Spanish Figary & Other Stories

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 65 Tuesday May 31

What rush?

Yesterday, I had been thinking of cutting inland across some hills and then following a valley through some biggish town and heading towards Murcia. Very surprisingly for me I wasn't particularly enjoying the "sea experience" and, especially the towns weren't speaking to me. Aguilas changed that slightly so on a whim I decided to extend my route along the sea a bit more. That would make it a shortish day so in that vein I lingered over breakfast and was slow to leave.

Out of town, leaving the sea behind and heading into the desert. It was hot and dusty just like a desert and the little bit of himan life I was seeing would soon disappear

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That really wasn't the smartest thing in the world in these temperatures and I was punished for it on the far side of town when I developed a wobble. My rear was flat. It was then that I discovered that I had left my tyre levers on the side of the road a few days ago! Thankfully, my multitool has two side panels that double as levers that I have never used. Had I used them I would have figured out that they are for emergency use only! One broke in half as I tried to lever the tyre off. Oh dear!

Desert-like but a lot of agriculture going on. However, not all of it successfully. This was an eerie stretch cycling through a field of abandoned and crispy cabbage

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With some swearing, more grunting and a surprising amount of patience I managed to get the tyre off and replaced, rather than repaired, the tube. Pumped up, off I set again. Scorched.


After a run along the coast I turned inland and started a long, gentle climb in a desert. Well, not quite a desert because it was an agricultural area but it was very dry and crispy. When I had a wind it was glorious and when I was without it was very, very tough.

I don't know why, but this struck me as sad. Why had this field been abandoned? What story was behind it?

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It was a slightly bizarre experience, wandering from dry scrubland into irrigated scenery and back again. Pumps were everywhere, many old looking and rusted. Some fields just seemed to have been abandoned, crispy weeds growing amongst crispy plants, while others were green and full of life. Brutally beautiful I decided was an appropriate description.

Ironically, at times the desert scrubland seemed to have the most vitality. Having had a puncture already and being baked by the sun this stretch of road was particularly uplifting

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There was very little traffic and being the afternoon no one was foolish enough to be working in the fields. I reached the top of the first gentle climb and thoroughly enjoyed sweeping down, curving between the hills and generating a cooler breeze.

I wasn't quite sure what was going on here but it was very industrial looking

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I was soon facing into another, steeper climb and that's where everything came unstuck.

It was a steep, little road, quiet and hot and my new chain started slipping under pressure. It hadn't been perfect earlier but I had put that down to the new chain bedding in to the drivetrain.

Yet, there were vast swathes of green popping up in the unlikeliest of places. Water pumps play an important part here

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I was pretty happy that my cassette had been in good nick (and the guy in the shop had agreed) so I started running through the options. I checked the chain length and it was good. I checked that the cassette hadn't been switched - it hadn't. I could see the spacer I needed (7 speed cassette on 8 speed hub). I'd seen the box for the chain - it was a Shimano 7/8 speed chain. Everything seemed OK but I was going nowhere and getting frustrated, my feet suddenly spinning dangerously when the chain slipped.

I got off and pushed.

Heading into the second climb of the day and I was getting into it. I "know" this country from songs, it's hard but familiar. It brings mental pictures to life.

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Coming close to a few houses I spied a tree that gave shade so stopped, stripped everything off the bike and had a good look. I could see nothing wrong. I'm not a mechanic but I understand the basics. Changing up or down was OK but any hard pressure and the chain was slipping.

Two teenagers who had been playing football around the corner came over for a look. A quick chat and one of them dived in to investigate. He freely admitted he knew nothing about bike gears but I think he was bored and keen to help a stranger. Unfortunately, my technical Spanish is poor and we were working through a heavily accented local dialect. In the end, we were no better nor more worse off and I was offered cold coke or water before I pushed on. Literally pushing on.

A bike that I couldn't pedal and I needed to cross those hills. All of a sudden I wasn't liking the road quite so much!

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Every now and then I'd get frustrated, hop back on, climb a few meters than swear as the chain lost grip, my feet spun and the slow moving bike wobbled dangerously.

Another sad sight. Sun-dried tomato plants, anyone?

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Thankfully, about 25km in I peaked and could climb aboard again. Ha! 25km and I've already had a puncture and a mechanical!

Only 3 more km to push!

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To Be continued.......

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 65 Tuesday May 31

What rush? Part II

Tired, hot, frustrated........ but at the top!

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At least now it was pretty much all downhill and my spirits were lifting as the bike performed as it should and the descent cooled me down.

This can be an unforgiving landscape and I was getting a taste of that today. I'd have liked to have "rebalanced" at the summit but it was just too hot

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About 5km from where I ended up things changed again. The EV8 which I had been following sporadically all day became another clifftop "road". It was rough and rocky, generally flat but with a few stabby climbs. These weren't exactly ideal conditions for Roccado and he struggled, the chain slipping regularly, accompanied by my swearing. To be fair, though, it was fabulous country!

The descent lifted my spirits

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At times I was bouncing along above the sea, just to my right, then I'd swerve inland and have atmospheric mountains bathed in fading sunlight. There were moments of absolute swearing at the feckers who created the EV8* (at one stage I had a near vertical push up a rocky incline) but they were tempered by the absolute beauty of where I was. If my chain wasn't slipping I'd have loved it, or most of it, at least.

Beautiful. But brutal

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I passed a few unofficial encampments of converted vans and didn't exactly get a welcoming vibe. I knew ahead that there was a small town with a campground, so late in the evening I made that my destination. I wasn't in great form, especially not when Gizmo indicated a few more stabby climbs but approaching the town I came across a spot laid on by the Touring Gods to stop, soak, appreciate and get my head in order.

Even on Roccado, the King of "go anywhere" bikes this was tough going. Any kind of ascent and the chain was slipping

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This is the thing with travelling solo. When I'm having a bad day I can only rely on myself for a bit of a gee up. I was frustrated facing into another trip to a bike shop, another down day (probably), dictated by necessity rather than choice, I hadn't enjoyed the adventurous stretch as much as I could have and now I had a short but push heavy approach to home.

I was struggling to appreciate the beauty all around me

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The picture doesn't do justice to how it made me feel. It focused my mind on where I was, beside the sea - the Med, no less! - and it was a very pretty view. The rough road had been a good test of the rear wheel and it came through fine. Things could be a whole lot worse.

The spot laid on by the Touring Gods. I could stop, rest, get my breath back, get my head back. So I did.

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In better form, I continued on and located the campground - right on the beach. What I couldn't locate was the reception (apparently I had approached from the back). I asked a guest, a German, and got a swift, German and Germanic reply that had me lost (left here right there, 200 meters then left or somesuch) so asked another couple who turned out to be English. Adopting their "we're speaking to a foreigner" mode they enunciated very slowly and loudly that I - Had - To - Go - To - The - Office - At - The - Front.

Amused, I replied in my pretty fluent English that I knew I had to go to the office but could they tell me where it was. And back to Shouted Enunciation again Try as I might I couldn't get them to understand that we spoke the same language!

Eventually, I found the office - in my defence it's quite a big campground - and one girl just ignored me until her colleague took over.

She confirmed that there was a bike shop in town and that there was a little supermarket around the corner but that it was closing. A quick run to the shop, a big bottle of cold beer and the day was ready to be put to bed.

Back on that last stretch...... I knew I should be enjoying it more, I just couldn't make myself enjoy it more. Another day I'd have been singing!

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*Looking at CycleTravel now I can see that this particular section is marked as off-road but is labelled as EV8. Without meaning to disparage CycleTravel it's entirely possible that this is an incomplete part of the route. In any case, my idea of a bike route is one that is suitable and safe for all. I have a mental image of grandparents out with their grandkids. This short section is most certainly not suitable for them! Just a reminder not to assume that an EV route is 100% ready to cycle and that not all bikes will be suitable. Also, since last year the EV website has official tracks to download of their "completed" routes. There are many, many unofficial versions floating around on the Internet.

Just a general observation that only came to me now as I write this up.
Gizmo tells me that I was "on the road" for 5 minutes short of 9 hours. There were no towns along the way and while I accepted a top up of cold water from my two helpers there were no other options for water anywhere, short of detouring to to someone's house - not an appetising prospect during Siesta. Without the puncture and certainly without my chain issues there would have been no problem with regards to water and rehydration. In fact, my notes suggest there was no problem. I would have set off carrying three liters of water and they would have become increasingly unpalatable as the day wore on. But I wasn't in any danger. I pack heavy because I enjoy the freedom of wandering or stopping. And sometimes that comes to my aid. A day like today where I was short of water would have been a very different day.

Day 65 Tuesday May 31
Águilas to Bolnuevo 47 km Total KM 2525
Min Meters 7 Max Meters 392
Total Climb 767, Total Descent 686
Min Temp 23 Max Temp 44 Ave Temp 35

Cycle Travel:
Strava:

The Whole Day

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Days 66/67 Wed/Thurs June 1/2

Repairs in Puerto Mazarón, Bugs & Bites in Bolnuevo

I knew the drill now. Up early and head into town. At sea level it is hot! The sea breeze so close to the shore helps but the nights are warm. I have to leave the "doors" on my inner closed because of the holes in the mesh and I was been bitten last night before bed, presumably by sandflies. I'm on gravel again, teeny tiny little stones that stick to my knees when I'm getting in and out and have to be cleared out of the inner regularly. Bah! I hate gravel!

To explain a little, towns are getting confusing here along the coast. They seem to have grown together as tourism has developed and I may pass through two or three although it seems like one big one to me. I am in Bolnuevo which is really an extension of Puerto de Mazarón. Puerto de Mazarón, as the name suggests, is the port of the town of Mazarón, a few kms inland. The port is closer, is bigger than where I am and has bike shops so that is where I headed.

I didn't pay too much attention to the town on my first pass through. If I had I might have skipped it and headed for the actual town. I located a bike shop and brought Roccado in for an inspection.

One of two photos have of Puerto de Mazarrón! The place was that uninspiring!

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It had been playing on my mind all evening and night and this morning just what the problem could be. I had settled on the real derailleur as a potential problem. It's original to the bike (something like 25 years old) and has taken a fair battering. I expect the little wheels within it are well worn at this stage. I explained the problem to the bike mechanic, he tended to agree so we agreed to change out the derailleur.

I went off for a wander while he did that.

The other photo I have of Puerto de Mazarrón! Fish in the sea! It's not particularly clear from the photo but the sea all along the coast is particularly clean and fishlife abounds

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Now I was looking at the town and I wasn't impressed. I like port towns. They can be a bit seedy but they are always historical and interesting. Puerto Mazzarón, however, was much more of the former and much less of the latter.

It didn't impress me much.

There was a notable lethargy in the air. Unlike Aguilas the other day, this town never got going even in the morning.

No more photos...... so here is one from June 02 last year in Oaxaca, México. A brutally hot, humid day in a relatively uninspiring location. Maybe I should take note and be better prepared for June 2023!

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I went back to the bike store, paid for the new derailleur (I could have replaced it myself but I just wasn't in the mood) and then set off to find a hill to test it out. I didn't need much of a hill so find the chain slipping again. Bugger!

I returned for another chat.

On closer inspection, the front chainrings were worn, notably the smallest ring. I suppose the Andes will do that! That had been on since Nashville so I can't really complain. I was a bit disappointed in myself, though, that I hadn't thought of that. For some reason, in my head I have things I look for and things I don't.

This is where things got interesting. Apologies, this may get technical.

A new chainset was required and what he could get at short notice had a 24 tooth small chainring to replace a 22 tooth chainring. (I'm not too bothered about the large chainring. I'm built for comfort not speed
With lots of climbing in my future I want all the help I can get. My current cassette was a 32 tooth. I asked about a 34 tooth. He could get one. I figured one would balance out the other and ordered a new Bottom Bracket as well (another Nashville replacement).
All set, we agreed I'd return the next morning, leave the bike and pick it up ready to go in the afternoon.

Michoacán Mountains, México, June 02, 2020. Maybe I overreacted to the curse of early June!

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I gave the town another exploration and was still unimpressed. I bought some cheap shorts that would double up as swimming trunks and even that was a depressing task, the Chinese shop (they sell everything!) being particularly disorganised and untidy.
I returned to the campground, got a bottle of wine and some food for later (beer just warms up way too fast) and set about some chores.

First on the list was another look at the mesh. There are just too many holes, too far apart to fashion any kind of a repair on one side but the other side offered possibilities. I dug into my non-human first aid kit and set to work.

A German chap then popped over for a chat. Hidden behind a hedge I hadn't seen him but he was bike touring too on a cargo bike! All the way from Germany and heading south.
This is the thing about getting out and about - we meet other bike tourists and realise that it isn't all what the magazines and videos would have us believe. There's a certain practicality to using a Cargo bike to bike tour.

We had a good chat about our different experiences. He sticks to the roads, doesn't do any off-roading at all. He noted large amounts of litter and roadkill on the roadsides, something I hadn't noticed at all. There have been one or two spots of dumping, but nothing consistent. Of course, he had been travelling in different areas to me.
Climbing is tougher for him as he is effectively pushing his load ahead of him. I'd imagine too that general mobility is an issue too. Manouevering the bike on foot must be tricky.

Michoacán, México, June 02, 2020. This is one of those "revise your need to travel states"

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Then it was back to my chores and more cursing at the gravel. While repairing the punctured tube from yesterday I laid it down on those teeny tiny stones and acquired another hole in it! My poor tent!

I was not having a good day.

In the campground I am the youngest - by a long way!! The net effect is that people keep to themselves. Contact is minimal.
The beach was broad and deep and dull. The sea seemed miles away and while I did go for a walk I could drum up no enthusiasm for a dip.
Instead, I cooked up some lovely food, sprayed myself with all kinds of repellant and plonked myself down to eat, read and enjoy some vino tinto.

Exploring the backroads while in lockdown, Aporo, Michoacán, México. June 02, 2020

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Next morning was up and in to the bike shop. I left Roccado having confirmed all the details

The town was still not speaking to me. A tad dilapidated. Nowhere near capacity for tourists and it looks particularly dead. A bit unkempt. Closed business were common. Graffiti was everywhere. Less artistic and more tagging. Grim was the adjective hovering about my head.
There's something missing from these towns. Obviously tourism is big business and that seems to breed a certain lethargy in folks out of the season.

I went back optimistically to the bike shop looking forward to being able to get away. It was too late today to leave but I was already looking forward to my departure tomorrow.

Michoacán, México, June 02, 2020

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More problems!

The new chainset was on, 24 tooth, I checked, but the cassette was now the problem. Normally, a 7 speed bike like mine uses a freewheel (Roccado originally had one). I had been clear to emphasise that (the Spanish for Freewheel is Pinion if anyone is interested) but a freewheel had been ordered and arrived. I had to go away again while a cassette was sought out.

By now the town was looking horrific!

Later, I went back, a 34 tooth cassette had been put on and, to be fair, because my front gear shifter had been knackered since Honduras they had commandeered a direct replacement from another bike to replace it. All in all, I left pretty happy, sought out the steepest hill i could find and deemed myself satisfied.

In reality, I shouldn't have been so satisfied. In my focus to ensure the correct tooth count on the small front chainring I had overlooked the branding on the chainset. The Shimano set I had been quoted for had been replaced with a Chinese one. Similarly, the Shimano cassette I had been expecting ended up being off brand too.

I found myself thinking back to the nice, smiling man in Aguilas and asking myself why I hadn't done a full service job there? It should have been obvious to me that it was time to replace the chainset. He did a good job on the rear wheel and I have a front rim that needs replacing. (My dynohub is in there so it's not just a wheel I need, but a rebuild on a new rim). I think my penny pinching is going to work out being more expensive.

I was also particularly peed off to have replaced the old derailleur for apparently, nothing. It would have been nice to finish this adventure with as many as the original parts as possible.
At this stage I should add that the chainset has performed admirably, as has the bottom bracket (also Chinese).

June 02, 2018. Getting ready for the "Big Big Trip". A day out in NL testing out the new trailer and new panniers!

June 01, 2015. That's the Bay of Biscay on my to Spain with Rocco

June 02, 2015 The fan-dabby-dooby ginormous sand dune on teh French coast. If you ever want to feel young, climb up to the top, turn around and try to run down!

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Back to the campsite where I loaded up the bike with whatever heavy stuff I could carry for another test. Roccado passed.
Then dinner and my book and a slow countdown to leaving this place and my regrets behind.

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Spoiler Alert!!!!

To mark 1 full year in España here's 10 photos yet to be featured in this meandering Travelogue

I do like my sunflowers!

There is a mystery, a kind of magic to Spanish towns, something that fires up this wanderer

There is an incredible diversity to the landscape. I've loved the mountains and I've loved the plains. And a lot of the spaces in between. Surprisingly, the coastal stretches have been far more hit and miss.

Diversity! See what I mean?

There's little bits of history everywhere. Some of it is "Grand" history with castles, forts and churches but some is the history of small things.

Ríos (when they aren't dry) can be pretty spectacular

And the roads? Some are just ...........

Or..........

Mother Nature is present at all times......

España; Where a bike tourist can follow their imagination

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I don't want to be accused of being a feckless cheerleader for bike touring in Spain. It can be a tough place on a bike. Very tough. However, it's one of those places that can offer compensations for the hard work. Not a place to rush through, to be constantly racing a deadline. To butcher a phrase, Spain is a "work hard, relax hard" kinda place. There's a depth to the relaxation that's hard to find elsewhere.

Normal service will resume soon!

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 68 Friday June 3

Getting the Hell outta Dodge!

Cartagena was down the road. Cartagena! EV8 would bring me there but pretty much all inland. I've been to Cartagena before - in Colombia! - and for some reason the original wasn't particularly drawing me in, or at least the route wasn't. It would be very hot and hilly. However, there is also a Via Verde from Mazarrón (the town, not the port) that linked up with another that also ended up in Cartagena. Going that way gave me more options. So that's what I did. The important thing was that I go!

I breakfasted and hit the road with an enthusiasm not usually experienced. I was glad to be moving on. Very glad.

A big, wide road to get to Mazarrón with a hi-tech crop in the fields and then an old school track after the town. The Touring Gods were looking after me

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First up was the town of Mazarrón itself. A flying visit showed it to be far more pleasant than its sibling port and, unusually, it had a memorial to its victims of the Nazis. I didn't stay long, having an urge to clock up some kms. Roccado was running well and I was enjoying that.

I located the start of the VV easily enough and set off breathing a huge sigh of relief. This was my kind of road! Yes, it was very hot, yes, I was climbing, but the gradient was gentle enough that I could maintain a decent pace and avail of a tempering breeze. I could see mountains but they were far enough away in the distance to be pleasant on the eye not weighing heavily on the mind. No traffic meant I was rolling through fields on a dusty, sandy track and thoroughly enjoying myself.

The mountains where I could see them but far enough away to be almost alluring This is my kind of road!

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I arrived in a strange little place that was very quiet, very dead and very superficial. It seems to be an exclusive country club with a town attached. For town, read fancy houses, fancy apartments and no services. With nothing to really hold me and a feeling similar to the less welcoming Gated Communities of the US I rejoined the VV and headed off on more dusty, adventurous roads.

A very fancy, very empty and totally superficial boulevard in what I have Christened "Makey- Uppy Town"

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I don't think that I was meant to be on these roads as signs indicated I should take a road - a road that was closed. It ran steeply downhill so if I got it wrong, I'd have to turn around and climb all the way back up again. The adventure road it was!

The countryside was hot but interesting. I don't think I have mentioned it up until now, but rabbits are everywhere in Spain, it seems.

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I'd been climbing gently all morning and now, about 20 km in two things coincided. The first was that I joined the Via Verde del Campo de Cartagena, a better quality VV and the second was that I started a gentle but steady descent. I put on some music and bellowed my way down! Life was good! Hot, but good!

In blazing sun it can be very hard to capture all the colour. Too many shots are "washed out" so bright is the light. But, for a dry, arid place it's very colourful and surprisingly cheerful

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The surface could be a bit tricky at times, being quite sandy but the views more than made up for that. There was a lot of scrub but it was colourful scrub and ever changing and defiant in the face of a brutally hot Mother Nature and I was cutting right through it. There was a great sense of making progress and I was far enough away from civilisation for most of the time that my explorer urge was being tickled and soothed.

There's no reason for this display to be here. It's a very, very rural crossing point where the VV meets a "Camino Rural". ❤️

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There were other colours too. I came across a small lizard and I couldn't make heads nor tails of what colour it was! It was definitely blue - but only a half of it was. As I watched him scurrying about his business it seemed that his blueness changed to greeness and from front to back. Later, I spied another on a proper road, his red/pinkish colour standing out on the tarmac but as soon as he hit the side of the road he disappeared as if into thin air, his colours matching perfectly the scrubland. This is great! Just me and the lizards!

Some more colour and Cowboy Country!

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The kms were ticking up, Roccado was running fine, the country was interesting and I had options all over. It was very pleasant and very different from a couple of days ago.

I did stop for a breather at one stage at a rest spot on the VV but despite there being a frame there was no roof, no shade and I was quickly melting. Moving was better. So I moved on.

Nothing stayed the same..... except fo the blazing sun

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Water was going to be the thing today. That weird town/community had lots of dog poop bag dispensers but no water fountains. I was mainly in the middle of nowhere on the VV. I'd need to watch it.

Coming into Fuente Álamo de Murcia (álamo is a Poplar tree!) slap bang in the middle of Siesta time I had decisions to make.

I could stay on the VV and head to Cartagena, a place that had one possible camping spot, well away from the town and that I couldn't establish if was open or not. Or I could head towards Murcia, a big, inland town, with no camping options at all. Nothing was showing up on Booking within my price range in either place. I hummed and hawed and decided to head for Murcia. First up I had a kebab and a cold drink in the only open place in town getting positively scorched in the sun. I could find no shade anywhere. I am noticing that the towns that speak to me the most have shade!

After leaving the VV and back onto a proper road. What a pleasant roadside ditch!

More agriculture and less scrub...... but still very, very dry

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

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 68 Friday June 3

Getting the Hell outta Dodge! Part II

Orange trees! A crop of orange trees! Pigs basking in premium poop couldn't have ben happier!

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I was now on a biggish road with occasional wanderings off onto gravel and cutting through more cultivated land. Wild and planted trees and bushes provided regular dollops of energising colour. It was very pleasant despite the fact that I was rising gently again. As long as I could keep rolling along, the worst of the sun was kept in check.


Then everything changed. I wasn't in a flat scrubland anymore, I was in the hills. I had a steep bugger of a climb, hit the top and then got to sweep along fabulous, twisty, bendy roads. Coming up on 6 pm it was cooling down and lots of trees added to the cooling. It was great! I was flying!

The road heading to Murcia. It should have been the last leg of the day.....

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Approaching Murcia (I was back on the EV8) but when push came to shove I wasn't in the mood for a big town. I was fired up by that great stretch of road so I veered away on the outskirts and kept pedalling. I was enjoying the day and didn't want it to end. To help me along there was a short stretch of VV that kept me away from all the traffic. Early evening time, it was filling up with all sorts out to exercise and socialise.

This was great! Going up was slower, but thankfully it was cooling down......

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I entered the province of Alicante and dawdled through the very pretty town of Orihuela, my legs full of energy even coming up on the 100km mark and the descending evening bringing a bit of coolness.

Going down was better......

I was loving this country and baby smooth road

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There was a campground about 20 km away with no climbing so I decided to aim for that but to keep my eyes open for a wild camping spot and some water. I seemed to be in a rural area and I hoped for opportunities.

Feckin' glorious and hardly anyone around to bother me

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A backroad I hoped to take seemed to be through private property and was closed so I took the "proper" road increasing my speed a little. Everything changed in a moment though when I came across a snake having his own adventure crossing the road.

Back on the flat and time for a selfie!

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I haven't seen a live snake on the road since Colombia! My initial jolt of fear turned to amazement and then to horror when I realised that wild camping in the vicinity of adventurous snakes was not something on my to-do list. I've had phantom ants crawling over my legs but the thought of phantom snakes slithering around my legs was too much! The very real reality of very real snakes slithering around a very real and awake me was way too much! I'm Irish - we don't do snakes! I have acquired no tolerance to them and have no intention of doing so!

Amazement quickly turned to horror!

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A little after that I was on a rough, sandy backroad and while I could spy a spot or two that might host a tent there was a reasonable amount of activity with walkers, joggers and other bikers. I continued on to the campground as the sun was sinking behind me. The day deserved a cold beer to finish it off in style.

Hightailing it to the snake-free campground!

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It was big! I was cycling along one side of it for quite a while before I turned onto a little road running parallel to the motorway and pedalled down to a long, twisty drive. Rounding a bend revealed a type of camping …………. Hell! This was a resort type place where the "camping" is done in chalets. It's for families and provides "Animations" It was huge, loud but with snakes outside? It was home.

I wandered into the reception and waited while animations were booked. I could see on a map of the grounds that they had a tent area so when my turn came I asked about availability and started the hi tech check in process. By now it was past nine, the sun was an orange pink in the sky, my belly needed filling and I was gasping for a cold drink and the cheerful girl behind the counter was asking me to cycle way off to the camping area, locate my spot and cycle back to tell her so she could complete the computer form. At that point something snapped inside and I asked the question I should have asked at the start. How much is it?
€32!
There had to be a mistake! I was in a tent! Just me! I wasn't booking in a rugby team.

There was no way I was going to pay that. Snakes be damned!
I thanked her, said it was way out of my budget and made a big deal of picking up my barbag giving her time to offer a better rate. She smiled and said Adíos!

Outside I hit up a vending machine for a couple of litres of ice cold water, drank one on the spot, so got two more then set off back down the long drive the shouts and screams of kids of all ages ringing in my ears.

I turned back onto the small road and rolled down a bit until I found something I had seen earlier and found a spot hidden behind bushes that would keep passing traffic, joggers and dogwalkers from discovering me.

Up with the tent, a cold supper and inside I went for once cursing my imagination....... and snakes.

At least in the last rays of the sun I wouldn't be able to see the slithery feckers!

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Day 68 Friday June 3
Bolnuevo to the ditch behind Camping Costa Blanca, Crevillent 120 km Total KM 2645
Min Meters 38 Max Meters 331
Total Climb 587, Total Descent 524
Min Temp 24 Max Temp 43 Ave Temp 33

Cycle Travel: https://cycle.travel/map/journey/404500
Strava:

The Towns Along the Way
Mazarrón
Makey Uppy Town
Fuente Álamo de Murcia
Orihuela

The Whole Day

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 69 Saturday June 4

Surviving the Snakes!

I survived!
The best thing about a long day was that even the thought of snakes didn't stop me having a deep sleep.
I was awake a little after dawn and slowly got up. It was cool!
As things turned out, I had been "attacked" by wild animals! Thankfully they couldn't penetrate the bulletproof (sarcasm, Willy ) fly of my tent. These attackers? Snails! Lots of little snails on the fly. They left me with what I termed my "polka dot" tent.

The fly was soaked from dew so I moved it intot the sun to dry out, shaking the little guys off as carefully as I could. I could hear activity on the road - there seemed to be a lot of MTBers - but no-one bothered about me.

My stealthy camping spot

​

I got packed up and headed off trying to figure out the best way to cross a motorway then on through what turned out to be a Natural Park with incredible displays of purply heather. Early in the morning before the sun started to cook everything it was particularly calm, peaceful and so fresh that everything felt new.

Having not had breakfast, and most importantly, coffee I pulled in to what turned out to be a very pleasant roadside restaurant. It was definitely a sight for sore eyes (and an empty belly) as I was expecting to have to go all the way to Elche or Elx as the locals call it.

Now, I knew about the Basques and that their language is nothing like Spanish. And the Catalans have their own language which I believe is closer related to Spanish. And the Galicians, too, have their own distinct dialect. I knew nothing about the folks from Alicante and their language until today! This travel thing is great for the education!
(Not everyone approves, it appears. One road sign had the Alicante version graffitied out).

I've had some wonderful mornings on the road and this was one of them. Fields and fields of heather, glistening with dew and buzzing with life as the world woke up and warmed up. There was a freshness to everything, it seemed, even me - and that's saying something after a long, long day under a hot sun and a wild camp!

​

What I did know was that this is El Cid country. El Cid is another famous tale like that of Don Quixote, but unlike the cranky Don, El Cid actually existed. There's a route that charts his progress that extends from near Burgos in the north down to the Med. In fact, I intersected with one of the routes yesterday back in the very pleasant town of Orihuela. I say one of the routes because there are several versions. I've said before that the Spanish do tourism very well.

There's a car route. There's a bike route. There's a MTB route. And there's a walking route!

Once upon a long time ago I was going to do the MTB route as a test for Roccado's new trailer. I had logistical problems (I could get a bus to Burgos, but getting back proved trickier). So, at the last minute I changed plans and cycled from NL to Ireland instead.

This was my chance to get some closure on that particular idea. I could follow the Camino of El Cid all the way up to Burgos. Of course, all my notes are denied to me because of Google so I'd effectively be going blind.
More info here: https://en.caminodelcid.org/

However, I wasn't sure if that's what I wanted to do. There was an alternative. I'd come across the Montañas Vacias off road route, a circular route through some of the most empty land not just of Spain, but of Europe. Spanish Lapland the area is known as.
Now, this is an amazing story and just goes to show what a few positive thinking people can do if they put their minds to it.
One guy has effectively mapped out a route through some wonderful country and over a short time volunteers have helped out filling in the details. In certain places there are "donated" spare parts for bikers. Shelters have been restored to be used by travellers. And there have even been one or two businesses opening to satisfy demand for accommodation. When towns are dying this is a big, big thing.

The "route" has expanded, variations have been introduced and enthusiasts are coming in from all over the world to do it. (Komoot did a heavily publicised all female tour of it this year).

I think it's a wonderful story and I'd love to be a part of it. It is very rare that I will want to ride a particular route but there is something special about this one. It's not the route that appeals to me. The draw is being part of something simple but good.

Maybe I'm going a bit mad but sometimes I find that the mountains have their own characters, that they're more than just a feature of the landscape. I'm sure if Duolingo had a "Mountain" language some of these could tell some tales..... Also, this area is peppered with small, historical, rural towns. In cooler temperatures I'm sure I could really enjoy zigging and zagging to hit them all.

​

Unfortunately, it is a very difficult route with lots of climbing and some hike-a-bike. I have my full load which is overkill for this. It doesn't stop me but I know it will slow me down. And therein lies the problem - water. It can be scarce. And apparently, this year is hotter and drier than normal. Perhaps I can find a place to hold all but the essential parts of my gear and have a go lighter. Maybe I'll do the on-road version. Maybe I'll mix and match and do some of El Cid and some of the Montañas Vacias. In any case, Valencia would be my next big destination and from there I'd be closer to making up my mind.

(On a humorous note - for me at least - I do know for a certainty that I paid no attention to elevation data for the El Cid routes when I was checking them out. I knew they were hilly. That was enough….. then. These days, elevation info is of far more importance! The Appalachians and the Andes can have that effect!)

I'm not saying that's what I was thinking over my delicious coffee and ciggie that morning but this is what was going on in my head around about this time. Specifically for this days's journey I had two options: head back to the sea and attempt to make my way up the coast. EV8 disappears around here or I could follow El Cid, albeit backwards. I kept true to the trajectory of my life and went backwards.

Back on the road the morning was delightfully cool and the environment was simply glorious. I was cycling through some kind of a natural Park that had all kinds of heathers gleaming in the early morning light. Vast swathes of purple heather flowers were as good as the sea. For the morning after the night before it was pretty good!

A snapshot of Elx, a very impressive town but surprisingly empty at about 10:30 on a Saturday morning.

​

Elche/Elx was the first town up and what a town! A fabulous blend of the old, the very old and the modern in such a way that "blend" is the perfect description. Nothing seemed to clash, everything just fit together. A kind of architectural tranquillity that diffused in the warm air. Helping that sense of tranquillity was the fact that it seemed like everyone had gone somewhere else for the day and it was very quiet. I had a river, of sorts, now much, much smaller than it used to be, but that didn't stop the river banks being a wonderful amenity. I wandered around on excellent bike paths and wondered where everyone was. It was too early for Siesta. It was also too early to stay although the idea did cross my mind. To stop myself being tempted (Booking was showing prices that would scare a lot of people off and were terrifying to me!) and to prevent another campground shock I had emailed a campsite further along the road and had a friendly reply. I had as close to a reservation as I like to have. Today… or maybe tomorrow.

Passing an open Tourist Office I went in on a whim to ask about El Cid. I left armed with a badge, a credencial - a booklet I could use to collect stamps along the way - and a registration on the database of El Cidders! The Spanish do Tourism well!

Just a very pleasant road. Rolling ever upwards it wasn't the fastest, but it was very, very quiet and interesting

​

Even leaving, the town charmed me, a wonderful Palm Tree display making my spirits soar. Then I was on a regular road that was very pleasant. And pleasant suited my mood. I'd be climbing all day, going from sea level to about 500 meters and I'd done a long day yesterday. Pleasant was fine.

Then the Touring Gods intervened in the form of a closed road. This was definitely closed with rails across the road and footpath and concrete barriers blocking access even for pedestrians. This is getting to be a habit! There was no sign saying why the road was closed and no information about any kind of diversion. Osmand suggested a way around on what looked like a rough little road but to get to it I had to go up a bloody steep hill.

That's what I did and after an initial bit of scrambling over rocks I was back in open country on an adventure road. As it turns out, Pleasant was good but Adventure is better! Whatever little bit of traffic on the main road disappeared on this one and it was just me and the odd rabbit. I could get a good view too of the mountains ahead of me. They look like fun!

I thought "Uh oh!" but as it turns out the Touring Gods knew what I wanted better than I did. Adventure beats Pleasant!

​

Eventually, I made my way back onto the road and had it mainly to myself all the way as far as Novelda which turned out to be a very pretty and interesting town. Unfortunately, during the Siesta there was no-one around. I'm getting used to that but at times I do miss a bit of interaction.

Yep! Adventure beats Pleasant!

​

On again on a bigger road now, but still with hardly any traffic and getting closer to the mountains. I was enjoying myself although there was nothing that I could point to and say "Wow". It was just very pleasant. But hot.

Rural life in Alicante. It's very peaceful.

​

Sax was my target. What a cool name! Unfortunately the town didn't quite match the image I had created in my mind and a quick loop was done before heading the 5km or so out to my little campground. And what a pleasant little place it was. An English/French couple (!) new owners of a small campsite, previously run by Dutch people were working hard to try and build up the business (and expand it from its traditional Dutch client base). It had a little pool and a few picnic tables scattered around. Bliss for me! They had a fridge with drinks that operated on an honesty box system which I thought interesting. My plans for getting the tent set up quickly dissolved with the temptation of a cold beer and a long, interesting chat. The guy is French and went some way to undoing some of the damage his countrypeople had done to their reputation on this trip.

The nicest thing about Sax - a Palm Tree lined street and the long road out to the campground

​

A hot then cold shower (my choice) was followed by the luxury of cooking on a Picnic table and being able to stroll over to the office for another ice cold beer. It may have been 24 hours late but it was all the nicer for that!

This represents the perils of bike touring in Spain. This is Sax. Such a wonderful sight is now becoming commonplace to me. An old, hilltop castle, a fortified wall following the contours of the hill and Dumbass thinks "meh......". Mortifying!

​

Day 69 Saturday June 04
The ditch behind Camping Costa Blanca, Crevillent to near Sax 74 km Total KM 2719
Min Meters -7 Max Meters 549
Total Climb 1033, Total Descent 355
Min Temp 20 Max Temp 39 Ave Temp 31

Cycle Travel:
Strava:

The Towns Along the Way
Elx
Novelda

The Whole Day

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 70 Sunday June 05

Spain has it all..... and then some

A picnic table meant a lazy, lazy, relaxing morning over a leisurely breakfast and a pot of coffee. Then chats first with a Dutch couple who had arrived late and then the owners again. Very pleasant, very interesting and very, very dumb because it was the full force of the sun's heat that was hitting me as I heaved through the deep gravel at the entrance to the campground.

I skipped the main road and cut along some agricultural lanes and revisited Sax. Perhaps, not surprisingly, my impression was different early in the day as opposed to late and being lazy did no harm either. Much more interesting and perhaps, a reminder, that everywhere deserves a second chance. Charming buildings in all states of repair and wonderfully intricate doors slowed me down and the old castle atop a rock scared the bejaysus out of me! There was either a lot of fear, a lot of ego, a whole lot of money or a big dose of cruelty required to build such a formidable building on top of such a hostile spot.

Taking backroads back to Sax. It was late, it was hot but not a single feck was given.

​

Leaving town on a "proper" road the wind picked up allowing me to ignore the 40C that Gizmo was warning me about. No traffic meant I could relax and enjoy.

I diverted for an unusual bit of exploration - an actual dead town. Or Colony, to be more accurate.
Santa Eulalia was, I think, what we might consider a commune - a group of people living and working together, sharing the labour and the spoils of it. It's not completely clear to me just how it was set up (it seems there was an investor - a Capitalist Commune, perhaps) but it seems that such communities or colonies weren't exactly uncommon in times gone by.
Now, though, it's in ruins but even the ruins are impressive and suggest something far more substantial than "commune" normally brings to my mind.

On now to Villena on a less interesting road along a motorway but Villena itself made up for the deficiency in the route. Unfortunately, a lack of shade made it a cursory visit and then it was off again and surprisingly, to me, a Via Verde that I was not expecting. The Via Verde de Xixarra isn't terribly long (16 km from the far side of Vilena) but it has two advantages - it's glorious and it ends up in Biar. I knew none of those things when I joined it but my first impression was positive when an oncoming car slowed right down so as to minimise the dust I'd have to face. He did it from a good 750m away too.
Spain; it's a special place.

The unexpected Via Verde, a very pleasant surprise

​

Maybe glorious is overstating it but it brought me through Cowboy country and that's something that fires me up. Despite the heat, the fact that stopped I had no cooling breeze and the relative lateness of the day I shouldn't have stopped as often as I did. But this was a surprise and I wanted to make the most of it so stop often I did.

Bridges are great because they give me a place to park the bike and appreciate where I am

​

It terminates in Biar but even Dumbasses like me can figure that out because the town towers over the VV and a castle towers over the town. Having dallied, and dallied some more, and contemplating near vertical streets I nearly let myself be put off exploring, but that felt very unCowboylike so I spurred us in and up.

Cowboy Country!

​

I was right! Steep! But charming. Interesting buildings, some shade and a little Plaza where I persuaded a man to let me be his last customer before closing. A fabulous lunch, al fresco, watching a small group of kids being entertained with a variety of games. It seemed to be Confirmation day and to celebrate the Plaza had giant skittles for bowling, a ginormous version of twister and other child focused games. A friendly local engaged me in conversation and I found myself getting a real feel for the place.

Charmed too, I was, by some beautiful copper coloured beer tanks, beautifully functional in the bar. A throwback to a former life and a very timely reminder of how much life has changed. I was full of questions, especially about cooling, but the staff were busy finishing their shift and I didn't want to delay them further.

The strangest things charm me! The approach to Biar, full of wonder and fantasy, then beer tanks in the bar, beauty and functionality combined

​

Moving on, I found myself on yet another VV, but this one was unlisted on my app. It started a bit rough and then the Via Verde fairies came out, sprinkled some magic dust and I was cycling on pristine, smooth tarmac. On a hot day, a smooth, straight, empty road all for me was cool - in every sense of the word. I put on a little music and it became the ViaVerde de Karaoke! Marvellous, wonderful cycling. Less so the singing!

A totally different standard of VV, not on the VV app, a wonderful surprise

​

Like the earlier VV it gave me a good view of the town at its terminus, Banyeres de Mariola, well in advance. Inspired by Biar I cheerfully turned off and up. But this place was far less charming. Bigger, wider, more modern, it hadn't an ounce of the character and charm of Biar just back the road. Interestingly too, signs featured a local dialect, something missing back in Biar or maybe I was too charmed to notice.

I managed to become totally disoriented seeking a church spire but as I struggled up a particularly steep hill a friendly, but silent man patted me on the shoulder and smilingly, but silently, indicated where I should head.

Even a campsite outside the town (and still proudly shown on the brown tourism signs) was closed. I decided to head on. My maps suggested camping options along the way.

Banyeres de Mariola proved deceptive. Whereas I had hummed and hawed before going up to Biar I had no hesitation here. Biar charmed me, Banyeres was meh. However, with an approach like this I'll forgive

​

Now I was on a big road, pretty much the first long stretch of the day but even then the Touring Gods looked after me serving up a baby smooth shoulder. I amused myself by realising that mountains are to me what the Mafia is to Michael Corleone in the Godfather (Part III) - just when I'm out they pull me back in.

From wonderful Via Verdes to a main road......

​

Bocairent loomed up on the left, another steep town but late and a bit tired I ventured right, took a couple of backroads and found myself in a little bit of Holland. And on grass!

Bocairent. Hmmmm..... that looks interesting!

​

Home was a very pleasant (but not cheap!) and small campsite where I could watch night fall on Bocairent and feel the magic rising and diffusing.

Not the greatest photos in the world but the night was slowly filled with a kind of magic......

​

Day 70 Sunday June 05
Near Sax to Bocairent 57 km Total KM 2776
Min Meters 471 Max Meters 835
Total Climb 719, Total Descent 489
Min Temp 25 Max Temp 45 Ave Temp 37

Cycle Travel

Strava


The Towns Along the Way
Sax
La Colonia de Santa Eulia
Villena
Biar
Banyeres de Mariola


The Whole Day

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 71 Monday June 6

Exploring & Cycling

A strange thing happened yesterday evening at the campground. A youngish couple, Dutch, were in a big, family sized tent a few pitches away and we got to talking. They had asked me where I'd been on the bike. Without meaning to sound big headed that can turn into quite the answer so I try to be modest and am happy to fill out the details if people ask. Last night, they asked. And asked some more. Then some more to fill out the detail. They were away for a few weeks, their last holiday together before they start a family. Córdoba was up next for them. Did I know the place? Well, I waxed lyrical about the place and when they said how they weren't sure about visiting Sevilla I painted a picture of a place that I loved. The guy looked at me a bit strangely then asked me how I could be so enthusiastic about places after so long on the road.

It's a good question.


Something else happened too. Bocairent became a shimmering, romantic, mysterious illusion as night fell and darkness tried but failed to smother the little, high town.

The town under bright sunshine! Irresistible! That bridge is now traffic free and I'll follow the road up along the outside of the old town before wandering in to explore

​

So, today on awakening I had two options in front of me. A roughly 100km run to Valencia or a shorter 40km option to the only campground I could find. There was only one problem - Bocairent was unexplored and truthfully, last night watching the sun set behind it and the lights grow stronger as darkeness crept in had fired me up. My friendly host had told me of some famous caves that could be explored with a guide so that added to the draw. I packed up then parked the bike and walked into town, something telling me that the bike wasn't the best tool for the job.

I was right!

It really didn't take long for me to forget about making Valencia today. The approach to the town was stunning. Steep, but stunning, along a hiking path that joined a little happy río bubbling along. I stopped to study the old laundry area, fed by the same río and then got to approach the town on what I assume was the old road, over an old bridge, past an old customs post and upwards to the caves.

The old Lavadora - communal laundry area - quite common (if unused these days) in these old towns

​

Being Spain, these were closed but the disappointment barely registered over the enchantment of the town. I could spy an old monastery or convent way off, and up, another hill with a path zigging and zagging up and had wonderful views of a beautiful, if inhospitable, rugged, mountainy landscape.

Climbing the hill on the edge of town. First up, an old toll booth where traders paid a fee to access the market. The taxman needed shelter from the weather - just like in Ireland
Then an old monastery or convent that requires a fair bit of conviction, faith and dedication just to reach!

​

The town itself was very, very quiet, steep and very narrow in places. As I weaved around, lost but exploring, I'd come across views where I could see buildings steeply below me and steeply above. The people who built these places were neither suffering from vertigo nor afraid of hard work, very hard work.

High buildings and narrow streets translated into lots of shade but the Plaza was awash in blazing, burning sun. I found a little place to have a coffee under an umbrella but there was very little to see - no-one was around.

A town of interesting and diverse views. Above is a view to the sunbaked Plaza and below a photo of the old and the new.

​

The town is built on top of rock and in places that rock has been carved and tunnels or cubbyholes exist. Being tourist conscious, there are a couple of routes (one is literally "The Magic Route!) to walk above and below the buildings on the cliff face that I eventually decided to join after I had covered most of the town.

It's a steep bugger and while I was glad I was on foot the idea of driving around such tight corners and steep streets didn't seem like an advantage to me.

​

These hilltop towns always fire up my imagination but when they lay on little paths that weave around the edge, that have trees and hedges, that pass caves carved into rock, that offer the most wonderful views - above my head buildings stand vertical, stretching to the sky, below a little valley has some ruins and pasture - then I am lost in a fantasy world.

Walking from shade to sun was entering another world. Mind you, walking into the town was entering another world

​

Stumbling along such a path, hidden by bushes it was easy to imagine myself Quixote-like rescuing a damsel from the evil lord and sneaking her away. Lots of little caves and nooks and crannies we could duck into if we heard the guards clumping around on the path overhead. Indeed, it was while exploring one of these little caves that I got a shock to find a sullen teenager hidden in a dark corner playing with his phone!

Some of the magical paths around the town. Not for the infirm, the Health & Safety people haven't made it this far!

The trick on these paths is to look up. But stop walking before you do!

Sometimes there'll be a sullen teenager on a phone hiding out in one of these - it can kill the fantasy if you're not careful!

​

Rather than take the main road back I retraced my steps along the río and back to the campground. What an utterly magical place. It was a real pity that it was so quiet. I found only one open bar/café and one little shop, although, in the town's defence I stuck to the historical part and avoided most of the modern part lower down.


It's not often that fantasy and reality can collide and merge so seamlessly. A diversion well worth taking.

Bocairent. Places like this keep me charged up and freaking out poor Dutch tourists

​

To Be Continued........

Bocairent

 

[Oldhippy]

Just stunning, absolutely stunning!

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 71 Monday June 6

Exploring & Cycling Part II

I suppose I could be forgiven for being slightly disappointed to be leaving the magical and fantastical to ride on the dull.......

​

Setting off now well into the afternoon I was on a good but dull road. The idea did cross my mind that on such a good, dull road that I could make some good time and that perhaps with a bit of effort I could make Valencia. But I was reckoning without taking the Touring Gods into account because they were determined to make sure that I didn't reach Valencia today. They laid on a day of great adventure and variety that matched my morning's wanderings.

For someone who is as wrong as I often am, it's great to get my daily dose of wrongness out of the way early! The dull road disappeared and this one came along.

​

First of all, the landscape became much more interesting while the road stayed in excellent condition. I entered a dry, rocky landscape with cliffs on either side as the road weaved over and back, around and around. The fact that I was generally heading downhill helped the enjoyment. Despite the dryness, the sound of water was common, fast water, rushing swiftly downhill, bouncing, gurgling and bubbling in often tiny, hidden ríos. It's very interesting just how much more attractive such a sound is on a blasting hot day in such an arid area. There was a definite rhythm to it all that had me happily rolling along in time to it.

A scene changing río below me, snow warnings, colours and beautiful flowers, and ruins that whispered stories as I passed...... And if all that wasn't enough - downhill!

​

Then I found myself following one of these little streams of life well below my road. I couldn't see it but its trail of greenery was unmistakable. That was pleasant enough until I came to a narrow, rocky canyon and the often hidden río was now clearly visible - and being enjoyed by groups of people. It looked glorious! Absolutely glorious! Lots of cars were pulled in along the road and I was so, so tempted to park up, drop down and have a swim but security was a bother. I'd be leaving my bike and my gear on the side of a (quiet) main road, unable to see a thing. Access down wasn't possible with the bike and would be downright impossible to get back up anyways. I looked and longed then reluctantly headed off.

I'm still kicking myself that I didn't go down.......

​

My disappointment didn't last long though, because I soon arrived into Ontinyent, quiet due to Siesta, but interesting becasue of the architecture. A steep bugger to get around I had the impression of a poorish town fighting to be better.

I set off again, swapping the big main road for a rural one that was often but not always paved, rolling through agricultural country. So different from only a few kms back the road I found myself, once again, amazed at the variety that Spain offers.

Not stunning, but pleasant, very, very pleasant

​

Montaverner was up next, sleepy and dusty and on leaving was again struck by the contrasts that Spain can throw together so closely. A beautiful río flowed outside the town and everything around it was green, cool and bountiful while the air was filled with watermusic. The other side had been arid and desert-like, despite having a río too but this side was exploding with life.

Before Montaverner, water for sure, but still dry and arid. And a fun road!

After Montaverner - quite literally s different world!

​

Still on rural, small roads I was having vast chunks of the country all to myself. It was about here that I veered off the official El Cid route and followed CT's suggestion and it was about here that the Touring Gods really laid on something special.

Wonderful country and defiant trees! Despite all the beauty shade was a premium and a rest stop was under a bridge

​

To Be Continued......

Ontinyent

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 71 Monday June 6

Exploring & Cycling Part III

I was entering, apparently, another Natural Park on a very rough path that would stymie a lot of bikes but not my trusty Roccado. Onwards we bounced, first into some hills then a forest on an ever degrading track. A firetruck came up behind and as I let them pass I pointed to the bike and enquired, using sign language, if I was OK to proceed. Beaming smiles confirmed I was.

Stick me beside water and I'm happy. I'd had lots of wonderful water today and it just seemed to be getting better and better!

​

Later, I caught up with them at the site of an old mill (I think) at the riverside and they were doing some checks, loading up with water and happy to be chatting to loaded bike tourists.

I parked up and tried to figure put the workings of the río around here, then read about the innovative irrigation system the Arabs had established to feed the nearby town with water - essentially a tiny canal, made effectively from interconnected ceramic pots all linked together over a distance of some 4.5 miles with regular "vents" where children were sent in to clean it!

I was admiring this rockface and the way my perspective changed as I moved along and the sun falling on it brought out colours to make it seem alive. Then, it was alive! I spotted some movement and finally realised that there were three climbers scaling it! Now I had live entertainment to top everything off!

​

I though I'd better head on but then, admiring a sheer cliff face I spotted some movement. A bit of squinting - my eyes are getting old - and I realised I was watching mountain climbers ascending a vertical wall of rock. Being incredibly afraid of heights this amazed me and held me captivated for ages. Going back to chat some more to the firemen I discovered that this is a popular spot for climbers. They used a term to suggest that this was a specific subset of mountain climbing but I didn't take note of it.

An old girlfriend of mine used to be a climber and the thought struck me that I'd happily hop on my bike and cycle to Lord knows where without too much of a second thought but climbing a rock? No way! How different we all are! What's terrifying or impossible to one is a hobby to another.

You can probably tell that the sun is sinking and that the trail isn't exactly the best equipped for a loaded bike so my "time to arrival" was something of an unknown quantity. This place, however, was not a place for rushing. Hike-a-bike the cool kids call it. Pushing and savouring I call it.

​

This trail through the park wasn't finished with me yet and in such a state of bliss was I that I hopped off and pushed most of the way. There were some rocky sections but the real reason was that I was walking often under a canopy of bushes that was gloriously cool and magical. I met one small family out for a walk but that was it. Walking was the perfect pace to relax and enjoy.

Ah now! There's a young family a little ways ahead coming towards me and I paused here for a moment or two reminding myself of the "dull" road that I had been expecting. Lord knows what they thought of the loaded bike tourist pushing his bike out of the tunnel chuckling loudly to himself

​

Coming to the edge of the park I came to a bridge over the río with a chain preventing access, presumably, from the other side where I could spy some cars. With no hope of lifting the bike over it, I parked up, unloaded and started hauling panniers over the chain. Such a place is Spain that a young woman was straight over to manhandle a couple of panniers for me waving off my gratitude.

Just a rock!

​

Now, I was close to the town of Xátiva and this side of the park was better set up for vehicular access. A few groups had driven in and were spending an enjoyable looking family day beside the river. A bouncy, rough road of dried mud led me out of the tree cover and back onto a road for the last leg to town and a campground.

Looking back at where I came from as I reached a more "developed" part of the park. A handful of families are along the riverbank enjoying a day together.

​

I was having such a good day that I whizzed past the campground and into the town. Maybe I was riding my luck but the day had been so good I figured I had nothing to lose. And I didn't!

Heading to town.......

​

A charming town with the most wonderful long boulevard beside a glorious and colourful park thrilled me and lured me to stop and linger. In the cool of the evening with the sun sinking the town had come out to play and I seemed to have arrived slap bang in the centre of it. I got a cold drink and a slice of pizza from a very friendly girl and sat on a terrace watching the town go by. There's music in the air at these times. There are birds gathering in trees all gossiping about the day and people doing the same thing under them. I'd had water as my soundtrack for lots of the day now I had a town. It was utterly charming.

And still heading to town..... 44km I did today which puts me firmly in the category of lazy/amateur bike tourist. But it felt like I'd travelled 400 so different, so diverse was every part of the day

​

With fading light, I hopped back on Roccado only to be stopped by some older Norwegians for a chat. One chap made himself the leader of the group, knowledgeable about bikes and bike touring only to be stumped by my lack of a battery. His enquiry of where my motor was was met with my cheerful response of pointing to my legs. When he asked me where I had been he roundly declared that such a journey on such a bike was impossible and promptly stalked off! Another lady in the group squeezed my arm, whispered a thank you in my ear and wished me a good journey. The advantage of solo travel - I'm the only Jackass I have to tolerate.

I found the campground to discover it was more of a residential place, and not a particularly nice one at that. A friendly chap did allow himself to be haggled down from his exorbitant first offer but it was a gloomy end to a wonderful day. He did return after a few minutes though, with a roll of toilet paper as the bathrooms were not equipped with such luxuries.

The approach wasn't the nicest but I was flying high and had been wrong all day so sailed past the campground and into town. A park full of birds and colour and trees and bushes and flowers kept the theme of the day going.

​

I pitched my tent on gravel (yuck!), had a tepid, underpowered shower and cooked up some food and thought about it. Nope. I'm still not up for climbing!


Day 71 Monday June 06
Bocairent to Xátiva 44 km Total KM 2820
Min Meters 86 Max Meters 617
Total Climb 283, Total Descent 761
Min Temp 27 Max Temp 46 Ave Temp 36

Cycle Travel
Strava


The Towns Along the Way
Bocairent
Ontinyent
Montaverner

The Whole Day

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 72 Tuesday June 07

Valencia can wait

Bah! I am coming to really loathe gravel! Sleeping, it hardly makes any impact but at every other time it is always there sticking into various parts of me. It can't be good for the tent either.

I woke up, got my bearings (as an aside I think it's interesting that I am rarely confused as to where I am when I awake, my head seems to zoom in on my situation in the blink of an eye.)

There was no faffing around with breakfast today for two great reasons; The first was that the sea was just down the road and it's been a while! The second was that a beautiful town awaited me with coffee in what I was confident would be a lovely atmosphere. It wouldn't take much to beat the ambience of this campground.

Very early morning in Xátiva. Deliciously cool, very colourful, vibrant, friendly. It's a wonder I left!

​

There's no denying that towns die in the afternoons here and that the real life is to be found in the mornings and evenings. And sometimes the evenings can be quiet too. The mornings, though? Everywhere is alive! Now, some of that life might come from lots of school runs but life it is.

Xátiva did not disappoint me. With a blazing sun and lots of trees to offer shade something magical was in the air as leaves filtered golden rays through gently swaying green leaves and coloured flowers. Sea? What sea? My urgency to get to the Med lasted the time it took me to get to the park

Valencia can wait!

I took a little wander to appreciate the difference that the morning brings in terms of light and slightly more urgency. Then I meandered over to a little plaza filled with cafés, chose one by feel and sat back for breakfast.
My waitress was a delight, busy and cheerful with a sharp sense of humour. It was like I had breakfast here every day.

Most of the terrace was full of older folk, mostly in groups nattering, some solo, also nattering as other singletons stopped for a quick chat. Chatting, taking time to communicate is important around here. Some of them have preschool grandkids with them. There's a wonderful, calm, natural mixing of the generations.

This is my best attempt to catch the sunlight diffusing through the trees. This was a wonderful spectacle to see, but if you walked under the trees I swear you'd feel the diffusion. I often prattle on about magic and this was magic.

​

Two hours after arriving fo a "quick bite" I was leaving. Not ready to leave, but leaving.

After yesterday I wasn't expecting much and I wasn't really disappointed. A big road, less interesting landscape and a whole lot of sun with little shade. With that mindset it's easy to be distracted from the road so i pulled off to explore the first village I came to, Torre de Lloris.

With a name like that (Tower of Lloris) there must be a story, no? Well, I could find no board with a story and couldn't find any kind of a feckin' tower, either. And there wasn't a single, solitary soul to ask. Birdsong was the only evidence of life - and very pretty evidence it was. But for my quest to discover Lloris and his tower? ...... nada!

Then the Animal Gods provided some entertainment. I was watching a young cat stalking on the shady side of the street. I presumed it was just practising and not being a fan of cats I looked away only for a sickening, bone crunching, chilling noise to obliterate the birdsong as the hunter scampered past me with a feathered victim clamped tightly between its vicious cat-fangs. Every bird in the place fell silent.

I've seen much, much worse and I understand that it's perfectly natural yet that scene, and especially that noise, really got to me. All birdsong just stopped, dead and with no happy harmony the little town draped itself in an eerie, spooky, chilly cloak. I abandoned my search for a tower or the tale of Lloris and hit the road.

The road really isn't the story today. Top is the road out of Xátiva- dull as I had expected. Below is from later when I entered citrus country. More interesting than I had reason to expect

​

I wasn't long on the road when I took the opportunity to join another Via Verde. This one, being a whopping 1,7km long, doesn't feature on my app and probably doesn't seem worth diverting over since the surface is a bit variable. However, what it does is give the meandering bike tourist a train driver's view of the little (and charming) town of Manuel. I loved it!

Manuel was different to the village of the cat killers in that people were out, mainly on a little Plaza, and all socialising. A charming street mural set a tone of a friendly place and the mood music agreed. I grabbed a coffee, noticing a regional difference - I am now getting two sachets of sugar with a coffee instead of one - before taking some time to wander around. It was while wandering around that some local hombres drew me into their chat. Unusually, and most interestingly, they had little interest in me or my travels but were very interested in telling me what great men they were and what a great town they were from. If that sounds unpleasant, it was anything but. These guys had an easy manner and were quick to take the pish (as we say in Ireland) with each other and me. Their chests puffed with pride when they made a point and while their religion says that Pride is a sin I just could not see the harm in it.

Choo Choo! Like a big feckin`child I loved my spin as a train driver!

​

My request for information about Lloris (just back the road) was met with good-natured disdain. Why in the name of all that's holy would I want to know about that place?
They insisted that I take their photo, refusing point blank to move despite the sun killing the shot. Kings of their town - the universe had to adapt to them. A lovely encounter.

I set off again into what was a brutal headwind. Rather than moan I decided to appreciate the cooling effect and laboured onwards on a decent if uninspiring road.

Relief came in the form of another town, La Pobla Larga. Not 20km under my belt and I think that's 5 places I've either passed through or very close to. My attempts to take a photo of a lovely church were stymied by an Amstel delivery truck. The Dutch have many, many things to be proud of, beer amongst them, but Amstel is most certainly not one of them! A small group of loud and sweaty English bikepackers rolled up and were invading a small terrace, my wave and smile of greeting as I stood with the mighty Roccado returned with disdain. Once the Amstel truck had moved on I took my shot and rolled on to the next little village.

Small and quiet I took advantage of a twofer and bought an ice cold can of coke from a bar to drink in the shade provided by the church. Three girls behind the bar were busy cleaning and closing but paused for long enough to have some fun with the foreigner, speaking slowly to me for my benefit, speaking faster to themselves for theirs. At one stage they picked up on my pronunciation of "seis" (6) to swing the conversation around to sex. Chance would be a fine thing!

And I thought today would be dull

​

Hunger and thirst sated I headed on again to yet another town, Carcaixent, bigger than the others. A church on a Plaza with a fabulous tree had me stopping in my tracks. I watched, amused, as a young woman paused to take a photo of the church then surreptitiously turned to Roccado and took a pic too. Sitting on a terrace having a coffee I got talking to two Dutch ladies who were taking a day trip out of Valencia. One makes furniture and art from old fruit boxes, a collection left to her by her father. I passed far too long chatting but it was very enjoyable.

Then it was another run to an even bigger town, Alzira. Big, beautiful, it was most certainly not bustling. I found it very hard to get a feel for the place at all it was so quiet. I kept looking at lovely things and telling myself that I should be appreciating them more but I couldn't. I had a cold coke on a terrace, almost alone. The exit, however, was spectacular riding beside old battlements!

Leaving Alzira. Look at those Battlements!! I could be in Game of Thrones! And that little house!!!!

​

Back on the road and agriculture really took over, especially citrus trees. Irrigation systems were the feature here and I could hear (it not always see) water being pumped around. When I could see it, it looked incredibly pure and clean.

Gradually though, the rural gave way to urban and I can't even be sure when, but at some point I was in Valencia. Lots of traffic lights and slow moving, heavy traffic were an unusual obstacle but the city, when she finally revealed herself was worth the discomfort.

It was hot!

​

I was late, had no reservations, only an idea where the campgrounds were (well out of town) and by rights I should have pushed on but, not for the first time today, clocks took a backseat. My loon face took over and I meandered around telling myself "I'm in Valencia!"

Salt flats!

​

Valencia is a beautiful place. It has all those things I've come to expect and appreciate of a Spanish city, but with its own take on them. The river, for example, doesn't appear to exist anymore but instead it has been replaced with one of the most wonderful parks I've ever come across - and I've seen some beautiful city parks!

I stopped for a coffee and tortilla served by a charming and witty old man who was both making fun and having fun and I thoroughly enjoyed people watching.

A tapa of Valencia (Those Colombian Palm trees did it for me!)

​

Heading out towards the campground I came across a wonderful bridge that put me in mind of Rotterdam, and like Rotterdam was set up for bikers. I also met an Argentinian chap who was waving excitedly at me from the other side of the road when we're were both stopped at the lights.

He'd done a bit of bike touring but really, really wanted to do a big one. He was thinking of Scotland to Spain. He was very apologetic that he had no space to offer me a place to stay.

There must be something in the air in Valencia province - so many people are so friendly!

The beaches, when they arrived, were something of a disappointment. Big, certainly, they were very bare and open and dominated, to an extent, by the nearby docks. Taking advantage of a multi-use path I headed along the beaches to where a few campgrounds were located.

According to iOverlander none of them are great but beggars can't be choosers. The first one I arrived to was open but there was no-one around. I tried calling but got no answer. It was heading on for 9pm so not too late (in my mind). I pushed the bike around but while I could hear noise of residents I could see no-one. With no obvious place for me to pitch (and frankly a tad worried about security - I'd be leaving my gear here for a few days) I moved on.


The next place was Campervan only, another residents only. Finally, I came to one where security wasn't an issue. The kind of guy I'd cross the road to avoid stuck his head out the window of a hut at the gate as I approached. Yes, I could have a place. No, he couldn't tell me how much. He was the night Watchman, not a receptionist. Charmed, (sarcasm Willy!) I meandered down a tightly packed avenue to a promised tent area.

Had I had hitting the Med as my goal of the day I'd have been disappointed. Apart from a little collection of small boats I was pretty unimpressed (what a Jackass! I arrive at the Med and think......Meh)

​

Then things started looking up. A huge, separate area had been set aside for tents with a mesh covering to protect from the worst of the sun. Apart from a strange tent in the corner that looked like a long term resident I had all the space I needed on bare earth. Yaaay! No gravel! Even better, opposite and on the way to the bathrooms was a covered area with long tables and benches where I could cook and eat in comfort. Home! In Valencia!


Day 72 Tuesday June 07

Xátiva to Valencia 87 km Total KM 2907
Min Meters -36 Max Meters 110
Total Climb 258, Total Descent 337
Min Temp 22 Max Temp 41 Ave Temp 33

CycleTravel

Strava

The Towns Along the Way

Xátiva
Torre de Lloris
Manuel
La Pobla Larga
Carcaixent
Alzira
Algemesí
Benfaío
Miscellaneous Towns

The Whole Day

 

[HobbesOnTour]

The Journey so far......

And the Kings of Manuel

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Day 73 Wednesday June 08

Everything in Valencia except my head

I missed this on my way in..... a City Gate. I do like cities that have gates!

​

Sometimes the hardest part of a solo bike tour isn't tackling the physical effort but the mental. Through no fault of Valencia my head wasn't in the right place.
The campground wasn't the greatest. My lovely area for cooking and eating and relaxing became untenable because of a neighbour constantly belching loudly while he was watching tv outside and I was trying to eat. Unable to relax comfortably there, I had the odd bod in the far corner of the tent area to consider. For some reason I felt uncomfortable around the tent.
I did revisit the first campground to see about moving but again, no-one was around.
And Valencia is not a cheap town - the cheapest dorm in the cheapest hostel was €70 per night! I didn't feel comfortable in the campground and I didn't feel particularly comfortable leaving my stuff behind when I went exploring. I wasn't going to pay that much to stay in a shared dorm and still have worries about my gear.
The sea, always a big draw for me, was uninspiring.
Valencia deserves far more than a day but that's all she got.

I know not why but I ❤️ this shot. The redbrick is vital, that's the city market on the right -and they do great markets here -and there are Palm Trees, probably in places where no Palm Tree has a right to be.

​

Why didn't I turn my head around? Well, to be fair, I tried. I recognised the problem - too far out of town in an unpleasant place - and looked to solve it but had no success. I didn't try too hard, though, because "not being in the mood" isn't that serious in the grand scheme of things and I see myself as only having limited mental energy. Better to keep some in reserve for when I really need it.

There are Castle Gates right out of Medieval tales!

​

My brief flirtation with the city, though, left me wanting more. A lot more.

The park in the río I mentioned yesterday and that really was something else.
There's the beauty of it - plants and trees and flowers.
There's the usability of it - bike paths, footpaths, lots of seats, water.
There the variety of it - all kinds of sports facilities are dotted along it.
And there's the feeling of it - whatever you want it to be. Couples being romantic, families picnicking, oldies gossiping, youngsters hanging, runners training, dogs walking. Everything and everyone to be seen and all, to my eyes, blending in harmony. It's still a novel experience to literally drop down from a busy city into an oasis of calm like this.

It's not possible for me to do justice to the wonderful park. Its attraction lies in its beauty and usability

​

And it is a busy city. Traffic is heavy and constant (less so in the Siesta hours). Like Spanish cities do there are lots of bike paths, but unlike the cities up to now, many seem like an afterthought and can be tricky on a loaded bike. Many seemed unusually narrow and some were made more narrow by parked cars intruding. I must be getting soft!

There are just so many interesting things to see......

​

As per usual, I just followed my nose, meandering hither and tither, stopping for a coffee and a bit of interaction or observation.

There are the old city walls and a castle. There's an impressive bullring. There are fantastic buildings around every corner and down every street, it seems. Best of all, though, there are lots and lots of Palm Trees!

My head is getting used to these sights but my poor heart isn't!

​

I followed the river park (I never bothered to look up the proper name) to both ends, one leaving me wandering around Suburbia, a surprisingly pleasant experience.

Traffic was the most noticeable so far. Narrow streets, narrow bike paths, on-road bikepaths that parked cars intruded upon all added up. Walking is a far better way to explore

​

I noticed words that I half recognised - the local dialect.
One of the highlights for me was a beautiful, classic roundabout, unfortunately not in operation.

The Bullring and (I think!) the Ayuntamiento (Local Government)

​

I saw little of a genre that I hadn't seen before but hadn't the headspace nor the time to fully absorb Valencia.

Fountains, old buildings, people relaxing (and unusually, no trees!)

​

I'll be back!

In a nutshell: The fountains get used! By man and beast! A delightful roundabout. Narrow, cool streets with lots of people living above the shops and businesses. A museum from what seems to be a Museum & Science quarter on the edge of town. A tasteful addition of the modern to the old and historic.

Valencia