree and my first sight of Ronda. Nothing inspiring. Maybe I'll stop off in the campground and visit tomorrow

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Day 36 Monday May 02
Camping San Juan, Jubrique to Ronda 34 km Total KM 1557
Min Meters 242 Max Meters 1031
Total Climb 1150, Total Descent 609
Min Temp 16 Max Temp 34 Ave Temp 25

CycleTravel Here

Strava Here

The Towns Along the Way

Algatocín
Benadalid


The Full day here

Guy Forsyth Mona

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEo9OLEPAA8

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 37 Ronda At last

Chosen because it's on the way to Granada and has a campground my initial impression from a distance was of an industrial town, the gloomy and threatening sky not helping that impression and since the campground was on "my" side of the town there was no need to explore when I arrived. In fact, had the weather been kinder I probably would have packed up today and moved on. Sometimes the touring cyclist should be grateful for foul weather!
Yep, the sky was angry, the forecast was poor so I decided to take a day off the bike.

It was in México that started to appreciate doors as a door ( ) into another time. Spain isn't short of interesting doors either!

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It seemed to rain for most of the night and that meant a damp morning for me. I'd adjusted the pegging of the tent as the first of the rain hit but as the fly (sil-nylon) got wetter it sagged and because of the stupid design it sags the most at the head and foot of the sleeping area. That normally means damp feet (and sometimes head) and so it was. And a damp floor.

Approaching Ronda on foot. It was a 3km walk but had all day and despite the blue sky I'd been having squally showers all morning. Walking seemed sensible

After quite a bit of wandering the suburbs the old town appeared in front of and above me

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I hate this tent in the rain!

I got up and had a look around. The wind was a bit wild and the sky was angry. I could see Ronda in the distance and it really didn't look like much. I brewed up some coffee, ate some oatmeal, looked at the wet tent and decided to take a day off. The Danish guy was taking the day off too as was the Canadian.
I popped down to the sexy voiced lady to tell her I'd be staying another day. The smile she gave me might just mean that I'll never leave!

I was feeling quite uninspired but there was no shortage of interesting doors

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As I set off to walk into town (about 3km) the only clue I had of what was in store for me was an epic bridge picture in the campground reception. I didn't pay too much attention to it - I've seen too many photoshopped pictures.

Ha! Dumbass!!

Oooooooooh - Kaaaaaaaaaaay. Hmmm. Maybe I was a bit hasty in judging Ronda. Any town with a gate like this has got to be good, right?

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I got a bit lost in the old suburbs of the town that did nothing other than reinforce the idea that this was going to be a dull day in every sense. Damp streets, dull, grey sky. And cold. There were some interesting doors, though. Then, things picked up at the town walls with an ancient gate to enter the town! I do enjoy a good gate!

Well now...... that's not looking too industrial

A nice little park, some interesting buildings.......

It's got Palm Trees! I'm easily pleased. The place is going up in my estimation.....

I do like the odd, quirky building

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Now, that's a door!

To Be Continued........

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 37 Ronda, At last

I wandered in and everything seemed to start sloping upwards. I moseyed around following my nose and found myself heading away from the centre. There were some interesting buildings but nothing really that made me stop and go "Wow". Then, rounding a corner I saw this:

Caption? What feckin' caption can I possibly use to describe my shock, then absolute delight, at "discovering" this?

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Ronda, it turns out, is a magical fantasy town!

An old girlfriend tells me she nearly got married in Ronda and I can understand why - now.
It is an incredibly atmospheric and unbelievably romantic town. Especially for me who knows nothing about it!
(Mind you, I've lost track of all the different times she nearly got married - and none of them to the same guy )
Another friend guessed where I was after a few adjectives. I've never heard of the place but it seems everyone else has!

I hadn't paid much attention to the "photoshopped" bridge in the Campground's reception

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There is a huge, deep, incredibly steep gorge that runs through the town with buildings perched right on the edge, tottering above the abyss. It is simply spectacular!

These are the kinds of streets I'm using to get from one epic scene to another. The tourists are on the "bigger" streets but I prefer these. They also make the impact of some of the views that bit more impressive

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The gorge, when it appeared just floored me! Remember, I've done no research whatsoever. Zilch. Nada. I'd also approached it in a roundabout way wandering from interesting thing to interesting thing (mainly doors) until I quite literally stumbled upon it! This is called complete surprise. And what a surprise!

The views are just epic! From the bridge over the gorge or from various points on the edge of the town - no walls are needed on some sides! Birds are flying around *below me! I thought I'd seen it all in these mountain towns but apparently not!

There were quite a few tourists around and the place was pleasantly busy without being swamped.
A beautiful park along one side of the town with a vertiginous sheer drop to below is incredible on this dull, dark and gloomy day. In the sunshine it must be spectacular!

There are old Moorish fortifications that can be walked on and beautiful gardens along the way. Again, brilliant today but in the sun? They must be out of this world. Very, very unusually for me I got a coffee to go so I could drink and walk. Somehow, and this is most unusual, I had an urge to see every single inch.. Usually I convince myself that I can soak up a town from a few vantage points. Something told me that that approach would be a disservice to Ronda. Fabulous old, cobbled streets with immaculate, but unique, and very pretty houses, weaved over, back, up and down. Flowers, it seemed, were everywhere. I walked all over, up, down, around and back again.

Had I taken the obvious and direct route from the town gate this would have been my approach to the epic bridge. DumbAss couldn't even get that right!

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The tarted up centre couldn't hold a candle to the back streets. Unfortunately, the photographs are poor, dull and dark and do a serious disservice to the town.

I visited the water mine. Yep! A mine for water! It's at the bottom of a beautiful building with stunning gardens and was once the literal lifeblood of the town. Water was drawn from the river in the gorge with a type of water wheel and then pumped up the town above through a maze of pipes. Did I say pumped? No, slaves put jars of water on their heads and ran up the dark, slippy, slimy stone stairs - stairs that nearly killed me - on the way down! Apparently, such systems were common in mountain towns. This one, however, is quite famous because during the Christian reconquest of Spain a siege of Ronda was making no progress, partly due to the water mine providing the town with water. However, an informer supplied information that allowed the attacking army to approach the water mine along the river and break into the city from there.

Down at river level, staring dizzily up at the town and appreciating the defences of the mine it's difficult not to respect the bravery of those men.
I know all this because there was an app I could download that told me the story in stages, explaining the mine and the battle through my phone. I was totally absorbed and found it a vivid experience.

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Rain was never too far away during my wandering but hailstones took me by surprise. I dashed for cover, having a coffee and spied a mobile phone shop. I toddled over.

They had a Redmi 8, my old phone, now superseded (by the 9,10,11) at a decent price. I'm taking a lot of photos and my new phone is just not doing them justice - especially today. In fact I'm pretty sure at this stage that the camera is just not right on it. My new camera is taking great photos with more depth and detail but it's a bugger to keep charged. An average day might be 200 photos. A good day closer to 300. An exceptional day 400. I don't think I'm doing justice to what I see. I probably shouldn't have bought the camera (but I think I'll appreciate the superior quality later, on a computer - I do!) and should have opted for a second phone instead. My experience with Google has me worried about losing my current phone! I returned to my coffee to think.

I decided to explore the more commercial and touristy area in the rain but was unmoved. Checking a couple of stores I could find no other phones like my old one.

This is a wall of quotes from "famous" people who have visited Ronda. Clearly, they were better prepared than this particular traveller because none of them contain any swear words! (It's a very good thing that the weather was crap and my approach was from the side otherwise variations of the F word would have been heard by one and all. Ronda can have that effect!)

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There's a definite split personality vibe to Ronda. It is almost overwhelmingly impressive and a joy to be present but the flip side is that it is incredibly commercialised. One store with the usual selection of mementos to be seen in these towns had a loud, shouty "No Photos" sign!

As always, the people provided entertainment too. I'm particularly interested in the folks rushing hither and thither. A selfie here, a group shot there, eyes glued to maps or phones checking off the list. There were quite a few tours taking place around the town in various languages, French outnumbering English. I tailed one or two but the detail I found dull. This building was designed by X for Y. The names meant nothing to me. In such an incredibly romantic town like Ronda it seemed especially dull. Like talking about gear ratios after a wonderful road and arriving in a beautiful town.

As I wandered aimlessly soaking up as much as I could I was amused to overhear an older North American complaining loudly to what I took to be his daughter that he couldn't abide walking aimlessly. He needed a target and a direction. How different we all are!
In another case a youngish couple with two children were heading towards a restaurant - a typical touristy place - and one of the children was clearly unimpressed and was asking just why they were going there. There was something in the tone that the father said "Because Mom says so" that I found quite amusing!

A couple of buskers had set up beside the gorge and were playing some beautiful Spanish music on two guitars. Amidst all the shuffling to and fro (this was right beside the bridge so probably the busiest part of the town) it was a treat to the ears and a chance to stop, listen and immerse. Again, it was interesting to watch the tourists, some of whom had no interest so stayed talking loudly or others who stepped in front of everyone to take selfies with the duo in the background. Interesting too how few made a contribution to the open guitar case.


Looking at my photos on the phone I made my decision and went and bought the other phone.

This picture shows the old, Moorish defences along the top of the river, now a walking route for tourists

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Well and truly worn out with all my walking I decided to look for some food but quickly turned away from the touristy places and headed back to the gate where a few places outside had caught my eye earlier.

I found a place that had a nice hum coming from it and ordered a vino tinto, preferably local. The wine was served in a generous glass and the bottle proffered so I could see what I was drinking.
When I asked for a menu I was shown the tapas and racciones (tapas for sharing with a group) and immediately the disadvantage of travelling alone in Spain was highlighted. This kind of food is better, far better, shared.
A tapa is fine to snack on but I'd need several to replace a meal after a day's exploring. Racciones are bigger, and to be fair, are great, but it's too much of one thing for one person. Ordering a Raccione sized portion *always makes me feel lonely. Sometimes tapas will do but today I wanted a meal.

I asked for the menu for a meal and caused all kinds of confusion because this was the bar and the meals were served in the dining room - upstairs (despite the kitchen being located behind the bar).
This is quite common here and something that bugs me. I'd been upstairs to use the bathroom and given the choice between the noise, chatter, atmosphere, fresh air and street views from downstairs and the dull, hushed, enclosed room upstairs I knew where I felt most comfortable.
I explained that I didn't want to eat upstairs because I was alone and would feel more alone. I preferred the atmosphere where I was, sitting at a high table near the bar. The boss was consulted and I received permission.

The menu was handwritten - always a good sign - and I opted for roast kid. My waiter did check that I knew what I was ordering and pointed towards the more tourist friendly offerings but I stood my ground. It would take a little longer than other dishes but that's not a problem in my world.
I ate like a king, delicious, fall-off-the-bone seasoned meat with tasty vegetables and some wonderful potatoes, washed down with the local tinto. Fabulous! And all the while the locals coming and going, meeting, drinking and eating. A lovely night. And as I ate I hooked up my new phone to the WiFi and it set itself up for me.

First photo on the new phone!

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I walked home in the blustery, damp dark thoroughly charmed, surprised and more than a little bewildered!

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 38 Wednesday May 04

Rained off in Ronda

If the weather was poor yesterday it was appalling today!! There were a few short breaks between showers but otherwise the rain poured! Thank goodness for my kindle! I wasn't going anywhere today.
I daydreamed about returning to the restaurant from last night but the rain wouldn't let me. The poor Canadian set off though! Brave soul.

Away from some of the epic scenes it was a very pleasant town for wandering around in.

I am always interested in tours...... for a little while. A lot were French speaking. Without fail they were a dry recounting of who lived where in a house designed by someone else.

I had no-one to tell me who built this, or when. I didn't feel in the least deprived.

I'd never heard of a water mine so when I saw there was a museum I was sold! These are the stairs that first brown slaves ran up and down, then white ones, before the brown ones were returned.

The commercial part of town left me cold. No fault of the town, or the district - it just has some pretty heavy competition

Oh to be a kid again! I have been seeing these since Toledo and I really, really want to get a sword and bow for the bike! Maybe even a shield!

The Guitarists. I thoroughly enjoyed this and was grinning loonlike, as I can tend to do. Watching all the tourists bustling around I was highly amused with myself. They had lists of things they wanted to see....... I hadn't had a clue until I arrived

Just one example of why I got a new (old) phone. Top is "normal", bottom is heavily edited to show what I was seeing.

Ronda. Quite possibly the greatest example, so far, of how totally blind travel can be wonderful! (And definitely not a place to visit if you're not happy with your camera!)
(Heavily edited photo because the old phone is crap!)

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I've a genuine question for any reader......
Is anyone familiar with Ronda?

Here's the full album from Ronda (including a few from the next day)

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 39 Thursday May 05

Spain and its amazing technicolour landscape!

After a rained off day, Thursday started off bright and beautiful! I got everything out of the tent and hanging up to dry in the sun and put a bit of oil on the grinding pedal. Ideally grease would do the job but I don't have any of that. I had breakfast and a pot of coffee and decided that I felt great after my day of nothing and the previous day of everything. So much so that I decided to take a bit of a figary and take the scenic route towards Granada by going……in the completely wrong direction. Zahara was on Osmand as a PMB (Pueblo Más Bonito), it was beside a lake and I like travelling along water and Zahara ..... it just sounds like a destination to visit.

Rain was a distant memory today!

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There is a wonderful feeling of freedom when these ideas pop into my head! I should also add that I bought a complete atlas of Spain (and Portugal) when I was in Sevilla because I am fed p with looking at a teeny tiny phone screen. I'd prefer proper maps (the big ones) but I couldn't find a full set anywhere and the expense was a factor too. This way I can get to see a good two or three days range from where I am and only at the expense of about 1.5 kgs

I took a load of photos here! I was totally charmed! The sun and the colours combined with the remains of the excitement from Ronda still tingling in my veins to make me feel like the King of the world! Add in the fact that I was a rebel, going the "wrong" way and I was feeling great! Alive!

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This figary really confused my Danish friend (yes, he took a day off too!) who just could not understand that a "feeling" was enough to go somewhere, especially in the wrong direction. Data doesn't do figaries!

I was finding the landscape changing and enchanting.

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Whatever chances I had with the sexy voiced receptionist were blown when I asked where I could buy cigarettes. She was shocked at me and gave me a lecture on the ills of smoking. In all fairness she had such an alluring voice that even getting a lecture was a pleasant experience! :-) Given my track record with the ladies, such an attribute is not to be discounted

I passed several signs declaring that pesticides were not used here. The result was a verge full of life and lots and lots of insects.

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I set off in bright sunshine, first stop Ronda for ciggies. And I was right - it was so, so different in sunshine! For a start, it was packed, and I mean PACKED with tourists. The guides had to work hard waving flags or blowing whistles to get their groups to follow them. It was chaos! Crossing roads they were exhibiting Darwinian tendencies and ignoring the cars (or fully laden cyclist) coming towards them because the rest of their group was on the other side of the road. Ciggies bought, I got out of Dodge breathing a sigh of relief and so glad that my experience had been so different!

As well as the natural beauty there's always a bit of history

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To celebrate I stopped for a coffee. Coffee is big business and I do enjoy watching all the saucers being set out in advance of a rush. As is so typical of these places a leg of ham is waiting ready to be carved into wafer thin slices.

There's a patch of yellow/golden grass that I refer to as a "micro colour" in the text. There were many examples of these today, mainly from bunches of red, pink, yellow or purple wild flowers. Unfortunately the colours don't sit well in the photos but they were a real delight along the way

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The ride to Zahara was simply wonderful. It was like the Touring Gods were making up to me for having kept me in my tent for most of yesterday because they laid on a ride that was everything being stuck in a damp tent was not!

It was sunny and warm, fresh and clean. It was invigorating and life affirming and demanded further exploration. There was a light wind and only the sounds of nature. There was an ever evolving landscape rolling past me with rocky mountains, fertile fields and the most amazing palette of natural colours. Normally the brilliant blue sky, virgin white clouds above contrasting with the greens below are impressive enough but today sprinklings of other colours were mixed in. Sometimes just a "micro colour" could be seen in the distance. Simply fabulous!

Even without the colours, the sun and shade added an ever changing dimension to the scene. Throw in that beautiful, blue lake and I'm a spoilt bike tourist

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I caught a glimpse of the lake and congratulated myself on a figary well chosen. It was the most amazing blue, green colour. One more gem in the Touring God's jewellery display. Interestingly, it was smaller in reality than Gizmo suggested and as I got further along it became apparent just how low the waterline was.

This new phone camera is doing alright!

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The fact that I was riding along the lake meant that Zahara was close and sure enough a white town started to appear with a castle above it! Better and better!

Stick me beside water and I'm happy...... I saw a lake on a map in the wrong direction and I went for it. There were no regrets!

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Appearances can be deceptive, though and as I got closer it became evident that the approach to the town was pretty steep! Damn romantic, though.

This really is stunning country!

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To be continued........

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 39 Thursday May 05

Spain and its amazing technicolour landscape! Part II

At a roundabout I stopped to ask some guys working on it which was the least steep way up - there were two roads - a question that seemed to perplex them and which could not be answered definitively.

That's Zahara up there!

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Zahara isn't a PMB (Pueblo Más Bonito), it's a Pueblo Blanco. Now, what difference that makes, I don't know but frankly, it didn't live up to its approach. As I think about it now, there's not many places that could match that approach!

I came for the lake..... so there's a whole load of photos!

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Very quiet it was, very white and pretty, certainly, but not anything I haven't seen before. Am I bored of these towns already????
Absolutely not! The views from the town are just stunning!

There's another aspect to the town that spoke to me too. A sign at the edge of the town prohibiting Camper Vans! I did like that!

You can see how low the lake is from its usual level ...... and the world's greatest adventure companion!

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I stopped at the only open bar and had an ice cold coke and took a moment to appreciate one of the great things about Spain. It's not the landscape nor the weather, the food nor the pretty señoritas. It's the ice! Just about every place uses huge chunks of ice in oversized glasses. These keep the drink cold for the length of time that I'm drinking (not a long time in reality), don't water down the drink and for the savvy bike tourist can be added to my water bottle when the coke is gone. (It doesn't last long in the water bottle but it lets me think I'm meeting the challenge of the Sun head on).

There was just much variety to the day.......

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I made my lunch at a mirador in the town overlooking a fertile valley to one side and an interesting church on the other. And of course, all the time there's a castle on top of it all!!
I was debating over whether to take a wander up to the castle when my mind was made up by a bus puking its passengers out on top of me.
Like Ronda earlier there was no wisdom in the collective and people swarmed together regardless of me and the bike. Time to go!

The backroad after Zahara. There was no way the busload of tourists was going to catch me here!

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Now, getting out of these towns can be tricky. The streets are so narrow and so twisty and usually one way that a gps is quite handy. Except that with narrow streets in a hilly town with a castle above the signal can be a bit slow. What might look like a street on Gizmo might actually be a set of stairs. (To explain: On a day like today I put my route into Gizmo but pick only one point in a town before continuing on. What that means is that I invariably go "off course" in the town. In a flat, two dimensional town navigating back to my route is generally easy following the roads on the unit. In these three dimensional towns that is not a straightforward process.

I walked Roccado down. It was so steep, I got disoriented for a while but found my way onto a backroad and set off again. I'd half expected to stay in Zahara but it didn't speak to me - the road was far more interesting. El Bosque would be the next town and they had a campground. Zahara had one final treat for me though as I trundled along the back-road - a view that not many get to see.

The backside of Zahara

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The scenery wasn't as spectacular as earlier but I had no complaints and I took a back road to El Bosque to compensate. I had a lazy meander around the town in no particular rush then headed out to the campground ready to eat, relax and enjoy the last of the daylight.

Full!

Well, specifically, it was booked out with a bunch of kids. Not a hope of a single, middle aged man being able to blend in. The staff were rude and dismissive. They could have told me where there was another campground but they didn't.

Not the greatest photo but the field is covered with little yellow blooming flowers. From a distance it's a golden field amongst the greens

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Osmand did - there was another campground about 6km away but up another 250 meters. I cursed myself (lightly) for dawdling in El Bosque as I tried to climb while racing the setting sun.

The sinking sun is still casting magic

​

I made it - just about - as darkness fell but the place seemed closed. I rang the bell at the closed gate and eventually a pleasant man showed up. I said nothing about El Bosque but he had a sad, resigned expression on his face when he asked me if I'd tried there. It's a shame really. The folks in the other campground were not examples for customer service yet this man was kindness and friendliness personified.

The big roads are quiet, the backroads magical

​

I'd another bit of a climb to get to the pitching area and for once there was a stone table I could pitch beside. The campsite has seen better days but if I'd arrived earlier I'd have seen more of it. It has some interesting vegetation and rocks. I set up the tent and ate supper of tuna and chorizo tossed in hot olive oil on noodles sitting at a stone picnic table. The luxury!

All these were parked up outside a garage!

​

All things considered it was a pretty good day!

Day 39 Thursday May 05
Ronda to Benamahoma 75 km Total KM 1632
Min Meters 223 Max Meters 785
Total Climb 1298, Total Descent 1621
Min Temp 15 Max Temp 40 Ave Temp 28


CycleTravel Here

Strava Here


The Town Along the Way

Zahara

The Whole day

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 40 Friday May 06

Just a very pretty day!


I may not have had the daylight nor the energy to take advantage of my surroundings last night but I made up for that this morning! I had two luxurious pots of coffee sitting at a stone table admiring the very pretty surroundings. And pretty they were!

On leaving the Campground I had a lovely run along a little río

​

I passed a water museum (closed) at a río that ran along the road, stopped at a big, ornate fountain for some delicious, fresh mountain water, the couple busily filling their large collection of plastic bottles insisting that I had priority. Then I set off into a feckin' brutal climb all the way back to El Bosque. I write that like it was a hardship but the countryside made it a pleasure and the concrete barriers dotted along the road made for interesting resting places and photo shots. I was planning on doing an almost full loop to join up with a Via Verde where I hoped to find a (wild) camping spot. The only fly in the ointment was that a random clicking noise from the past few days that I had narrowed down as coming from the driveside pedal was now a constant click on every revolution. So much for oiling it.

The brutal but beautiful climb up to El Bosque. The safety blocks made a great place to stop and sit. The ground just fell away under me.

​

Given that I was expecting to pass through few villages I planned to stop in El Bosque to buy bread.
But first I had to get down to the town. Dumbass eschewed the route I had taken last night (which had been from the full campsite) in favour of the direct approach. Brutally steep. So steep I got off and pushed..... down! In sandals it was an adventure sport!

Looking down on El Bosque. Taking the direct route it was straight down - in every sense

​

But back to the bread!

Oh! Spanish bread! After so long in places where bread was dry, tasteless and had a half life rather than a best before date, Spanish bread may well be the death of me! In fairness, it's not all good, some being little more than crust and tasteless powder (some chain supermarkets) but when it's good, it's really, really good. Spying a Panadería I pulled in. You'd think it would be a quick transaction but no. Two people in the queue in front of me and I've bought Roccado faster than they bought bread! To be fair, the lady behind the counter was the cause, enquiring about their nearest and dearest and then the extended family and then probably their pets. It was interminable but actually quite pleasant. Bread bought, I headed off again slowly to soak up this town that I had flown through last night. Quiet, as I've come to expect, but very pleasant with lots of plants, trees and colours.

This is what no pesticides means - a pallete of colours along the roadside

​

Now I was on a descending main road but as is the Spanish way it was lightly trafficked. The landscape wasn't stunning but it was very pleasant and teased me with blue mountains contrasting against virginal white cloud in the distance. The highlight, though, was the colour - the sheer variety of colour - and life along the roadside. Wild flowers, it seemed, were everywhere. And all kinds of them. Silly as it seems they brought life and activity to a place where I was often the only human for long stretches. I found them very stimulating and inspirational.

The sheer variety of plants, well, weeds really, was captivating. And of course the air was buzzing with all kinds of insects. On such a quiet road it was a very welcome blast of life

​

Another interesting sight was a big, old, white farmhouse in the middle of a field that captivated me from a distance, contrasted as it was against the greenish golden grass that surrounded it. I couldn't figure out if it was inhabited or not. Certainly there was no access from my road but a look at Osmand showed a smaller road running along the back. I can't put my finger on what appealed to me so much about it. There was something solid about it. Proud. Old. I really, really liked it.

The things that amuse and intrigue me along the way!

​

Since I hadn't spent a lot of time plotting my route when I came to a side road, surprisingly tired, I stopped and had a look on Osmand. Villa Martin was on my route and I could take a shortcut by taking this backroad. It would mean missing Arcos de la Frontera and a couple of lakes but.... I was feeling the heat, was surprisingly tired and well..... there was a backroad. I turned off.

This may not be an "epic" road but it has life (of the non-traffic kind), loads of variety, wonderful colours and mountains off in the distance

Agave to remind me of México and trees dotted around a field. This road doesn't have "one big thing" it has lots and lots of little things to keep me charmed

Peaceful and beautiful. But hot! I was really enjoying myself but it was hot and energy sapping

​

What a great road! A small road but well surfaced and suitable for a bit of speed. The landscape wasn't the most stimulating but I was making steady progress towards blue mountains rising up out of the ground. A melange of crops meant some stimulating variety in my environment. Unlike the bare, frigid stalks of earlier in this Spanish Figary, the vines here are showing signs of life in the form of leaves. For some reason this sight greatly cheered me.

The vines are alive!! After the frigid vineyards back north, the bare and brutally pruned carcasses of vines these were a sign of life, of vitality

​

To Be Continued.........

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 40 Friday May 06

Just a very pretty day! Part II

It's not like me to casually skip water but the unplanned shortcut to Villa Martin offered this......

​

Getting close to Villa Martin I hit a traffic jam - sheep - and after a few minutes of very, very slow progress and a surprising amount of sheep noise took another agricultural camino across the fields and then a horrible, brutal, climb up to the centre of Villa Martin. Close to the Plaza the streets became a kind of polished, slippy stone that had me sliding along but the Plaza charmed me - it was pretty, colourful and had some life.

Those mountains!! That's where I'm heading!

​

I had a bit of an explore - not the easiest given the steepness of the streets, the highlight being a long, steep staircase painted as a piano keyboard. Buying cigarettes the shopkeeper presented me with a tiny bottle of olive oil as a gift! So charmed was I that I returned to the Plaza and treated myself to a Radler.

Just very, very pleasant travelling.

​

My first ever Radler was on my first ever bike adventure, not long out of Passau in Germany. (It was a little after 10 am and I felt like such a rebel having an alcoholic drink at that time of the day!) It's a wonderful concoction of beer and lemonade - real lemonade that tastes of lemon - and is named for "cyclist" in German. On my last trip to Spain I ordered a "Cerveza con Limon" but these days of globalisation and the preponderance of pan European brands, Radler is now the name, available in bottles or draught whereas previously it was mixed by the bartender.
So good and refreshing was it that I had a second before heading off on the roughest of backroads. It didn't take too long for me to regret that second Radler!

A lot of these towns lately have some pretty fancy town signs! They are always worth a stop

​

Scrub gave way to huge fields with crops in lines that seemed to stretch for miles and blue mountains looming up out of the ground and calling to me. Oh! And not a sinner but me! Fantastic!

Villa Martin, a town I knew nothing about was very pleasant and friendly. It certainly helped that there was some activity in it. I took a wander as best I could, given the sheer steepness of the place. This "Keyboard Stairs" had my loonface firmly planted on me. I ❤️ it!

​

I was heading for the town of Puerto Serrano and the start (or end) of the Via Verde de la Sierra and since I still had daylight turned off to explore the town a little and buy something to eat for later. At 7;30 on a Friday evening it was coming to life and I wouldn't have minded staying a while longer. The terraces were full, and people were busy coming and going. I watched the local young stud driving around in a battered old banger, music pumping out and causing everything to shake in the jalopy - including the two young wans beside him. There was a lovely vibe and I decided to return for breakfast in the morning.

From a distance Vila Martin hadn't looked terribly high nor steep.

​

I had to head back out of town to find the VV, a rough road taking me to the old station. I did think about setting up camp there, but only briefly as there seemed to be a fair bit of activity and on a warm Friday evening I could expect a lot of traffic. I set off along the VV.

On the backroad after Villa Martin. Normally the "order", the control, the organisation screeching from the straight lines would repel me. But not today. For some reason, perhaps it's the sheer variety of crops that I am seeing today, I got a sense of man and nature in harmony, rather than human domination.

​

The first thing I learned is that it wasn't traffic free! The road was clearly shared with traffic although there was none on it. The reason it was shared with traffic is that there were houses scattered along the roadside. Uh oh. Given that this was rural, most of those houses were attached to some kind of a farm and that meant dogs. Double uh oh. That's not what I was expecting! And there were quite a few tunnels too!

I have no fear heading off on backroads these days. Roccado has more than proven himself. And this is our reward

​

The sun was sinking and I was seeing no likely spots for a stealthy camp. When there were no houses there were dense hedges along the road. It was beautiful though and I had long ago left behind any pedestrians.

Arriving at a wider spot with a picnic bench and a great view I stopped and considered my options. A farmhouse, a bit dilapidated, was below me and I couldn't figure out if it was occupied or not. Some gravel at a gate suggested that the gate was opened regularly. I moved on. A little later in ever deepening darkness a car approached me then turned off to a house up on a hill. Great! I should still be expecting traffic.

On the Via Verde de ls Sierra with Puerto Serrano well in the background. The sun was sinking, mountains on either side casting dark and chilly shadows, farmhouses were regular, barking dogs a bit too regular and camping spots were as rare as hen's teeth. I was a bit worried, but only a little bit.

​

By now darkness was well down so when a large boulder on the side of the road meant a gap in the hedge I stopped and had a look. There was space for the tent beside the rock - right beside the road. No chance of stealth at all. I set up, ate a sandwich and got into bed - it was surprisingly chilly. If a car came along I'd be seen but the big rock was a big disincentive for getting run over!

Still with no place to sleep not a feck was given.

​

Breakfast all the way back in Puerto Serrano in the morning? I think not!

Day 40 Friday May 06
Benamahoma to Wild Camp after Puerto Serrano 74 km Total KM 1706
Min Meters 145 Max Meters 526
Total Climb 620, Total Descent 849
Min Temp 16 Max Temp 40 Ave Temp 30

CycleTravel Here
Strava Here

The Towns Along The Way
El Bosque https://photos.app.goo.gl/bcedUDFWRHuWZPU4A
Villa Martin https://photos.app.goo.gl/C5uhLyVnp2B52P5B7

The Whole Day: https://photos.app.goo.gl/d6eZ2DRxbbimMizJ6

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 41 Sat May 07

The day of all the tunnels

Tunnels were a big feature of the day today. In the cool morning they could be cold but they gave a wonderful perspective on the world

​

I was awake and up early, barely as the sun was rising. My morning pee was disturbed by a passing cyclist who was good enough to ignore me...... and my tent. The tent was soaked with condensation but with mountains on both sides of me there was no point in waiting for the sun to dry it out so I packed up and headed off.

My photo of the VV map told me there was a station down the way so any notions of going back to Puerto Serrano were scrapped. The stations now, of course, are not stations anymore but recreational areas. It varies from route to route but some have hotels, many have a café and quite a few have (paid) campervan parking. A coffee and bathroom break would be just the ticket.

The early morning was very fresh and cool but I got to see the sun bringing life to everything

​

It was a glorious ride from darkness into light. As the sun rose the colours became more apparent and the birdsong outsung the gravel crunching under my tyres. The fresh, cool air warmed too.

One of the longer tunnels, mysteriously lit

​

I arrived at the station and was very impressed. There was a campervan area (paid, but secure - I didn't imagine they'd take tents) as well as paid parking for normal cars. Best of all, an open café!

I pulled up and wandered in to be met by a very grumpy man. In fairness to him it was early (about 9am) and most of his other customers were other cyclists. I've found that groups of cyclists can veer towards obnoxious in shared public areas leaving their bikes convenient for them (but not anyone else), pulling furniture around to suit themselves (but not anyone else), making a terrible racket on their cleats, throwing damp clothing over unused chairs to air or dry and a lot seem to be deaf based on the loud volumes they talk at.
I once joined a Dutch bike touring group and was very excited at the prospect of regular weekend adventures. One weekend's experience of feeling mortified in every café, bar and campsite was enough to convince me that it was a group I did not want to be a part of.

I got my coffee and sat outside enjoying the glorious morning.

When the early morning mugginess burned off the views could be impressive! This is looking down form the VV on the road up to Coripe

​

Feeling so good I decided on a whim to get off the VV and head up to Coripe, the town for this particular station. It wasn't terribly far away as the crow flies...... But the crow flies up!

A steep climb gave me a great view of the VV below me and the town had built a beautiful Mirador with fabulous views, seats and bins so that people can actually enjoy it in comfort and without making a mess. Later on the edge of town was a free Campervan area with individual water taps and electricity! Free! Definitely the nicest I've come across so far and to my eye, tent friendly.

The "Kissing Corner" in Coripe ❤️

​

Coripe was a pretty little town, if very quiet. There were quite a few open doors allowing me to peek into people's homes. How very obliging towards the curious bike tourist! There was a lovely church beside the Plaza and interesting to me was the fact that the Stations of the Cross were outside on individual buildings around the Plaza and up and down the streets! I know this because I did my best to follow them!

There were lots of hanging banners celebrating the Virgin Mary and I dredged up from my memory special "May altars" in school and church. May is the month of Mary.

Even though it looks empty it wasn't at all on this Saturday. Other cyclists (the more serious ones earlier in the day, the more recreational later), hikers, families and horses were all out. A great facility and well used

​

However, the thing that charmed me the most was a kissing corner! Yep! A named corner with a stone seat. I hung around for ages taking photos but I didn't get lucky!

In the direction I'm going there's a hefty bit of climbing but a relatively gentle gradient. The scenery, like recently, is constantly changing so I barely notice the climbing, Ha! Me! Barely noticing climbing!

​

I stopped for a coffee and tostada at a café beside a little park and stretched the tent out to dry in the sun. At one table a few old women nattered (and flirted with the waiter) while at another the younger generation did the same. A young couple showed up for breakfast and I was charmed at the idea of a relaxed, Saturday morning breakfast here, with practically no traffic and just birdsong in the background. If anyone thought the cyclist with his tent drying was odd they were kind enough to say nothing.

Every now and then I'm back to being an explorer!

​

I set off down the steep hill ready for the next stretch of VV. A little later now it was a bit busier but with more recreational cyclists rather than "serious" cyclists and a fair smattering of hikers out for the day.

Roadshot!

​

A few groups were coming and going and I came across a lady struggling to keep up with her group. She was having a terrible time with her gears and I did my best to help her. The VV was continuously rising and she was in the wrong gear. It's not easy to explain the workings of gears in a foreign language but we got there and she headed off with a bit more confidence. After playing leapfrog a couple of times she passed me later with her group, beaming and giving me a cheery "Gracias".

The Mighty Roccado. Master of all roads!

​

To Be Continued.....

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 41 Saturday May 07

The day of all the tunnels Part II

There were regular places to stop, sometimes just a bench or two or an old, unused station. I stopped at one for a delicious brunch of bread, oil, cheese, chorizo & water. Food of the Gods! There was a lively buzz about the place with people stopping for a rest or to eat and drink. A constant flow of people. Very pleasant.

Very pleasant, interesting and changing country the whole way

​

There are, I believe, thirty tunnels along this VV. Some are quite short, others are much longer and have lights fitted - all in working order. Sometimes I'm barely out of one but I'm entering another. They are wonderfully atmospheric and, once it's not early in the morning, a very pleasant, cool respite from the heat of the sun. They also provide great photographic opportunities coming from a dark, monochrome world into a bright, vivid one. They were never boring! I spent so much time soaking them up that I started to realise that I may need to shorten my destination. Who cares! This isn't a road for rushing. Maybe that should be my motto in Spain - not a country for rushing!

One of my favourite "Tunnel Shots". No editing, no enhancing - the golden sunlight really works well using a camera from the tunnel

​

Gizmo was directing me off the VV before the end to bring me to the town of Olvera, a Pueblo Blanco. I'd started at the beginning and I had an urge to cycle right to the end. So I did!

No pesticides around here either! Lots of wildflowers and bazillions of insects. The pole in the centre of the path was a rarity

​

To be honest, there was nothing spectacular about that last stretch. More parking and spaces to sit and a café. I sat down and ate some peanut butter tortillas and then contemplated the repercussions for ignoring Gizmo - a horrible, horrible climb to the town. 15% and up; Horrible!!

I found the tunnels really added to the charm and romanticism of the route

​

It was a push job and when the gradient lessened and I could hop on again there was little to charm me until I made out the old town looming over me - with a castle on top!

I rode up as high as I could go then parked up the bike and climbed up to the church for an amazing view over the town. The church itself, so impressive from down below, was actually in a state of disrepair up close. There's a huge rock bang in the middle of the town which I found interesting, more for the fact that it had never been removed. I wandered around some more admiring the views from streets that stopped and left me looking out over a green country. I love those views from hilly towns.

Looking up to Olvera from the station. What a thrilling sight! But maybe, just maybe, I should have listened to Gizmo becasue the approach was near vertical!

​

The old town was quite quiet but there was a very pleasant vibe so I had a coffee on the only busy terrace, walked the bike downhill and did some more exploring in the newer part of town.
I had planned to get out to the campground and use WiFi to listen to a rugby match but the town was serenading me.

There's always a tree or three

​

Some kind of a road race was taking place but that didn't cause me any problems but I did come across some interesting local art in the form of little statues dressed in bright wool clothing. Very charming! There was also some murals that stopped me dead in my tracks. I've seen some interesting street art in my travels but this was something that hit me differently. I walked up and down, crossed the road over and back to try and catch it from all angles. I'd like to meet her!

Some street art that had me stopped in my tracks

The cute statues decked out in knitted clothes

Impressive!

​

There was a campground a few Kms out of town that was going to be my home for the night so when I had seen all there was to see I rolled out to be hit with another long climb up to it. Check in was a tad complicated and long but my pitch was lovely with a great view over a valley and mountains in the distance. Tent up, I showered, did laundry and cooked up my dinner. Sitting down, a dog out for a walk with his boss came over to say hello. Life is good!

Arty Farty shot

​

Day 41 Saturday May 07
Wild Camp after Puerto Serrano to Olvera 38 km Total KM 1744
Min Meters 192 Max Meters 632
Total Climb 700, Total Descent 266
Min Temp 10 Max Temp 45 Ave Temp 24

CycleTravel Here
Strava Here

The Towns Along The Way
Coripe
Olvera

The Whole Day

Via Verde de la Sierra

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Some Odds´n´Ends

Lots of the old roads have some wonderful Hitos or milestones. Newer roads tend to have plastic ones. Soulless.

Local Ayuntamientos (Government) encourage physical exercise. Practically every town, village and city has mapped, sometimes signposted walking routes and nearly every town has some kind of outdoor gym. This one is along the road

An example of local walks and bike routes done on tile that can be downloaded to phones.

There are a lot of Touring Motorbikes on the roads here and signage to match

Not something that concerns me at the moment but these signs are marking off where hunting takes place. In this case it is private. Sometimes it is restricted to clubs and less often available to the public. On the main roads I don't need to worry but some of the figaries I take during hunting season may be a tad trickier. At least I'm not in France!

As much as I do ❤️ the Plazas, many restrict cycling and football!

A few of the mountain towns restrict CamperVan access. I do like these signs!

Spain is very much oriented towards tourism and not all directed at foreigners, either. Many small towns have elaborate town signs and often maps like these with interesting local information

Spain does some wonderful roundabouts!

And some amazing breakfasts!

​

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 42 Sunday May 8

The day of different levels

How strange is the world that I was safer the night before last camped on the side of the VV than last night where unbeknownst to me I had pitched up next to a wanted criminal!
The man whom I took to be a pleasant Dutch man on a campervan vacation with his wife was actually a Belgian criminal and was being sought by Interpol!

I learned all this over my morning coffee from the man himself.

Looking over at Olvera in the early morning light

​

The reality was that the poor man had the unfortunate luck of sharing the same name and approximate age of the wanted criminal and since every official accommodation provider has to have ID for every single resident, The Day of The Jackal-ish, his name sets bells ringing in the local Police station when his check-in is processed. He's been visited by the Police three times so far in Spain, once at 4am by 4 armed officers! In fact, a Police car had done a lap of the campground yesterday evening and scoped him out. The Dutch embassy won't help at all, he can't check in using his wife's passport (because everyone has to be registered) and he's not sure that trying to explain his situation to each campground will be helpful either.

Avoiding Olvera (and a horrible climb) I was in the country with a little road all to myself

​

The couple in the next van over were interesting too. Swiss, if their registration is anything to go by, they spent most of the evening in their campervan. When I did see them outside they were like hormonal teenagers unable to keep their hands off each other. They provided a pretty clear soundtrack to what they were up to inside the camper too, or at least the squeaky springs of the suspension did! I have never been able to dance due to being born with a deficiency of rhythm but after all these years I was pleased to discover that I am not the most unrhythmic person in the world!


A pleasant breeze had meant no condensation on the tent so I was leaving relatively early and had a pleasant descent down and away from the town - I wasn't going back up there!!

A dried out río still had lots of life along the banks

​

My descent morphed to a steady climb but through lovely country on a small, quiet road.

I approached the town of Torre Alháquime and skirted the edges. The main part of the town is up high and I'd a long day ahead and the road was calling me so I barely stopped.

This is farming country and quite a few people were out tending their fields, most by hand. It was the perfect road for putting on some of my country music but that seemed sinful, an unnecessary intrusion.

A small, very small, selection of some of my roadside companions on this glorious morning.

​

I barely noticed the climbing because the roadside was littered with the most amazing and diverse collections of wildflowers and flowering weeds. I know I've been prattling on lately about them but today was a whole other level! Thistles were in abundance, tall and proud, their prickliness tamed by vivid pink flowers. If someone had said to me a while ago that I'd be parking the bike and going back to admire thistles I'd have worried for their sanity! But that's what I did. Again and again! It wasn't just thistles - there were all kinds of flowers from dandelions to poppies, a crocus here and another there and another between the two, (Written that way because I can't figure out the plural of crocus ) all wild, all growing on the verge and all home to insects and hordes of butterflies. It was really impressive. I don't go fast at the best of times but I felt like I was in one of those old myths, travelling a road where I must not stop to smell the flowers! Wild thyme floated in the air and was very calming.

No special effects, only Mother Nature!

​

Getting close to Setenil de las Bodegas I was hit with a dilemma - the road split and went high and low. Osmand suggested that the low road had the most climbing but the high road looked bigger and potentially less interesting. I opted for small and steep. What the hell has happened to me??

As well as all the colours - so many colours - there were bazillions of bugs buzzing around too and lots of birdsong

​

I was interested to see a variation of the underground houses I'd seen before. These ones seemed to have been carved out of a cliff. I continued along and saw the town, almost all white, stretched out in front and above me. I approached in a blissful state of ignorance!

Even the more monochrome stretches still had subtle splashes of warmth and colour

​

I was bemused to see a another sign prohibiting campervans from entering the town. I liked that but was distracted by a pretty steep climb on a narrow street that was actually against the one way system! Oooops!

A clue as I approached Setenil de las Bodegas

​

So distracted was I by trying to stay rolling forward on a rough surface up a steep hill that the birds chattering above me were almost an annoyance and I nearly missed one of the main features of the town! Across from me an entire block of houses had been built into the cliff! Or perhaps out of the cliff is a more accurate description. And Dumbass nearly missed them!

Stopped to gawk, it was then that I realised that the birds were so loud because there were so many of them. There were so many of them because they nested in the cliffs above the houses on my side of the road! Yep! Dumbass had missed the houses right beside him that were built into the cliff!!

At that point I got off and pushed!

Houses on both sides of a little valley built into the mountain! And DumbAss nearly missed them by focusing on the struggle to get up a bloody hill!

​

Setenil de las Bodegas is an amazing little town, hacked out of a mountain but within the mountain. It's very hard to describe and looking at the photos, very difficult to capture properly. I'm used to the mountain towns being a 3D maze but this place is on a different level. I made my way to the Plaza, parked the bike (breathing a very large sigh of relief) and went exploring. I've been charmed before but this too was on a different level.

I'm a bit stuck because the photos don't really portray the scenes and my words won't do it either. A church towered above the buildings on the compact plaza and huge bits of mountain remained around some of those buildings. As well as the amazing constructions there is an air of fantasyland to the place.

The Fantasyland that is Setenil de las Bodegas. Steep! Tunnels under buildings. Building built out of rock. Less a Mountain Town and more a Town in a Mountain. Totally unprepared, another magical surprise on my Spanish Figary

​

To Be Continued.........

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 42 Sunday May 8

The day of different levels Part II

I meandered back to the Plaza and promptly sat down for a menu del día and a big, cold Radler. I'm sure the waiter thought there was something wrong with me because I could not wipe off my grinning-like-a-loon face. Another completely random surprise!
I knew there was a campground outside the town and while eating made up my mind to stay and come back to explore more.

After some great, tasty and cheap food I pushed on some more down very narrow, twisty streets - now I understand the no Campervan rule - but the town wasn't finished with me yet. Unusually for a Sunday some stores were open - little places selling meats, cheeses, olives, oil and wine, touristy places in other words. I missed the clues.
I thought I was coming to the edge of the town but in fact I was just coming to a different area. The tourist area!

Yep! More buildings built into the mountain. These were all bars and on a quieter day would have been very interesting to pass a few hours imbibing and exploring. But today? Party Central!

​

Bedlam! Two rows of small bars were dug into the mountain and people milled and drank and generally ignored the poor fecker trying to push his bike through.
I made my frustrating way through and came out to the main road - the road I would have arrived on had I taken the "high road". If I had I would most likely have skipped the town and continued on such was the chaos. (And what I would have missed! )

Tour buses were parked in both directions explaining the sudden crush of people and the road was quite busy. My head couldn't process this at all. Too much noise, too many people. I crossed the road and headed for a fountain to top up my water. Dry! And the next one too. I was looking back at the chaos and the beauty behind but just couldn't reconcile the two. I was not going to enjoy hanging around there.

I smoked a cigarette then set off out the road to the campground. When I got close I just said "no" to myself and continued on having a bit of a chuckle to myself. I have complained that the towns can be dead and now when this one is full of life I roll on.

Leaving the chaos behind and back onto the road with carpets of wildflowers everywhere

​

I was quickly back on to a small, rural road and it did its best to charm me by laying on lots and lots of trees and soon all the chaos was forgotten.

I arrived at Alcalá del Valle stopping to visit a memorial to victims of Franco's regime. It was for a family group murdered in 1936, discovered and exhumed in 2015. The "disappeared" feature strongly in the history of the Hispanic world. And in Spain too.

A simple, but poignant memorial to the Disappeared. I've been doing a bit of reading, filling in the details of my bare outline understanding of Spanish history and places like this make what I'm reading all the more vivid. These are not big towns, people often living cheek by jowl. No doubt the perpetrators were well known. What was daily life like back then? And how did it change over time? What does it feel like to look daily at the people you know killed your family or friends? And on the other side, what must that life be like knowing that people know what you did? Nobody knew where these poor people were buried for 70 years. No, that's wrong. Some people knew.

​

I hesitated about taking the steep descent down to the town but I needed water so I rolled down on a dedicated cyclepath. A wonderful floral display with Palm trees greeted me but the town was dead! Such a contrast to earlier. A few people wandered around on this Sunday afternoon and one guy was roaring around on a motorcycle. Unusually, I felt a tad uneasy. Every water fountain was dry and no shops or cafés were open. It's a pretty town, in parts, the old and new more mixed together than in other places. But on this quiet, Sunday afternoon it was saying nothing to me.
Deciding to continue I tried to take a shortcut but hit a gate so climbed out the way I had descended. Passing a petrol station I pulled in but the shop part was empty. I wasn't thirsty enough to drink petrol!

Later, some open, interesting country

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Tired and a little low in water in the hottest part of the day I tried to have a nap in the shade at the memorial at the edge of town. I was half successful, napping fitfully for a couple of hours before heading off again.

The country was a bit more open now and I had great views as I cycled along. I'd dawdled so much that I'd probably have to stealth camp tonight but I wasn't too bothered - once I could get some water. Passing a dead snake on the road wasn't the best timing considering my phobia of the serpents and my wild camping plans.

Hot!!
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Next up was the town of Cañete la Real and it greeted me with a flowing fountain before I even entered! Watered, I wandered on in and had a look around, one old man taking one look at my bike and coming over to warn me off taking certain streets - they have steps! The church was unusually bright coloured but it was just a rural town on a Sunday evening. I rolled down and out.

Another mountain town snuggled into a valley

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I was now heading for a camp noted on Osmand as an unofficial place for Campervans near a lake and under a bit of pressure too as the sun was sinking. Darkness might well be coming but the land was still charming me especially as the sun played favourites with certain hills bathing them in golden light as others fell into shade. It was all farm country and I could see no likely places to camp. On I went.

Flying down a hill I instinctively jammed on the brakes as I flew past an amazing gorge carved out by a little río. It's amazing what Mother Nature can do!

The gorge that made me stop. Light was fading, I had no place yet to sleep and I'd been speeding downhill - all good reasons to keep on going. But I couldn't!

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I continued on, the sun getting lower and lower, the shadows getting longer and darker. And I was going uphill too! On a bend in the road I couldn't help but stop again to admire the sunset scene over the lake. It wasn't the spot marked but there was a little forest and with the camber of the road once in there I'd be pretty much invisible. I explored on foot, found a likely spot and was home.

There was so little traffic and decent distances between towns so I felt like I had the world to myself

The fading sun announcing its power by playing favourites

If I stepped out of the trees this was my view. Not bad for a bit of stealth camping on the side of the road

​

Spain continues to surprise and charm me!


Day 42 Sunday May 08
Olvera to Wild Camp* 68 km Total KM 1812
Min Meters 370 Max Meters 802
Total Climb 1112, Total Descent 1285
Min Temp 19 Max Temp 41 Ave Temp 29
*Wild camp 36.96412° N, 4.81085° W

CyceTravel Here
Strava Here


Torre Alháquime
Setenil de las Bodegas
Alcalá del Valle
Cañete la Real

Whole Day

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 43 Monday May 9

Big and wide and flat but anything but dull!

I slept well in my little forest and was up with the sun. I wasn't going to risk firing up the stove in such a dry environment so packed up and headed off without breakfast or coffee. On a whim I decided to continue (up) to see the spot I had picked out for last night. It was on the roadside so not hidden at all but had a view of a different lake. I passed a couple of campervans parked on the side of the road so presumably this is a popular area for overnighters. All things considered, I reckon my spot was more peaceful.

As someone who started camping late in life and even later, Stealth Camping, I will remember the anxiety such thoughts inspired. Now? I get to wake up and see vistas like this!

​

Turned around I zoomed downhill covering some of the same ground but of course it looked completely different in daylight! Hitting the main road I headed towards Campillos and coffee. What a charming town! I'm not in the mountains anymore so it's flat and open and wide! Spying a café I stopped for a delicious coffee and churros. Maybe not the healthiest breakfast but it's local!

The "original" spot I was aiming for. Not bad, but more suitable for a campervan

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I explored the town on the bike - a long, wide boulevard filled with trees was a highlight. Then I found the Plaza and was lost for a while in the vegetation. It was glorious! I walked around admiring everything, especially the coloured vases on plinths. Some had clearly been damaged or broken and repaired. I liked that.

In fact, I spent so long meandering around that I got hungry again so bought some fruit and bread in a shop (more chatting!) and made a picnic in the Plaza.

The luscious, shady and very interesting Plaza in Campillos

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It's a slow process in the shops here. The "chat" is obligatory! The guy working the counter was flat out but everything stopped for "the chat" when it was time to pay. I find it very enjoyable.
Lunch in the park was made more pleasant watching a young woman playing with her chihuahua. It just wouldn't behave!
I developed the hypothesis that she was working from home and was taking a break. She had a tennis ball that the dog chased, caught but wouldn't return. If she went after him he ran away! I was most amused!


I set off again on the main road in no particular rush. Granada is the next big place and I've a choice of two campsites today and then a long run to Granada.

Before Campillos, I was retracing the road but everything looked different!

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Sierra de Yeguas didn't look like much on approach but it turned out to be a charming little town. The church especially, was decorated with rows and rows of potted plants hanging off the walls.
Given the heat I wanted a cold drink and while in a café saw that they sold wineskins. I could not resist! It even came filled with wine!

The utterly charming Church, brought to life with all those flowerpots. A real labour of love for someone

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I set off again and was faced with a choice & the main road or the Cañada Real. Cañada is a cattle track. I took it!

The Main road. Nothing wrong with it. At all.

But a look at Osmand told me that this was a possibility...... No contest!

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A fabulous gravel back road cycling through the olive trees. The colours are just amazing. Reddish soil, olive trees, blue sky, mountains in distance but the star is the wild vegetation along the roadside. It. Is. Glorious.
There's a real variance here, the wild alongside the cultivated. Lots of bugs, flying bugs, which, I presume, support all the birds I hear.
The road was very bumpy and bouncy but that didn't bother me until I remembered I'd bought eggs in Campillos!
I was heading towards a lake but it was smaller than expected and quite far away and dull. I guess the lakes this morning spoiled me

I think I met one pickup. My explorer head was well and truly on

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I came upon the little town of Fuente de Piedra.
This was my first camping option (the other being a few Kms away and a bit more vague).
I got a fright when the campsite turned out to be a grotty trailer park but I was wrong and it was actually up the road! Small, quiet, friendly. I grabbed a coffee and pastry to mark the end of my day at a little cafe up the road.

There are some wonderful contrasts to be absorbed. Irrigation is vitally important in these parts

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The waitress, on the phone knew all her customers (nearly all old men on their own) and was able to serve their coffee or drinks from memory while she chatted on the phone. In most circumstances that would seem rude, I imagine, but with her bright smile, arm and head gestures and body language her regulars didn't seem put out in the slightest.
It was interesting to sit and watch the interactions and get an understanding of the social service places like this provide in the small towns.

Out in the middle of nowhere with no-one around I felt like this was all for me! The luckiest fecker in all of Spain!

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I had planned to explore the little town but found myself very tired and needed a siesta instead.
Dinner, later, was simple, fried eggs, chorizo, bread, avocado.
Worst of all, when I produced my new wineskin to wash down my dinner the wine was white!!!!! Warm, white wine? Yeeeeeeuck!! Sometimes this bike touring lark can be just horrible!

Day 43 Monday May 09
Wild Camp to Fuente de Piedra 45 km Total KM 1857
Min Meters 384 Max Meters 547
Total Climb 492, Total Descent 456
Min Temp 13 Max Temp 43 Ave Temp 29
*Wild camp 36.96412° N, 4.81085° W

Cycle Travel Here
Strava Here:

The Towns Along the Way
Campillos
Sierra de Yeguas

The Whole Day: