My Bicycling Adventure

Back in the UK

2010-07-27T06:01:00.000+01:00

We have been back in the UK for almost three weeks now, but it seems much longer

We stayed with Simon for just under a week whilst we sorted out our flights to New-Zealand, arranged dental and medical appointments and purchased lots of replacement items on line.

We also had to pack up our bike wheels and send them off to Thorn for repair.

It was great to have some catch up time with Simon and we were sorry to be leaving on Saturday. We piled our bike frames and all of our gear into Simon's VW Golf and he drove us to Karen's mum's in Hucknall Nottingham, which is where we are now.

We are doing "homey" sort of stuff (gardening, cleaning, etc) which we haven't done for months. Its nice to see Karen's mum, sister and niece whilst we wait for the return of our wheels.

We have two weddings to go to this summer. One near Newark and the other in Hunmanby, Scarborough. So we need to cart our wedding clothes around as well as do a lot of visiting. We will probably rent a car for a couple of weeks rather than cycle.

So if you would like to meet up with us contact us through our contact us page and we will get back to you.

Love Steve and Karen

France to London

Newchapel to Bow, London

The following morning we packed up and kept our lips tightly sealed, avoiding eye contact with the couple next door.

Today, would take us to our son's apartment in Bow, London.

We set off in good heart, only to find that we had gone in the wrong direction. After a kilometer we realised our mistake turned around and went the right way, only to get lost again further down the road. We finally got onto the right track and continued our journey on England's pleasant back roads, shadowing the route of the main A22 north reaching the M25 at Junction 6, Godstone.

Here the road went straight up the edge of the North Downs. It was a 15% gradient and about 1.5km Halfway up a crowd of road cyclists cam haring down the hill cutting the corner and nearly colliding with Steve. They gave us shouts of encouragement and we cranked onwards and upwards. Once we had reached the top the ride was easy and we stopped on the edge to admire the view back towards Brighton.

From there it was a long easy downhill taking us into the London suburbs and picking up the A212 to the East of Croyden, through Penge, Catford, Lewisham and finally to Greenwich. We were pleased that it was Sunday as the traffic was very light.

At Greenwich we struggled to find the entrance to the foot tunnel under the Thames so stopped for a beer to recuperate.

Rejuvenated we found the tunnel only to find that the lift was not working. The only way through was to wheel our bikes and gear down the spiral staircase. Fortunately, the North lift was working and we came out into the bright sunshine of the North bank. Here we stopped and chatted to another couple who were avid cycle touring fanatics.

The final part of the ride took us through Canary wharf and along the canal to Simon's apartment next to the Olympic Park.

Brighton to Newchapel, 48km

Before we left Brighton we stopped at Action Bikes to buy a new computer for Steve’s bike. We passed a wonderful pie and pasty shop and had a moment of weakness. It was then the long ride up the Ditchling Road to reach the Ditchling Beacon, with its associated steep downhill on the other side. From there it was a roller coaster ride across the downs, passing through the lovely and historic town of Lingfield along the way.

The night before we had been unable to find any camp sites along the route and had planned to stay in a B + B, but as we reached Newchapel we came across a campsite and at £10 we checked in for the night. OK, it was on the main flight path into Gatwick.

The site was full and the distance between tents was less than the recommended 3 meter minimum, but we didn't have much option, so we pitched close to three other units. One was occupied by a family and the other two by two younger couples. One of the couple had just been out shopping to buy an airbed!!

As we left to walk to the pub for dinner, Steve said “ OK. What's the betting that there will be extracurricular orgasmic activity tonight?”.

We had a lovely meal at the pub and returned early at about 9-00pm. Steve stopped off at the toilet block and Karen went back to the tent to make a coffee. As he walked back to the tent, Steve was met by a disturbed Karen. “ I just had to come away. I couldn't listen any longer!”.

The couple in the tent next to ours had been cooking a barbeque and obviously passion had got the better of them. They had left the barbeque burning away and snook into their tent for a bit of “How's your father”. Karen had found them in the full throws of ecstasy. The progressively louder moans and hand thrusts out the side of the tent left nothing to the imagination.

We went for a walk until their ardor had cooled.

Pourville to Brighton, 30km.

Our ferry to Newhaven didn’t leave Dieppe until 6pm so we could spend some time on the beach at Pourville. We had our first swim in the sea since leaving Inverurie last August. As we sat on the shingle beach in the sun we looked out to sea and saw a bank of cloud which was slowly moving towards us. By 1pm it had enveloped us and blotted out all the views.

We went back to the campsite to pack our tent and set off for the short ride over the hill to Dieppe. It was disappointing to not be able to see the wonderful views from the top. We arrived at the port in good time and were relieved that there were no problems with our booking, despite not being able to print off the e-tickets. Boarding the ferry, the fog started to lift so we could get a few pictures.

The ferry arrived into Newhaven on time, just as the sun was setting. With high vis jackets and lights lit we set off for the 20km ride to Brighton. We had planned to follow the National route 2 and had earlier scanned the route on the Sustrans web page. Setting off we remembered just how hilly the coast is in south east England. The cycle route took us up a steep hill through a huge housing estate and then on to a rough track. With the light failing fast and the bike wheel problem we were both feeling a bit stressed.

Eventually we came over the last hill and saw the lights on Brighton in front of us. It was now about 10.30pm and all the bus stops along the road were crowded with teenagers heading into Brighton for a good night out. As we came along the prom to the pier the riding became more challenging as we had to take care not to run over the drunken crowds staggering around us. Some inebriated types were also riding bikes, after a fashion.

Our destination for that night was Steve’s niece Jacky’s house and we followed our Google directions but again were caught out by having to ride up one of the steepest hills in Brighton. Jacky and James made us very welcome and had even given us their bed to sleep in despite our protestations that we were used to sleeping on the floor. Needless to say we slept like logs.

The next day we needed to decide how we were going to resolve the problem with our wheels.

We decided to take the risk and continue to cycle all the way back to Nottingham and then send the wheels to Thorn for repair.

We had a frustrating morning trying to find the Ordnance Survey “Tour” map for the Brighton to London route, without success. We looked at the Sustrans route NR 20 and 21, but they seemed to have a number of off road sections which would have further increased the risk to the wheels. Instead we found a route on www.bikley.com from Brighton to Greenwich, along the B roads and quieter lanes.

We had lunch with Jackie and James, before they left for the weekend.

La France - 12th June to 8th July

2010-07-12T17:53:00.001+01:00

7/7/10 Annerville to PourVille 70km

The ride from Annerville first took us across the Seine, by the free ferry to Duclair. We always find travelling on ferries with our bikes exciting, no matter how big they are. This one ran every 15 minutes and took a lot of lorry and car traffic.

In Duclair we stopped at an internet café to book our tickets for the ferry journey back to the UK from Dieppe and for coffee of course.

As we exited the café and walked down the street back towards the Seine the light was blocked out by a massive wall of steel in front of us. It was a huge container ship cruising up the Seine. It dwarfed everything around it and brought the small ferry and road traffic to a halt as everyone stopped to watch it glide up the river.

Our journey took us up the valley out of Duclair towards Barentin and Pavilly. There is quite a bit of industry scattered along the valley and the road was fairly busy. As we got closer to Barentin the architecture and buildings became more like west Yorkshire. The town of Barentin built up around the industry of flax and linen thread production. The “Spinning Barentin” mill had operated as a fairly small concern with only a score of men, when a young Augustus Bardin, following his father’s footsteps into the industry joined the mill as a “Tearoff”. From 1845 he worked his way through all the mills and after becoming foreman, leased and took over the running of the mill when the current manager quite his job. From that point on the mill prospered. At its peak in 1900 it was producing thousands of tons of flax and linen thread annually and employed over two thousand people. He died in 1917 and sadly, today the mill is more or less defunct. But he certainly left his mark on the town. During his time the town in size. It was a little bit like Saltaire in West Yorkshire with terraces of workers houses, a school and other public buildings built by the Barentin spinning mills.

As we entered the town we saw the first of several statues of semi naked women; all in the best possible taste. We reckoned that old Augustus obviously had an eye for the women and this reverence of the female form had become ingrained throughout the community.

A short way further on we stopped in a lovely small market town, Pavilly to shop for provisions. Pavilly however didn’t quite have the artistic style of Barentin and substituted flowerpot men for naked ladies. The road out was up a long steep hill with busy traffic and large lorries. Finally as we reached the top , we turned off onto a quite back road to take us along the Saane valley which winds down to the Channel coast at Quiberville. This was a lovely ride and we passed many typical Normandy style houses and barns.

Reaching Ouville la Riviera we had yet another steep climb out of the valley and across open country to Varengeville, stopping for probably our most expensive beer at 8.20 euros for two small Leffe.

From there we followed a marked cycle route on quite back roads and got our first glimpse of La Manche (the English Channel to you and me). It was just a short ride to our camp site at Pourville.

Pourville, just 5km west if Dieppe was a popular seaside resort between the two wars with many of the English and French “well to do” taking the waters. Famous names such as Oscar Wilde and many others came there. It also has a strong link with Canada through the terrible failed landing attempt in August 1942 when nearly a thousand Canadian troops lost their lives. The remembrance museum stands on the hill overlooking the town.

That night we had dinner in the only restaurant on the promenade and watched the sun setting as we ate our delicious halibut in beurre blanc sauce, yummy! Tommorrow we would be back in England.

5+6 /7/10 - Louviers to Annerville, 62km (via a round about route)

The people next door woke us at 6-30, but we rolled over and tried to continue sleeping. The sky was overcast and threatening rain, although it was still warm. We slumbered until 9-00 before dragging ourselves from our beds. After a lazy start we set off along fairly flat terrain through the Normandy villages. There were many small roads with poor signage, no road numbers and it was difficult to follow on the map. We reached the village of La Lande and got completely lost, doing a full circle around the village before, cutting through the lovely Foret de La Lande having lunch on the way. We were riding on minor roads, closed to traffic. However the road deteriorated into a rough, up and down track. We were worried about the additional jolting that Karen’s bike wheel was taking. Three young lads on BMX bikes came hurtling passed us on one of the downhills, but came to an abrupt stop on the next uphill section as they didn’t have any gears. We powered past them in a low gear and smirked to ourselves. It didn’t last long as the track became unrideable and to steep to cycle. We had to get off and push. With their youth, they overtook us again and triumphed as they reached the top before us.

We managed to find our way out of the forest and got lost again, having to ask someone where the hell we were as there were no indications in the village or any road signs. Finally, on the right track we enjoyed a long descent through a tall beach forest to reach the Quay de la Seine from where we rode along the banks of the river as it meanders its way towards Le Havre.

We had trouble finding our camp site, but after a few wrong turns we arrived. It was lovely and peaceful, hidden away in the woods, with a swimming pool and a bar. We decided to stay for two nights.

The next morning we rode into Duclair to access our email and do some shopping.

We had several communications with Robin Thorn about the wheels. He graciously offered to rebuild all of our wheels at just the cost of the new rims and also to pay for shipping to / from their factory in Somerset. This seemed a like a very fair proposal and we took him up on it.

We agreed to contact him once we were back in the UK.

4/7/10 - Anet to Louviers, 59km

Those that were moving on today were all up early. The four cyclists that arrived the night before were up at about 6-30 and the couple in the campervan next to us were also up before us. Despite this our practiced routine meant that we were all packed and off before the rest of them. The only stumbling block being that we hadn’t paid the night before and the owner still hadn’t opened the shop. We scraped together almost 22 euros, being the required amount and left it on her doorstep.

After a brief stop at the supermarket (it being Sunday) we cycled up the Eure valley along easy flat roads with little traffic, through typical Normandy villages. We passed a lot of cyclists out for their Sunday morning run. After a couple of hours riding we stopped off in Pacy to buy something we had forgotten at the supermarket. It was a really lively bustling town and many of the shops were open which was pretty amazing for a Sunday morning in France. We stopped and took a coffee at a little bar on the main street and watched a group of Harley bikes maneuvering around.

Setting off again up the valley we met up with three audax cyclists who had spotted us earlier in the day. We stopped and chatted with them for a few minutes and continued on until we needed to stop for lunch. We cycled for a few kilometers looking for a suitable place and eventually, as we rode into another village, spotted a gateway on the right. There were a couple of campervans parked on an area of rough, grassy ground and it looked like one of the typical village campervan parking areas. We rode in, past the vans and found a place to sit in the shade, under a tree.

There was also a tennis court in the same area and another gate leading through to what looked like a group of gites with a large marquee pitched in the gardens. We commented to each other that it looked like a wedding had been taking place.

We quickly got all of our picnic gear out and made ourselves comfortable. We got the stove on to brew up and we were hungrily tucking into our lunch. As we sat there several cars exited the gite area waving to others as they left and all of the occupants looked at us strangely, but wished us “Bon Appetit”.

We continued eating our lunch and more people went by wishing us good appetite as they went. Some of them stopped at the campervans, got out and started to converse with the occupants, who obviously seemed to be part of the same group. Out came the drinks and another party seemed to be starting up.

Yet more folk went past. We suddenly came to the realization that we were witnessing the final throws of a wedding weekend and we were sat, not in a public area, but in private grounds. We had gate crashed their wedding party!! We quite happily finished our picnic and laughed for ages postulating what they were thinking about us. “Do you remember when we were at Nicole’s wedding and that English couple came in and just sat in the middle of the lawn eating their picnic?”

The biggest embarrassment was that the only way out was past the crowd of people who were still celebrating. We cycled out with our heads held high as only the English can.

The lovely ride continued as it had begun and eventually we arrived at our destination, Louviers and looked for the municipal camp site that we had seen listed on the web. The road works in the middle of the town didn’t help and after a couple of wrong turns we managed to follow the signs. We asked some random guy the way and he told us that there was no municipal camp site and the nearest site was 5km up a steep and windy hill. Fortunately it was along our planned route for the next day so it was no major hardship. We arrived at Bel Air Camping which was a three star site. For the first time since Petit Brenne there was a swimming pool.

That evening Steve checked over the bikes and noticed that Karen’s rear wheel had also developed a crack similar to one that Steve’s wheel had developed whilst we were in Lisbon. On closer inspection Steve’s rear wheel also appeared to be showing signs of cracking.

We couldn’t believe that we were once again suffering the same problems. We quickly wrote an email to Thorn Cycles to ask them what they could do to assist us in light of these repeated failures.

2+3 /7/10 - Chartres to Anet 69km

Riding north along the valley of the river Eure from Chartres, the change in scenery from our previous days riding was marked. The miles of cereal and oil seed crops were replaced by a beautiful valley with lovely woodlands and meadows as well as lots of stunning properties. This is Chartres and Paris commuter belt.

Half way along we rode into Maintenon and decided to splash out and visit the Chateau. Louis XIV had it built for his new wife, as her summer residence. Apparently, he so loved the place that he decided to build a canal all the way from his palace at Versailles, some 80km away. The main purpose was to get water from The Eure to versaille, but it also would give him his own personal boat canal to Maintenon.

Due to the terrain, it demanded the building of a vast three layer aqueduct across the Eure valley finishing at Maintenon.

The canal design was completed and building started with some 30,000 men. Although the bottom tier was built, the rest of the project was shelved due to the onset of plague throughout Europe and the start of the war in 1668. Today all that remains are the crumbling arches of the massive base of the aqueduct which can be seen from the Chateau, stretching right across the valley.

Considering the opulence of the canal project and of the palace of Versailles itself, the Maintenon Chateau seems quite unostentatious.

It was still hot when we left the Chateau and despite an easy ride we were glad to arrive at our destination of Anet. The municipal site, where we had planned to stay was closed. Fortunately there was a privately run site next door where we checked in. The owner was a lady who was infirm and constantly rode around the site at speed, showing visitors to their pitches, on her electric mobility scooter.

The plan was to stay for one night and we were up at 7-30 and in the midst of packing when it started to rain heavily. So we re-inflated the mattresses and got back into bed for another two hours sleep. The day was spent relaxing at the site and looking around the town.

At about 5-00pm a group of four cyclists arrived having ridden since 3-30am from Dieppe, covering some 160km. They seemed remarkably lively, but then they were on much lighter bikes and only carrying half our weight.

Slightly later an English couple riding a Harley rolled into camp and Karen offered to swap her bicycle for their motorbike. I think they were joking when they accepted her offer.

30/6/10 and 1/7/10 Cravant to Chartres, 75km

Breakfast was served with homemade jams and yoghurt as wells as home grown raspberries and cherries. As we sat on the patio in the cool of the early morning, the swallows were trying to get into our bedroom through the open terrace doors. For this lovely place, breakfast and a scratch evening tea, she only charged us 52 euros.

Today would be a long ride of about 80km all the way to Chartres. We knew it would be fairly flat and straight and it was, boringly so. Averaging 17.5km / hour, we had covered nearly half the distance in the first two hours. There were few shops along the route and as it was Monday, French closing day, those that we did pass were closed as were the bars.

It was more than 60km into our ride before we found any shop or bar open. We had coffee and copious amounts of cold water as it was as scorching hot day. We bought cakes and bread at the small epicerie and a few kilometers after the town we sat at the side of a field to eat our lunch. A car pulled in and then quickly left. He had obviously stopped for the obligatory French pee-pee by the side of the road, but had second thoughts when he saw us.

Riding through an intensive agricultural area all the way to Chartres, it was hot, dusty and very boring terrain. After such a quick ride we arrived early, at about 3-30 and found a camp site by the side of the river Eure with a convenient bike track 3km into Chartres centre. Keen to see Chartres, we booked in for two nights. The site was very busy with a high throughput of campers each night.

Chartres lived up to our expectations. It is a beautiful medieval town with one of the largest cathedrals in France. The old town is predominantly pedestrian, with little traffic. It has a relaxed feel to it with many pavement cafes and bars and as well as a cosmopolitan shopping centre.

Old wash houses, boat houses and water mills can still be seen by the side of the river Eure.

.......Chartres Cathedral

After sunset, you can take a walk around the town, led by small, blue lights inset in the pavement.

It leads you around many of the historic monuments, which are lit up spectacularly.

On our second night we attended a free organ recital at the Cathedral.

29/6/10 - Soinge en Sologne to Cravant, 65km

The rain cooled the atmosphere down overnight and it was nice and fresh as we set off.

We stopped in Fontaines en Sologne which had a lovely market hall in the middle of the town. It was a wood and brick structure supported on thick wooden pillars forming a raised hall. Underneath was a paved area where people could walk. We bought something for second breakfast and continued out of town towards Bracieux. This is a lovely market town with a nice center.

As we headed towards Chambord out of Bracieux, we saw a cycle route that took us through the Foret du Boulogne on a traffic free road which eventually turned into a rough forest track. It reminded us of being back in Dalby Forest in North Yorkshire. We sat by the side of an Etang (manmade lake) to eat our lunch in perfect peace and solitude.

We came out of the Forest and cycled to Mer across the Loire. Unfortunately the two bridges were under repair and down to single file traffic. We were so busy trying to get across the bridge under the pressure of the traffic behind that we didn’t even see the river.

We cycled around Mer for nearly 40 minutes adding 5km onto our journey, looking for Tourist Information. Each person we asked sent us to a different part of the town. Finally we gave up and decided to try to find a camp site as we went.

After a recommendation from a café owner we went to a restaurant opposite the train station for our lunch. It seemed to be the canteen for all the local businesses. We had a fab, four course meal, including a litre of wine for just 22 euros.

After our long lunch we carried on – slowly. It was hot, hot, hot and we were cycling again through that boring agricultural landscape. We stopped in the village of Lorges and asked at the local Mairie to ask if there were any camp sites in the area. “Non!” “Chambre D’Hote?” “Peut etre.” The lady then scanned the internet and found one just 2 km away, but no evening meals, although there was an epicerie in Cravant some 5 km away where we could by something for tea.

It was in the middle of the country and very peaceful. We had our own lovely enormous room with a comfy settee and a bathroom. The lady who ran it made us a lovely tea of tomatoes, ham, sweet corn, sausage, bread, wine followed by melon and cherries. So we didn’t have to go off and buy anything. It was all that we needed after a meal at lunch time and we were very happy.

28/6/10 Levroux to Soinge en Sologne, 65km

Monday was market day, so we had a bit of a late getaway from Levroux. We had left the massive wheat fields behind and the terrain was a little bit more rolling, with nice villages and a mixture of arable farming and animals. It was again very hot as we dropped down to the broad and swollen river Cher, where we stopped for lunch. We sat on the river bank and watched some Romany Gypsies on the opposite side washing in the river and tending to their horses.

After that we had a long climb up the valley side onto a long straight D road and it was back to the large wheat production and other crops, just boring, boring, boring.

We had planned to stop in Cheverny. It was a little west of where we needed to be so when we saw a sign to a municipal site on the way into Soinge en Sologne we decided to stay there. Again we were the only ones there apart from a Bulgarian guy in a caravan who was working there in the market gardens of the area. We asked some tradesmen about who to pay and they indicated that it was free. The toilets could have been cleaner, but there was plenty of hot water so it wasn’t too bad.

It was Monday and most of the shops were closed. We had already decided to eat out that night so before we had a shower we rode back into the village to find a suitable restaurant. Everything was shut except one bar that was only serving drinks and no food, not even a sandwich. We were desolate.

We went back to the camp site dejected expecting that we were going to have to travel another 10km or so to get a meal. But, Karen was not to be foxed. With her strength of character she pulled out all of the bits and pieces from our food boxes and in a scene reminiscent of “Ready Steady Cook” she combined an onion, rice, sun-dried tomatoes, tins of sardines, tuna, a bag of mixed nuts and red wine to produce a passable risotto that Jamie Oliver would have been proud of. We had cheese and bread as a desert with the last of our red wine.

Again, the thunder rolled around and tonight we did get some rain, but not too much. We slept a little better.

27/6/10 Luzeret to Levroux, 68km

We were looking forward to today as we would be passing through La Brenne National Park Area. This area comprises over 1000 small, manmade lakes and ponds providing wonderful habitat for flora and fauna.

St. Gaultier, on the River Creuse, was beautiful and we stopped to take a photo. Having stocked up with food for the day we set off out of town towards La Brenne. The cycling was pretty easy along flattish and straight roads.

We were only catching the eastern edge of La Brenne and we were disappointed that a lot of the areas seemed to be private, with fences and private property signs, and the trees and undergrowth meant that you didn’t get much of a view of the water, but we did eventually get a chance to view some of the lakes at La Callaudiere.

Exiting La Brenne we came into the small town of Vendoeuvres where we stopped at an Auberge. We ordered a 1 litre carafe of cold water and two beers. We downed the water in seconds and went back for another, surprising the waitress by how quickly we had drunk it. We stopped and chatted to some young French folk about our ride.

We rode on in blazing hot sunshine through large wheat fields for kilometer after kilometer. They sheltered you from the wind and seemed to concentrate the heat. We stopped for lunch at Buzancais and then on again through much of the same boring and blood boiling terrain.

Eventually we arrived at Levroux’s municipal campsite next to the swimming pool. It was a hot sultry Sunday afternoon and all the kids from the village must have been in the pool. There was only one other caravan on the site. We borrowed some plastic chairs from one of the bungalows and sat in luxury eating our paella.

After dinner we walked into town to look for a bar to get a beer, but there was nothing open.

We did get some nice photos of the “Wooden House”........

....... and the only one remaining gate to the town, of the seven original ones.

After dark, thunder rolled around the heavens, causing the local canine community to bay for most of the night. We never got the expected rain and the sticky night continued through into the next day.

25/6/10 Bellac to Luzeret, 68km

This morning we rode along the main road north to La Dorat, and it was surprisingly quiet. The town is well known for its Hypotique, whereby horses race with small one manned chariots behind. We had watched some of the races on TV over the past few days. It is a very exciting, but potentially dangerous and dirty sport. A lot of bets are placed on the outcome of races.

The countryside was as it had been for the last few days, rolling hills and hay meadows and the weather was warm and sunny.

As we rode into St Buoit-du-Sault we stopped to take a photo of this lovely village with a monastery and old defensive walls standing on a rocky outcrop above the Sault River.

As we continued down the hill into town a lorry passed us at speed and just after it had passed its huge back door swung open towards the verge. It could easily have killed us if it had happened a split second earlier. It just goes to show that your number may come up at anytime! Riding up the hill into town, we celebrated our survival with a dish of lemon sorbet and a glass of cold water, an expensive luxury at 8 Euros. A wrong turning out of the town meant a slightly different route along another rural lane through woodland and traffic free roads.

We arrived at La Petite Brenne which is a beautiful naturist paradise, with swimming pool, bar, restaurant, and the wonderful atmosphere that you find on so many naturist sites. Around the site and pool area a lot of very artistic mosaic work has been done.

We found a pitch in a small glade in the woods around the site with a toilet block more or less to ourselves. It was like heaven, so we stayed for two nights. We also met two couples from the UK, one of whom lived in South Normanton and the other in Norwich.

24/6/10 Champagnac La Riviere to Bellac, 63 km.

The day started with a puncture on Karen’s bike. It was quickly mended and we packed up ready for the off. We said goodbye to Bob and Di and set off in beautiful sunshine along Bob’s recommended route.

Stopped to shop in St. Laurent and were amused by their display of scarecrows scattered around the village.

We dropped down into the Vienne valley at St. Victurnien and climbed up the other side of the valley to the village of Oradour Sur Glane.

This village was the scene of a terrible massacre in June 1944 when an elite force of 55 of Hitler’s Waffen SS swept through and killed 642 of the towns 645 inhabitants including 193 children. They then set fire to the town.

The remains of the village have been preserved as a memorial to the dead. We walked around the ruins. It was moving to see the broken walls of the building and rusted metal objects that were left from the fire, e.g. bedsteads, cots, sewing machines and few cars; the village otherwise remains as it was then. You can even see the remains of the old trolley bus system down the main street. It must have been an idyllic life there before the war, until this tragedy occurred.

After lunch we rode on north through the Monts de Blond on a really beautiful, traffic free country lane. We could imagine we were in North Yorkshire, with pine forests and flower meadows. That night we camped on the municipal site at Bellac, which was quite busy with campervans.

22/6/10 St Pardoux de La Riviere to Champagnac La Riviere, 53 km.

During the night we heard a van draw up, a slamming of doors and then silence. It was about midnight. When we got up it turned out that a rather gallois looking type had returned to the caravan and he was also the guy who took the money, so we paid our 10.4 euros and departed.

We set off today for a camp site near Limoges. Again, we kept to the quiet back roads through woods and hay meadows. It was hard riding at times into a strong headwind. As we dropped down one hill through some dark woods a snake slithered out of the verge and unable to stop Steve ran over it. However apart from going into hyper slither to get off the road as quick as he could he seemed none the worse for his flattening experience.

As we reached the last town before our intended camp site we had to wait for the shops to open. As we brewed up we checked the camp site details and realised that the site didn’t open till 1^st July.

We quickly revised our plan and rode another 10km to Chalus and enquired at the tourist office. Fortunately there was a camp site some 10km further on along a Voie Verte route at Champagnac La Riviere. After shopping we had an easy ride along a well surface old railway track.

This was another English owned site, specialising in accommodating the huge American style motor homes and several were pitched there that night.

Bob and Di had started the site five years earlier and were living there in their own large motor home. It was proving very successful having tapped into a growing niche market. Everyone on the site was British and very friendly. As the weather had improved we decided to have a day off and catch up on washing, blogging and most importantly to arrange our tickets for the next part of our trip to New Zealand.

The first night we were there we ate a great pizza in Dino’s bar in the village, the perfect antidote to a long hard day on a bike.

The next day we met Dave and Rita, who had been living on the site for year in their caravan and also had a small motor home for other excursions into Europe. Dave is a talented sculptor. Blind since the age of 27, he produces some beautiful abstract carvings. The one he was working on whilst we were there was formed out of Kilkenny Marble. This is a very hard rock and Dave had been sculpting it for several months. Despite his lack of visual ability his personality shone out and it was a real pleasure to talk with him.

Later, Bob invited us to watch the England Slovenia game on the TV in their motor home. We were heartened that England won and went through to the last 16. What a day!!

21/6/10 St Astier to St. Pardoux La Riviere, 65km

Today started with another climb out of the Isle valley followed by a long descent into the Dronne valley. It was a wonderful ride on quite lanes and through beautiful villages.

We stopped at a bar for coffee and had to take a photo of this French Bulldog that was very similar to our friends dog, Pikush.

We had lunch by the side of a restored 13^th century bath house.

All the way along the valley the road repeatedly swept under cliffs that had been eroded by the river thousands of years ago.

There were several old mills with fully working water wheels.

We also spotted a place where the owner was into metal sculpture and they were arranged all up the hillside opposite his house.

The weather was quite hot and sultry, but you wouldn’t have thought so had you seen the couple that came riding towards us on touring bikes. He, ‘Mr. Efficiency’ in front, with a clip board on his handle bars, she following up the rear with yellow helmet and full yellow waterproof gear. She looked as though she had just come from manning a life boat complete with life-jacket. We nearly fell off our bikes laughing.

We went through two beautiful towns, Bourdeilles was the smaller of the two. We rode over the medieval bridge and up the hill to see the chateau and the church. The castle was closed so we cycled on to Brantome.

Brantome is an old monastery town set on the side of the river, with lots of nice restaurants, cafes, gift shops. It was all very touristy. One remarkable thing is that along the side of the river many of the houses were cave houses set into the ancient rock face.

We continued on up the valley to St Pardoux de La Riviere. It was another municipal site, but there was nobody there. We pitched up and waited for someone to take our money. Apart from one tatty old and closed up caravan ours was the only pitch occupied.

In most areas of France Monday is traditionally the day when all shops, bars and restaurants are closed. This can cause problems is you are a touring cyclist as not only can you not buy any food but you can’t even find a place to get a meal. To make it more interesting some towns and villages close on Wednesday instead. This is what we found in St Pardoux. As we rode through the town looking for somewhere open we stopped and asked a lady coming out of the town hall. She said the only supermarket was 5km away and everything else was closed except for one hotel / restaurant just down the street. So we returned to camp, changed and rode back there to eat.

It turned out she was employed in the restaurant and showed us to our table. However, we needn’t have worried. The meal was superb. Four courses and wine for 33 euros!

20/6/10 St Foy La Grande to St Astier, 50km

Todays hills were a little higher, but only by another 150 m or so. We started off through the ‘Foret du Landes’ a lovely forest interspersed with hay meadows and cereal fields. The hay was just being cut and the smell of newly mown grass surrounded us.

We then descended into the Isle valley, which runs parallel with the Dordogne. In contrast to there, it seemed quite a depressed area with derelict properties and a number of gypsy encampments.

It was Sunday, and when we arrived in St. Astier everything was closed, even the bars.

After pitching the tent on the municipal camp site and having dinner we walked back into the town to watch Brazil versus Cote d’Ivoire at the only open bar in town.

19/6/10 Marmande to St. Foy La Grande, 52km

We were a bit worried about today’s ride as there would be hills after 6 days of almost flat riding. It was a relief to be in changing countryside again and we really enjoyed the ride up to Duras; a lovely town with a chateau on top of a hill. It was a bit of a “Brit” den with lots of English speakers and an English estate agent.

After having coffee and doing some shopping we met a cycling couple from Northern Ireland, Charlie and Francis. This was one of the first cycling tours they had done and they were very interested in our kit, gadgets and what we were doing. We accompanied them back into the town for a beer and sat talking for another hour or so.

A short while later we stopped by the road for a picnic lunch and wine, so the rest of the afternoon was a bit of a blur. We cycled on quite country roads through rolling hills and lots of small villages to St Foy La Grande, which is an old bastide style town on the banks of the Dordogne.

The site was owned and run by a British couple and was full of British camper vans, most of them on their way back to Blighty after six months on the Costa del Sol. The Dordogne was also high and muddy. There was no canoeing because of the high water levels.

18/6/10 St. Laurent to Marmande 53 km

Today was our last day on the canal and to be honest we were getting bored of the monotony of riding on the flat, through much the same type of countryside.

Around lunchtime we stopped outside a restaurant on the side of the canal to read our map. As we did so, a young South African lady and two sons came out to ask us about our ride. She was then joined by her father and we talked to them for several minutes about what we were doing. They warned us that it would be suicide to try to cycle in South Africa. She also explained that they were on a tour as the schools in SA were closed for 6 weeks over the duration of the World Cup.

This guy didn't quite judge the turn right on the way down to the canal.....

We stopped for our lunch at Mas de Agenaise, which had a lovely series of locks and a high walled castle next to the canal. As we ate a guy drew up in a van, took out his fishing rod and started to fish just below the lock. He tried for five minutes and then gave up, “C’est ne pas bien!” he said.

Around the same time two old geezers on bikes came along the road and started to get up the ramp from the road to the canal bank. It can’t have been more than about 4 feet high. They had to get off and push. They then made out as if they were waiting for their respective spouses to catch up. It didn’t bode well for the success of their ride, but off they went along the canal.

As there was no camp site at Marmande we opted to stay in a Chambre D’Hote. It was a fair way out of the town close to an industrial estate. The only choices for evening meal were L’Eclerc’s cafeteria or an Asian buffet place. We partook of the latter.

17/6/10 Verdun sur Garonne to St Laurent – 105km

The weather today was still unsettled with cumulus clouds always threatening, but with some sun. The canal was lined with tall trees, more like the Midi and we saw more boats. Here it repeatedly crosses the Garonne river on high aqueducts.

We stopped for our lunch in the lovely town of Mossaic, where a lock connects the Canal to the Garonne. We later learned that the Garonne river was closed to navigation due to the high water levels and one couple that we met were annoyed that they couldn’t take their boat that way.

We found a lovely camp site, run by a Dutch couple, at their converted mill near to St Laurent. It had a spacious common room with TV and internet.

16/6/10 Castlenaudry to Verdun sur Garonne 109km

Today was our final day on the Canal du Midi that ends at Toulouse. We started well with tarmac road along the canal. This deteriorated to a rough surface track and then a narrow path and eventually a slippery muddy section. It was exhausting keeping the bike going forwards and avoiding slipping into the canal.

Eventually the path improved and we were riding along good quality tarmac.

At lunch time we stopped at a café serving Italian pizza and pasta. As we ate an English couple on a Thorn tandem rolled up so we invited them to join us. We had a nice talk swapping stories of cycle touring.

Typical loch keeper's cottage...........

This section goes through a busy transport corridor with canal, cycle path, railway, motorway and road all running close together. Despite this there was still plenty of wildlife. The canal was teaming with small fish. There were big birds soaring overhead and deer and rabbits on the towpath. When we stopped for our lunch a very confident red squirrel came up close to see what we had to eat.

On the way into Toulouse we met two women cycling, one of whom lived near to Inverurie. What a small World. As we were now passing into a different French region we had to go to the tourist office, which was in the center of the town. We were sickened by the number of homeless, drunk or drug ridden young people in the streets. After getting the information we needed and doing some shopping, we headed out to find the Canal Lateral. The signposting in the town was poor and we couldn’t easily figure out which canal to follow. Some fellow tourists on an unusual tandem bike helped us on our way.

The Canal Lateral appears to be a much newer canal than the Midi. The exit from Toulouse seems quite clinical, with fewer trees a pristine tarmac path and as straight as a die.

There were fewer boats and the ride was more monotonous. We rode hard and fast to reach our next site at Verdun sur Garonne. Turning off the canal we followed the main road and as we stopped to look at the map a car drew up and an old lady got out to ask if we were looking for a room. Even though we said we were looking for a camp site she tried to talk us into it. When she finally got the message her son got out and gave us a typical French shrug that said “Please forgive my mother. She always does this!”

The camp site was next to the Garonne river, which after heavy rains was swollen, running very fast,high and muddy.

15/6/10 Trebes to Castlenaudry – 52km

We cycled into Carcassonne along the back roads.

We climbed up to the Cite, which comprises two mediaeval castle walls encircling the chateau and the whole, well preserved old town.

Most of the buildings are now run as commercial business, shops, bars and restaurants. There were tourists everywhere, mainly Americans and French school children.

After a quick look round, we dropped into the main town of Carcassonne and picked up the canal.

The route was much better today with better surfaced tracks. The canal was busy with hire boats. A lot of them were manned by Australian tourists and they had mounted the Ozzie flag on the sterns. We passed a lot of touring cyclists including families with young children in trailers on the bikes.

We stayed at the La Capella camp site, a lovely grassy site set in quiet rolling hills just north of Castlenaudry.

14/6/10 La Palme to Trebes – 97km

We planned to be up early ready to leave at 8-30, when the camp site office opened and we could collect our bread and pay the bill.

Karen asked Steve the time and he said it was 7.00am. Karen got up to shower and was surprised to see a wonderful sunrise over the ocean. “I haven’t seen the sunrise since February in Spain.” It was strangely quite in the toilet block and nobody else was up, but it still didn’t dawn on us. After breakfast we quietly packed everything and took down the tent. It was only then that Steve glanced at his watch again and realised it was still only 7-00am. We had actually got up at 6.00. All we could do was kick our heels and wait until 8-30 to leave.

We set off along the road to Port-La-Nouvelle where the cycle track went along the canal towpath all the way to Narbonne. We couldn’t find it and when we did there were barriers across it saying it was closed for the next two weeks. The only alternative was back the way we had come and along the busy main road. Luckily a local told us that there was no problem and we rode around the barriers. Only a short section of the path was closed and there was no obvious reason for the closure.

It was a fine morning with a slight head wind and we followed the canal between two salt lakes all the way to Narbonne. Here we called at the tourist office to find information about the Canal Du Midi and buy a Michelin road map.

As the canal meanders around a lot west of Narbonne we initially followed a shorter route along the back lanes. At lunch time we rode into Roubia and stopped at the first likely looking restaurant and asked for a menu. It turned out to be a Thai and we ordered green chili, chicken curry. Delicious!

By mid afternoon it started to rain. We expected a short shower and we donned our waterproof jackets. As we crested the hill, we could see that it was going to be more than a short shower and it got heavier and heavier.

By this time we were onto the canal towpath, but we were already soaking so just continued riding. Unfortunately the path had deteriorated to a narrow muddy single track with slippery tree roots. The wetter it got the more difficult it was to avoid skidding. Suddenly we were into a clay quagmire. The mud stuck to our wheels, clogged our brakes and flicked onto our panniers and legs. A German lady who had been struggling along in front of us (left behind by her unfeeling husband) slid off into the mud. We asked her if she wanted help, but she was OK, except for the hidden anger with her husband. We had to get off and push as it wasn’t rideable.

So now we were soaked, muddy, hungry, cold and tired. We slithered into Trebes and decided that there was no way we could camp as the rain was still pouring. We dripped on the floor of tourist information while they looked for accommodation for us. There were two hotels, both on the industrial estate about 3km out of the town. We opted for the cheaper, which had a restaurant so at least we wouldn’t have to go out for food.

Fortunately, the young lady in tourist information (very good looking according to Steve) had pre warned them when she booked it for us, how wet and muddy we were. The lady owner was very sympathetic and provided a hose to sluice both the bikes and ourselves, before we went to our room and a nice hot shower. We had a lovely meal in the hotel.

12/6/10 Perpignon to La Palme – 42km

Getting around Perpignan was a problem. There were plenty of cycle routes through the city, but Tourist Information had no map of them. We knew there was a route out of town and along the coast, but we couldn’t find the right exit from the city and ended up on a busy B road to Canet Plage.

Eventually we stumbled across the cycle route which was separate from, but following, the main road. The sun was warm. There was little wind and the road was mostly flat with lovely views over the coastal lagoons and beaches. We arrived at the Clapotis camp site just after the site shop had shut. We pleaded with the owner to sell us a pint of milk as it was Saturday evening and the shops wouldn’t be open till Monday. Initially he refused, but relented and brought a bottle to our tent.

Although we had brought everything that we needed to cook our meal, the menu at the camp restaurant was tempting and we enjoyed a lovely evening meal as the sun set.

Next day, as the weather was good we decided to enjoy one last day at the coast, enjoying the swimming pool and the peace and quiet of the campsite.

A Premature Farewell to Lubrin

We had been back in Lubrin for just two weeks.

Our friends, Phil and Krystyna had come to stay for a week ......

.......and our son, Simon and his partner Emma also came for a quick visit over the weekend.

On 31^st May John came back to live at Fuente Arriba on a more or less permanent basis, and although he had agreed to move into one of the apartments we couldn’t manage to get the privacy that we needed and it was clear, after a few days that we could not all live together in such close proximity. This was meant to be a house-sit, not a house-share.

Unexpectedly therefore we moved out on 6^th June at short notice. Fortunately our friends, Sally and Stuart that lived close by allowed us to stay in their caravan for a few days while we organized the continuation of our journey.

Lubrin had been fun and we had made some good friends, but we were ready to move on and after some sad farewells we left in a rented car to drive to Girona in North East Spain.

As we drove we saw the gradual change in landscape from the barren, arid features around Lubrin to the green, more wooded region in the north. After an overnight stop at Sagunt, just north of Valencia, we stayed for two relaxing days at the Relaxnat site near Palafrugell east of Girona.

On the Saturday we dropped off the hire car at Girona airport and caught the ‘Frogbus’ to Perpignon train station and from there started our return cycle ride to the UK, through France.

Baeza to Lubrin

2010-05-18T22:09:00.001+01:00

Day 31,32,33– April 29^th, 30^th+1^st May 2010, Baeza to Ubeda– 10km

After 5 days of continuous riding and the killing high temperatures over the last few days, we decided that we needed a few days of relaxation. So today we had an easy ride to Ubeda, sought out tourist information, shopped and headed straight for a camp site 1km outside the town, planning to stay for a couple of days. It was also coming up to the May Day holiday so we could expect a lot of Spanish holiday makers everywhere.

The camp site was typically Spanish. All hard standings with gravel bases, but at least it was shaded. There were no other tents in the camping area. The pool was closed, but the bar was open and had internet access. It seemed quiet enough when we arrived. We spent the afternoon relaxing by the pool even though we couldn’t swim.

The first night we were disturbed by the barking of many dogs in the properties around the site, so we didn’t get much sleep.

The following day we rode into town, locked up the bikes and did some exploring.

The old town is very separate from the more commercialised modern areas. There is little traffic in the narrow streets and the buildings are largely built from a hard, reddish sandstone. A lot of restoration has been completed and more is being carried out. It is well worth a visit to see the many old churches, ayuntiamento and palaces.

The most memorable visit for us was to the convent and church of St Juan the healer which has now been opened as a museum as well. The museum houses a number of eyecatching, modern Christian paintings which made a refreshing change from the classical paintings seen in most other churches.

That night the dogs were quieter, but there was an all night hen party at a house close to the site. The girls were singing and didn’t give up until the cock crowed at around 6am. So again we didn’t sleep well.

The day after we had enough of sightseeing and instead decided to pack a picnic lunch and crazy as it may sound, we went for a bike ride to the Guadalquivir river some 20km away.

This night, the dogs didn’t bark, the girls didn’t party, but in the caravan next to our pitch a long lost mate turned up with his guitar and they spent the whole night singing! No sleep again!

By this time we had had enough and we had to move on.

Day 34–35 2^nd-3^rd May 2010, Ubeda to Cazorla– 48km

We tried to get an early start as the sky was clear and it would get hot. The first 10km was along the main road, but as it was Sunday it wasn’t too busy. We turned off towards Cazorla and had a lovely long descent to Peal de Becerro where of course there was an inviting bar with tables in the sunshine serving lunch. As we enjoyed our meal 2 Belgian women, also traveling on bikes arrived in town. Steve was impressed with their riding outfit of skimpy t-shirts and very short skirts. They joined us and told us about their many bike journeys in different parts of the world. They were on the last few days of their trip before returning home.

After an enjoyable lunch we set off again to complete our ride to Cazorla, which was mostly up hill on another of those modern boring roads.

We finally arrived at the camp site just outside the town. The site is run by a Dutch family and is quite lovely. All the tent pitches are fully grassed with plenty of shady trees and there are sets of tables and chairs for the campers to use. It was extremely quiet with birdsong being the most intrusive noise. A 1.5km walk along a quiet lane took you into the village. That evening we sat in the sunshine in the plaza, watching the sunset, and enjoying a lovely meal, followed by the best night’s sleep that we had experienced in our tent for a long time.

Cazorla is a beautiful town with good restaurants and bars.

The next day was an opportunity to do some walking, but first we rode to the local market in the town and visited tourist information. We asked them about the apparent free camping areas in the National park that we had read about in the Rough Guide. They said that we needed to get a permit from Andalusian National Park offices, just up the road. Enquiring there, the initial reaction was a flat “No”, but we persisted and the receptionist called a girl from the relevant department. She came down to talk with us and in a combination of Spanish, French and English, we finally understood that the free camping zones can only be used by groups with a permit issued by that office. However, if we only wanted to stay one night it was no problem, as long as we pitched late and left early. So, not quite what the Rough Guide inferred, but at least we could use the zones if necessary.

After lunch we climbed the Sierra at the back of the camp site to the Monasterio de Monte Sion and the Castillo de Cinco Esquinas.

The pastures of the mountainside were full of flowers, most of which we had seen in the valleys, but all in miniature, alpine versions.

We had lovely views back towards the town.

When we got back to the tent we found that in our absence we had been raided by an unidentified animal. It had ripped to shreds our rubbish bag, suspended from the roof to deter such attacks, eaten the remains of a camembert cheese and nibbled the corners off about 50% of our tea bag supply. What sort of animal has this kind of palate? We came to the conclusion it must be a thirsty French ferret.

As we got ready for bed the temperature had fallen noticeably and we had to zip our sleeping bags right up for the first time for ages.

Day 36, 37– 4^th + 5^th May 2010, Cazorla– Parador El Adelantado, Sierra de Cazorla 30km

Overnight the temperature plummeted to about 4C. We got up and started to freeze as we decamped. Once we were packed we got onto the bikes with frozen hands and feet and rode as fast as we could into the village for coffee to thaw us. Slightly warmed we set off for the long but steady and enjoyable climb up to Puerto de las Palomas. At least climbing kept us warm.

We stopped for a brew half way up, huddling behind a rocky outcrop to keep out of the wind, with the ever waiting vultures circling overhead.

In contrast to the usual formula, the downhill on the other side was torture as every bit of us froze. Halfway down, we came to a road junction with a signpost to the Parador to the right. Steve said “Why don’t we stay there tonight?” Karen said “Don’t be stupid we can’t afford that”. “Well that’s where you’re wrong” was the reply, “Simon and Ben have paid for us to stay there for your birthday”. Wow! But the problem was the booking was made for the next week and we needed to make sure we could change it. Being deep in the valley, we couldn’t get any mobile reception, so dejectedly we set off down the hill towards the next town. After a couple of kilometers, we stopped and tried again. This time we had success. Yes, they had rooms and yes we could change the dates. Having to cycle an extra 2km back up hill didn’t seem quite such a hardship once we knew that we had two nights in the Parador ahead of us. After about another 7km Steve hit a sugar low (bonked as we say in the cycling fraternity) and we had to stop for some more “biting on”. It was then on and up the final hill. Lovely pine covered road, but very steep and we were in 1^st gear for about 4km.

At last the hotel hove into view. We were set for two days of relaxation and pampering! (with central heating)

As we checked into our room a few snow flurries fell. It was that cold! However, the Parador heating was on full and it was so warm and cosy, with crisp white, Egyptian cotton sheets, comfortable mattresses and a nice hot bath.

After relaxing for the rest of the afternoon, we went to dinner in the restaurant and sat with an English couple, Rex and Anne from Peterborough. They live half their time in the UK and half in Spain. We had a really entertaining evening and chatted with them until almost midnight

The next morning when we went for breakfast (about 10-00am) it was only 5 degrees. We met up again with Rex and Anne and again chatted until it was time for them to leave. Graciously, they proposed that we could stay at their house in Spain or the UK any time. How fantastic that we continue to meet such lovely people!

These two days were Karen’s time and she wanted to really take it easy. We went for a short walk up the mountain through pine forests and closely grazed grassland. The flowers were all of the alpine variety. We stopped to take photos at a strategic point. Although we didn’t actually see any wild boar, we did see the result of their foraging and also sampled their flesh that night in the restaurant.

Then it was back to the hotel for lunch.

Day 38, 39– 6^th + 7^th May 2010, Parador El Adelantado to Coto Rios, Sierra de Cazorla 31km

We had a lazy start, getting to breakfast at about 10-00. The temperature had risen to 9 degrees and the wind had swung round to a southerly. Today’s ride was a complete contrast to the ride from Cazorla. It was warmer and it was 95% downhill through stunning scenery along the main road through the park. We briefly chatted with a Dutch couple also riding the same road and later stopped at the Torre De Vinagre visitor center which gives a good interactive overview of the park, animals and flora of the region. The most stunning exhibit is a pair of deer antlers locked together as they had fought and died. It shows a picture of them as they were found and the antlers and skulls have been preserved in this locked state.

A few kilometers further on we arrived at Coto Rios. We rode past the first camp site and decided to stay at the Camping Rural Llanos De Arance for a couple of nights. We wanted to walk the Rio Borosa gorge the following day.

The site was pretty typical Spanish style, large, with cabins and fixed caravan pitches. The rest was all hard standings. There was a large school party there comprising about 40 kids + teachers. It was difficult to determine who the teachers were, they looked so young. We pitched the tent as far away from them as possible. That night was their last and the teachers had laid on some special entertainment, which seemed to include pre-recorded sound effects played very loud and resulted in most of the girls screaming a lot. However, come midnight, as per site rules, they promptly shut up and we didn’t hear another thing from them. We slept peacefully apart from the strange phenomenon of song birds singing throughout the night.

In the morning we cycled about 8km to the start of the walk up the Rio Borosa gorge. Along the way we startled a family of wild boar, which fled up into the woods.

The Rio Borosa track winds its way gently up the pine clad valley following the crystal clear river which is teaming with fish. At each turn we were greeted by a new stunning vista. We crossed the river several times and at one point the path follows a wooden walkway constructed along the side of the narrow gorge.

The steepness increases slightly up to the hydroelectric generating station, at which point the track turns to a footpath. The real climbing starts here and as we struggled up the steep and rocky path we were rewarded by deep aquamarine pools and stunning waterfalls.

This amazing landscape has been formed millions of years earlier through violent upheaval. We saw wonderful rock formations around every corner. This walk certainly lived up to its reputation as one of the best in Spain.

The steep climbing stopped when we reached the man made open channel waterway that takes water to the generating station several hundred feet below. It runs through tunnels cut into the rock face with a narrow footway by the side. Emerging at the other end is like coming out into a lost world.

The final part is fairly gentle finishing at the small, but beautiful reservoir. Following our picnic lunch we started our descent the same way that we had come. Karen was lucky enough to come intimately close to a fox. She couldn’t quite get the camera ready quickly enough and after giving her a chance he slowly ambled into the undergrowth.

We also saw a snake swimming in the water and lot of birds of prey, which we determined were some form of eagle.

Half way back to the generating station we were surprised by a couple of falls of water streaming over the edge of the cliff above the path. The water was turned to spray by the wind as it fell soaking everything below. The strange thing was that when we had come up the path it wasn’t flowing. We guessed it must have been something to do with the generating station water way.

The way back seemed much longer and after 7 hours we were glad to get back to find our bikes still securely locked to the tree where we had left them.

Day 40,41– 8^th - 9^th May 2010, Coto Rios to Montillana 27km 1103 total.

The pigs came to visit us last night. We were pleased that there was a fence between us and them. They snorted around a bit and provided a source of entertainment for other campers to come and have a look. We couldn’t be bothered to drag ourselves out of our beds to see them.

It was a bright and sunny day and we cycled along the side of the river, broadening out when we reached the reservoir. The road was easy, up and down with great views and hardly any traffic, even though it was Saturday. It is a popular circuit for road cyclists and we were passed by a couple of packs at speed. We stopped and chatted with a couple who told us they were doing the circular ride of the Sierra, 156km in 6 hours.

The water was aquamarine in colour, reflecting the mountains and forests. The sun was warm and there was a light breeze. We saw another fox, just standing at the side of the road, deer on the hills, and countless wild flowers and butterflies. We were soon cycling into Tranco, where the dam is. A number of hotels and restaurants had grown up here and we stopped for a coffee and “lomo” sandwich. The dam was built in 1936, using the labour of prisoners of the Civil War.

The road then started to climb up from the side of the reservoir and after about 3km we arrived at a lovely camp site “Camping Rural Montillana”. There were only a few people there. The pitches were grassed and shaded. It was an ideal and peaceful site. In the evening we took a walk down by the lake. There was an old Cortijo there, a real temptation as a conversion.

The Sierra really lives up to its reputation for unspoiled beauty, peace and quiet, flora and fauna. It is a lovely place. However, it was apparent to us by the number of hotels, accommodations, camp sites, picnic spots, etc that in the high season the place would be heaving. So if you fancy visiting the park we suggest you make it in May or June and preferably during the week. One thing that has amazed us is the numbers of people employed by the ‘Junta de Andalucia’ in the maintenance and organization of the park. The large majority of vehicles on the road are government ones and at every turn there are men clearing the drains, strimming the undergrowth and maintaining the buildings. While I am sitting writing this there are seven of them sat at the bar having their lunch (today is Sunday).

Today, we had planned to ride up to the village of Hornos de Segura (without weight), which is situated high on a rocky outcrop, overlooking the reservoir. Unfortunately, after getting up and ready to go, it started to rain. The weather closed in and it was obvious that we were not going anywhere.

Instead, we spent our time in the camp bar eating, drinking and writing the blog.

Day 42– 10^th May 2010, Montillana to Garrotegordo 43km 1146 total.

Having not managed to get to Hornos yesterday, we changed our route and decided to ride that way today.

First though we had to get cash, petrol and provisions. We rode to the top of the reservoir and up the hill to Cortijos Nuevos and had first breakfast in a small bar.

Shopping completed we back tracked and then up the hill to Hornos de Segura to admire the views down the reservoir. Unfortunately the castle is still being refurbished and hence there was the mandatory crane rising from the center of the village.

After a quick look around we carried on climbing up the valley to La Cumbre ridge, reaching a height of about 1550 meters. It was quite cold, but we sat and had lunch before we descended the other side reaching the bar at Rio Madera. We stumbled in and warmed ourselves with a coffee and brandy.

We were now into much more remote country. There was almost zero traffic as we rode through the valley surrounded by pine and deciduous forest. The verges were full of violets and primroses which reminded us of our old home in Thornton Dale.

We reached the Garrotegordo Camp Site, near to nowhere. It seemed deserted and there were no other campers. Eventually the lady owner came out and we went into the cold, dark bar to sign up. The heavens opened and it started to pour with rain, so we had to wait it out and try to make conversation. She spoke no English. She then informed us that there was a problem with the hot water in the showers, but that we could use her shower when we were ready.

Tent pitched we returned and she said that the boiler was now working and the water temperature was 40 degrees C. So, we showered…. It was bloody cold, damp, draughty and really didn’t satisfy.

There was a covered barbeque area so we carried all of our cooking stuff there and cooked our dinner. It was still raining. We eventually retired to bed early and it rained most of the night.

Day 43– 11^th May 2010, Garrotegordo to Santiago de la Espada 53km 1199 total.

By morning it had stopped raining, but the tent was wet and we had nothing for breakfast except milky coffee, yoghurt and biscuits. We packed quickly and set off. We knew that today would be long and hard, but the first part was mostly downhill.

It was a day of gorgeous gorges. The ride down was along the Rio Segura with massive towering cliffs of red sandstone, streaked and etched by water rivulets which made it look like they had their own natural graffiti.

We were desperate for something to eat and we turned off our main route to the village of La Toba. This meant an unprecedented ride up a hill for no other reason other than to eat! On the way up we passed the old village wash house where one of the residents was doing her washing in the time worn, traditional way. Breakfast was coffee and tostadas (no jam, just margarine straight out of the tub), served reluctantly by the lady owner who seemed upset that we had disturbed her floor mopping.

Slightly sustained, we rode on along the side of the Embalse de Anchuricas reservoir, which was deep turquoise in colour.

We were still looking for more sustenance and stopped again in bar at the side of the road. There was one customer there, but nobody serving. After shuffling our feet for a while, the customer went through the back and returned, asked what we wanted and served us our beers. We asked for tapas. He brought a plate of stale nuts. After 10 minutes, the landlady came through, looking like she had just got out of bed and served us a ham and cheese bocadillo (sandwich). Not the fulfilling food we needed, but it was about all we were going to get.

The ride went on further down the valley all the time through stunning, rocky scenery and reached our lowest point at the Los Juntas hydroelectric power station.

Here we turned up the Zumeta gorge. This was narrower than the one that we had come down and was even more rugged. There were huge columns like giant rock fingers, caves and wondrous cliffs that our mountaineering friends would have loved to climb.

The one thing that was missing was any from of café or bar that was open. We stopped for snapping on and ate the last of our carried reserves – cheese, biscuits, chocolate and peanuts and of course a cup of tea. Just then it started to rain and we had 22km of all uphill riding ahead of us. The rain stopped us taking as many photos as we would have liked, but the gorge was so impressive that we didn’t care about the rain.

The climb went up and up, the scenery changing as we ascended. As we go higher it got colder and we arrived in Santiago de la Espada at 1400meters.

There was only one hotel in the town and it happened to have the only restaurant as well. So we had to pay a little more than normal, but the food was good, it had central heating and it was nice to be warm and dry.

When we complained about the cold in the restaurant they lit the log fire just for us.

That night we were toasty warm and we slept well.

Day 43– 12^th May 2010, Santiago de la Espada to Huescar 53km 1252km total

We awoke to rain again and it was still very cold. The route today would take us up to 1800 meters and there would be no villages or bars along the way, so we bought provisions before we left. We didn’t want a repeat of yesterday.

By the time we were ready to leave the rain had stopped and the sun was sort of shining, but it was still no warmer.

The journey took us across the high fertile plain at the top of the gorge before we started to climb the Sierra de Sagre. As we ascended we spotted the cave dwellings that have existed for hundreds of years, similar to Guadix.

We rode up several hairpins through pine and holm oak, sheltering whenever it rained (and sometimes sleeted) and taking the opportunity to brew up and eat.

Despite the cold and on off rain, it was a lovely ride and after a couple of hours climbing we reached our highest point, 1800 meters, with stunning views over the Sierra de Seca.......

......and of the dominant mountain, Sagra 2381 meters and still holding some snow. Unfortunately it didn’t favour us with a full view as the cloud level at about 2000 meters stubbornly refused to lift.

We had lunch and prepared for the long downhill by putting on all of our warm gear and full waterproofs. It was a good job we did. It was very cold and we were so thankful for our warm clothing. Our thanks increased when the heavens opened again and we were hurtling down through hair pin bends and driving rain. At the bottom of the hair pins we sheltered in an old barn until the rain slowed.

The rest of ride was gently downhill through the Bravatas valley and by the time we had reached the turn off to the Embalse de San Clemente, the rain had stopped and the sun was much more warming. We stopped in the warm sunshine and watched a flock of beautiful bee-eaters swooping and diving, the sun shining through their feathers making appear to be iridescent gold and blue.

We decided against going on to Castril where there was a camp site and instead headed into Huescar to find a hotel. On the way Karen had to rescue an injured bird from the road which was in danger of being squashed by the traffic. The road there was one of those wonderful gentle downhills that makes you feel as if you are flying with no effort.

We found a hostal in the suburbs which was reasonably priced. That evening we again had problems finding anywhere to eat in town. They just don’t seem to do eating out round here. Enentually we asked in a bar and were directed to the hotel. The food was not cheap but it was plentiful and very good quality and we asked the waitress to pack up the leftovers for the next day’s picnic.

Day 44– 13^th May 2010, Huescar to Baza 51km 1303km total

We had got it in our heads today that we had an easy, short ride to Baza, always a mistake because it never is easy! The ride took us across the Alteplano (high plain) de Granada which in fact is not a plain at all but made up of small, sandy steep sided hills with grass tufts, and wadi like valleys. The road was yet again a modern straightened one, running through cuttings.

We stopped for coffee in Castillejar in a bar with a Harley Davidson engine for a beer pump and an old Moto Guzzi moped in mint condition in the bar, (it looked a bit like our bikes only with an engine and it was red).

This area has many soft pale rocky outcrops which have been hollowed out to make homes for centuries.

A lot of them have been renovated and are rented out as holiday accommodation.

Today at least the sun was shining and we had lunch on a section of the old road and took the opportunity to spread out all our camping gear in the sun to dry it while we ate.

The next town we passed through was Benamaurel which had an interesting looking old Arab quarter on the top of the hill. We decided to ride up and look. As we turned off the main road, an old Spanish gentlemen beckoned to us, he wanted to show us something. Not quite knowing what to expect we followed him and there was a litter of 8, 5 day old kittens abandoned at the side of the road. He seemed to expect that we would take them with us but we decided that fostering kittens on a bike was too much. We continued up the very steep hill but were disappointed as all the effort was hardly worth it.

We felt quite fired although the ride had not been bad. The straight road had a lot of quite fast traffic and we were relieved to arrive in Baza. We fell into the first bar we saw and had a beer to cheer us up before setting off to find Tourist Information. She suggested a hostal quite close to the bar that we had just left. We rode down and were put of a bit by the outward appearance. Inside however was a pleasant, newly re-decorated and furnished hostal with nice bedding and towels.

Again that evening we struggled to find anywhere to eat. Our appetite for Spanish cuisine was getting a little jaded and we longed for a good Indian or Chinese. Eventually we followed the signs to a small Bodega down a side street, which exuded good quality wines and local produce but not food. We could tell immediately that the owner was a conniseur and would know where we could find a good restaurant. He recommended a place which just so happened to be next door to where we were staying. We were not disappointed and had a wonderful meal.

Day 45– 14^th May 2010, Baza to Olula del Rio 52km 1355km total

Today,s ride was following the A334 across to Seron and then on through the Almanzora valley. We were expecting the road to be busy and fast, but it was new smooth tarmac with a wide hard shoulder and not as much traffic as we expected. There were no major climbs and a lot of downhill but the weather was cold and we had to stop for coffee to thaw out. As we came out of the cafe it started to rain, but we set off anyway. After only a few minutes the rain poured and then turned to hail. We dived into a bus shelter and waited for it to stop.

Thereafter the ride was mostly downhill. The rain held off, but it was still very cold. We passed through a forest of wind turbines, only meters from the road and towering over a few nearby houses. The blades made loud whooshing noises as they turned through the air.

As we were bypassing Seron we spotted an old railway track that had been made into a via verde, but we couldn’t tell how far it went or how to get onto it, so we stayed on the road.

Again the weather turned colder and windy. We stopped for shelter again for food and warmth.

By now we had reached Tijola and we tried to find the via verde, but we could only find the old station and no signs of a proper cycle route. So it was back on the road again.

After one more stop for a brew up, we arrived in Olula del Rio, which lies at the junction between the A334 and the main A319 over the Sierra de Los Filabres. It is an important marble and stone mining area and we expected that the town would be quite affluent, but the place felt deprived and run down. For the first time in Spain there were groups of teenagers hanging about in the streets with little to do and a lot of kids cruising around in their motors, playing the inevitable boom boom music. It just didn’t feel good. The hostal that we stayed in was equally depressing and for a third night running we struggled to find anywhere decent to eat, opting in the end for a cheap, but passable pizza.

Day 46– 15^th May 2010, Olula del Rio to Lubrin 64km 1419km total

Karen had made it quite clear that she didn’t want to ride up a hill on her birthday. So we started off on the flat, to make her feel better. Riding further along the Almanzora valley we bypassed Cantoria on our way up to Albanchez; a climb that she had expected and then onward to Las Molinas before descending for lunch at La Rambla Aljibe.

Whilst the wind was at our backs down the valley, it changed to a crosswind as we started our ascent into the Filabres hills. At Albanchez, we stopped for a coffee break and then complacently continued on the main road past the village and upwards. It wasn’t until we had climbed another 150 meters that Steve realized he had made a fundamental error. On the one day that Karen didn’t want hills, he had missed the turn off to Las Molinas and instead of heading to La Rambla Aljibe, we were in fact on our way to Uleila del Campo over a 1070 meter pass!! Oops!

Pursed lips and eerie silence for the next few kilometers, but at least the wind had turned to our backs and it was a steady, gentle climb and it was warm! We were only passed by one motor bike over 26km.

As we neared the Puerto de la Virgen, 1070m, we had one last glance at the Almanzora valley and the distant Sierra de Segura, ......

before we claimed our reward of the long, winding downhill to the plain below Uleila del Campo.

From there it was a dash along the long straight road to El Pinar and the final climb over the hill to Lubrin. We rolled into the Plaza Bar for some good homemade tapas and of course an ice cold beer!

We were back!

Cordoba to Baeza

2010-04-30T20:59:00.001+01:00

Day 26– April 24^th 2010, La Guijarrosa to Baena– 68km

We had to leave today because the campsite lady was fed up of printing bills for us. We got packed up before breakfast so had an early start. It was a perfect morning for cycling, cloudy but warm and our route took us along a low ridge through olives with colourful verges full of a multitude of different wild flowers.

About midday we arrived at Fernan Nunez after a hot climb and were surprised to see a shop at the side of the road with a huge banner with its website address ‘www.lossecretosdelulu.es’. This seemed very liberal for a small Spanish town. On the opposite side of the road was a café so we stopped for coffee.

While Steve was paying the bill a Spanish guy came out of the bar to chat to Karen. He spoke good English and explained that he had been to London to study his art, he was a jewellery designer. He went on to say that the shop that we had seen over the road belonged to his wife who had set up a business, on similar lines to ‘Ann Summers’ in Britain, selling through internet and hen-parties. We made to leave but he insisted we come over the road to see the shop. We were hesitant but curious. He presented us with a carrier bag as a ‘free gift’. The (very attractive, young) shop assistant then gave us a graphic set of instructions on how to use it. It’s amazing how universal the language of sex is.

With our new toy safely stored and hidden in a pannier we set off, eager to reach our overnight accommodation. We thought we’d better not be on a campsite! It wasn’t far to Castro del Rio where we hoped to stay. However we were told by the locals in the bar that the only accommodation was a rural hostel at the bottom of the town. When we arrived there, it was rooms above a busy local bar and as it was Saturday it was likely to be noisy until at least 1am. We decided to carry on to the next nearest town, Baena.

More by chance than planning we found a lovely quiet road which followed the river valley.

It was very hot and sunny and the Spanish were all enjoying the afternoon with family picnics in the shade. We had a long hot climb out of the valley and across to Baena where we fell into the first bar we came to and downed about 1 litre of water each. Steve asked the bar-man where the oficina de tourismo was and received sharp intakes of breath. It was closed. He then asked if there was a hotel, pension etc in the town. Within minutes the three lads had decided that we should stay at the “albergue”. After a quick discussion in Spanish, beyond Steve’s meager abilities, they concocted a plan and before we knew what was going on two of them had set off in their car telling us to wait. A few minutes later they returned in one car and a pick-up and proceeded to manhandle our bikes, panniers and all onto the back of the pickup. They wouldn’t quite fit so one of the lads removed his trouser belt and lashed the wheel of one bike to the truck. We leaped in the back seat and he set off, followed by his mate in his car, up the steep and narrow village streets, scarcely wide enough for a vehicle, up and up, round and round we went, with Steve clinging onto his precious bike for all he was worth, through the back window of the pickup.

Finally we arrived, stressed and bothered outside the albergue at the top of the town. They unloaded the bikes, shook hands and were off with hardly time to thank them properly. The kindness of people continues to astound us.

We checked in to a lovely, newly refurbished albergue for 35 euros including breakfast. After a refreshing shower the crisp white sheets and the excitement of our free gift beckoned…………

What a day!!!!

In the warm evening sunshine we walked around the town.......

Everyone was out enjoying the warm night and they were also so friendly towards us, (perhaps they knew what we had in our panniers!)

We had a great meal and retired for a good nights sleep. Of course we had not counted on it being a warm Saturday, fiesta night and the reveling went on until 1-00am, but we were happy.

Day 27– April 25^th 2010, Baena to Andujar – 70km

We ate a lovely breakfast of local ham, bread, orange juice and coffee with a British couple Dick and Liz Creans, from Bristol. They were doing the Califate walking route, one of the many pilgrims routes through Spain from Granada to Cordoba. We swapped stories and after the customary photograph, we left in one direction as they left in another.

We both realized that we seemed to have reached a point today whereby we were looking forward to what the day would hold rather than fretting about how we would cope with it. The ride today would be another long haul, but it was cool and overcast, perfect for cycling.

The ride was through rolling hills of more olive groves, barley and other cereal crops.

We stopped for our usual morning coffee at Fuenteduena and lunch in Porcena. Being Sunday all of the locals were out for their after church constitution, dressed to the nines. We even spotted a family celebrating their young daughter’s first communion. She was dressed in a lovely white, frilly confirmation dress. After esalade mixte, patatas frites and beer we continued on our journey. Many people were out for a drive in their cars, and we got lots of encouraging beeps on the horn. There were also lots of Spanish out for a picnic. They will stop anywhere, on a roundabout, under a road sign, it really didn’t matter and every time we received shouts of encouragement as we cycled along.

Finally our destinaion town, Andujar, came into view with the beautiful Sierra Morena behind, marking the border between Andalucia and Castillo la Mancha. We enjoyed the final long downhill in the warm afternoon sunshine, all the way to the town.

Finding accommodation however was a more difficult task. The camp site that we had planned to stay turned out to be 14 km out of the town up in the mountains and the road was closed for the fiesta. We cycled around the town, which was almost deserted (typical at this time of day). The oficina de tourismo was closed because of the fiesta and we had to ask several locals for directions to accommodation. A combination of poor Spanish on our part and poor local knowledge on theirs led to a fruitless search for a pension. Finally we returned to town and the only hotel. Being fiesta their rooms were 81 euros each. The receptionist took pity on us and let us have a room at their normal rate of 54 euros. Good job we are absolutely loaded with money.

Still, it was very welcome and a warm shower and a couple of beers made us feel a lot better.

Day 28– April 26^th 2010, Andujar to Mengibar – 31km

For the first time since we set off on our Andalucia tour, we woke to clear blue skies. We were up early and had a quick breakfast in the hotel.

We had planned to get to Linares and Steve had seen a road along the valley between the railway and the river which looked quiet and flat. And indeed it was a lovely ride, with no traffic and a relief not to be cycling through endless olive groves for the first time in 15 days. The road gradually deteriorated to a rough track, but the map showed a bridge over the railway onto a lane that would connect up with a tarmac road. However the bridge was no more than a concrete construction designed to take a road at some point in the future, but never finished and there was no way across by that route. We retraced our tracks to a rough level crossing, and onto another unmade, track through a ford. It then became a very rough, loose stone track up a steep hill and back into olive groves. It was getting very hot without a cloud in the sky but at least the track was now downhill. Finally we connected to the planned tarmac road and rode into Villanueve de Reina where we shopped for some lunch provisions.

Shortly out of town we stopped for leftover pizza saved from the night before, red wine, tea and biscuits. The heat reduced our appetite and we were quickly on our way again climbing a long and dragging hill into Mengibar (which we thought sounded like some form of disease). We stopped at the first bar and decided that it was too hot (28 deg+) to cycle much further, so asked about accommodation. We cycled up to the centre of the village on the hill top, but the hotel turned out to be a four star ‘paradore’ type hotel. Without asking we deemed it to be too expensive.

We dropped down the hill and found a modern three star hotel which again we thought would be too expensive, eventually finding an unrated, seedy looking hostal. We booked a room at 40 euros!. It had no windows, but did have an en-suite shower room of sorts. Karen was worried about how we would get out if there was a fire. We sorted out an escape route through a spare, open room on the other side of the corridor, but by bedtime it was occupied by some noisy workers with weak bladders who kept going to the toilet along the corridor all night.

We looked around the town and enquired about the prices at the other hotels, which were euros59 and 56 respectively. We would have gladly paid the extra to get a decent place to stay.

Day 29– April 27^th 2010, Mengibar to Banos De La Encina – 38km

To avoid the problems with the heat that we had experienced the day before, we decided to get up early. After a quick breakfast in a café over the road from the hostal we were away by 8-10am riding along the old main road to Bailen. In the cool of the morning we made good progress, despite it being a long gradual up hill. We arrived in Bailen in a non-descript square and asked for the historic center, only to be told we were in it. It was that remarkable. We bought lunch and headed out on a quite easy road towards our destination.

As we came over the hill we got great views of Banos de la Encina with its impressive castle and churches.

Our plan was to visit the castle and then continue to Linares for the night. However the castle was closed as a TV crew were doing some filming. We were told that we could stay in the town and visit it the next morning. So why not?

We checked into the Banos Hotel which had even better views of the castle.

We met a German couple, Manfred and Hetty Stolz who were cycling around the area on mountain bikes, staying in accommodation. They had just suffered a horrible ride through deep mud the day before and needed a nice place to stay.

During the afternoon, we looked around the impressive baroque church, but unfortunately couldn’t get to see the larger church in the town except from the outside, (shown here).

The town is very well preserved. Many of the buildings are constructed from the red stone of the area and were built after the main castle.

That evening we rode through pine woods and uncultivated land rich with wild flowers, down to the reservoir. There wasn’t a breath of wind and many of the locals were out walking, running, cycling, horse-riding or picnicking by the water.

We met Manfred and Hetty for dinner and took in the view of the castle as the sun set behind us.

Day 30– April 28^th 2010, Banos De La Encina to Baeza– 38km

Today was to be a difficult one. Our goal was to reach the camp site at Ubeda.

First we had to see the inside of the castle, the main reason we had stayed overnight. We went with Hetty,( Manfred had gone out for a bike ride on his own) but the only time available was at 11-00am. Being Spain, the tour didn’t start till 11-30am.

It was 12-30 before we left and it was already very hot. We had just broken our new rule about avoiding riding in the heat of the middle of the day.

However, the route looked to be straight forward without too much climbing. The first part was across a flat plain through olive groves as far as the motorway. From there the countryside changed dramatically. The area was less cultivated, with many natural extensive meadows and large holme oak trees.

This was fighting bull breeding country and we spotted several of these magnificent beasts sheltering from the baking sun under the trees.

The area also has a history of mining copper, lead and silver and we could see the remains of this industrial history as we cycled along.

Linares is a large and busy town. As we cycled in the thermometer said 32 degrees. We didn’t take time to look around and after a tapas lunch headed out towards Ubeda, joining up with the very busy main road just outside town. Foolishly we missed an opportunity to take on more carbohydrate and top up our water bottles. We were not happy about the long ride along the busy main road to Ubeda. From the top of the hill we surveyed the route. There was a long downhill and then in the distance a modern road climbing through miles of olive groves with no shade. Steve decided he wasn’t going that way. Instead we turned onto the road to Baeza. It was only 9 kilometers, but after a short distance we realized that we were actually on the road that we had seen from the top of the hill, it was all up on a modern sweeping road that reflected the heat and gave no protection from the baking sun.

We were both suffering the effects, but Karen more so. Our water was running very low and we had to stop several times to shelter below the olive trees to cool down. After several discouraging false summits we finally reached the village of Isobar, the main street of which was being resurfaced so was rough and dusty.

We fell into the first bar we could find. We drank a liter of water each followed by two beers (Sin alcohol) and two lots of tapas. It was clear by this time that there was no way that we could visit Beaza and then continue to Ubeda and an overnighter in Beaza was on the cards.

As we set off again to complete the climb the road gang were just starting to lay the first section of new tarmac at the roundabout. We had to wait at the stop sign (a Spanish guy holding a little sign that said STOP). There was just one car in front of us. When the sign changed we were supposed to go clockwise around the wrong side of the roundabout but the guy in the car did not understand that and drove anticlockwise, straight into the deep, hot, soft tarmac. The road workers were not at all pleased, we think they probably just rode over him with the steamroller. We also couldn’t resist just getting a short tyre track in the edge of the tarmac.

The ride to Beaza was worth it.

The townsfolk have retained a lot of the lovely historical buildings and and it seeps history from every street.

All of the ancient buildings are in a beautiful honey coloured stone and have extensive stone carved decorations.

We checked into the three star TDH hotel for only 50 euros per night.

We took a relaxing stroll around the town where we bumped into a group of young teenagers earnestly rehearsing for the fiesta parade which was to take place that weekend.

After a calorie filled evening meal we fell into bed, absolutely shattered.

Granada to Cordoba

2010-04-22T16:10:00.022+01:00

Day 14– April 12^th 2010, Monarchil to Alomartes– 50km

Alomartes is the village where Dave, the guy we met at Trevelez camp site, runs a B & B with his wife Irene. He had arranged for us to stay there at a reasonable price.

We said our goodbyes to Ann and Alan and set off, retracing part of our route through the Granada suburbs. The days ride was physically quite easy, but was a mentally challenging, navigating our way around the west side of Granada, through various villages which have been absorbed into Granada and consequently they no longer have their old world charm nor any useful road signage.

Our route took us through La Zubia, Ogijares and Armilla. After this we picked up a bicycle track which took us all the way through to Santa Fe. We had planned to cut around the south of the small urbanization of Santa Fe to pick up a track by the side of the Canal del Cacin to Moraleda de Zafayona, but we were advised by a local that we couldn’t get that way. Instead we headed back to Santa Fe but were thwarted again as we could not find a way to cross the motorway. We cut off through an industrial estate and miraculously found a bike bridge over the motor way into the small village of El Jau.

With the help of a jogger who was pounding down the road, we found a rough track on the banks of the river Genil and followed it west to Chauchina, where we stopped for lunch.

The road took us through Valderubbio, Escoznar and eventually into Alomartes.

Although the ride was not through particularly scenic areas we really enjoyed the challenge. It was a bit like being on a treasure hunt, finding our way through the poorly signposted suburbs with the help of some rough notes which Steve had made from the Google map.

We arrived in Alomartes at about 4.00pm only to find that Irene was not at the house. A neighbour advised us that she had taken the dog for a walk so we nodded off in the hot sunshine in the village plaza until her return at 5-30.

That night we walked up the road to find somewhere to eat. There was only one bar/restaurant open so we went in for a beer. We asked about food and were directed to the cook who was sitting drinking at the bar. She gave us a very detailed verbal description of the menu, about 70% of which we could not understand. The food was very good, cheap and generous amounts but we made the mistake of choosing a rather nice looking bottle of wine without actually asking the price. It was superb but cost 20 euros.

Day 15– April 13^th 2010, Alomartes to Castillo de Locubin – 50km

We bid goodbye to Irene and set off through Allora towards the main N432 to Cordoba. We had decided that as we needed to cover a good distance today it would be better to avoid the steep winding side roads. We were rewarded by very rapid progress along the road, which was quite busy but had a good smooth surface and wide hard-shoulders. Within 2 hours we had covered 37km.

As we rounded the final bend before Alcala de Real we got our first sight of the spectacular castle, set high on a rocky outcrop above the town.

Karen was determined to see the castle so set off on the climb up the steep cobbled streets to get to the top of the hill. Some parts were so steep that we had to get off the bikes and push. We arrived hot and breathless at the entrance to find we had just missed the morning opening times and would have to wait until 3.30pm to get in. Never mind, it was a good picnic place with fine views and saved us 10 euros in entrance fees.

Fed and watered we zoomed back down the hill to explore the old town and the headed off up yet another long climb to Castillo de Locubin. This was another of those old Moorish towns, set high on a hill with impossibly steep and winding cobbled streets where you can’t find anything. We had seen the large central church from high on the hill but once in the town couldn’t even see the unique bell tower.

We stopped and asked for directions to accommodation and were relieved to find a nice, the new Hospederia Locubin at the bottom of the hill.

This area of Spain is famous for its cherries and we started to see cherry trees with white blossom in full flower, scattered among the olives and almonds.

That evening we walked up to the town and into the plaza which was full of families, teenagers and oaps enjoying the evening sunshine. In the bar we met an English couple who owned a house in the village and enjoyed a few drinks with them. After they went home we ordered a ‘raciones’ to share and learned a lesson to always ask the price of the food before ordering when the barman charged us 12 euros for this which should only have cost about 5 euros.

Day 16– April 14^th 2010, Castillo de Locubin to Jaen – 49km

We rode out of Castillo de Locubin heading up the valley on the road to Valdepenias. The valley was lovely lush green with lots of small vegetable plots by the river. Before we started our real ascent we cut off left to visit the Naciemento de San Juan , which looked very pretty in the photographs, but was a bit disappointing when we got there. It was only a 4 km detour and we retraced our tracks and started a long climb of some 9km up the valley reaching the saddle at about 1250m. The ride was lovely but tiring. After nearly three hours riding we could still look back down the valley and see Castillo de Locubin.

Dropping down to Valdepenias we stopped for lunch in a small café, did some shopping and headed out of town on another long climb to the Sierra de la Pandera. Having reached the highest point we had a wonderful descent through hairpin bends and lovely valley to reach Los Villares.

We bypassed the town and carried on up the last ascent on another modern long sweeping road.

We stopped halfway up to admire the view of a cleft in the rock face through which the Rio Guadalbullon runs to join the Rio Gaudalquivir that eventually wends its way to Cordoba.

As we came over the crest of the hill we had superb views of Jaen city and the wonderful cathedral. We stopped for a beer and asked for the nearest accommodation, which turned out to be just 500 m down the road. It was a privately run www.lacaseriadepiedra.com . A bit outside our price range but hey, what the hell!

That afternoon, we went into town on the bus to find out about the Via Verde that we would take the following day and to look at the cathedral.

Day 17– April 15^th 2010, Jaen to Zuheros – 78km

We awoke to find that there was no water in the bathroom and when we went to enquire, us and the other guests couldn’t find the owners, who appeared to be still in bed.

After about half an hour the owner appeared looking disheveled, obviously having only just got out of bed. With screwdriver in hand he proceeded to explain that he was trying to fix the water, apologised profusely and rushed into the kitchen to get us our breakfast.

We had good instructions to reach the start of the Via Verde, cycling, through the steep cobbled back streets on the west side of Jaen, around the base of the castle walls.

There are over 1700km of Vias Verdes (green ways) in Spain, usually formed from old railway tracks. They can be found at http://www.viasverdes.com/ViasVerdes. Our route would take us along the old Tren del Aceite (Olive Oil Train).

At the start of the route were two Vias Verdes guys in a white van, handing out leaflets about the route. This van seemed to dog us all the way to Alcaudete, appearing like the secret police at strategic points along the line. We weren’t sure if they were making sure that we didn’t pitch our tent for the night or just that we were managing the route Ok.

The line was a gradual uphill all the way to Martos with a corresponding downhill all the way to the Cordoba provincial boundary. We rode continuously through olive groves as far as the eye could see. There was no other form of agriculture or grazing and the constant smell of olive oil production seemed to fill the air.

We went through several short tunnels and impressive bridges over deep valleys, the most beautiful of which was the Rio Viboras. As there was no grazing here the flowers were particularly beautiful. We passed through cuttings with banks of pink orchids, miniature blue irises and lots of other wild species.

Once we crossed the Rio Guadajoz into Cordoba province, the farming was less olive intense and more varied, with goat herds and other agriculture.

We had planned to stay at Luque, but an old information board showed a camp site at Zuheros so we pressed on. However, when we reached the site it was closed.

The first sight of Zuheros was impressive, nestling in a fold of the mountain side. The 9^th century castle dominates the town standing proudly on a rocky outcrop, which must have provided a great defensive position.

Of course you cannot experience great beauty without the pain and the ride up the 20% hillside was killing. The only hotel was full and everything else was closed. We were so disappointed because we wanted to stay in this lovely little town. We sat and drank a beer when the phone rang. It was our son Ben who proceeded to depress us even further, telling us that he and his girlfriend had decided to postpone their wedding.

The waiter at the bar recommended a Hostal back in the direction we had come, but in the foot of the valley.

On the way we spotted the www.loscastillarejos.com apertementos rural. They looked expensive, but we stopped and asked anyway. As it was late (8-00pm) the owner Paulio gave us a special price of 45 euros. The apartments were fantastic, brand new with views to die for. The pictures here say it all.

Our host was generous and even gave is a lift back into Zuheros to the restaurant. We had a delicious meal of suckling pig and goat cutlets before walking the 2 kilometers back to the accommodation. It was dark and we used our head torches ( we knew what Spanish drivers can be like at night). Seeing an approaching car we jumped into the ditch at the side of the road. The car slowed to a halt and we climb out of the ditch. It turned out to be the Guardia Civil. To them it must have looked like we were a couple of vagrants up to no good. It didn’t help when Steve shone his head torch straight into the eyes of the policeman.

Day 18– April 16^th 2010, Zuheros to Lucena – 23km

We sadly left our apartments......

and took a few last photos of beautiful Zuheros........

Today we had arranged to meet our friends, John and Mary in Lucena for lunch. So, it was to be a short easy ride, further along the Via Verde. We set off with plenty of time. As we cycled we could see the dark clouds forming and the rain started as we approached a short tunnel.

The temperature dropped so we donned our wet weather gear and sheltered in the tunnel mouth as a tremendous thunder storm raged outside for about 40 minutes. We were now up against the clock.

We continued on, but the rain had made the going harder. The countryside was beautiful, but we had little time to stop and admire it. The surface of the Via verde in Cordoba province was not in such good condition as that in Jaen province, and there were a number of land slips that we had to negotiate. Over the last 5km the surface deteriorated even more. It was thick sticky clay which coated our tyres, clogged our brakes, mudguards and covered our legs and panniers.

We rode into the outskirts of Lucena, not in a fit state to eat lunch anywhere. Fortunately we spotted a high pressure car wash. Jose Manuel was really keen to help us. We stripped the bike of panniers and gave the whole a lot a good wash. It cost 5 euros and 30 minutes. Jose Manuel apologized for his “poor” English, which was better than our Spanish and offered to converse in Chinese. We were skeptical. He went to show us proof. Out came a pamphlet with Chinese title, which he translated as The Watchtower, proudly explaining that he was a Jehova’s Witness.

Still not quite as clean as we should have been we arrived 20 minutes late in the main plaza to find our friends. We had an enjoyable meal, swapped stories and a generally had a good time. After lunch we found www.pensionsaradelucena.com which was basic, but clean and cheap at only 30 euros per night.

Day 19– April 17^th 2010, Lucena to Rute – 32km

After yesterday’s experience we decided to give the last 20+km of the Via Verde a miss and instead head south to a camp site on the edge of the Emblas de Iznajar (reservoir). Once we left town, the ride was on a long, busy and straight road until we reached Zambra where we stocked up with provisions.

Rute is famous for its Anis production, but as neither of us like the stuff we didn’t stop to sample it. We followed the signs to the camp site but misunderstood one of the signs and ended up 5km downhill in the wrong direction. Backtracking we stopped for lunch at a large derelict house and outbuildings. A part of it was an old olive oil production facility, with the original grinding stones, machinery and tile lined vats in the floor.

We rode back up the hill and enjoyed a descent to the pine clad shore of the reservoir. The La Isla camp site was quiet with only hard gravel pitches, but the bar was open.

We had planned to stay for two nights. That afternoon we walked by the shore and were disgusted by the amount of plastic litter both in the woods and in the water. There were great rafts of plastic bottles, polystyrene, bags and other rubbish floating in the inlet. It was simply appalling.

It was the first time we had any rain so we could see how the new groundsheet performed.

At about 5-00am some joker came down to the shore, parked his car and started playing “boom boom” music at full volume on his car stereo. We didn’t get much sleep after that and so we decided that we would move on.

Day 20– April 18^th 2010, Rute to Alameda – 50km

John and Mary were staying at their friend’s (Maureen and Patrick) place in Alameda and we had an open invitation to visit them. We decided to head on over and stay the night there. Maureen arranged a nice B and B, run by Steve and Ellie in the village.

The journey was easy through rolling flat countryside and we arrived there at about 5-00pm. The accommodation was comfortable and that night we had a good dinner and played silly games with our friends.

Day 21– April 19^th 2010, Alameda to Fuente de Piedra– 20km

Fuenta de Piedra was a lovely town with an air of affluence about it, probably due to the Laguna and the fact that it is a spa town. It seemed welcoming. There was a significant British contingent.

We wanted to visit the Laguna at Fuente de Piedra. The Laguna is a salt lake and is the home of many flamingoes and other wading birds.

www.camping-rural.com seemed very nice although it was a bit pricey, charging for the bicycles as well as the people (total 18 euros). Despite this we decided to stay for two nights and paid in advance. In the afternoon we took a pleasant ride to the visitor center on the Laguna and watched the flamingoes.

Later in the evening as we cooked our dinner, they flew overhead, in V formation, just like the pink footed geese in Scotland, only with longer legs.

At about midnight, we were awoken by several vehicles arriving at the camp site, banging doors, unloading equipment, loud voices, etc. After 30 minutes of this it went quite, but we were woken again by the same thing at about 5-00am. This time it went on for about an hour and it took us even longer to get back to sleep. It was gone nine before we rose to find out that it was a group of failway maintenance workers on the night shift. Realising that it would probably be the same the next night we decided to leave and asked for our money back. No apology was given for the noise and we were only given a 10 euro refund reluctantly. Needless to say we do not recommend this camp site.

Day 22,23,24,25– April 20^th to 23^rd 2010, Fuente de Piedra to La Guijarrosa – 72km

If round the World cycling could be as easy as this we would be have way round by now. The roads were flat, we had a back wind, it was warm and sunny. We hardly pedaled at all for the first 40 kilometers. The only drawback was that the road was busier than expected.

We back tracked through Alameda. On the way through we were flagged down by a British guy with no front teeth, “Are you the people who are travelling to New Zealand” he said. It turned out he knew Patrick and had been told about us. He had lived in Spain for 23 years and claimed to be “Spanish by now!”

He had several stray dogs with him (he had adopted about 8 of them at his home in one of the valleys). He complained about the Germans that had moved into the valley that didn’t like his dogs.

He also told us how he and his wife used to do a lot of cycle touring. He introduced us to a scruffy Spanish guy who turned out to be one of the richest men in the town, owning half the property.

The route took us north through Puente Genil and on to Santaella, were we had planned to camp. Enquiring at a local bar we realized the site was a further 7km further on. However it was worth the effort. As soon as we rode into www.campinglacampina.com we saw that the pool was open, (the first one so far). The site was family run and they had a nice restaurant and bar. Going against our recently set rule, we booked in for two nights, as this meant we got a breakfast included in the price.

The following day we took the bus into Cordoba to do some sightseeing.

Cordoba met all of our expectations. People had told us that it was a nicer city than Granada and indeed it was, although we still feel that no individual sight exceeded the splendour of the Alhambra.

A positive note is that on Wednesdays the entry into some of the attractions is free.

The Alcazar gardens were at their best and addressed all of the senses at once – beautiful to look at, the scent of the orange blossom, roses, stocks and lillies, the sound of the birds and the water flowing, the feel of the spring sunshine contrasted by the cooling interior of the buildings create a great feeling of calm.

We walked around the walls and stopped at the Old Inn at Potro for a beer.

The area was classified as a World heritage site in 1994 and there is still a lot of money being spent improving the infrastructure of the whole city.

The day after was spent relaxing, catching up with our blog and web site.

We had booked a meal at the camp site restaurant and ate traditional paella, which was delicious. As there was too much for the two of us they boxed up the leftovers for our lunch the following day.

Overnight it rained a lot and was still raining when we awoke. It looked set to stay that way for a while so we decided not to move and booked in for another night.

We chatted with a British couple, Alistair and his wife, and hitched a lift from them into Cordoba for a second look around.

This time, we decided to pay our 8 euros apiece and visit the Mesquita.

It was worth it and we were pleased that we had not missed the opportunity.

What made it special was the blend of the Muslim and Christian cultures and architecture.

The contrast between the simplicity of one and the flamboyance of the other is remarkable.

Having done Cordoba we caught the bus back to the camp site and cooked up the leftover paella from the night before.

The Alpujarras

2010-04-16T22:08:00.000+01:00

Its surprising how quickly the 29^th March has come round and we are on our way to collect John and Mair (the owners of Fuente Arriba) from Alicante airport.

We are 30 minutes away when the phone rings. It’s John “We’ve arrived, where are you?” “We are at Murcia.” Frosty silence. “Well we will wait then. We are at Terminal 1 departures”.

Strange we think. It’s unusual for flights to be early, particularly an hour early. Undeterred we drive on blissfully unaware that in adopting the manana life style we had forgotten to put the clocks forward the day before. Oops!

In the last two weeks the weather has started to warm up and we have been getting itchy feet, being ready to be back on our bikes. Over the last few weeks we have done a few rides around Lubrin starting without any load and finally a couple with full load, in an attempt to regain a degree of fitness following our lethargic winter. We will, with time document these rides on our Lubrin page.

We made some new friends whilst in Lubrin and enjoyed a meal with Sally, Stuart, Peter and Jane before we left.

We have planned a 7 week tour around Andalucia that will take us into the Sierra Nevada mountains and to Granada where we will meet up with some old friends Ann and Alan Hoggarth. From here we travel north to Jaen and then take one of the Via Verdes (a converted railway track) all the way to Puente Genil where we will meet up with some more old friends, John and Mary Mortonson.

Turning north we cycle to the historic, Moorish city of Cordoba and then cut back east through Andujar, Linares and Ubeda to the Cazorla National Park, before returning to Lubrin.

Our plan is to camp where possible, but otherwise we will stay in accommodation. Our first day would be a fairly easy day, positioning us for our ride into the Sierra Nevada.

Day 1 – Tuesday 30^th March 2010, Lubrin to Tabernas – 40km

It was nice to be back on the road again after 4 months of sedentary life style in Tavira and Lubrin. As we set off from Lubrin, we stopped to say goodbye to Jaquinto (the tailor) who thought we were “poco loco”. The sky was blue but there was a strong head wind as we committed to our first climb, out of Lubrin towards Uleila del Campo, a nice easy ride along a flat plain and quite road, stopping in the village for a coffee. We continued along the flat or down hill to reach the main Sorbas to Tabernas road. This route is a little more busy with a few heavy lorries, but still the ride was enjoyable. After an easy first days ride we arrived in Tabernas and found our accommodation for the night, the Hostal Avenida, which was clean and comfortable at just 35 euros per night.

In the afternoon we took a walk up to the old Moorish castle that overlooks the town. Time and conflict has ravaged the castle and the only thing that remains of the original is half a tower and a few wall ruins. The authorities have rebuilt some of it in the original style to give an indication of what it must have been like.

Tabernas is famous for its spaghetti western filming industry. The desert around the town was used to film the spaghetti westerns with Clint Eastwood. This seems to have long since passed, but today the old film sets continue as tourist attractions, known as Mini Hollywood.

In the evening we sat in a bar eating our dinner, overlooking the square in front of the church. Suddenly we heard the beating of drums and one of the Easter processions was making its way down the main street, finishing at the church. We quickly finished our dinner and went out to catch the end of the procession.

Day 2 + 3 – 31^st March + 1^st April 2010, Tabernas to Fondon – 59km

Our second day was to be a long one and would be the first of our climbs up into the Alpujarras, the pre curser to the Sierra Nevada national park.

The ride from Tabernas was nearly all downhill following the motorway down towards the coast and Almeria. We hardly pedaled for several kilometers, before turning off towards the small town of Paulenca. The town lies at the lower end of the Andarax valley, which eventually reaches the sea at the coastal resort of Almeria. Although not as well known as Guadix, it also has a number of cave houses. Being a bit lower than Lubrin, the orange trees were blossoming and the scent was heavy in the air as we wound our way into town. Here we turned up the valley and started our gradual climb.

We wound our way up the main N324 road towards the spa town of Alhama de Almeria. Near the end of our climb we happened across the Los Millares. We called in at the visitor centre to learn a little more of this historical site.

Los Millares is considered one of the most important European archaeological sites of the Copper Age. It covers a vast area on a spur between the Andarax River and the Rambla de Huechar. This position provided excellent natural defences, close to the copper mines of the Sierra de Gador. The villages were well fortified with several walls and lines of forts to control the territory that was not protected by the gorges on the other two sides.

The Necropolis lies outside of the main village and comprises of approximately 80, poorly preserved tombs, one of which has been recreated to show what they were actually like. The members of the same clan would be buried here along with their personal goods, many of which can now be seen in the Almeria Museum.

We walked around the ruins in the warm sunshine as bees and insects buzzed around the natural flower meadows on the uncultivated ground between the ruins. The feeling of standing in the middle of this village, which thrived nearly 4000 years before Christ was a humbling one.

After this brief interlude we continued on, turning off the Alhama road for a long downhill back into the Andarax valley, which is very green and cultivated. Arriving at Tarique we stopped by the side of the rambla, flooded with spring snow melt waters, to eat our packed lunch.

We then had a steep, first gear climb back up the valley side to join the N348 at Illar. The ride was pleasant until we reached Canajayar. Here the road was a superb, typical Eu funded highway with long straights and sweeping curves at a constant 8% gradient. We actually find these to be the worst type of hill. You seem to make very little progress. They are demoralising and sap your will. The climb went on and on.

We stopped to brew up at one point. At each brow we were convinced that we had reached the top only to find the road winding ever upwards. The last 10 kilometers were numbing and we were only driven on by the need to reach our camp site. Finally after about two hours we crested the top and enjoyed the brief, fast descent down the other side to reach Fondon.

To get to the camp site we had to cross over the river, which was in full flow over the ford and impassable on our bikes. Instead, we had to unclip all of our panniers and carry them and the bikes up some steps and across the river on a rickety and swinging, cable suspension foot bridge.

The Puenta Colgante site is the first camp site in the Alpujarras, approaching from Almeria. It is close to the village and the setting next to the river is nice. It is basic with gravel based pitches. The toilets were reasonably clean, but only had hot water in the showers, not the hand-basins. Of course it was too cold to use the pool, which was closed anyway. There was a bar / restaurant on the site, but they were both closed. The price was 3.5 euros per adult + 3.5 for the tent and 3.5 for services = 14 euros per night total. Expensive for the standard of what was provided, but we figured it would pretty much be what we would have to expect.

The pitches were marked, but most of them were reserved by Spanish families and had a variety of caravans, awnings, sheds, covered sitting areas, etc. It all felt a bit like being in a shanty town. You got the feeling that it needed some love and attention. In the summer it would be a manic place to camp. We were not impressed and wouldn’t recommend it. There is in fact another site at La Molita about 4 kilometers further up the valley signposted off the road just before Fuenta Victoria. We didn’t have a chance to see the camp site, but the town certainly has more facilities than Fondon.

The following day we slept until the sun rose at about nine. It was cold (there was thin layer of ice on the table), but quickly the temperature increased. We took the well signposted tour around Fondon village, bought very cheap veg and fish and spent most of the afternoon feasting, writing the blog and researching our route for the next 6 weeks.

In the evening we ate at a restaurant in Fondon (full menu del dia including wine and coffee for only 9 euros). Here we met Jacob who was cycling around the Sierra Nevada, on a weeks holiday from the Nederlands, having flown into Almeria that morning. He was averaging 70 km / day so it was likely we wouldn’t see him again.

Day 4 + 5 – April 2^nd + 3^rd 2010, Fondon to Laroles – 29km

In the morning we had a leisurely start, said goodbye to Jacob and headed off up the valley towards Fuenta Victoria. It was warm and sunny with a chilly breeze which just reminded you that it was still only April. We rode slowly up the Andarax valley which was a gradual climb until just after the village of Laujar de Andarax. As we exited the village a large LED road information sign said “Extreme Precaution!” It was presumably left on from when the roads had been icy. However the only thing that we did experience were the many landslides that we saw throughout our whole ride, this being the result of the worst Spanish winter in the last forty years.

Finally the road started to climb up some serious hairpin bends, which are much preferable to the long sweeping curves of the highway that we had cycled two days before. We climbed and climbed, through scrub and scattered pine trees to the mountain village of Paterna del Rio and our fist coffee stop. We sat and listened to the old gentlemen chatting in the village, trying to discern what they were talking about.

From here we reached the highest point of our climb, getting tantalizingly close to the snow line. We stopped to eat lunch in the pine trees before an enjoyable descent to Bayercal, the highest village in Almeria Province at 1255 meters. The village is set in the side of a deep gorge. We dropped down into the gorge before climbing back up the other side in the lowest gears, to reach our next camp site on the outskirts of the Laroles village.

The camp site in Laroles is much nicer than that in Fondon with nicely separated grassy pitches and some tree cover. As it was out of season, even though it was Easter, the pool, bar and restaurant were all closed. Not that it bothered us. There were few people on the site and we were pleased to have some real peace and quiet. They did however charge us per adult, tent and can you believe, our bicycles, but the total price was the same as the last site at 14 euros per night.

The village spreads along and down the side of the steep valley slope. Its bars and shops are equally spread out and carrying shopping back up the hill to the camp site certainly stretches those calf muscles.

In the evening we ate great pizzas in the Manitos cafeteria, next to the petrol service station. It overlooks the valley and we would recommend it.

The next day we relaxed about the camp site, doing a few little repairs and our washing, lying in the sun reading and not a lot else.

Day 6 - 8 – April 4^th to 6^th 2010, Laroles to Trevelez – 49km

The road tracks the lower slopes of the Sierra. As it does, it crosses deep gorges that cut through the slopes.

On this day we crossed four of them each with a significant descent and a long hard climb, but the scenery is stunning and the villages are delightful.

We stopped at a view point for lunch, looking towards the remnants of snow on the mountains.

The final part of the ride was a long steady climb up into the Trevelez valley. The weather had got colder. Trevelez is famous for its Jamon, but we couldn’t carry a whole leg on our bikes. Of course as sod’s law would dictate the camp site was on the far side of the village with another long climb. It was worth it though. The site is run by Alex and Ricardo and their two lovely little girls. They are both climbers and run the site with a nice relaxed atmosphere. There is a nice restaurant and bar where we sampled for the first time the famous Alpujurran, which is a grill comprising morcilla (black pudding), chorizo sausage, fried egg, patatas pobre (poor man’s potatoes with green pepper and lashings of olive oil).

The following day we took time out to explore the village, shop and do some washing. The town is divided into three parts, Barrio Baja is the lower area where all the tourist buses stop and full of tourist shops and bars.

Barrio Medio is the historic part of the village with the church and traditional narrow streets, bars and shops.

Barrio Alta is the highest part of the village, a lot of which is still in its original state. Right at the top is an old Cortijo, as yet unconverted.

The next day we wanted to climb to the higher mountains and Karen had planned a nice round route up onto the ridge and back to the village. We set off through Barrio Alta following an old winding donkey track up the steep mountain side.

It was warm and sunny and after 2 hours we reached wide stretches of snow which covered the path and required more than the training shoes that we were wearing to traverse them. Reluctantly we decided that we couldn’t go any further.

We sat and ate lunch marveling at the majesty of the peaks and the snow around us before returning the way we had come.

Day 9+10 – April 7^th to 8^th 2010, Trevelez to Pitres – 13km

The ride to Pitres was an easy one being mostly downhill, following the Trevelez valley, only starting to climb again when we neared Portugos. We stopped there to buy our provisions and then continued to our stop for the next couple of days the camp site at Pitres. The site was reasonable, but as per usual at this time of year most of the facilities were closed.

In the afternoon of our arrival we cycled part way into the Trevelez gorge to some of the small and very traditional villages in the area known as La Taha. A lot of properties have been bought by expats as well as locals and tastefully restored in the traditional style. Many of the streets in these villages can only be accessed by foot. If you are visiting the Alpujarras then this is the area to visit for authenticity.

The next day we rested the bikes and set off to walk through these same villages and further down to the bottom of the Gorge where you find the ruins of an old flour mill.....

and a narrow bridge over the river.

From here the old donkey transport route path is now the GR142 footpath and hugs the side of the valley as it works its way up to reach a 4WD track that cuts back following the ridge of the Cuatro Picos. The GR142 continues to Orgiva, but a hand painted notice on the footpath sign, warned that the next bridge over the river was washed out by the floods. This is the bridge that is described by Chris Stewart in his book about his life in the Alpujarras, “Driving over Lemons”, which Karen was in the middle of reading and enjoyed immensely.

Just as the track joins the road a path leads off left back down into the valley.

The path is centuries old and zig zags steeply down. The stones are worn by the feet of many donkeys as well as the elements.

At the river crossing is another old mill, bigger than the first. Evidence can be seen of the original mill train feeding water from further up the river to drive the wheel.

The bridge crosses back over the river, which thunders past some thirty feet below through a crevis only about 12 feet wide.

The valley was full of beautiful wild flowers from common daisies and buttercups to rare orchids and grape hyacinths.

Turning back down the valley we strolled back through the terraces to La Taha. In places we had to assume the abilities of mountain goats to negotiate the path that had been washed away by landslides.

We missed out on a reviving beer at the bottom as the bar was being redecorated. So we only quenched our thirst after we completed the final ascent back to Pitres.

That night we enjoyed a meal with Tina, Espen and their ten week old son Silas who had travelled down from Denmark in their campervan. We chatted late into the evening and retired to bed when it became too cold to sit any longer.

We left the unwashed pots outside the tent. An hour or so later we were woken up by the farm dog licking the pots. Just as we were nodding off again, we were woken by the camp site donkey which had broken loose from its tether. He also licked the pots grazed, clomping around the tent. Just as we were falling to sleep again, he brayed very loudly, right next to the tent. Steve nearly shot through the tent with the shock.

Whilst at Pitres we also came across a lady with a dog called Coco that was just like our old dog Sam.

Day 11– April 9^th 2010, Pitres to Orgiva– 20km

We had an easy day again, downhill all the way, stopping at Pampaneira for coffee. Suddenly we were in the tourist part of the Alpujarras, with bus loads of tourists, gift shops and expensive bars. We moved quickly on arriving in Orgiva.

We had been warned that Orgiva had been reasonably nice several years ago and had been a bit of a hippy haunt, but now there are a lot of alcoholics and drug users that sleep on the streets. It was not one of the nicest places.

We camped at Camping Orgiva just out of the town, a well run site with good grassy pitches and nice restaurant.

In the afternoon it was time to get a haircut by Juan Pedro who was a barber rather than a city boutique hairdresser. Karen didn’t quite get a “Sigourney Weaver”. With little communication he did a reasonable job on both of us.

Day 12– April 10^th 2010, Orgiva to Dilar– 50km

We knew that today was going to be a long day and potentially a hard ride. To start with we had a hill out of Orgiva, before descending to Lanjaron, our first coffee stop. Lanjaron was also quite touristy, but had a much nicer feel to it than Orgiva. It is a spa town and had many nice shops, bars and restaurants.

From here we had another long downhill all the way, passing over the Granada – Motril Motorway to the small village of Beznar. Then it was down to the low gears for a long slow drag back up again to cross back under the motorway at Niguelas. We were passed by a number of road cyclists who all greeted and encouraged us. One of them tapped both Karen and I on our hand as he went past, which really helped our motivation.

After a lunch near Niguelas we continued along the main road, which was quite busy and the ride was not a particularly notable one. We stopped in some random town for icecream as it was very hot.

Finally we approached the suburbs of Granada. We decided not to stay at the Supspiro de Moro camp site (by the side of the motorway!) and continued through sprawling urbanization that formed the feeder estates of Granada. We rode quickly through to the village of Dilar in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada with views of Mulhacen in the background.

We stopped at a bar at the bottom of the hill leading into the village to ask for directions to the camp site. She advised us that it was closed, but she could offer us a room for 20 euros. We jumped at the chance of a real bed.

We walked around the village in the evening and found this strange house. The garden had been decorated with white and black pebble mosaics, the most spectacular being this guitar and hat over the gate.

Day 13– April 11^th 2010, Dilar to Monarchil– 18km

We rode through the suburbs of Granada to reach our hotel in Monachil, where we had arranged to meet our friends Ann and Alan Hoggarth. Before checking in we rode into Monachil village that lies at the foot of the hill leading up to the ski resort further up the mountain. After a quick scout around and a coffee, we headed back to our accommodation. The Hotel was very nice, small, quiet and family run. The owners made us feel very welcome.

That night we went to dinner with Alan and Ann and caught up on all of the gossip from our old home village, Thornton Dale. It was lovely to see some old friends and to be able to converse in English about things we were familiar with. Alan and Ann had bought us some “treats” from the UK, namely porridge and Yorkshire Tea Bags.

Welcome to Lubrin

2010-02-15T18:30:00.001Z

If you have visited our web site recently you may have seen our new logo. Ambrit also made us some "business" cards that look really good, so we can hand them out to people that we meet along the way.

One of the key things that we have come to realise since we started our trip last year, is that as well as enjoying the journey (always our motto), a large part of what we are doing is about stringing out our meagre finances. This is to enable us to continue travelling until such time as we have had enough and decide to settle again in one place, however, whenever and wherever that may be.

Europe is an expensive area to survive on a limited budget and we have already exceeded our planned spending

In our travels we came across the opportunity to "house sit" for zero rent in exchange for looking after animals or some other such service.

We have to stay in Europe until September 2010, as we have two weddings to attend during the summer, (Steve's niece Vicky and our son Ben).

We managed to get a house sit, looking after a Cortijo in Spain.

We arrived in Lubrin On Monday 18th January at around 5-00pm.

Lubrin is one of the small and typical Spanish towns in the Sierra de Los Filabres hills, about one hour's drive from and due north of the large, Mediterranean coastal town of Almeria. Unlike the "white villages" in the western part of Andalucia the architecture incorporates many stone buildings as well as the whitewashed Moorish style buildings.

We visited Lubrin in 2003 and apart from an increased sense of affluance, it has hardly changed in that time. The town is hidden in a fold of the foothills and as the locals say, if you blink you will miss it. Perhaps that is why it still retains that old world Andalusian charm, and has managed to retain its small shops, among them two bakers, a tailor, hardware, grocery, farmacia, bank and post office.

The tracks (Ramblas) leading out of the village act as a gateway to the Filabres hills, with miles of unspoilt walking and mountain biking, winding through the valleys and climbing to peaks in excess of 1000m. Throughout this region there are many almond and olive groves in terraces up the hillsides, interspersed with Prickly Pears, Aloe Vera and other cactus types. At this time in January the almond blossom is bursting giving the trees a pinkish hue.

The area is the only officially designated desert in Europe and hence there is little rainfall. When it does rain the heavens open sometimes lasting for 24 hours or so. Previously bone dry Ramblas are briefly turned into raging torrents, which gouge out deep cuts into the track surface, making it unpassable until the "grader" comes along to restore the surface. As anyone who knows of our reputation will have deduced by now, within one week of our arrival we have experienced the worst run for some seven years, accompanied by near freezing temperatures, sleet and hail.

The patron saint of the village is San Sebastian. We had arrived in time for the annual saints day and the Fiesta del Pan or bread festival. The exact origins of the festival are shrouded in folk lore, but it is known that it incorporates elements connected to the Christian / Moorish conflicts and the times when plague spread to the area. The following excellent description is taken from "Levante Lifstyle":

"Every year on 20th January, the town is the scene of a boisterous ‘bun fight’ - the highlight of the three-day day Fiesta del Pan (Bread Fiesta). The peal of the church bells and an explosion of rockets kicks off the no holds barred event following a special midday mass.The crowd roars as the image of San Sebastián, one of the patron saints of Lubrín, emerges from the church adorned with fake bread rolls, and trailed by the town band begins a slow parade through the packed, narrow streets of the town.

Young and old “rosqueros”, sporting red bandanas and bellowing football terrace-like chants, vie to catch “roscos” - large, doughtnut shaped rolls - which “lanzadores” vigorously hurl from the windows and balconies above. The successful catchers then triumphantly thread their snatched trophies onto cords and dangle them around their necks.

Once the noisy jostling for the roscos and processions are over, and the ‘necklaces’ have been proudly displayed in the streets, the revellers come together for snacks of bits of bread, tuna, anchovies and cold meats.

In May 2003 the Junta de Andalucía recognised Lubrín’s particular version of the Bread Fiesta with a Tourism Interest classification, the event attracting 8-10,000 intrigued visitors every year. The exact origins of the fiesta in Lubrín are not known for certain, but one version of the story is that centuries ago the area was blighted by cholera, plague, starvation and other natural disasters. The people appealed to San Sebastián for protection and salvation, staging a procession in the saint’s honour through the town. The threat of disease and blight lessened, and the good folk of Lubrín took it as a clear sign that San Sebastián had answered their call for help. In thanks for the saint’s intervention, the most affluent in the town began giving food to the neediest, throwing down their charitable offerings from the upper floors of their houses to make sure they didn’t become infected with disease".

Our "job" over the next 5 months is to manage the Fuenta -Arriba Cortijo with its three letting apartments and look after two dogs and a cat.

Fuenta-Arriba is a lovely restored, rustico cortijo (farmhouse). The apartments are let out through Responsible Travel. The web site is at www.fuenta-arriba.com

So if your interested get in touch through our web site www.my-bicycling-adventure.com by submitting a contact us form.

This is Floyd ( the little fat one) and Meg (the large shaggy one).......

.......and here is Sammy (the compliant cat).

At this time of year (February) the almond B

blossom is in full bloom .............

............and the rain is turning the hills from their summer brown to luscious green.

It seems strange that we were sat outside each morning eating our breakfast in January and now here we are in the snow.

More to follow.........