April 2 – 8, 2023

April 2 (Day 12).  Tavira treated us well. After seven days of riding from Lisbon to Tavira, we biked every day and covered 250 miles. It was the height of luxury to leave the Konas in the store room for a day. But alas, all good things…right? After another  fine breakfast feast complements of the Al Muralha hotel we pointed our steeds east. Our goal –  Seville. Spain. We estimate three moderate days should get us there by Tuesday night.

Less than two hours from Tavira, we entered the impressively named town of Vila Real de Santo Antonio. Not sure what Tony did, or how he got a town named after him. I do know that Vila Real de Santo Antonio is the last town in Portugal for eastbound travelers. Across the Guadiana River, Spain awaits. A short ferry ride later, we set foot in a new country. Adeus Portugal. Bienvenidos  Espana.

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Within minutes of our arrival in Ayamonte, we were immersed in a massive Semana Santa (Holy Week) celebration. Elegantly dressed throngs turned out to watch the festivities. Looking wildly out of place in our bike kit, we joined the crowds of onlookers. It was to be an oft-repeated scene this week.

We learned very quickly, that unlike Portugal where almost everyone had a few words of English to offer, in Spain – nada. Given that my Spanish skills are on par with Peggy Hill (sorry for the obscure King of the Hill cartoon reference. Everyone who knows Peggy Hill is likely smiling or laughing right now). As far as I can tell, I haven’t made any offers to marry the farmer’s oldest daughter – yet! I can generally work out what to say, but am totally at a loss deciphering the tsunami of words that come in response. 

Most evenings we study our map apps to  chart a tentative route for the next day. For this particular day, Sharon had uncovered a gem. It was muy bien! A mile off the main road, down a beautifully maintained gravel road (closed to vehicle traffic I might add), we found ourselves a quiet stretch of beach. We camped behind the dunes, just a short stroll to a prime strip of deserted Atlantic la playa. This is the good stuff.

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April 3 (Day 13). We lost an hour coming into Spain. In practical terms, there is just the suggestion of light on the horizon at 7:20am. By 8am it is light enough to break camp and start moving. Well, we could have started at 8am…if we both hadn’t fallen back asleep until the sun had well and truly risen . We rationalized our sloth with the knowledge that night doesn’t make her entrance until after 9pm. No worries about having time to make our miles. Speaking of miles, we rolled across quite a few today. Highlights? We met Cameron from Glasgow. He’s on his first tour from Lisbon to Corfu, Greece for a wedding. (Not his apparently). Along the way he has plans to tour through Morroco and some of the Balkan countries. Way to go mate! I wouldn’t be surprised if our paths crossed again.

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Another highlight? Niebla. On the map it’s just a wee town, so no expectations other than to possible camp along a nearby river. Instead we found ancient walls surrounding much of this fortified city. First settled in the 8th century BC by Phoenicians interested in nearby silver mines, since then,  Romans, Visigoths, Moors, and various Spanish forces have all called it home. At its height, the perimeter of the wall was just under a mile around and had fifty watch towers! We felt very safe enjoying a meal at a local doner establishment before cranking out the last miles of the day.

On a different note, do you like cured ham? Please and thank you! A local supermercado had this impressive display of tasty, cured pork legs. Watching the butcher shave pieces for a customer was to see a passionate artist at work. Every slice was a masterpiece!

April 4 (Day 14). The day started well. On our way out of town, we stopped to marvel at several Semana Santa floats inside a local church.

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Unfortunately, Sharon set down her handlebar bag on a pew. Somehow, we didn’t notice until six miles down the road. Argh! Sharon dropped gear and raced back  – to find the church locked. Eventually, with the help of the policia and a finger wagging nun, all was right with the world. We reunited and made our way into Sevilla. 

We thought the Semana Santa celebration in Ayamonte was muy grande. In Sevilla, it was next level! We didn’t need to know where the parade took place. We just followed the masses of finely dressed folks. Before long, we came across this…agoraphobe’s nightmare!

April 5 (Day 15). Sevilla was as beautiful as advertised. As we often do in large cities, we took a “free” walking tour. Alejandra showed us around, providing both historical background as well as details about modern life. Alejandra’s passion for life and her city were infectious. After the tour, we just wandered, stopping along the way for tradtional cervesa y tapas. In our case beer, fried cuttlefish, and pork sirloin in whiskey sauce…mmmmm!

Sevilla was lovely. We thoroughly enjoyed exploring the winding city streets, plazas and promenades. Finally though, shoulder to shoulder, wall to wall people everywhere started to wear. We cherish our personal space. The day ended with a retreat to our apartment for a quiet dinner.

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April 6 (Day 16). This morning we opted for a lie in and decided a relaxed approach to the day was in order. We revisited a few tour stops, then made a leisurely exit from Sevilla. In keeping with our unhurried pace, we cycled a few hours, then took a break a short distance from where we hoped to spend the night. We nursed our pequeno Cruzcampos and tried an amazing tapas of shrimp and cheese rolled in a lightly fried pastry and covered in a honey sauce…oh my!  Later, a little sleuthing netted a secluded place to call home. Perfecto!

April 7 (Day 17). It is a simple life we lead! Today, and really this whole week, it was bike through long stretches of agriculture. Visit attractive towns and villages. Witness another somber Semana Santa procession – and the slightly odd party atmosphere sounding the solemnity. Find a choice spot to sleep. Eat. Drink. Rinse and repeat.

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April 8 (Day 18). Today, we set our sights on Cadiz. Turns out you almost can’t get there from here. We congratulated our cleverness in finding a ferry to take us across Cadiz Bay. This would save ten miles of biking on major highways. Yay us! Except the ferry wasn’t running. Plan B – ride major highways and cross massive bridge. Oops! Bikes are prohibo on massive bridge. Plan C – ride a few miles back to a bus stop. I asked the crowd if this bus was going to Cadiz and would they have room for our bicicletas? Given the puzzled looks, laughter and animated discussions, I’m not actually sure what I asked! When the bus arrived and the driver said “no, it was not possible,” people rallied to our aid. At the last moment, we were waved aboard the handicap entrance at the rear of the bus. Once again, the kindness of strangers (or pity on fools) saved the day.

Cadiz was worth the effort. We were rewarded with another procession, a lovely sunset, and a romantic dinner in an ancient city. We are truly blessed!

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STC!