April 9 – 15, 2023

April 9. Easter Sunday

The square outside the cathedral complex was being preppeding for a major event. We were intrigued, but we’d had our share of crowds, so hard pass. Instead, we sat in on a portion of a worship service in a slightly smaller, yet impossibly ornate church. The lack of any visible joy or enthusiasm from the priest was…underwhelming, and sad. After a brief stay, we let ourselves out.

For the rext of the day we touristed. We wandered the streets. We sampled empanadas. We learned history. We made our way to the beach for a bit of a sit. Families, kids, couples were all enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon. We sadly observed a number of impoverished women who apparently could only afford half a swimming suit.  Although, as Forrest Gump said, “That’s one less thing to worry about. So that’s good!”

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Cadiz is big, busy, and touristic – all  things that normally put us off. Somehow though it was different in our area’s warren of streets. Mostly residential had a few public accommodations mixed in. People were out casually visiting bars, mercados, coffee shops, playgrounds, plazas, and restaurants.  The background “noise” was laughter, talking, singing, and children playing. We found ourselves drawn to the livliness and life surrounding us. For us, Cadiz was an enjoyable experience.

April 10 (Day 20). Getting out of Cadiz was much easier than getting in. That rarest of creatures – a tailwind – pushed us south. We rode along the coast. We rode through seaside tourist towns. We rode for miles on deserted back roadds and lengthy bike paths. We rode over a large hill/small mountain. We heartily approve of the change from farmland. At day’s end we found a lovely “room” tucked in the woods, overlooking yet another beautiful Atlantic la playa. Quiet, peaceful, and free! It was a very good day.

April 11 (Day 21). Las Montanas!! At last! I’ll not deny that we enjoyed the ease of flat biking along the coast or the simple pleasures of gently rolling hills. But if I’m honest, it can be…slightly monotonous. But the mountains! Oh yes! Sure, climbing can be hard – brutal even. But the views, ahead, behind, always changing. The glory of gravity welcoming you back into her warm embrace after you crest a ridge or cross a pass is divine. Today, after a few miles along the coast, we turned away from the coast and toward the mountains. Windmills and small towns clung to hillsides and filled the valleys. When the road finally tilted – it was glorious. Tonight, a wild camp. Silent except for the day’s dying wind. An expansive view of the mountainous Parque Natural Los Alcornocales (cork oaks). Well played Spain! Well played!

April 12 (Day 22). The Rock of Gibralter! Possibly the most well-known landmark in the world. To paraphrase Ted Lasso, “You could fill two internets with what I don’t know about Gibralter.” For example, you may not know that the Rock of Gibralter, and it’s counterpart in Morocco, Jebel Musa, are known as the Pillars of Hercules. He supposedly straddled the Straits of Gibralter after he put down his foot and created the nine mile wide passage between Europe and Africa. You also may not know that Britain gained possession of this territory as a spoil of war in 1713. That was the same treaty that gave England possession of Nova Scotia, and drove out the French Acadians (Henry Wordsworth Longfellow’s Evangeline??). But I digress. I am an unapologetic history geek.  It is our plan to fix the knowledge gap few days.

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April 13 (Day 23). “My mama always said you can tell a lot about a person by their shoes, where they going, where they been.” (Forrest Gump) Today you could tell we was going walking cuz we had on our walking shoes. And we walked! We walked up and down that rock. We walked in tunnels and caves. We walked up to where we could see Africa, big as life. We walked past Barbary Macaques (monkeys) that call Gibralter home. One cheeky monkey ambushed Sharon and almost made off with Peter Rabbit, while another played with Surfie (companions sent by our grandchildren). We were stoked to explore the nooks and crannies and history of the place. We were also stoked to find an awesome doner shop to fuel our wandering. Finally, we were stoked to put up our feet at day’s end.

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April 14 (Day 24). I had to twist Sharon’s arm (really) to get her to agree to a true rest day. So far, all our “zero” days have been like yesterday – zero miles biking, but eleven miles of hiking and 2,000 vertical feet of climbing. So today – rest. That was the theory. We both went through our packs, purged and decided to send off a combined seven pounds of gear. That meant another trip into Gibralter. For Sharon, who at times has difficulty sitting still, that gave her an excuse to ride completely around the Gibralter peninsula. No thank you! I did manage to wrestle the girl into a lounge chair for at least part of the day.

April 15 (Day 25). For those accustomed to long weekends or an annual two week vacation – 90 days must seem like all the time in the world. I don’t mean to sound unappreciative, but when you are traveling this great big world by bicycle, 90 days barely scratches the surface. I mention this by way of explanation. After endlessly exploring our options, we chose to board a bus from Gibralter to Madrid. I won’t bore you with all the reasons. But, it will give us more time and flexibility down the road.

Since the bus didn’t leave until 9:30pm, we had a long lie in, and another lovely, lazy day.

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The writer Dante is famous for his fantastical descriptions of the different levels of Hell. I am convinced only a lack of imagination kept him from describing one of the worst levels of Hell as an overnight bus ride to Madrid. More details to follow next week. For now it’s Enough to say that we are thrilled to have completed the first leg of our journey. We are excited to begin a new chapter in the north. Be well and STC!