Spanish Figary & Other Stories

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 44 Tuesday May 10

Dominoes; A spectator Sport

I took a day off. There are far more interesting places to stop for a day than a small, rural town in a flat part of Spain but I liked the feel of the place…. and I was feeling quite tired.

When everywhere isn't white I find the architecture to be expressive and individual.

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I had missed exploring yesterday evening, preferring a siesta before a late, simple dinner in the warm evening so after breakfast I wandered around for a stroll.

I really am a very bad bike tourist! Sometimes I'll pass by a town thinking "meh, I've seen it all before" but when I stop and poke around there is always a lot to see and often a lot to feel, especially when people are out and about. Mind you, if I stopped everywhere I'd get nowhere!

Just one of the pleasant churches. Between the Parish Church and normally several others from different Convents or Monasteries, even the small towns have more than one. There's also an Evangelical Hall.

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Today, I realised that just about every town that has a shop has a florist. Flowers are clearly important. Fuente de Piedra has (at least) two of them - and it's not a big place! I think that it speaks to the priorities of the populace and it says something good and warming. The beautiful things are important

Despite the town being named the "Fountain of Rock" the main water fountain was dry. The big lake close by is not as big in reality as Gizmo suggested it should be.

The dry (and dusty) fountain that gave the town its name

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There's an olive oil factory here where people can rock up and buy their oil directly from the factory! I really, really want to do that - wander in with my half litre bottle and get filled up from the tap! I just need to empty my bottle first!

Someday...... (It's not significantly cheaper than the cheapest in the supermarkets)

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There were more games of dominoes today, this time inside a café on the elevated Plaza. Another furious and loud game, I could hear it from the street! I never knew that dominoes was a spectator sport (nor furious nor loud for that matter) but when I wandered in there were as many people watching as playing. In fact, it was quite an interesting scene and another reminder that not all is as it might initially seem in small town Spain.
From the outside I saw a café with an empty terrace - the sun was blasting down and despite the shade from a couple of parasols, still uncomfortable to sit out. Other than the sound it was impossible to know if anyone was inside - it seemed very dark in comparison to outside and nearly all doors have those hanging strips of beads, presumably to allow air circulate while stopping insects.
Inside, there's a few groups sitting at tables, one of which is the big domino match. The place looks like a bomb hit it with tables littered with the remains of coffees, tostadas and drinks. It is not uncommon at all for people to have a morning beer, shot or shot-in-a-coffee.
Again, it's a reminder that there's a whole lot of activity in these places - at the right time.

An old nobleman's home, now a Casa Rural, a type of country Inn. The prices of some of these places are astronomical! I've seen them listed (on Booking) at close to €1000 per night!

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I may be wrong but I think some of these cafés in small towns are subsidised by local government. Certainly, some towns and villages have their café in the local government office. There is normally a type of account statement posted somewhere prominent that reinforces the idea for me.
In any case, the lady who looked after me gave all the impression of being someone who didn't just serve her customers but looked after them too. A steady stream of conversation and banter flowed from her to her customers, a warm and friendly atmosphere to step into. I received the same stranger as I was.
Later, on a different Plaza in a different café I had the opposite experience. Far more salubrious and expensive, I was just another customer in a purely commercial enterprise. Interestingly, there were two tables occupied by elderly English folk, one table of three older women and one of two older men. From what I could gather from the conversations they live here, at least part of the year. The men were talking about the cars they used to own with heavy emphasis on the mechanics of them while the women discussed the best places to buy cosmetics cheaply.

It's very easy to believe that I am the only person here, at times

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Later, during Siesta time I continued my wandering and discovered that I don't find the silent towns to be quite so eerie any more. I'm getting to see them at different times as I go along and understand better how they operate and when they come to life and when they nap or sleep. I am amazed though, at the consistent silence during the Siesta time. Either sound insulation is excellent or everyone really does sleep!

Quiet, yes, at least superficially, but quite interesting

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There is an "interpretative centre" for the lake but that's a good few kms away and I was feeling lazy. I was happy to explore, then hit the supermarket later and cook another lazy dinner. This campground has a picnic table! The luxury!

There are a few little parks (am I being too generous) scattered around. In the blazing heat of the day they are empty but in the mornings and evenings they get used. The Rainbow benches are quite typical of and common, even in the smallest, rural towns

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For a day off in a pretty nondescript town it was surprisingly rewarding.

Another little park

I do like the effort they go to at the edges of towns to announce themselves. It suggests a bit of pride, but not arrogance and seems welcoming.

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Fuente de Piedra https://photos.app.goo.gl/Zmqr4QEJcRZMbFtv6

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 45 Wednesday May 11


The laziest, softest bike tourist ever? Or the luckiest?

My plans for an early start were disrupted ironically by waking up very early! About 4am! Pitch dark, it was far too early to get up so I read for a while then dozed until 9! Ooops!
I continued the theme of "slow" over brekkie and coffee reading my book - I had a picnic table - then packed up and hit the road.

I was very lethargic and slow to get going. CycleTravel had suggested an uninspiring route along a railway line for most of the day. Ha! DumbAss!

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I didn't make it far. I stopped at the domino place for another coffee and pastry and got a lovely compliment from the waitress for my Spanish. Basking in the warm glow of spending time in a Spanish town I browsed Booking and found a bargain rate in the biggish town of Antequera. On a whim I booked it. Granada can wait.

I finally set off - in the afternoon! - and realised that I was in a very, very different country to only a couple of days ago! From waking up in a cool, high forest overlooking a lake surrounded by greenery I was now motoring through a relatively flat, dry plain filled with olive trees. And it was hot!

Humilladero. Unusually, the main road split the town. There was a depressed, uneasy vibe to the place. Despite being in a lazy mood I explored a little and hurried on out of town

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Humilladero was the first town up and I got a bit of a land. What looked like a long and interesting park alongside the road was actually quite dilapidated up close. It set a bit of a tone for the town.

Unusually, the main road ran right through the town - not that there was much traffic - so it seemed quite open and spacious. Or distant. Passing a threesome on the street with two small yappers the noisy one went for my ankles which prompted laughter from the trio. That's not matching my experience of Spanish dogs or people.
I turned off for a bit of a wander (flat towns are great for that after the mountain towns) but found little of interest and all the water fountains were off. Even the church was modern and uninspiring. Despite having a lazy day I got out of town quickly back to the open road.

Not bad for beside a train track!

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And what a road! I had a bit of climbing to do but the road was big, wide and pretty empty! The world around it was open and wide, blue mountains on the horizon and a pleasant wildness replaced the highly organised and rigid agriculture of earlier. The colours were soft and merging greens to blues to purples. After my ascent the descent was hindered by a strong wind but all in all it was very pleasant and made more pleasant when I turned off on to a back road where the wild flowers sang to me. I was particularly taken with wild wheat growing along the roadside.

It was a big road, for sure, but very, very quiet. The landscape was ordered but interesting.

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Some roadworks threw up a lot of dust so I employed my buff as a face mask and rolled into the village of Bobadilla. In no rush I took my time to have a wander around and was charmed. A striking church had a very informal and young priest in casual clothing chatting to a lady about the organisation for some kind of a celebration. Very different from my image of a stuffy, formal cleric.

Ah! A bit of a backroad. And wildflowers!

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The church itself was quite simple but had more than its fair share of dolls on display. Not statues. Dolls. I find them very disturbing.
I found water from a running fountain and was amused to have to wait watching a young woman fill her wheelbarrow with large containers of water. It's been my experience at fountains that the locals will instinctively step back to allow the bike tourist priority so I prefer to hang back. When there's a queue I get to pick up on some of the local gossip!

The village was deathly quiet but I found an open café opposite an unfinished apartment building with commercial outlets on the ground floor. It had clearly been in this state for some years and I was reminded of my Camino trip some years ago where large developments like this weren't unusual in the most unlikely places - a result of a building boom that stopped suddenly with the crash of 2008. I couldn't for the life of me see the commercial attraction of a development this large in a village this small and it really was something of an eyesore. One side of the street was filled with quaint houses, trees and plants with lots of colour while the other was a modern ruin.

My cold Coke was served the Spanish way - in an oversized glass with huge square blocks of ice and a lemon. It's a great way to enjoy a Coke!

I enjoyed the little splash of yellow. It reminded me of Colombia

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I continued on, still on a small road but this time with a bad surface, the healthy breeze helping to keep me cool. I'm sure for some the countryside could be seen as repetitive and dull but I was really enjoying all the colours.

Mountains in the distance - just where I liked them on a lazy day

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I passed quite probably the most pristine touring cyclist that I have ever come across! His bike gleamed in the sun. His clothes looked like they had just been bought. His panniers were pristine, unscuffed, unmarked. His chain glistened! I, on the other hand was was pretty dusty, a tad sweaty, wearing the (well faded) yellow shirt I'd bought in Cartagena, Colombia, on a bike with mismatched panniers bearing all the signs of careless travel and still with a squeaky, clicky pedal. For some unknown reason they showed no inclination to stop and talk to me

Wildflowers, olive trees.... all very pleasant

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I arrived into Antequera in bright sunshine a little after 3 pm delighted with myself. First of all, it was early so I would have loads of time to explore - and it looked like a pretty town with lots to see and do. Secondly, the route I had taken, suggested by Cycle.Travel had looked, frankly, a little dull, running as it did along a railway line for a lot of it. But it was far from dull. And finally, a day that could have spiraled into a day of muttering and chastising myself for being late and lazy had turned out very, very well. No, I wasn't as far along as I had intended but I'd had a very enjoyable day.

The Edge of Antequera. A religious shrine and a fountain with fresh, cold water. That was enough to make me happy

But Antequera was a whole lot more than just cold, fresh water!

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Day 45 Tuesday May 11
Fuente de Piedra to Antequera 31 km Total KM 1888
Min Meters 388 Max Meters 528
Total Climb 240, Total Descent 172
Min Temp 25 Max Temp 40 Ave Temp 33


Cycle Travel Here
Strava Here:

The Towns Along the Way
Humilladero
Bobadilla

The Whole Day:

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 45 May 11 Antequera

Antequera made a big impression on me right from the start. Just after a bright roundabout at the edge of town I encountered a religious shrine (where they were setting out seats for some kind of an event) with a small, neat and clean block of toilets and a drinking fountain - with water. That's how to welcome the weary (or lazy!) traveller.

I wandered on up towards the town on a dedicated bike lane but turned off to investigate the camper van area - totally unsuitable for me as expected (Google Maps has some uses) - so approached the centre from an unusual angle. That wasn't the smartest thing to do because as I turned a corner I got absolutely walloped by a whole load of things to absorb at once! It was rather overwhelming!

First of all there was the Bullring - and very clearly a Bullring, big, solid and white. It boomed at me. That was across a big open space that had some classic buildings but they were a background harmony, barely noticeable because to the left (and what I had missed cycling through) singing to me was a wide, long Boulevard filled with the best Mother Nature had to offer. If that wasn't enough there was another roundabout trumpeting a huge gate through which the town was once entered.

The Boulevard I found to be just stunning! It's beautiful and alive with all the trees and plants. it's used with lots of seats to stop, savour, chat or rest, It has shade - a very important factor in this part of the world and it leads to interesting places. Behind me is the town centre. At the other end the municipal sports facilities. Being a town in Spain, lots of people live within a stone's throw of this place and can use it for relaxation or as part of their way through town.

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I was simply stunned. Gobsmacked! Picked on a whim because of a cheap deal on Booking I was once again proving my status as the luckiest bike tourist! Ever!
I leaned Roccado up against a low wall and enjoyed a cigarette while my head just roved left and right and up and down. Loon face well and truly in place.
I am really, really enjoying the randomness of these days. No destination as such, figary after figary, going by feel. And Spain just keeps rewarding me! Damn, but I'm lucky!

I could not get enough of this arch!

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A group of young Dutch tourists were getting a tour so I eavesdropped a little but learned nothing of interest. For Siesta time there was a fair bit of activity but no-one gobsmacked like me. Mind you, the sun was fierce!

I wandered slowly around sometimes pushing the bike, sometimes leaving it parked and just admired the place. The Boulevard, especially, was beautiful and so, so calm. It even had shade!

I slowly advanced on the town marvelling at the architecture. This is, or was, a very wealthy town. The detail on some of the exteriors was exquisite.

Decision time! Which street to take? Ah, feck it - I'll do both!

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My hotel was on the far end of the town so I got to see a lot on my first pass through. I didn't make fast progress though, pushing Roccado from building to building and from side to side. It seemed that every second building mesmerised me!

I found the hotel, small and very modern on the inside with a storage room for the bike. There were two bike packing bikes already in there and leaving my "kitchen" panniers, tent and rack bag I was bemused that half my load was still heavier and bulkier than their full load!

I had a lovely, hot, high pressure shower and set out to explore.

I think these might be the civic offices. I am still charmed at the open spaces behind gates. Many, many buildings, commercial and private have this feature and I am often to be found sticking my head around corners or through gates.

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Antequera has an ancient Moorish "town within a town", the Alcazaba, that requires tickets to be bought in advance to enter and since I'm a Dumbass and it was almost closing time I skipped visiting it. In fairness, Spain isn't the friendliest for the rambling tourist. Museums have strange hours, often require advance purchase of tickets and quite a few seem to be guided. I'm not the greatest fan of guided tours - I prefer to go at my own pace and pass the time with the (usually odd) things that interest me not the things I'm supposed to be interested in. Also, going solo they can be very intense and I've seen more than a few solo tourists with the look of a captive pleading for release in their eyes.
Instead, I had a coffee on a little terrace on a small Plaza outside my hotel. Even this relatively small area had enough in a church and a statue to keep me absorbed as well as lots of people to watch.

A wonderful street. Not one, but two spires, interesting buildings and a feature of biggish Spanish towns is just how much accommodation is located above shops and businesses.

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Recaffeinated, I set off exploring. I walked all over! My day on the bike was short but I reckon I added double figure kms to my distance tally on foot. I think I saw it all (except the Alcazaba). The Bullring was open so I could wander inside and have a look around. That was a thrill! I've been to a bullfight before in Sahagún on my Camino and while I'm glad I got to see it I have had no real urge to revisit. However, I'm reading a bit of Hemingway at the moment and the urge is growing.

The Boulevard was just fantastic! Used by all it stretches from the commercial area out and is lined with sports pitches, other parks and children's playgrounds - all very healthily in use.

The parks in these busier towns I find particularly interesting because they are so heavily used. A romantic picnic here, a family party there. Some young fellas pulling wheelies or on skateboards in that corner, another group just sitting on the grass and chatting over there. Dog walkers all over the place. I don't witness anti social behaviour and all the groups seem to accommodate each other and get along. Lots of bins mean that litter is almost totally absent.

Arty Farty shot. At first glance it's an impressive building. A bit of closer inspection reveals more and more intricate, decorative features. This was very common and kept me amused for hours and hours.

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I wandered up high to look down on the Alcazaba but got distracted by the charming, old, narrow streets and got totally lost! Sorry! No piccies of the main tourist attraction! I am the world's worst tourist! .-)))

The municipal sports areas are another area of excellence. Tonight several full sized and miniature football pitches are in use for training and matches. It's very interesting to watch because kids' sports are very social - the parents are all present and chatting as the kids play or train. For matches there are lots of "oooohs" and "aaaahs" but no abuse of the referees, who are, I notice, invariably young themselves. In the more adult matches there is little in the way of the stereotypical Spanish amateur dramatics of the professional level.
Other than football there are also tennis courts, handball and lots of basketball courts. Even the smallest village will have a municipal sports centre and swimming pool. A big town like this has everything and lots of it.

There's loads of history and culture around here and I'm rabbiting on about the sports!

The same street with the two spires - now with a Moorish old town perched on top of the hill! Spanish towns can be feckin`wonderful for the explorer!

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Later, exploring the side streets I passed a bar/restaurant that sung to me, so hungry, I wandered in and propped myself at the bar amongst the locals and their loud, vivid conversation.

And this is where the solo traveller comes unstuck. The set menu didn't appeal to me so I grazed on tapas and racciones. Racciones are larger versions of tapas - for sharing - and most of what got me excited were racciones. But I ain't got no one to share with!
I start off enthusiastic but there's just too much of one type of food to enjoy it properly without mixing it with something else. Tonight there was some morcilla (black pudding) that was delicious but there was just too much of it. The wine to wash it down is fantastic, the life and conversation around me is stimulating but every time my enthusiasm and spirit wanes as each bite seems to reinforce my aloneness.

Building after building with all kinds of decorative features all over. And this one had Palm Trees!

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Wandering through the town at night is a different experience to the daytime just from the perspective of the buildings which can look even more elegant. Of course, the shops are open at 8pm that are closed at 4! That's still a bit strange to me.

A glimpse into town life. Post Pandemic a lot of towns are struggling. A lot of business shifted to online. Here, local businesses have banded together to offer incentives for people to shop, in person, in the town. Local people supporting local businesses.

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Americans must get really confused in these places. There are no blocks. Streets can weave hither and thither, or approach each other at angles the buildings between them getting narrower and more interesting. It makes little difference to me as I spend most of my time in a perpetual state of geographical confusion

Surprisingly tired (but not that surprising at all - I walked lots and lots of kms and a fair bit of climbing) I returned to my hotel and slept very, very deeply.

It's probably completely politically incorrect but I got a huge thrill from the Bullring. It's not the first bullring I've seen and probably not the "fanciest" but under a blue sky and golden sun it looked incredibly well! And…. it was open (the first) so I got to walk in and around. It's quite the feeling to stand in the middle of a Bullring!

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Antequera:

The Whole Day:

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 46 Thursday May 12

Man's best friend

I debated about visiting the Alcazaba but that would have meant hanging around and unless I got sidetracked I might make Granada today. I'm not sure what was driving me towards Granada. I'd picked it out after Sevilla to be the next leg. Given its location in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada (the original ones!) it offered different options for the next stage. As usual, I knew nothing about Granada other than it was a city! It also had a campground, well technically the next town had a campground that was quite small and reservations were required. I'd emailed them yesterday and made a reservation for tomorrow night, yet this morning I had an urge to get there. The freedom of solo travel!

Looking back on Antequera. Beside me are signposts for hiking routes, one being a Camino route to Santiago. It does look like interesting country for hiking. Once again, I offered up my gratitude to the Touring Gods for rewarding me with such a wonderful place to explore.

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It took a while to escape the industrial and commercial sprawl and I hopped on to a busy dual carriageway to speed up the process. The gravelly shoulder didn't help much but each roundabout did - I was shedding traffic with each one.

Once I'd left the last of the urban sprawl behind I stopped to appreciate the colours. I'm easily pleased!

Even though I was on a big road it was quite pleasant watching a big rock loom closer to me. Traffic was steady, the most steady I've had in a while but all gave me lots of space.

Huertas del Río was small and barely detained me but Archidona was more interesting. However, to get there I had a bloody steep hill to climb! To put it in perspective, Archidona was about 20km along and I'd climbed 150m in the first 18km. I had to climb 170m in the last 2 km!!

To my left is the last roundabout and before me the road to Archidona with a lot less traffic than I had been dealing with earlier. I stopped to appreciate the change in the quality of my journey.

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I arrived into Archidona and saw the usual things without getting too excited. What was unusual (a bit) about this town was the fact that the road passes through, higher than some of the town so that there's a second level to the town beside, parallel to and below the road.
There's a type of Plaza, long rather than square along the road with trees and something made me pull in.

And I saw this.

Lobi, Man's Best Friend

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There's nothing unusual about statues in this part of the world. In fact, they're quite common. However, a dog as a subject is a bit unusual.
Lobi stayed with his boss while he suffered a long illness then daily visited the grave to lie upon it when his boss finally succumbed. Until his own time came and he joined his boss in the same grave.

I was keeping it together until a couple of things dawned on me. Whatever rules there are about exhumations and who or what can be in consecrated ground were ignored in this place. And then the people raised a statue. To a dog.
There was so much love, respect and goodwill in the air that I had a golfball in my throat and water in my eyes.

A little further along I found the official Plaza and asked permission to take my coffee to sit in it and admire another statue. Across the road and from a window high up on a building an older lady started bellowing down to me who he was. My own personal history lesson! Unfortunately, she wasn't a fan of his and wasn't too impressed with my travelling by bike, either! Safe, a few of stories above me, she could happily throw out words like "loco" and "tonto" (look them up - I'm not telling you the insults )

Archidona was the last place with a likely place to stay. There was a municipal Albergue (hostel) for Pilgrims and other travellers passing this way. But it was too early to be stopping. Mind you, it was also a bit late to be hitting Granada before darkness fell. I pushed on through the town and was surprised that it stretched out quite a bit on the far side. Unsure as to whether to go or stay I decided to postpone the decision and eat.

I pulled up to a friendly restaurant and ordered what I thought was a type of sandwich. A sandwich it was, but made in a big ring of bread. It was huge! The bartender laughed when he saw my shocked face. I managed it all.

I should say at this point that even though I'm carrying food it makes a lot of sense to stop and eat in a café. For one thing it's not expensive. There isn't a huge difference between buying food in a shop and eating a sandwich or similar. Another is that I can have a cold drink and in the heat that can be important. There's a lot of food that I want to try and it can be an interesting and rewarding experience depending on the staff.

Yep! More prattling about wildflowers and colours! This is a service road and there's a big road behind the bushes. But me? I'm in my own calm, colourful world!

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Enjoying my post lunch ciggie the barman joined me for his own and a chat. We'd had a few exchanges but now was more informal.
It started in the usual way - a comment that I must be very fit. I held up my ciggie and we both laughed.
Then he wanted to know where I'd been. So I told him. His response can't be written on a family friendly spot like this but "Huevos" and "Gordos" were mentioned which I took to be a reference to bravery, of a very masculine type.
He told me that he marvelled and respected people who do things like this. He took a bit of time to think and said that he couldn't imagine what it was like but then hit me with rapid fire questions so that he could see what it was like.
Was it lonely?
At times, but the advantage of travelling solo was that people like him were more willing to engage.
Was it dangerous?
Sometimes. But nowhere near as bad as we might think. I told him about being mugged in Guatemala and the relief of escaping to the country, and again about Colombia and that one incident couldn't cancel out months of wonderful travel and exploration.
Money?
I sold everything and am living off my savings, or what's left of them at this stage.

They weren't the usual questions or at least not presented in the usual way. They weren't focused on Kms travelled or countries checked off. They were more philosophical than factual. And the answers were listened to, absorbed. His eyes lit up when I told him of special places or memorable times like stopping in the road in the pitch dark and seeing nothing but hearing everything or walking around in a forest in the moonlight or watching the sun rise in Colombia.

What was really interesting was that he said he'd never been away from Archidona. It was home, he was happy here and even though what I was doing was very hard for him to understand he told me that he was happy, very happy, for me and people like me who went out and did these things.

Maybe I'm reading too much into the interaction but I there was a genuine goodwill emanating from him. No envy, no negativity but an ability and a desire to comprehend ideas very different to his own.

It was a very interesting conversation and I did it all in Spanish!

The old bridge at Ríofrio where I rested up a for a while.

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Charged up I decided to head for Granada! I really liked Archidona but what I liked were the interactions - and the dog story. The interactions were done, not to be repeated. Staying could only damage the lovely impression I had of the town.

I set off again on another big road but a nearby motorway sucked most of the traffic away. Then I found myself on a lovely service road with gravel and pretty wildflowers and accepted the proximity of the motorway as a worthy price.

Riofrío was a small outpost on a river with a lovely old, broken bridge. I stopped for a rest then rolled off again.

Then back onto a big road and on to Loja, another big town. It was well below the road and I decided that if I went down I might never get back up so I continued on. Interestingly, the road had a couple of laybys for cars to pull in and admire the view. I used the facility and took a bit of time to study the town. The church and probably some type of castle or fort prominent but also the large Municipal football stadium and the dense tower blocks of apartments.
It's a noticeable feature of Spain. They seem to be very good at giving people like me the spaces to stop and appreciate.

Arty Farty shot of a pristine, white cottage with a tree in front. I'm not sure why, but I find these traces of history and life scattered around the country to be utterly charming

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Onwards now through different farm country. The olives were gone, more regular crops in their place. In fact, I was reminded a lot of NL zigging & zagging through fields with interesting irrigation.

Even when the countryside dipped towards boring there were interesting irrigation systems to have a look at.

Artichokes! Fields and fields of artichokes! I've never seen artichokes in the wild before!

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The next couple of hours were rural backroads, surfaced & non. Very pleasant. Old buildings pointed to the history and migration patterns. These old buildings hit me for some reason. There's a sadness inspired but also a curiosity. Who lived there? What happened? Did the kids leave and the parents slowly grow old and die? Was it a prominent family on one side or another in the Civil War that had to flee or worse? One house, in particular, now surrounded by a field was painted a pristine white. I'm pretty sure no-one lives there anymore and it's most likely just a shell but it stood out and caught my eye in the green field. I wondered who paints it and why? Is it some civic organisation trying to present a positive impression or someone keeping a link to their past bright and prominent?
Rural Spain can throw up a lot to think about!

Getting really rural now and not exactly setting speed records but I've got an interesting road, old buildings and colour to inspire me along

But the road doesn't dip to boring for long…..

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

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 46 Thursday May 12

Man's best friend Part II

Then I encountered the magic forest!
Right out of the Brothers Grimm collection!

The Magic Forest. It was very, very, eerie, something felt before being seen

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I was passing through a forest, not the kind of forest I particularly like - it was planted, rigid lines of naked trunks stretching up and the sky blotted out by the pine branches above. I felt something long before I saw anything. It was cooler, but the kind of cool that comes from air-conditioning not shade - it was more chilling, less cooling. And it was noticeably quieter and whatever noise there was seemed deadened, dull, indistinct.

Then I saw it!

The ground, both my path and the ground of the forest was covered in dense, white cobwebs. Or so it seemed. A white blanket covered but didn't conceal the ground. My first reaction was to get the hell out of there but instead I stopped to investigate.

The Magic Forest. The "Spiderweb" all over the forest floor, a shroud that gave me the willies.

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It wasn't cobwebs, although from a distance they were similar. I had (still have!) no idea what they (or it) was but the closest I could come up with were dandelion seeds - like I had seen blowing in the sun previously. Except I couldn't comprehend how many dandelions would be need to cover this area.

It was an incredibly eerie location. I knew there was a town a hop, skip and jump away but I could hear nothing. Even the birds were silent. Not just silent but non existent. Ditto insects - and I've had loads the last few days. The trees were the only life and since their branches started above head height it seemed that everything around me was dead and covered with a shroud.

I slowly set off again, both anxious to leave yet curious to solve the mystery. Rounding a bend I left the forest behind and could see the town but I had an obstacle in between - a río. It was fresh, cold water as I waded through and I was glad to get pedalling out in the sun again leaving the forest behind. Given that I'm still a fair whack away from Granada a wild camping spot wouldn't go amiss and that forest would have been perfect! The río would keep most people away and it was very quiet. But waaaaay too spooky for me!

No shortage of adventure today! A ford to be crossed! The water was surprisingly cold!

​

Villanueva Messía was the town and it was deathly quiet. I pulled up in front of the church and ate out of my pannier. So much for my huge sandwich earlier! Then it was up through the town and back out into the countryside.

At about 6pm I topped up all my water in a little Plaza in a tiny village. Now I had options for wildcamping although there was something of a challenge in making it to Granada.

There is always a tree!

​

I passed through Tocón then onto backroads through olive groves with snow-capped mountains ahead. They were a bit of a shock to the system! I had been admiring the rather strange clouds low on the horizon but as the meters turned to kilometers the outline of the mountains became clear and I realised what I was looking at!

For some strange reason I felt a surge of excitement and something clicked in my brain - I'd be going into those mountains.

It was aroundabout here that I figured out that the odd looking low clouds were actually snow in the mountains! For unprepared me, this was a surprise! A delightful surprise!

​

I passed through Illora, then a forest but this time on a proper road and a blizzard of fluff! I still don't know the source but it was a pretty unique experience. The road was good and relatively flat so I was powering along making good time.

Turned off onto a backroad I encountered another ford! This one was shallow and had a concrete path under the thin coating of water but it still slowed me down because a flock of goats were all around. I stopped to look at them while they stopped to look at me. A shepherd sat over on a bridge watching them with his three dogs. As I continued on the youngest came over, curious, but left me alone.

Another Magic Forest. Not as impactful as the previous one because of the big road

​

Even though the going was slower on this backroad I was enjoying it more with more time and space to enjoy the views. Then my front derailleur went! I couldn't figure out the problem but I couldn't get it to stay out of the small chainring. Given that the rest of the way (about 30km) was all uphill that was actually the best outcome! The trigger for these gears has been giving me problems since Honduras.

More rural countryside, quiet roads and interesting colours. Now with snowcapped mountains in the distance!

​

I was in a race against the sun now! There probably were places to hide a tent in this rural area but I wanted to get as close to those mountains as possible.

I passed through the small village of El Jau that seemed totally empty until I turned off to follow the church spire and found half the town out in the Plaza in front of it on this warm evening. Old people nattered, kids ran and played, parents hovered chatting to all and keeping an eye on the kids, dogs sniffed each other than lay down in the fading rays of the sun for a snooze. It was a delightful sight! Peace and calm floated in the air.

One of the really, really great things about travelling by bike is the chance to mingle with "normal" life. Here a flock of goats are being watered, the shepherd watching (top left) accompanied by three dogs.

​

Santa Fé was a biggish, interesting looking town that contrasted strongly with its neglected suburbs but I flew through on a mission. I was in a race with the setting sun.

I was back on small roads zigzagging across the country from little urban area to urban area. Wild camping was off the table now. There were no options.
I had a hefty climb to get to La Zubia, home of the campground, and south of Granada and I arrived as night was settling down.

I found the office and a delightfully friendly man understood that I had a reservation for tomorrow and went looking to see what he could offer me for tonight. As it turned out they only had the one spot! My luck was in!
I raided his little shop, and then spent about half an hour in conversation with him as my celebratory beer slowly warmed up. It was a lovely chat and I was in great talking form.

Eventually I made my way to my spot, set up the tent, put on my fleece (it's a bit nippy) and ate and drank like a hungry and thirsty bike tourist, the full moon shining down on me.

I felt like the king of the world!

Photographs became fewer as I raced the sun. I'd passed any chances of a wildcamp and now the country was becoming more densely populated, if still rural. Reaching the campground was my only option and that was still dubious because my reservation was for the next day. A delightful old man eased my worries and when I finally had the tent set up and my chair out, I sat down to have a (by now barely chilled) beer looking up at the moon, my head filled with loyal dogs, interesting characters, old houses, eerie woods and mountains topped with snow.

​

Day 46 Wednesday May 12
Antequera to La Zubia (Granada) 116 km Total KM 2004
Min Meters 471 Max Meters 774
Total Climb 1143, Total Descent 984
Min Temp 22 Max Temp 41 Ave Temp 30

Cycle Travel Here

Strava Here:


The Towns Along the Way

Huertas del Río

Archidona

Loja

Villanueva Mesía

Tocón

Escóznar

Valderrubio

El Jau


The Whole Day

 

[HobbesOnTour]

The journey so far.....

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Days 47 - 50 May 13 -16 Granada

La Zubia. That's where I was - Not Granada at all. But very close to the city and easily accessible by bike on good bike lanes.
But I'm a terrible bike tourist. I visited Granada, I explored and...... Nada. I felt nothing!

It's a lovely city. It has all the things I like - interesting architecture, parks, Plazas, trees. But it lacked a "hook" - something I could hang my hat on and say this is what's special about Granada. After Toledo, Cordoba, Sevilla, all unique in their own way, Granada felt simply Cosmopolitan. I could be in any city in Europe.

There's no shortage of interesting and pretty buildings

​

Now, to be fair to Granada I wasn't feeling 100% when I visited. As things turned out I ended up with a bad dose of the runs for a day or two. Also, it's a steep bugger of a town and not the best to be exploring on a bike. I'm still a tad reluctant to take public transport so a bike was the only way in.
Another thing that unsettled me a little was the the quantity of heavy locks I saw attached to every parked bike in the city. Yes, I pay attention to these things. No matter how old, crappy and battered, every bike had a heavy chain lock or a thick U lock and often both. Such things make me uneasy and hamper my exploration by bike.

No shortage of fountains either!

​

I did wander up to the Alhambra - the Islamic "town within a town" - a bigger, more spectacular version of the one in Antequera. Now, when I say "wander", I mean heaved and pushed! It's high and steep! Looks great, but unfortunately no access without a ticket and tickets are neither cheap nor readily available! It looks fabulous though!

Up at the Alhambra. There's a hefty charge to do a tour and being with the bike I was denied access to some of the public areas too, especially some lovely looking gardens. Tourist tip: Don't visit Granada on a bike!

​

When I had planned to leave on Sunday the Touring Gods intervened with a bad dose of the runs the night before. With some heavy climbing and a lot of heat in my future I deferred my departure for a couple of days.

La Zubia was interesting in its own right. Effectively a suburb of Granada it's pretty hilly. To add to the interest it was Fiesta time, made evident by loud music pumping through the night (and morning!) air leading to lots of grumbling from some campers. I took a wander up and around one night to where there was a small funfair taking place. Dutch Kermis' have spoiled me and this one was compensating with lights and noise for the the lack of amusements. A huge marquee was the source of the late night music with what seemed to be a list of young, Spanish TV talent show competitors. As always in Spain it was a family event and teenagers dolled up for their peers.

The Plazas were full of life. And all kinds of life! This attraction was bike powered!

​

The campsite itself was quite interesting. Small and very, very compact it was busy with plots constantly turning over. This isn't a site with any long termers. In 4 nights I had three neighbours on just one side.

The Cathedral

​

The first chap, Swiss on a motorbike, had a hammer which I borrowed to hammer in my own pegs - the ground was rock hard (I was pitched on a fake grass mat on gravel). Being Swiss, he asked my permission to place one of his pegs just inside "my property", a request that amused me. I reciprocated by hammering in one of my pegs on his boundary. My bemusement increased the next day when his Dutch replacements removed the peg and left it lying neatly on my side!

The Germans who arrived on the other side asked my permission to open their window, as when open, the window opened out over my border.

Not all the buildings were in the best of condition and there's a lot of graffiti. This is a good combination of both

​

Across the way were a couple of French campervans, one with a dog. After a night of inner intestinal turmoil I had seen them gather and walk off leaving the dog in a camper at about 7am. Unwilling to move too far away I became increasingly aware of the dog's discomfort as the day wore on and temperatures exceeded 40C. There were occasional yelps and whines coming from the van and from about 3pm a steady bark. There was not a thing I could do.
Presumably they had left water for the poor dog but the camper was now in the full force of the sun - and he had nowhere to pee. Finally, when the barking became too plaintive I got up to head to reception - they might have a number for the owners - and encountered them coming back. 4:30 pm.
I had serious words with them. At first they thought I was complaining about the barking but that didn't bother me at all. When they opened the door the poor chap leapt out and didn't know whether to pee or poop first. Despite saying that they did this all the time and the dog had no problem being left alone they spent a good chunk of the evening removing things from the camper and mopping it out. The news reports are full of stories about the unseasonably warm weather with lots of warnings about the danger to health of people and animals.

A very interesting touring Tandem, upright for him and recumbent for her!

​

There was a couple on a custom tandem resting up for a couple of days too. They took a cabin for some comfort. From Germany they were great company with a very interesting bike. Before I became ill we passed a pleasant evening over a few beers swapping stories. No gear ratio discussions here! They had toured for years on regular bikes and now decided to go the tandem route.

Camper vans are a curious thing to me. I've always thought that they would be a great way to travel. But they have their drawbacks. A Dutch couple I know sold theirs to buy a caravan because once parked it was a chore to drive to anything interesting close by.
I was most amused in Belgium once to see a man set up his deep fat frier to cook chips. That's hardly camping! (He also didn't offer any to the hungry cyclist next door!)
Lots have satellite dishes (mounted or mobile) so a stroll around a campground in the evening is to a soundtrack of German, Dutch or French news programs.

Lots of parks, lots of trees and lots of Palm Trees!

​

I did a little maintenance, fixing the gears on Roccado and having a go at cleaning my Trangia. With the variety of quality fuels I have used it's no surprise that some of the holes have become clogged. I did not know that Trangias have some kind of a material within them and seeing a loose thread I started to pul it. Let's just say it was not my greatest idea and I don't reccommend it! It took hours of gentle adjustments to get it burning properly again!

Lots of interesting buildings with intricate features. I must be odd. I'm not a fan of ornate features on new things but love them on old things!

​

I also took a little time to pore over some maps and figure out where to next. The Sierra Nevada were right, there the question was to go around them northwise or southwise. There's not many options for going through them. The tandem couple had come along from the South and spoke highly of Orgiva. There were a couple of options that had quite different elevation profiles. I opted for the higher one on the basis that I'd always have a fallback plan.

And that was my planning done.

La Zubia and its Fiesta.The cowboy made me think of Colombia! It ran late every night I was there - 3 or 4 am late - and there was much grumbling in the campground.

​

Granada, The full album

 

[Gillstay]

Days 47 - 50 May 13 -16 Granada

La Zubia. That's where I was - Not Granada at all. But very close to the city and easily accessible by bike on good bike lanes.
But I'm a terrible bike tourist. I visited Granada, I explored and...... Nada. I felt nothing!

It's a lovely city. It has all the things I like - interesting architecture, parks, Plazas, trees. But it lacked a "hook" - something I could hang my hat on and say this is what's special about Granada. After Toledo, Cordoba, Sevilla, all unique in their own way, Granada felt simply Cosmopolitan. I could be in any city in Europe.

There's no shortage of interesting and pretty buildings




View attachment 679681 ​

Now, to be fair to Granada I wasn't feeling 100% when I visited. As things turned out I ended up with a bad dose of the runs for a day or two. Also, it's a steep bugger of a town and not the best to be exploring on a bike. I'm still a tad reluctant to take public transport so a bike was the only way in.
Another thing that unsettled me a little was the the quantity of heavy locks I saw attached to every parked bike in the city. Yes, I pay attention to these things. No matter how old, crappy and battered, every bike had a heavy chain lock or a thick U lock and often both. Such things make me uneasy and hamper my exploration by bike.

No shortage of fountains either!
View attachment 679688 ​

I did wander up to the Alhambra - the Islamic "town within a town" - a bigger, more spectacular version of the one in Antequera. Now, when I say "wander", I mean heaved and pushed! It's high and steep! Looks great, but unfortunately no access without a ticket and tickets are neither cheap nor readily available! It looks fabulous though!

Up at the Alhambra. There's a hefty charge to do a tour and being with the bike I was denied access to some of the public areas too, especially some lovely looking gardens. Tourist tip: Don't visit Granada on a bike!
View attachment 679683 ​

When I had planned to leave on Sunday the Touring Gods intervened with a bad dose of the runs the night before. With some heavy climbing and a lot of heat in my future I deferred my departure for a couple of days.

La Zubia was interesting in its own right. Effectively a suburb of Granada it's pretty hilly. To add to the interest it was Fiesta time, made evident by loud music pumping through the night (and morning!) air leading to lots of grumbling from some campers. I took a wander up and around one night to where there was a small funfair taking place. Dutch Kermis' have spoiled me and this one was compensating with lights and noise for the the lack of amusements. A huge marquee was the source of the late night music with what seemed to be a list of young, Spanish TV talent show competitors. As always in Spain it was a family event and teenagers dolled up for their peers.

The Plazas were full of life. And all kinds of life! This attraction was bike powered!
View attachment 679686 ​

The campsite itself was quite interesting. Small and very, very compact it was busy with plots constantly turning over. This isn't a site with any long termers. In 4 nights I had three neighbours on just one side.

The Cathedral
View attachment 679687 ​

The first chap, Swiss on a motorbike, had a hammer which I borrowed to hammer in my own pegs - the ground was rock hard (I was pitched on a fake grass mat on gravel). Being Swiss, he asked my permission to place one of his pegs just inside "my property", a request that amused me. I reciprocated by hammering in one of my pegs on his boundary. My bemusement increased the next day when his Dutch replacements removed the peg and left it lying neatly on my side!

The Germans who arrived on the other side asked my permission to open their window, as when open, the window opened out over my border.

Not all the buildings were in the best of condition and there's a lot of graffiti. This is a good combination of both
View attachment 679684 ​

Across the way were a couple of French campervans, one with a dog. After a night of inner intestinal turmoil I had seen them gather and walk off leaving the dog in a camper at about 7am. Unwilling to move too far away I became increasingly aware of the dog's discomfort as the day wore on and temperatures exceeded 40C. There were occasional yelps and whines coming from the van and from about 3pm a steady bark. There was not a thing I could do.
Presumably they had left water for the poor dog but the camper was now in the full force of the sun - and he had nowhere to pee. Finally, when the barking became too plaintive I got up to head to reception - they might have a number for the owners - and encountered them coming back. 4:30 pm.
I had serious words with them. At first they thought I was complaining about the barking but that didn't bother me at all. When they opened the door the poor chap leapt out and didn't know whether to pee or poop first. Despite saying that they did this all the time and the dog had no problem being left alone they spent a good chunk of the evening removing things from the camper and mopping it out. The news reports are full of stories about the unseasonably warm weather with lots of warnings about the danger to health of people and animals.

A very interesting touring Tandem, upright for him and recumbent for her!
View attachment 679685 ​

There was a couple on a custom tandem resting up for a couple of days too. They took a cabin for some comfort. From Germany they were great company with a very interesting bike. Before I became ill we passed a pleasant evening over a few beers swapping stories. No gear ratio discussions here! They had toured for years on regular bikes and now decided to go the tandem route.

Camper vans are a curious thing to me. I've always thought that they would be a great way to travel. But they have their drawbacks. A Dutch couple I know sold theirs to buy a caravan because once parked it was a chore to drive to anything interesting close by.
I was most amused in Belgium once to see a man set up his deep fat frier to cook chips. That's hardly camping! (He also didn't offer any to the hungry cyclist next door!)
Lots have satellite dishes (mounted or mobile) so a stroll around a campground in the evening is to a soundtrack of German, Dutch or French news programs.

Lots of parks, lots of trees and lots of Palm Trees!
View attachment 679682 ​

I did a little maintenance, fixing the gears on Roccado and having a go at cleaning my Trangia. With the variety of quality fuels I have used it's no surprise that some of the holes have become clogged. I did not know that Trangias have some kind of a material within them and seeing a loose thread I started to pul it. Let's just say it was not my greatest idea and I don't reccommend it! It took hours of gentle adjustments to get it burning properly again!

Lots of interesting buildings with intricate features. I must be odd. I'm not a fan of ornate features on new things but love them on old things!
View attachment 679680 ​

I also took a little time to pore over some maps and figure out where to next. The Sierra Nevada were right, there the question was to go around them northwise or southwise. There's not many options for going through them. The tandem couple had come along from the South and spoke highly of Orgiva. There were a couple of options that had quite different elevation profiles. I opted for the higher one on the basis that I'd always have a fallback plan.

And that was my planning done.

La Zubia and its Fiesta.The cowboy made me think of Colombia! It ran late every night I was there - 3 or 4 am late - and there was much grumbling in the campground.
View attachment 679689 ​

Granada, The full album

The fluff you found on the floor of the forest would have been seed heads off the Hybrid Poplar trees in the plantations.

 

[HobbesOnTour]

The fluff you found on the floor of the forest would have been seed heads off the Hybrid Poplar trees in the plantations.

Perhaps! More info here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Populus

Thank you!

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 51 Tuesday may 17

The day of all the different roads

Having deferred departing on Sunday to Monday, I deferred again on Monday to Tuesday. Proximity to a bathroom was important!
Still not 100% but feeling solid I got packed up on Tuesday morning, chatted to the Tandem couple and rolled out.

Because I was heading south I wouldn't be passing through Granada so swiftly I was out into the country utilising a mix of bike paths on big roads and empty backroads. Cycle Travel really is great! What Cycle Travel had no idea of though, were the inspiring views to my left of stunning, solid, snow capped mountains. It's like I'm in a Pavlov experiment on a grand scale! I see mountains and I get excited!

Snowcapped mountains were in my future and I was excited!

​

Spying a cemetery I went in for a look around - my first Spanish cemetery. A little more ordered and in better repair than similar in México and elsewhere in the Hispanic world it shared the general joyful and celebratory vibes that still seem quite unnatural to me. But healthy.

I was soon rolling along beside a motorway on a rough, gravelly road. These service roads are great and I love them although the surfaces can be a bit tricky at times. I'm out in nature and can feel superior to the poor folk motoring along cut off from it all. Civilisation is very close yet far, far away at the same time. Sometimes the noise can be bothersome but usually it barely encroaches on my mind.

Yes, I'm a little odd! But we like what we like.

​

My belly still wasn't great - I had the sensation of dozens of little needles being gently pressed into my stomach muscles. An irritation, not a pain, but a regular reminder not to push too hard. The route was cooperative though with gentle gradients and minimal wind.

If distraction from the belly issues was what I needed then the road really did provide! Or roads, should I say.
From gravel to big highways, from country lanes to closed, old roads, from straights stretching to the horizon to S bends drawing me higher the road was a charming, seductive chameleon today.

With height come the views

​

In the first couple of hours I went from the service road onto a cross country dirt road through wonderful fields of olive trees, stopping to admire my first olives in the wild (a surprising thrill!) then a minor road that linked up with an almost traffic free main road that ran straight to the mountains! If variety is the spice of life today was perfectly seasoned.

This big road led me to my first town of Cozvijar where I turned off to get a cold drink. Unfortunately, it was like something from a zombie scene - it was dead despite being well before Siesta time. As I wandered around I detected signs of a hangover and figured out that the village had just finished its Fiesta and now the town was sleeping it off.
Having packed lots of water before I set off, this wasn't a major problem and besides, there was another town along the road so I rejoined the main road and headed straight for the mountains.

I got to see my first olives!! I was surprised at how thrilling that sight was!

​

Dúrcal was up next, a bigger town, a livelier town with wonderful, stunted and pruned trees with a Plaza bathed in sun because there was practically no shade. My knife, having given up the ghost in Granada, needed to be replaced so I hit one of the Chinese Bazars (every Spanish town seems to have one and they sell just about everything!) and picked up a cheap, folding pocket knife. Ironically, in its plastic packaging I needed a knife to open it!

Great roads today! Big ones, small ones, rough ones, smooth ones.

​

I bought a cold drink in a store and some fresh bread and made a couple of simple sandwiches as the little bit of life went on all around me. I didn't stay very long as the sun was blasting down and I could feel my skin prickling in the heat. These Plazas are so unlike México where shade is a given, and more like the wealthier places of Costa Rica and Panama where they seem to have submitted in the battle against the sun.

Setting off again, happy not to be suffering any after effects from my food, CT laid on dessert in the form of a wonderful dirt road that led me out into the country and up, up, up into the foothills. I was passing through farm country, dry farm country. Variety was served up in the form of random patches of wildness and cacti. I have always associated cacti with the Americas and was wondering if they are native here too or brought back from over there? Given that they're not exactly useful (with some exceptions) did people really bring back such inhospitable plants? Such is how I amuse myself!

Uh oh! Them's be steep looking buggers!

​

I was stopped in my tracks at a little junction not because I was lost (Gizmo was telling me where to go) but because of the sound of rushing water. This wasn't the usual noise, there was a definite musical, almost orchestral tone to it, no doubt influenced by the very dry land around me. At first, I could see nothing but I eventually spied a little, very little, gully running beside the road, no more than 15cm wide, that was full of mountain water tumbling over itself in its rush downhill. So small, so (seemingly) insignificant and not in the least bit "pretty" it was a standout moment of the day. This artery bringing life to this very parched area from the mountain (heart) up above. Standing there, at a dusty crossroads for a fleeting moment a vague, impressionist image floated by depicting the simplicity of nature and for a nebulous spell I could nearly grasp what all the ancients instinctively seemed to know about Nature and life as that water would eventually rise back up to the clouds to fall on those same mountains as snow and repeat the cycle.

Ah, mountains ain't so bad on a road like this! And cacti to set my mind awandering.....

​

When I wasn't wandering away into the philosophical world I was entertained by birdsong and chittering and chattering. In wide open spaces there was the sound of my tyres on the rough track and birds. It was very, very calming.

Then back to a bigger road. My kind of country!

A rest stop with a Civil War memorial, a playground and a Tolkien tree!

Taking a backroad just because I can!

​

To Be Continued........

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 51 Tuesday May 17

The day of all the different roads Part II

I do like a lake!

​

That calmness was important because I was soon back onto a big road (empty) and crossing a ravine on a terrifying bridge! The bridge was fine to cross on the bike, it was when I stopped that the terror came on because on either side of the road was a mesh walkway with terrifying views of the rocks at the bottom of the ravine! With hardly any traffic on the road I could wander from side to side and up and down terrifying myself! I don't have the greatest head for heights and my belly wasn't 100% so this wasn't exactly the smartest thing I've ever done but indulging the inner child is no harm every now and then!

At times along the motorway, then the service road would sweep me off into the hills and away from the noise

​

On the big road now I started the big climb and if I felt any regret for losing my backroad the views soon swamped it. I was surprised at myself how much I was enjoying it given my belly but taking it slow and steady I slowly reached the top and the town of Lanjaron. A lovely, compact town with rows of trees along the street all seemingly full of singing birds. It really was very pleasant. So pleasant in fact, that I pulled in and had a cold drink and a sandwich. I was feeling very good and I believed that the worst of the climbing was done for the day.

Mountains aren't just mountains. They all have their own character. These ones are jagged and inhospitable. But very, very interesting

​

I set off after having a good wander around, pleased with the life in the town (it was about 6pm so Siesta was over). There were no more backroads, it seemed, but the "main" road was practically empty.
I very much enjoyed the views looking back towards Lanjaron with the evening sun bathing it in bright light. These mountain towns really are impressive!

Roccado, King of the Mountains!

​

Orgiva, my destination, was the next town and although not all downhill I barely registered the climbing as the views distracted me. Lots of crash barriers meant lots of places to stop, relax and soak.

Looking back from whence we came

​

It's a particular feature of Spain that we can often see towns ahead of us and I find it very exciting, the anticipation building as we approach. It's particularly pleasant if we descend to the town and such was my approach to Orgiva. I took the chance to explore a little, charmed by the town and picking up a definite "hippy" vibe. Indeed I overheard many conversations in English, surprising given the relatively small number of people out and about.

The sun making golden mountains

​

I stocked up at a supermarket and baulked at the idea of the main road down (steeply) to the campground, instead taking a beautiful, olive-lined lane. I arrived to a very friendly welcome and as I pushed my bike around to find a spot (I could choose anywhere) I was stunned to discover a Tolkien tree.

This is steep country. Vertigo is not advisable!

Taking the last backroad of the day, off the main road and down to the campground

​

I was home in a mountain fantasy land!

Just some of the various roads today

Home is under a Tolkien tree! The Touring Gods are beaming down on me!

​

Day 51 Tuesday May 17
La Zubia (Granada) to Orgiva 61 km Total KM 2065
Min Meters 335 Max Meters 863
Total Climb 618, Total Descent 972
Min Temp 19 Max Temp 46 Ave Temp 34

Cycle Travel Here
Strava Here:

The Towns Along the Way
Cozvijar
Durcál
Lecrín
Lanjarón
Orgiva


The Whole Day

Roadshots

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 52 Wednesday May 18

The road back to the start

There's a glory in the morning here - the birds. Bazillions of them all talking, humming and singing at once. They're clearly all gossips, hopping from tree to tree to pass on the latest and it's a treat to experience.
My plan of an early start to beat the heat didn't last this first encounter with the enemy, instead I told myself that a later start would give me better views on the descent. I neatly ignored the get up early, pass the day, descend in the evening option I'm relaxed, very comfortable and it feels great. Oh, yes, I decided to take a day off! Again!

It's not often that I'll do this - head off for a day on the bike sans gear, especially not up bloody big hills - but there's no harm in shaking up the routine every now and then. In truth, after Orgiva I have two options to continue. One of them I have christened "The High Road '', some of which I'll be taking today and the other "The Low Road" which is lower, has less climbing and is on a main road. Since the High Road scares the crap out of me because of the climbing combined with the intense heat at the moment I can do this today, see a couple of Pueblos Más Bonitos and take the more sensible road tomorrow. Of course, the PMBs haven't exactly thrilled me so far so maybe this will be a fruitless figary.

A roadside cave, home of bandits and trolls! And thus my imagination is kicked into life!

​

With one pannier barely filled with the essentials I set off far too late. Unladen the hills are still tough but the bike is more manageable. The sun was hot and the wind non non-existent! Uh oh!
I climbed up and up getting great views of Orgiva from above. Progress was slow by choice - I kept stopping. Traffic was light and incredibly respectful so there were no worries on that score. My mind could wander as my eyes and ears soaked up Mother Nature's offering.

Looking back or should I say down? The road wasted zero time before climbing towards the sky!

​

I got to thinking about what the hell has happened to me. Time was I hated climbing. I suffered it, endured it. I climbed because there was a mountain between me and where I wanted to go. Now? I'm taking a day and willingly going up! Hell, even this section was chosen precisely because there are mountains! The sensible, logical option would have been north from Granada and skirt the edges of the Sierra Nevada but no, Dumbass goes south! And now I'll have to cross them in a few days. Even more climbing!

It's hot, it's tough but it really is glorious country to be in.

​

Maybe if I was on a deadline and had to get to X by Y time I'd feel different, frustrated by the slow distances but at the moment I'm savouring every moment.
Also, it must be an altitude thing but I'm finding the climbing easier here than in South America. I guess all that high altitude training really does work!

Inspiring caves and now layers of mountains. I'm in my element

​

Pampaneira was the first town and the first of my Pueblos Más Bonitos today about 15km up and while it wasn't my intention to spend long here I did have a wander around - and a rest! It was a busy little place, although the busyness seemed artificial in the sense that a bus or two seemed to have disgorged bunches of pensioners who shuffled around the narrow and winding streets that seemed populated with tiny artesanal stores or bars and cafés on the slightly wider ones. In truth, the place didn't speak much to me and when everyone seemed to get on their buses at the same time the town became empty. I moved onwards and upwards. And I saw no designation that it was indeed a PMB! Conned!

I believe I'm going to be visiting both of those towns! I love this about riding a bike in Spain!

​

If Pampaneira caused barely a ripple in my heart rate when I was there it sure set it pumping after left it! Never mind the climb - it was bloody steep! - the thrill came from the stunning bird´s eye view I had. Feck drones! Spanish roads sometimes lay on the drone experience! It was very pleasant cycling in the sun with very impressive views of where I had come from - and where I'd be returning to.

I thought Pampaneira was steep to get to. Getting out of it was steeper!! I was so proud of myself for not attempting this road fully loaded! Please, take a moment to appreciate just how much work it was to climb out. Then take another moment to look up a little bit to see Bubión and Capileira sitting above. Spain - she kicks my ass then has me running back for more

​

I wasn't the only one enjoying the road. I was passed by what I christened the Chitty Bang Bang car with three smiling faces. There was a tiny río too, no doubt snowmelt, that was thoroughly enjoying its rushing, rolling rush down the mountain and making music to accompany itself along.

Bubión was the next village and even though it was now well past Siesta time it was a place of Dodos. I attempted to make my way to the church, so obvious on the approach but the narrow, meandering streets stymied me. I saw hardly anyone and little to keep me exploring so set off up again for the next town.

It was about here that I started to feel a little magic in the air. It's hard to get a feel for a place when there aren't many people out and about. But there's no doubting the beauty of the location.

​

Capileira was the Pueblo Más Bonito I had hoped for - or at least it had the sign - but I suppose pretty is in the eye of the beholder and I wasn´t seeing it. Interesting? Absolutely! Characterful? Very. It's prettiness though wasn't in the town itself it was all around it in the views it offered. I don't have the words to describe what it's like to be in a (seemingly) deserted town with an open view back over the valley I've climbed up, the towns I passed through below me, with more mountains, snow capped, looming behind me. If the concept of that wasn't enough, there's also the effect of the sun as it sinks leaving patches of bright sunshine here and shadow there. Indeed, with the moving light and the still town it seemed that the valley was the most alive of the two.
Sometimes in these still towns I can feel uncomfortable but here the silence reinforced the view. And the view made the silence comfortable.
And then the Touring Gods weaved some more magic when the church bells started to ring somewhere below me. The sound filled the immense valley below me and echoed around soaring up to me.
I could close my eyes and imagine the noise flowing through the narrow, sunken alleys of the town, bringing life, or at least a reminder of it, to all the buildings with shuttered windows and doors.

Leaving Capileira the valley seemed alive as the fading golden sunlight brought movement to the valley and the church bells, somewhere down below, filled the valley with music.

Bubión and Capileira again with snowy mountains in the background. The sun is playing on the landscape, there's no traffic around and it's pretty much all downhill. Life's good!

All the Ms; Mystery. Majesty. Magic. Mountains.

​

I set off back down the hill and enjoyed a few high speed stretches but stopped often to soak and absorb. And when I got home I got to sleep under a Tolkien tree again!

And decided to feck the sensible main road tomorrow. There's magic in these mountains and who am I to turn my back on some magic?

Day 52 Wednesday May 18
Orgiva to Orgiva 45 km Total KM 2110
Min Meters 355 Max Meters 1453
Total Climb 1186, Total Descent 1188
Min Temp 23 Max Temp 46 Ave Temp 32

Cycle Travel Here
Strava Here:

The Towns Along the Way
Pampaneira
Bubión
Capileira

The Whole Day

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 52 Wednesday May 18

The road back to the start - The Towns Along the Way

Plans are a funny thing. Arriving into Spain with none, or at least nothing that could be described as tangible, I felt an urge to have some kind of framework to follow. To that end I filled in my Osmand map with whatever bike routes I could find and marked off all the Pueblo Más Bonitos as well as trying to follow Don Quixote. I did this knowing full well that I'm the world's worst for following a route and learning that these PMBs are something of a mixed bag. Yet, here I was, taking a day off to do some serious climbing in some serious heat because once the idea had lodged in my head I knew I'd feel regret for missing them when I took the lower road tomorrow. The mind, or at least mine, is a funny thing.

As things turned out, there was only one PMB - Capileira - and, of course, it had to be the highest. And it wasn't particularly pretty. Where it was though? That was beyond spectacular!

The Church in Pampaneira. Nothing particularly interesting about it but I was charmed at the little playground beside it.

The buildings are a bit more unorthodox up here. I spent a while trying to figure out just how many homes were in here. Bubión

Whatever about the towns the real value was in the views (Bubión)

Bubión. You can see the flat roofs, typical here and some unusual chimneys. Not only are the buildings on layers, some of them are in layers. That Church proved to be impossible to get to! The town is a maze of narrow streets, steep climbs or descents and hardly anyone out to ask for directions! One old man was tending what seemed to be a communal allotment. It seemed a simple, almost idyllic life. But that's easy for the visitor to say.

Bubión. Odd buildings, interesting chimneys, a view to die for and vines. When I grow up I want a house with vines

Looking down on Bubión. Higgledy Piggledy roofs, odd chimneys, the impossible Church and beauty everywhere

Capileira could have been a disappointment but the Touring Gods looked after the entertainment. Sun and shade, golden, warm light and cool dark shadow. And Church bells from somewhere below. I've seen Springsteen play Giant's Stadium in New Jersey and that was a show. So was this. ​

Capileira was a little odd. A lot of the buildings seemed more modern but there was an area at the front with a low, flat roofed buildings connected via a series of narrow, twisty alleys below road level.

The little maze-like alleys. A world within a world.

Capileira summed up in a picture. Pretty. Interesting. But nobody's home!

​

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 53 Thurs May 19

Retracing steps and seeing what I missed

It seemed that a load of things converged this morning to stymie my progress and if that sounds like a complaint then you're reading this wrong! Ah, I was under a Tolkien tree, mountains all around me lighting up with some kind of magical, giant green glow. and birds not singing, not chattering but a symphony celebrating the arrival of a new day.
It might be the same excuse as yesterday but it's a good one. Feck meters. Feck climbing. I'd be a fool to rush away. And the coffee tasted good!

When I'd arrived back yesterday evening another cyclist had set up camp - about as far away from where I was as it was possible to get. I saluted him but got no response and was put in mind of an old joke.
After 20 years shipwrecked on a desert island, a pair of Irishmen, a pair of Welshmen, a pair of Scotsmen and a pair of Englishmen were spotted by a passing ship. When the ship sent in a boat to pick up the men they found:
The two Irishmen fighting,
The two Welsh men had formed a choir,
The two Scots were drunk under a Palm tree
And the two Englishmen were still waiting to be introduced
I only mention it because as I lazed over my flask of coffee the other cyclist was an example of organisation and methodological packing. And he once again ignored my salutations as he left, no doubt judging me for my laziness.

Looking back over Orgiva

​

I eventually rolled out and took the road up to Orgiva, a straight up 100m climb. I stopped to fill my water with icy cold water (it wouldn't be staying icy nor cold for long.
Still lazy, I delayed my departure proper again. A few years ago if someone had put a piece of toasted baguette topped with olive oil and mashed tomato in front of me and told me it was *breakfast* I'd have had conniptions. Now, when I can get it, it's one of my favourite breakfasts. Travel - broadens the palate, not just the mind.

And then I was off. And up. And up some more.

Yes, I was going to be covering some of the same ground as yesterday, but in my defence I had thought I'd be taking a different, and easier road today. Ha! Dumbass and his figaries! In bright sunshine everything was looking great! There's a distinct dryness to the landscape but that doesn't mean that there's no life - just that there's different life. There was minimal traffic and a decent road with lots of barriers and walls to stop and lean upon. My sensible head was telling me to hurry while it was still cool but my touring head was telling it to feck off with itself!

If I thought that I'd seen it all yesterday I was soon proven wrong on that score. There were two things I noticed today for the first time. The first were letterboxes. Given that the houses around here, rare as they are, are not on, or beside, the road the locals have built solid letterboxes for themselves where their little road meets the main one. Some, are simply functional, but others are an expression of something - optimism, notions, I don't know, but an interesting distraction for a slow, climbing biker. The other was a solitary flower growing out of an exposed cliffface on the side of the road. I've no idea how I missed it yesterday but I passed a pleasant few minutes a little in awe of Mother Nature and her ability to plant beauty in the most unlikely of places.

Postboxes and a solitary flower. Sometimes retracing the route can be rewarding!

​

Another thing that I passed obliviously by yesterday was the very pleasant turn off for the village of Sportujar. I pulled up out of the sun at a sheltered bus-stop and only then noticed the model of the town built atop it! And I like to consider myself observant! :-)

On again, now in some blazing heat and I was taking advantage of any shade that was on offer. I'm finding the heat OK but the sun blasts me and I can find myself becoming dizzy and distracted if too long in the sun. It was while pulled up, resting in delicious coolness under a tunnel of trees that I got to overhear a bizarre conversation.

I managed to completely miss this yesterday, too! What appears to be a scale model of the town on top of a bus stop on the main road. Looks like some interesting people live there!

​

An English chap, one of the more "alternative" people represented in Orgiva, was walking along the road and having a chat with, presumably, his mother. Well into his thirties, if not older, there was a whiney teenage tone that I found amusing. What was bothering him was Covid, or specifically, the vaccine. He's travelled in Thailand and had never been ill so he didn´t need the vaccine. I'll admit that that logic had me flummoxed. His logic was simple - those advocating the vaccine should prove its efficiency and there was me thinking that the evidence was pretty clear at this stage. His opinion was that people who got the vaccine got sick. But then we got to the real reason for the whiney tone - he was being treated as an outcast becuase he wasn't vaccinated, or, as he put it himself for taking the moral high ground. Everybody hated him.

I found myself sitting in the cool shade smiling as the teenager ranted to his mum that everybody hated him!

A ruin, almost hidden from view. The hillsides are scattered with such ruins and they're not exactly hospitable hillsides

​

Closer to the villages there may be a few scattered homesteads but these days, it seems, that most people live in, or close to, the villages and towns along the way. It wasn't always so, though, and the road (and view) is peppered with the ruins of houses and homes. For some reason I find these extremely interesting. For one thing it's interesting to stop and contemplate what life must have been like back in the day. No electricity. No running water. Daily existence must have been a challenge. And then as opportunities opened up there must have been many, many scenes up and down this country of children moving away for a better life and families getting smaller - and older. I believe that at the start of the 20th century Spain was one of the poorest countries in Europe.

It's a pretty interesting landscape. Some great roads for a bit of off-road exploration

​

Pampaneira has a horrendous climb up to it (something I had blocked from my mind) so a cold drink was most welcome when I finally arrived.

Again I had a steep ascent out of the town with a great view back but then I continued straight instead of turning off and was now in new territory and with options. I could stop in another 5-6 km at a campground or continue on for a longer day. I was telling myself to make it a long day but I knew it wasn't going to happen. People talk about the restorative aspects of mountain air - its clarity, its freshness - and maybe that's what was affecting me but I was just really enjoying myself. There's no need to rush.

I am really enjoying myself! It's damn hard work, but worth it

​

The views are immense and a man (or woman) can lose themselves in them. There's a wildness to the landscape that is counteracted by the relative order of white towns popping up hither and tither. There's a sense, almost, of some kind of scientist observing a human colony in the same way that they might study an ant colony.

The land seemed greener, a tad less drier than earlier, but then again I was a whole lot higher. Coming towards Pitres I accepted reality and pulled off into the dilapidated little campground and was checked in by a lady with lots of enthusiasm but little knowledge of what to do. I understood that she was new and feeling her way through the job in much the same way I was feeling my way through the country - unhurried, lots of cul de sacs and sometimes doubling back. While letting her do her stuff I was drawn to an old map of the world stuck on the wall. Ireland is but a tiny hop, skip and jump from Spain! And my American adventure looks postively tiny against the backdrop of the whole world!

Any bit of shade was used!

There's hardly any traffic and I can be the King of this wonderful valley. That road over there on the right? I'll be doing that tomorrow!

Looking back and down on Pampaneira. The climb was brutal. But this is the reward!

​

The campground won´t win any awards for its facilities but it was pretty quiet and I got to pitch on grass. There was a bit of a hiking path that I could take into town so after pitching the tent and showering I wandered in to town for a wander and to get supplies. There was a wonderful calmness in the air and the only sound later was of dogs barking to each other from all over, the sounds carrying in the mountain air and bouncing off the mountains.

Home in the Sierra Nevada!

​

Day 53 Thursday May 19
Orgiva to Pitres 23 km Total KM 2133
Min Meters 331 Max Meters 1277
Total Climb 992, Total Descent 74
Min Temp 20 Max Temp 45 Ave Temp 31

Cycle Travel Here
Strava Here:

The Town along the way
Pitres

The Whole day

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 54 Friday May 20

A short day

Back in Colombia I got lost on a mountain. Well, actually, I wasn't lost - I knew exactly where I was - I was just stuck. Pitched on a slope in a storm was as bad as it gets, or so I thought but the next morning proved the folly of that. Ants had started eating my tent, making holes in the floor and the doors. I taped up the worst of the holes but the mesh in the door on one side had lots of holes. Up to last night it wasn't an issue but about 3:30 it was very hot and stuffy so I opened up the doors (leaving the mesh) thinking that there'd be no bugs. Ha! Dumbass! I got eaten alive!

I slept late regardless. The campsite has definitely seen better days but it was pleasant to laze around in the morning. So I did. I was late leaving and had left gizmo charging up from my solar panel. So hot is the sun that Gizmo got fried! Yep!
Thanks to the great folk at Wahoo I have a second Gizmo so hauled that out and fired it up. I knew I had maps on it but it had an older version of the software on it. I set off.

It might not look like much but this is the kind of road that suits a slow day. There's a great variety to what I'm seeing and lots of things to fire up my imagination. I may have covered 15 km but Gizmo tells me it took almost 5 hours to do it. The heat played a part, so did the climbing. But the road and the country suited such a pace

​

I made it as far as Pitres and stopped for a wander around. It's market day although I was so late it was just about over and some of the stalls were already breaking down. I bought some fresh fruit and did a little watching. In these places there can be a real jolt of life for the weekly, or biweekly market.
I am charmed by these little towns.
Certainly, there's the aesthetic aspect - the mountain views can be spectacular.
There's an historical aspect - some of these buildings are very old and sometimes the Moorish or Arab influence is clear to see. For me it's like walking in the past.
There's a reality to them too. They are real, lived in, worn, sometimes broken. But real.
Finally, they're rarely "ordered", instead streets weave around, buildings are higgeldy piggeldy and wandering around it's very easy to be lost. I quite like that. For clarity, I'm not "lost", I'm exploring.

The bust stop in Pórtugos. I ❤️ these things. There's a pride on display.

​

One thought that I can't get out of my head as I explore these little places is to do with the Civil War in Spain from 1936 to 1939. Given that it was an idealogical split as opposed to a geographical split there was conflict in every single settlement, sometimes barbaric conflict. Neighbour turned on neighbour. And they both had to live with the consequences - in extremely close proximity. Even in the heat I can feel a chill.

Speaking of heat, my late departure meant that I was cooking. Having a chat in the campground in Orgiva they had said that these temperatures are not normal for this time of year. Google had told me that today would be 3° hotter than yesterday and yesterday that it would be 3° hotter than the day before. I must be a bit dumb but I forget the effects of combining heat and climbing - until I feel them! And today was pretty much all uphill!
Not helping either was the lack of water. A lot of the fountains are dry. I have water but it warms up quickly. Fresh, cold, mountain water can be like nectar - but not today - there was none!

There's a bit of everything on display

​

It was surprisingly tough going. The heat was immense and overpowering, shade a wonderful balm to body and soul. Yet I loved it! The views are never dull and climbing, I'm going at such a pace that I can see everything. There's just so much variety. There's little traffic so I often have an entire valley all to myself.

Pórtugos was the next town up and since it was already Siesta time I had it pretty much to myself. I'm in ham country now despite the fact that I've seen no pigs, nor any likely places where they might be farmed.
I continued on, working hard in the heat and, frankly, struggling. Spying the tell tale sign of a few cars parked up on the side of the road I pulled up and lo and behold there was a mountain fountain. I approached the three old guys having a chat as one of them filled up a varied collection of plastic bottles. My hoarse and scratchy greeting elevated me to the top of the queue, a pleasant roadside interaction.

At times the craggy, jaggy mountains don't look especially friendly

​

My backup Gizmo was bugging me. Ha! I'm never happy!
Since the last update, the gradient profile on my map screen uses colours. Grey is flat or downhill, green is a 0-4% gradient, orange/yellow steeper, red steeper still and a deep burgundy colour that is just scary. At first, I was annoyed by this frippery but now that I'm without it I miss it!

Any shade was gratefully accepted. There are worse places to pass half an hour cooling down

​

Approaching the town of Trevelez which had a camping option I decided to go no further. The campsite, atop a hill nearly finished me! A little rundown with an empty shop and closed restaurant it was manned by a friendly and cheery girl. My spot is high looking across the valley. I've been able to commandeer a plastic chair to sit on and on the level below there are stone picnic tables where I'll feed myself later. I'm absolutely exhausted! There'll be no trip into town for me today!

Sometimes the density and variety of vegetation reminded me of Colombia.

There is some land taken for crops!

More shade....... I was finding the going to be very tough. Not for a second did I regret taking the "high road"

A mountain house. A bit rough around the edges but that view.......

​

Instead I commandeered a stone picnic table on the level below me (yep, the campsite is in layers) and cooked a lazy dinner. The campsite claims to be the highest campsite in Spain and I have a very pleasant night time view of the town below me.

Roccado, El Ray de Sierra Nevada

​

Day 54 Friday May 20
Pitres to Trevelez 15km Total KM 2148
Min Meters 1186 Max Meters 1544
Total Climb 469, Total Descent 187
Min Temp 29 Max Temp 48 Ave Temp 38

Cycle Travel Here
Strava Here:

The Town along the way
Pórtugos

Whole Day