Tag: Spain

Life Behind Bars – #7

On By KBGearDaveIn Biking Stuff, On the Road5 Comments

April 23 – 29, 2023

Sunday, April 23 (Day 33). Deep in the woods a few miles outside Covarrubias, we expected only the sounds of silence.  We were not expecting an all-night concert (literally ALL night) from the direction of town. My beloved not only slept through it all, she added her very wind instrument melodies to the music. Fortunately, we only had a short twenty-five miles to Burgos, so a lack of sleep wasn’t an issue.

In the past we’ve had massively stressful rides entering larger U.S. cities. What a delight to enter Burgos on a dedicated bike path that took us into the heart of the city.

And what a heart Burgos has. It is a modern city that seamlessly embraces its past. Modern apartments overlook charming old promenades. Winding side streets branch off  boulevards full of traffic. Modern shops exist in the shadow of an 800 year old Gothic cathedral and other historic buildings. It works. We walked to stretch our legs and get our bearings. We then took shelter from the cold wind and rain.

Monday, April 24 ( Day 34). As the city was waking, we set off  in different directions to explore. Sharon wandered neighborhoods. I ran along the Rio Arlanzon, then climbed to the Burgos castle. This medieval fortification was updated by Napolean and was the site of an important battle between his forces and England’s Wellington.

Several highlights today. Top of the list, meeting Tim and Milo, kindred spirits from South Africa and Germany. In the past five years, they’ve traveled the globe by foot and bicycle. Like other world travelers we’ve met, they have an exuberant curiosity and infectious enthusiasm. What a joy to share stories, beer, and laughter for an all too brief time.

We left to tour and marvel at the Burgos Cathedral. Soaring gothic cathedrals are designed, in part, to humble worshippers in the presence of a very large God. It is also meant to draw one’s attention heavenward. This space would certainly have done that. We listened to the audio tour describing details of its construction from the 1200’s onward. You quickly run short of superlatives. It is a visual feast. At the same time, one gets a sense that the design and construction were meant to glorify the patrons, politicians, and church leaders as much as – if not more so – than God.

Tuesday, April 25 (Day 35). One hundred years ago, folks in Santander pushed hard for a rail line from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean. The history is a little murky, but I gather that the rail line did not do all that well. It does, however, do very well as a bike route through a beautiful and varied countryside. The old Santander-Mediterraneo rail line unexpectedly gave us one of our most pleasant days of biking yet. Thirty-five downhill, wind-assisted miles to a quiet spot in the woods.

Train Station on the old rail line

Wednesday, April 26 (Day 36). Last summer we Binni in Turkey. Binni is a young German cyclist who, a year later, is still traveling the world. He recently posted a picture from his tent with the following caption, “What a gift to have a different living room view every day. What a gift to have this wonderful world as a living room!” Well said Binni! We couldn’t agree more. And as Sharon just pointed out, it is available to anyone.

Our “living room”

After breakfast in our outdoor kitchen, we packed our home and moved it another forty miles down the road, with only one small hiccup. Just before parting ways with our rail line, we had to carry our bikes and gear across an unfinished bridge. A small price to pay for such a wonderful route.

Madrid and the interior of Spain rest on a high plateau. We ended our day on the edge of that plateau where the land tumbles down to the sea. In one of our more interesting campsites, we pitched up on an abandoned stretch of highway no longer in use after a tunnel was constructed. It was made even better by a visit from Chris, our future Warmshower host in Bilbao. Turned out he was passing nearby, so he stopped to chat…and share a cold beer no less.

Thursday, April 27 (Day 37). By themselves, the numbers don’t mean much. Two thousand five hundred feet of descent and five hundred feet of climbing over twenty-five miles. I think you’ll get a better sense of our day from the following video, and a few pics. What you won’t see in the video is me grinning from ear to ear.

Aside from the fetching countryside, all day long we passed groups of cyclists making the climb up to the top of the pass. That’s a fifty mile roundtrip from Bilbao. The interesting thing was that all were men – not a single woman passed by. Almost all were our age or older. And almost all were incredibly fit. Very impressive.

Based on a suggestion from Chris, on our way into town we stopped by a polideportiva – basically a local municipal gym. To the young lady at the desk I explained that we were bicycle touring, and needed – she interrupted “a ducha?” Hmmm. How did she know I was going to say shower? Pyschic? Or was it really that obvious? She then allowed us the use of the facilities at no cost. Later we found an attractive park to relax for a bit.  As Chris said later, “So you landed on your feet in Bilbao.“

As a Warmshower host, Chris graciously offered us the use of his downtown office as our home for a few nights.  He uses what is basically a conference room to teach English as a Second Language to both kids and adults. It is the perfect location to explore Bilbao.

Our home for two nights

And explore we did. On our own we wandered along the Bilbao river that for centuries received ships from all over the known world. We strolled past the world famous Guggenheim art museum. Later with Chris we sampled the Bilbao night life, which included sampling squid in ink sauce (tasty!!) as well as a local cod dish. Good times.

Friday, April 28 (Day 38). This was one of our active “rest” days. We both logged many miles wandering the city separately. I spent a few hours in the maritime museum. The history of this city is a maritime history. It exists because its location allowed the transfer of goods between inland Spain and the world via ocean going vessels. The museum also touched on the remarkable transition from an industrial downtown to a thriving downtown filled with art and life.

A highlight of the day was meeting with one of Chris’s adult class of English learners. We shared a bit of our story and gave them an opportunity to practice their English asking questions. Thanks again Chris for the opportunities and insights into life in Spain and the Basque region.

Saturday, April 29 (Day 39). As a fan of the Tour de France dating back to the days of Greg Lemond, this was a special day for me. It would have been enough simply enjoy the spectacular and rugged Basque coastline. But this year the Tour starts in Bilbao. This gave us the unique opportunity to spend almost the entire day riding a portion of the Stage 1 route.

With 4,000 feet of climbing, rain, stops to take in all the activity and views from Bilbao to Mundaka, it was a long, grueling day – and we enjoyed every minute! I guess that kind of describes this past week, and maybe defines bike touring. So often the best bits come as the result of some hard work. Having said that, sometimes the good bits just drop into our lap. One thing is certain, none of it happens unless you’re putting yourself out there. So, kids, get out there and enjoy! Until next week…STC!

Life Behind Bars #5

On By KBGearDaveIn Biking Stuff, On the Road3 Comments

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!”

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.

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.

Whetting our whistle at the Pig and Whistle

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.

It’s Miller Time – Not!!!                     Cruzcampo Radler time

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.

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!

Life Behind Bars #4

On By KBGearDaveIn Biking Stuff, On the Road8 Comments

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

You just don’t see this every day

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.

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!

Tapas delight
A delightful home

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.

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!

STC!