Well I'm on the ferry, and I don't think I know how I'm feeling. The only word I could honestly use is 'surreal,' but I use it too often and anyway, it doesn't really sum it up.
If this was a work of fiction, I'd be winding this story to a close with a dramatic climax of strings coming together, a few spicy morsels left till I'm all the way home just to keep you hanging on the edge of your seats as you racedown the page to find out, will i mend my ... ur... (derailleur/ brake cable/puncture) in time to get away from the (wolves/ drunk frenchman/ forest fire)? What are the frenchfolk trying to say? am i going to make the ferry? Will I be able to hold off from the (coffee/meat/trains) for long enough to keep pedalling even though I've run out of (cacao beans/ porridge/ steam)?
As thunder tears the Saint Malo sky apart and rain lashes down, I brace myself against the low, menacing theme tune and race towards my destination,even as my friends and family despair that I will never make it before winter closes its icy hold.
But this isn't fiction, and there's no way I could exhaggerate the feeling I got first catching sight of those white cliffs, gleaming in their own patch of sunlight beneath a heavy, glowering sky.
I don't think I knew I had it in me to get that warm bubbling up of pride, to be so happy about returning to the UK; these last few lonely days in France have got me counting the aspects I love about this place. My country. Hmmm.
Then, darting through Portsmouth, the drizzle tickling my face and blurring the headlights, sparkling sprawls across my vision, squinting, my cheeks squashing my eyes my grin didn't leave them enough room on my face.
I just thought I'd check, see how much the train is... I was kinda planning on hitching tomorrow, as a semi-cheating compromise, but I've got faces whirling round in my head of all the people I'm desperate to see, and for a fiver (a FIVER!) I was on the train like a flash.
Now I'm sitting here tapping my fingers jiggling my toes. Swopping from notebook to sudoku to book (I got a goodun this time, cheery :) , checking on my Graham, going to the loo and remembering I still don't need it, checking the time... again...
Should have hitched.
Apparently my apparition was seen at the Dyfi Bridge in the early hours, yesterday.
Maybe a slightly off-kilter version of me, that gave up on this whole mad thing ages ago, and flew back as soon as the festival was over and has been chilling out in Wales ever since, just slipped through the dimensional boundaries for a min and showed up where she weren't supposed to.
But that wouldn't really be Nutmeg would it.
Wednesday, 29 September 2010
Saturday, 25 September 2010
Pre-Sparrowfart on the 25th.
The past few days have gone by in a kind of blur.
Might be something to do with approaching my destination- the focus has been less on the present, the oh-so-important journey, and more on impatiently wanting to just get the there, already!
Then again, it may be something to do with the self-inflicted, self-perpetuationg solitary confinement I'm going through (sorry if I'm being melodramatic but it's 2:51 am); if I wasn't so tired from cycling all day I'd go out in the evenings.
Of course I could just take it easy- I've got all the time in the world after all, ha ha- but then I wouldn't get back so quick and that's all I want right now.
To give myself credit I have been out to a couple of bars, purely for the sake of meeting people; not knowing what to order cos I didn't really want a drink in the first place.
But they seem to be popuated by loud, closed groups of ageing americans discussing Obama's something-or-other tactics or their great neice's placement at so-and-so; or smelly french men hitting on me.
And to be honest the embarrassingly stilted conversation is more exhausting to me than the cycling.
Another reason my days seem hazy could be that 'watched pot never boils' phenomenon - now that my ferry is booked it's all I can think about and I catch myself checking the calendar on my phone a few times each day, thinking- "What, it's still today?"
This slowing of time has sent me into a rare and ironic insomnia- thanks a bunch, Universe. That really helps.
It could even be the gripping yet horribly depressing book I've got myself hooked on (another one! Every book I've touched the past ... however long, has been absolutely horrific!) I've read half this evening already.
To be honest though, it's probably cos I got myself a book of sudoku, and since then my dreams of fluoro vests, bungees and roundabouts have been overtaken by floating grids and numbers.
Not joking. This is my life now.
As I was reading afore-mentioned book (it's called 'Leaving the World' by the way- and whilst it's not quite as devastatingly horrible and disturbing as We Need To Talk About Kevin, it won't exactly make you smile either.) this evening, I was startled by a loud knocking, not on the door but on the caravan window by my bed, over the sound of rain drumming on the roof.
It was after 11 and I was confused and sleepy, but got up and opened the door to a French man trying to say something.
We quickly established I couldn't speak French and nor could he speak English, Portuguese or Spanish. (Thinking about it I should have checked Welsh.) That was about as far as the conversation progressed, though, for the next 10 minutes, while he carried on trying and trying to tell me something, or ask me for something, or something...
But the whiff of alcohol on his breath transcended the language barrier and I would have turned him away by now if it hadnt been pissing down- I wasn't sure if he was having camping+rain troubles.
I got him a lighter- no.
Bottle opener? No... but nearly...
Pen and paper. Can you draw it?
He threw up his hands in exasperation and left.
I zipped back up the awning and crawled back into bed.
Knocknocknock.
Chrissake!
He had a bottle of champagne.
"Do you want to drink this with me?
I nearly laughed in his face, in fact I might have, but I couldn't explain that the very fact that it had taken a good quarter hour to convey the universally simple message of 'want a drink?' wasn't a very good sign that conversation was going to flow particularly easily.
"Good night."
To give myself credit I have been out to a couple of bars, purely for the sake of meeting people; not knowing what to order cos I didn't really want a drink in the first place.
But they seem to be popuated by loud, closed groups of ageing americans discussing Obama's something-or-other tactics or their great neice's placement at so-and-so; or smelly french men hitting on me.
And to be honest the embarrassingly stilted conversation is more exhausting to me than the cycling.
Another reason my days seem hazy could be that 'watched pot never boils' phenomenon - now that my ferry is booked it's all I can think about and I catch myself checking the calendar on my phone a few times each day, thinking- "What, it's still today?"
This slowing of time has sent me into a rare and ironic insomnia- thanks a bunch, Universe. That really helps.
It could even be the gripping yet horribly depressing book I've got myself hooked on (another one! Every book I've touched the past ... however long, has been absolutely horrific!) I've read half this evening already.
To be honest though, it's probably cos I got myself a book of sudoku, and since then my dreams of fluoro vests, bungees and roundabouts have been overtaken by floating grids and numbers.
Not joking. This is my life now.
As I was reading afore-mentioned book (it's called 'Leaving the World' by the way- and whilst it's not quite as devastatingly horrible and disturbing as We Need To Talk About Kevin, it won't exactly make you smile either.) this evening, I was startled by a loud knocking, not on the door but on the caravan window by my bed, over the sound of rain drumming on the roof.
It was after 11 and I was confused and sleepy, but got up and opened the door to a French man trying to say something.
We quickly established I couldn't speak French and nor could he speak English, Portuguese or Spanish. (Thinking about it I should have checked Welsh.) That was about as far as the conversation progressed, though, for the next 10 minutes, while he carried on trying and trying to tell me something, or ask me for something, or something...
But the whiff of alcohol on his breath transcended the language barrier and I would have turned him away by now if it hadnt been pissing down- I wasn't sure if he was having camping+rain troubles.
I got him a lighter- no.
Bottle opener? No... but nearly...
Pen and paper. Can you draw it?
He threw up his hands in exasperation and left.
I zipped back up the awning and crawled back into bed.
Knocknocknock.
Chrissake!
He had a bottle of champagne.
"Do you want to drink this with me?
I nearly laughed in his face, in fact I might have, but I couldn't explain that the very fact that it had taken a good quarter hour to convey the universally simple message of 'want a drink?' wasn't a very good sign that conversation was going to flow particularly easily.
"Good night."
Tuesday, 21 September 2010
21st.
Well I'm back on the road, after a most welcome break, and suddenly the end of my journey seems amazingly near.
I left Montalivet a couple of days ago feeling relaxed, well rested, well fed, scrubbed and frankly, spoilt. The joy of mattress and pillows still hadn't faded after several nights, and with the nights getting colder (frost on the ground!) I decided to leave the bulk of my sleeping gear there, and try and find hostels and mobile homes from now on.
A bit of a gamble, but there's not even that many nights for it to go wrong now!
Last night I was in Brigueil la Chantre, enjoying Maarit, Charles and Bella's generous hospitality in the chateau that they have been renovating for the past 5 years, and have only just moved into!
It's absolutely stunning, really tastefully done and with plenty of little quirks like the old built-in bread oven like the one at the farm, old stone sinks and of course a turret with winding staircase, though it's only populated by owls at the moment... and all overlooking a lethargic river winding through oak hazel and alder woods.
It made me want to be a child again, and spend days playing hide-and-seek in the house and grounds with Bella the dog.
But time moves on and Graham Blue was getting itchy wheels, so now I'm in Chatellerault, where I've rented a caravan for the night (for just 4euros!). It couldn't be called scenic, or luxurious, or even particularly homely; and when the train screams past every 27 minutes it's so close the vibrations shake the mattress springs that are digging into my ribs... but like I said I've been spoiled.
I'm on my way home.
I left Montalivet a couple of days ago feeling relaxed, well rested, well fed, scrubbed and frankly, spoilt. The joy of mattress and pillows still hadn't faded after several nights, and with the nights getting colder (frost on the ground!) I decided to leave the bulk of my sleeping gear there, and try and find hostels and mobile homes from now on.
A bit of a gamble, but there's not even that many nights for it to go wrong now!
Last night I was in Brigueil la Chantre, enjoying Maarit, Charles and Bella's generous hospitality in the chateau that they have been renovating for the past 5 years, and have only just moved into!
It's absolutely stunning, really tastefully done and with plenty of little quirks like the old built-in bread oven like the one at the farm, old stone sinks and of course a turret with winding staircase, though it's only populated by owls at the moment... and all overlooking a lethargic river winding through oak hazel and alder woods.
It made me want to be a child again, and spend days playing hide-and-seek in the house and grounds with Bella the dog.
But time moves on and Graham Blue was getting itchy wheels, so now I'm in Chatellerault, where I've rented a caravan for the night (for just 4euros!). It couldn't be called scenic, or luxurious, or even particularly homely; and when the train screams past every 27 minutes it's so close the vibrations shake the mattress springs that are digging into my ribs... but like I said I've been spoiled.
I'm on my way home.
Thursday, 16 September 2010
15th or 16th.
I'm having a holiday.
I have arrived at my good friends Bob and Liz's caravan near Montalivet and am going to rest here for a few days.
Getting here was fun, when I realised how close I was I made a push for it, did nearly a hundred k but my body's feeling broken and as I was getting close I had an overwhelming desire to hitch.
OK I know I'm on my own somewhere I can't speak the language, and more to the point, I've got a bike, and I know it's cheating, etc, etc, but I hadn't seen a corner or a hill up or down for days.
The wind was hard against me and each time a lorry went past I felt like a council flat getting a coating of grittle-splatter (is that what it's called?)
In the end, the last straw was a fairly scqry experience that left me a bit shaky like near misses sometimes do.
Condensing from the distant wafts of mirage somewhere miles down the ruler-straight road came hurtling a big timber lorry. The stupid speeds I'm used to. What I wasn't anticipating was the force of the air not only making me grip the handlebars rigidly to save getting sucked under, but sinultaneously whipping one of the planks of messily stacked plywood clean off the bqck of the lorry, to come spinning, flashing as it caught the sun, in cliche'd slow-motion right over my side of the road and into the verge just meters ahead of me- narrowly missing the car in front which screeched and swerved, as did I.
The lorry rumbled on, oblivious or feigning oblivion (I'm not sure I've used oblivion in the right context there, but only a couple of you are English teachers so I'm sure the rest of you can forgive me. I remembered a capital E on english that time...)
Anyway. I stopped in the next layby for a breather, but the next lorry that came flying by literally knocked Mr. Graham Blue out of my grasp, bruising my shin and twisting my already sore wrist on his way down. We're both fine, but I hardly had to think about it- my thumb was out and that inane, harmless, helpless, non-psycho-as-possible smile was on my face like settling down into a favourite armchair.
I tried to remember not to talk to myself or Graham; whom I realize may not be recognized by the average passer-by as the intelligent being he is; and got back into my favourite game of inventing hearty excuses for why each person who so blatantly could help me out in their big pickup trucks or trailers; didn't.
A van approached with 2 hippies in, I could tell from a distance it was hopeful and I had to catch myself- "This is the one, Graham, it's an LDV!" before they got close enough to see my lips moving.
I was quite suprised when they drove straight past, without even an explanatory hand-gesture, but kept trying- inventing a wife in labour or something similarly urgent for them.
I set myself a 15 minute time limit, and only about 7 had passed when the 2 in the LDV came back, apologizing and explaining that they'd been arguing about whether I'd be too scared to get in with them or not. Ha!
Hugo and Baltazar turned out to be utterly lovely, reminding me all over why I love hitching so much. (Their english was amazing, local advice and good conversation are both things I'm always in need of!) And Hugo's house, where they were on their way to for lunch, was right at the start of the cycle-path to my destination- much further than I'd ever hoped or expected to get to.
The journey saved me about 20-30km of straight line, and gained me 2 friends and a bunch of fresh tomatoes, garlic and apples organically grown by Hugo.
Now though, I'm taking a break for a few days. I've spread out all my stuff- I can wash them and actually let them dry before I put them back on!!
I'm sleeping in a proper bed, cooking proper food, having a hot shower whenever I like and resting my body for a few days.
I'll get back online when I'm back on the road, otherwise I'll start to sound like a post-card X
I have arrived at my good friends Bob and Liz's caravan near Montalivet and am going to rest here for a few days.
Getting here was fun, when I realised how close I was I made a push for it, did nearly a hundred k but my body's feeling broken and as I was getting close I had an overwhelming desire to hitch.
OK I know I'm on my own somewhere I can't speak the language, and more to the point, I've got a bike, and I know it's cheating, etc, etc, but I hadn't seen a corner or a hill up or down for days.
The wind was hard against me and each time a lorry went past I felt like a council flat getting a coating of grittle-splatter (is that what it's called?)
In the end, the last straw was a fairly scqry experience that left me a bit shaky like near misses sometimes do.
Condensing from the distant wafts of mirage somewhere miles down the ruler-straight road came hurtling a big timber lorry. The stupid speeds I'm used to. What I wasn't anticipating was the force of the air not only making me grip the handlebars rigidly to save getting sucked under, but sinultaneously whipping one of the planks of messily stacked plywood clean off the bqck of the lorry, to come spinning, flashing as it caught the sun, in cliche'd slow-motion right over my side of the road and into the verge just meters ahead of me- narrowly missing the car in front which screeched and swerved, as did I.
The lorry rumbled on, oblivious or feigning oblivion (I'm not sure I've used oblivion in the right context there, but only a couple of you are English teachers so I'm sure the rest of you can forgive me. I remembered a capital E on english that time...)
Anyway. I stopped in the next layby for a breather, but the next lorry that came flying by literally knocked Mr. Graham Blue out of my grasp, bruising my shin and twisting my already sore wrist on his way down. We're both fine, but I hardly had to think about it- my thumb was out and that inane, harmless, helpless, non-psycho-as-possible smile was on my face like settling down into a favourite armchair.
I tried to remember not to talk to myself or Graham; whom I realize may not be recognized by the average passer-by as the intelligent being he is; and got back into my favourite game of inventing hearty excuses for why each person who so blatantly could help me out in their big pickup trucks or trailers; didn't.
A van approached with 2 hippies in, I could tell from a distance it was hopeful and I had to catch myself- "This is the one, Graham, it's an LDV!" before they got close enough to see my lips moving.
I was quite suprised when they drove straight past, without even an explanatory hand-gesture, but kept trying- inventing a wife in labour or something similarly urgent for them.
I set myself a 15 minute time limit, and only about 7 had passed when the 2 in the LDV came back, apologizing and explaining that they'd been arguing about whether I'd be too scared to get in with them or not. Ha!
Hugo and Baltazar turned out to be utterly lovely, reminding me all over why I love hitching so much. (Their english was amazing, local advice and good conversation are both things I'm always in need of!) And Hugo's house, where they were on their way to for lunch, was right at the start of the cycle-path to my destination- much further than I'd ever hoped or expected to get to.
The journey saved me about 20-30km of straight line, and gained me 2 friends and a bunch of fresh tomatoes, garlic and apples organically grown by Hugo.
Now though, I'm taking a break for a few days. I've spread out all my stuff- I can wash them and actually let them dry before I put them back on!!
I'm sleeping in a proper bed, cooking proper food, having a hot shower whenever I like and resting my body for a few days.
I'll get back online when I'm back on the road, otherwise I'll start to sound like a post-card X
Tuesday, 14 September 2010
14th, 110km.
I'm really happy to be travelling up this bit of coast. Not only is it semi-familiar, from family holidays round here when I was younger, but the cycle path is in the shade of the trees and I can see the faces of the traffic- a small detail which impoves your quality of life significantly when your main source of interaction all day is negotiating traffic.
I feel like I've been travelling alone for an age, though ti's only been a week!
Last night I celebrated with some Belgian surfers, a lovely bunch who gave me beer and crisps but didn't want any of my chocolate and had never heard of psy-trance. They were horrified by the very concept of my sleeping out in the open, "Won't you get arrested for sleeping rough?!"
Got woken up this morning to the peaceful sound of the beach-cleaning tractor, and by the time I left the beach at 8 I counted more than 40 surfers just in the little bit of sea in front of where I slept.
They were very funny, I don't see the appeal AT ALL- they do their stretches in about a qurarter of the time it takes me to do mine, and then they leg it down to the water and straight in as though they'll chicken out if they don't do it quickly.
Then, they just get knocked over time and time again into the waves.
Woo!
The roads were kind today, but the wind was not, so I clocked up 110 and now am in Parentes-en-Bom, on the shore of a lake (Yay! I do so very much like lakes) which swallowed up the sun as I ate my dinner, and is singing me a soft lullaby now. I've got a wooden jetty to sleep on, very excited!
At one point today, I passed a bus shelter with a poster that jumped out at me. It was a face constructed from multicoloured psychedelic swirls, with glowing eyes and a geometric mandala shining from its 3'd eye, with some kind of cosmic background. My psytrance detectors pricked up and I swerved round in the road, excited that there might be a party. Disappointed I found it was just advertizing hilight tribe's new album. Ach well.
Thank you all for your concern and advice with the brake cable, everyone; the lovely helpful man in Gama cycles in Vitoria assured me it was fine and gave me a spare (it's basically snapping off where it attaches to the frame; I wasn't sure if thqt meant it wouldn't have enough grip and might slip through... apparently not :) )
I feel like I've been travelling alone for an age, though ti's only been a week!
Last night I celebrated with some Belgian surfers, a lovely bunch who gave me beer and crisps but didn't want any of my chocolate and had never heard of psy-trance. They were horrified by the very concept of my sleeping out in the open, "Won't you get arrested for sleeping rough?!"
Got woken up this morning to the peaceful sound of the beach-cleaning tractor, and by the time I left the beach at 8 I counted more than 40 surfers just in the little bit of sea in front of where I slept.
They were very funny, I don't see the appeal AT ALL- they do their stretches in about a qurarter of the time it takes me to do mine, and then they leg it down to the water and straight in as though they'll chicken out if they don't do it quickly.
Then, they just get knocked over time and time again into the waves.
Woo!
The roads were kind today, but the wind was not, so I clocked up 110 and now am in Parentes-en-Bom, on the shore of a lake (Yay! I do so very much like lakes) which swallowed up the sun as I ate my dinner, and is singing me a soft lullaby now. I've got a wooden jetty to sleep on, very excited!
At one point today, I passed a bus shelter with a poster that jumped out at me. It was a face constructed from multicoloured psychedelic swirls, with glowing eyes and a geometric mandala shining from its 3'd eye, with some kind of cosmic background. My psytrance detectors pricked up and I swerved round in the road, excited that there might be a party. Disappointed I found it was just advertizing hilight tribe's new album. Ach well.
Thank you all for your concern and advice with the brake cable, everyone; the lovely helpful man in Gama cycles in Vitoria assured me it was fine and gave me a spare (it's basically snapping off where it attaches to the frame; I wasn't sure if thqt meant it wouldn't have enough grip and might slip through... apparently not :) )
Monday, 13 September 2010
13?
I never liked the idea of palm reading, it seems too fixed, if you like, unchangeable.
But hands can say a lot about someone- the flat pad on a writers thumb, the unwashable dirt ingrained in a gardeners fingerprints. The delicate soft translucency of an office worker, the strong, developed thumbs of an obsessive computer gamer, the chewed nails of... someone who bites their nails :) the dry, chapped skin of a cleaner. I've got a few extra callouses on this trip, quite exciting really!
I just visited a chocolate museum. I went past it once, turned back after an agonizing hesitation, had another at the door, decided to continue on my journey and not waste my money.
Went about half a km down the road, did a U-ey and came back. It was worth it- a bag of dark chocolate buttons upon entry from a man with chocolate-coloured eyes. A film about the processes involved in making different types of chocolate; a bit like all the best bits from Chocolat, all melted together... It didn't even matter that I didn't understand a word, I just sat there, drooling.
Some incredibly bizarre-looking contraptions for the grinding of cacao powder, the seperation of cocoa butter, the moulding of eqster eggs, the coating of truffles in cacao... I think I'd better stop now.
The cycling is good in France, as there's usually a cycle path. When there's not, the drivers seem to be split bipolarly- half want to chat out the windows, half swerve at you and screech and flail out the window to try (and succeed) to scare the buggery out of you when you're hurtling down a hill. How considerate.
I found a nice spot by the sea just after the sun had disappeared, but it was still spilling its promise for tomorrow out across the sky.
Got into college, by the way :)
But hands can say a lot about someone- the flat pad on a writers thumb, the unwashable dirt ingrained in a gardeners fingerprints. The delicate soft translucency of an office worker, the strong, developed thumbs of an obsessive computer gamer, the chewed nails of... someone who bites their nails :) the dry, chapped skin of a cleaner. I've got a few extra callouses on this trip, quite exciting really!
I just visited a chocolate museum. I went past it once, turned back after an agonizing hesitation, had another at the door, decided to continue on my journey and not waste my money.
Went about half a km down the road, did a U-ey and came back. It was worth it- a bag of dark chocolate buttons upon entry from a man with chocolate-coloured eyes. A film about the processes involved in making different types of chocolate; a bit like all the best bits from Chocolat, all melted together... It didn't even matter that I didn't understand a word, I just sat there, drooling.
Some incredibly bizarre-looking contraptions for the grinding of cacao powder, the seperation of cocoa butter, the moulding of eqster eggs, the coating of truffles in cacao... I think I'd better stop now.
The cycling is good in France, as there's usually a cycle path. When there's not, the drivers seem to be split bipolarly- half want to chat out the windows, half swerve at you and screech and flail out the window to try (and succeed) to scare the buggery out of you when you're hurtling down a hill. How considerate.
I found a nice spot by the sea just after the sun had disappeared, but it was still spilling its promise for tomorrow out across the sky.
Got into college, by the way :)
Sunday, 12 September 2010
12 Sept, evening. St Jean de Lux. 125km.
Well goodness me, what a day. It's lucky I had those 2 coffees or I would never have made it up the hill that I tackled right after my last update, on my way out of Dona. Even picturing Macsen or vqrious loved ones wouldn't have been enough, my legs needed some reliably artificial chemical messages.
But I did it, and the next one, and with some heartstopping descents of gloriously dangerous bends and squiggles, made my way to San Sebastian for lunch- a full 86km from breakfast.
I told myself I' btake a gentle afternoon, never mind if I got to France or not, but the universe said no qnd now with acheing... hands, of all things, I retire in Ciboure in a kind of bunkhouse (it's still raining).
Mind if I have a little whinge? Just to clarify, I'm really happy, pleased with myself for working so hard today, my furthest I think and mountainous too; but my god do my hands hurt! The pads in my gloves have squashed into hard little rolls, worse than no gloves at all. The whole of my palms feel bruised, my fingers, wrists and elbows ache so badly and as simple a movement as opening my water bottle or even letting go of the hanlebars sends agonizing shooting pains all the way from my fingertips to my elbow, not unlike touching an electric fence.
To add insult to... whatever it is, I can't find my arnica, which cost enough. Hmph.
Apart from that, though, I'm good :)
(Tomorrow I have a telephone interview for the massage course! I'm more excited than nervous, though I haven't really planned. Perhaps I'll try and dredge up some energy to do that now. Wish me luck...)
x
But I did it, and the next one, and with some heartstopping descents of gloriously dangerous bends and squiggles, made my way to San Sebastian for lunch- a full 86km from breakfast.
I told myself I' btake a gentle afternoon, never mind if I got to France or not, but the universe said no qnd now with acheing... hands, of all things, I retire in Ciboure in a kind of bunkhouse (it's still raining).
Mind if I have a little whinge? Just to clarify, I'm really happy, pleased with myself for working so hard today, my furthest I think and mountainous too; but my god do my hands hurt! The pads in my gloves have squashed into hard little rolls, worse than no gloves at all. The whole of my palms feel bruised, my fingers, wrists and elbows ache so badly and as simple a movement as opening my water bottle or even letting go of the hanlebars sends agonizing shooting pains all the way from my fingertips to my elbow, not unlike touching an electric fence.
To add insult to... whatever it is, I can't find my arnica, which cost enough. Hmph.
Apart from that, though, I'm good :)
(Tomorrow I have a telephone interview for the massage course! I'm more excited than nervous, though I haven't really planned. Perhaps I'll try and dredge up some energy to do that now. Wish me luck...)
x
12
The sun set last night (in Mondragon) in a clear, open sky. But this morning I was woken early bby rain falling softly on my face. I packed sharpish, guzzled my gruel, and got going by 8. This beautiful place is like Wales in more ways than one.
I chose the fairly big road to the coqst, because it appeared to follow the river Dona (which I'm following downstream since yesterdays mountains, rather than going against. It's very smelly though.)
Turns out the road actually scrambles up and down the mountrainside above the river, but I've had a nice morning anyway- feeling right at home in the drizzly mountains.
The cyclists are so unfriendly here!
The most interaction I've had is a 'look' in reply to my enthusiastic greeting, that seems to say, 'can't you see I'm serious?'
At one point I was overtaken by a French tag-team of -, in matching red and black lycra on their skinny bikes.
I tucked into their slipstream for a while, chuckling to myself and feeling like a carthorse at a dressage show.
They didn't notice me there for ages, and when they did I threw them such a massive grin from inside my huge raincoat they had to laugh at me.
At one point along the river there was an unmovong shoal of quite big fish - mullet maybe?... about &( minutes long, rammed in bank to bank, just sitting still facing upstream. Then a mixed flock of black swans, herons, black and white storks and cormorants. It made the smell worth it.
Gradually I reached dry roads and patchy sunshine, pulled down my hood and smelt a fresh, salty smell. Aberdyfi syndrome! The mountains parted either side of me like the curtains of some massive, fantastical theatre show, and there was the sea.
So I've stopped to celebrate by breaking both my coffee and my sugar fast, before pressing on with the next 50km to San Sebastian (or Donostia depending what language you want to use...) It seems my target of reaching France today may have been a little ambitious, but might be possible- I'll see what the road's like.
And tomorrow's as good as today anyway :) X
I chose the fairly big road to the coqst, because it appeared to follow the river Dona (which I'm following downstream since yesterdays mountains, rather than going against. It's very smelly though.)
Turns out the road actually scrambles up and down the mountrainside above the river, but I've had a nice morning anyway- feeling right at home in the drizzly mountains.
The cyclists are so unfriendly here!
The most interaction I've had is a 'look' in reply to my enthusiastic greeting, that seems to say, 'can't you see I'm serious?'
At one point I was overtaken by a French tag-team of -, in matching red and black lycra on their skinny bikes.
I tucked into their slipstream for a while, chuckling to myself and feeling like a carthorse at a dressage show.
They didn't notice me there for ages, and when they did I threw them such a massive grin from inside my huge raincoat they had to laugh at me.
At one point along the river there was an unmovong shoal of quite big fish - mullet maybe?... about &( minutes long, rammed in bank to bank, just sitting still facing upstream. Then a mixed flock of black swans, herons, black and white storks and cormorants. It made the smell worth it.
Gradually I reached dry roads and patchy sunshine, pulled down my hood and smelt a fresh, salty smell. Aberdyfi syndrome! The mountains parted either side of me like the curtains of some massive, fantastical theatre show, and there was the sea.
So I've stopped to celebrate by breaking both my coffee and my sugar fast, before pressing on with the next 50km to San Sebastian (or Donostia depending what language you want to use...) It seems my target of reaching France today may have been a little ambitious, but might be possible- I'll see what the road's like.
And tomorrow's as good as today anyway :) X
Saturday, 11 September 2010
11 evening. Today I cried for the beauty of the mountains.
I was whooping with pleasure and tearful most of the way down the glorious descent I just experienced.
I'n sure physics has gone wrong (or amazingly beautifully right) I'm sure I can't have done enough work to deserve this much easy flying round slidey corners with breathtaking views.
It just went on and on, half an hour it must have been, more; timeless.
More fantastic than any dream I've dreamt.
One of my favourite things about today was passing on winding narrow roads through mossy oak woodlands, dotted with rowan and wild rose, with a bed of bracken and brambles. Bit like Wales. Bit hotter.
I can't decide whether to sleep where I am, in a park in Mondragon(!) or carry on- it's still sunny and I'm not completely broken yet, but I want to sleep off the ground cos I got a bit dewy the last coule of nights and it's not very nice waking up wet. Takes longer to get going in the morning, too, when everything's soggy.
I'n sure physics has gone wrong (or amazingly beautifully right) I'm sure I can't have done enough work to deserve this much easy flying round slidey corners with breathtaking views.
It just went on and on, half an hour it must have been, more; timeless.
More fantastic than any dream I've dreamt.
One of my favourite things about today was passing on winding narrow roads through mossy oak woodlands, dotted with rowan and wild rose, with a bed of bracken and brambles. Bit like Wales. Bit hotter.
I can't decide whether to sleep where I am, in a park in Mondragon(!) or carry on- it's still sunny and I'm not completely broken yet, but I want to sleep off the ground cos I got a bit dewy the last coule of nights and it's not very nice waking up wet. Takes longer to get going in the morning, too, when everything's soggy.
Friday, 10 September 2010
10 Sept
I turn off the road into a village, never sure if it'll be delapidated, crumbling and abandoned, or a truckers stop, a bustling market town. I might get pointed at and my photo taken, asked a hundred incomprihendible questions. There may be a water fountain, there may not. There may be a beauiful looking one with crystal clear water pouring forth, which I will be warned not to drink from.
There might even be disney-style music loudspeakered crackly from the windows of the church.
Cubo de Bureba turns out to be a nice one, a bit quiet but there's music coming from somewheere. A sycamore-lined square with benches and a fountain.
Not sure how today's going to pan out (not that I ever am...). I'm sticking to a bigger road which is a bit horrible, but one of ,y gear cable's neqrly snapped and I want to be able to hitch to the city if it goes before I get there. Slightly annoying as I was hoping to avoid the cities for the next couple of days. They eat half a day each, at least. 10th, evening. My speedo stopped working for q while today, I don't know how long but I still clocked up 81km.
I found the mountains that have been looming up on me for the last couple of days; they haven't been too bad though I'm at the foot of a wall of them, looking quite intimidating for tomorrow morning.
The stern, determined wind was my mountain today, changing down a gear and pedalling hard even on the downhills.
Got to keep going though, I need to get back and see some familiar faces!
Miranda didn't satisfy my bike repair needs, but hopefully my Graham will hold out over the bank of mountains to Vitoria, which looks quite big and surely must have a bike shop.
While I'm there I might also get myself a smaller front gear to make the hills a bit easier; at the moment even my granny gear takes quite a push.
There might even be disney-style music loudspeakered crackly from the windows of the church.
Cubo de Bureba turns out to be a nice one, a bit quiet but there's music coming from somewheere. A sycamore-lined square with benches and a fountain.
Not sure how today's going to pan out (not that I ever am...). I'm sticking to a bigger road which is a bit horrible, but one of ,y gear cable's neqrly snapped and I want to be able to hitch to the city if it goes before I get there. Slightly annoying as I was hoping to avoid the cities for the next couple of days. They eat half a day each, at least. 10th, evening. My speedo stopped working for q while today, I don't know how long but I still clocked up 81km.
I found the mountains that have been looming up on me for the last couple of days; they haven't been too bad though I'm at the foot of a wall of them, looking quite intimidating for tomorrow morning.
The stern, determined wind was my mountain today, changing down a gear and pedalling hard even on the downhills.
Got to keep going though, I need to get back and see some familiar faces!
Miranda didn't satisfy my bike repair needs, but hopefully my Graham will hold out over the bank of mountains to Vitoria, which looks quite big and surely must have a bike shop.
While I'm there I might also get myself a smaller front gear to make the hills a bit easier; at the moment even my granny gear takes quite a push.
Thursday, 9 September 2010
09 Sept
I didn't go far today (ok I just checked my speedo it was 55km,) but still I'm not very far out the other side of Burgos.
That's ok though, I've had a great day;
When I packed up and left this morning, I realised I was just off the Camino de Santiago, so knowing it led to Burgos I got on it. Bloody path goes all over the place though, no signposts and everyone I asked told me something different. My mistake was taking everyone's word- but why would they lie, and they blatantly must have known- they'd either just come from there or were on their way ther, and... anyway.
It was just on the outskirts that I made the best decision I made all day, and asked one more person the way to the centre- because this person was Maria- the best guide in Burgos, by all accounts, and some kind of angel too.
"Follow me, I'll take you."
I was intending on finding out a little about the Camino, maybe a map, but instead stumbled upon a lady who seemed to have devoted her life to telling people about it, helping people along it, and generally being an utter star.
Everyone she saw with a rucksack or a stick, she'd shout them down and check that all was dandy, advise them on where to go next; not satified until 100% confident that she'd helped them at least as much as they could have hoped for from anyone.
She gave me a tour of the University, (where she did her degree- on the Camino...) the building used to be the biggest hospital on the Camino, caring for and feeding the pilgrims. The whole thing was tastefully restored in the '90's and became the uni.
We went into one of the classrooms with whoops, screeches and laughter spilling out, and surreally there was a boy doing press-ups on the (absent) teacher's desk, everyone was soaking each other with massive water-pistols, and covering each others faces in thick black paint.
Is this what I'm missing by not going to uni?
I don't think i hid my suprise very well as I was promtly soaked. Closest I've come to a shower in days.
We explored every single crook and nanny until I'd been told everything about the place, felt silly in my cycling shorts, big mucky tent of a tshirt and visor, and really needed a wee.
The city itself is gorgeous, really green and cycle-path-y, with a beautiful cathedral. Every road seems to have a wide boulevard for walkers and cyclists running parallel, with a solid ceiling of sycamore branches. Easy to navigate, too, as long as you don't try and follow the Camino.
That's ok though, I've had a great day;
When I packed up and left this morning, I realised I was just off the Camino de Santiago, so knowing it led to Burgos I got on it. Bloody path goes all over the place though, no signposts and everyone I asked told me something different. My mistake was taking everyone's word- but why would they lie, and they blatantly must have known- they'd either just come from there or were on their way ther, and... anyway.
It was just on the outskirts that I made the best decision I made all day, and asked one more person the way to the centre- because this person was Maria- the best guide in Burgos, by all accounts, and some kind of angel too.
"Follow me, I'll take you."
I was intending on finding out a little about the Camino, maybe a map, but instead stumbled upon a lady who seemed to have devoted her life to telling people about it, helping people along it, and generally being an utter star.
Everyone she saw with a rucksack or a stick, she'd shout them down and check that all was dandy, advise them on where to go next; not satified until 100% confident that she'd helped them at least as much as they could have hoped for from anyone.
She gave me a tour of the University, (where she did her degree- on the Camino...) the building used to be the biggest hospital on the Camino, caring for and feeding the pilgrims. The whole thing was tastefully restored in the '90's and became the uni.
We went into one of the classrooms with whoops, screeches and laughter spilling out, and surreally there was a boy doing press-ups on the (absent) teacher's desk, everyone was soaking each other with massive water-pistols, and covering each others faces in thick black paint.
Is this what I'm missing by not going to uni?
I don't think i hid my suprise very well as I was promtly soaked. Closest I've come to a shower in days.
We explored every single crook and nanny until I'd been told everything about the place, felt silly in my cycling shorts, big mucky tent of a tshirt and visor, and really needed a wee.
The city itself is gorgeous, really green and cycle-path-y, with a beautiful cathedral. Every road seems to have a wide boulevard for walkers and cyclists running parallel, with a solid ceiling of sycamore branches. Easy to navigate, too, as long as you don't try and follow the Camino.
Wednesday, 8 September 2010
Millipede migration and wind farm forests - 08 Sept, 90km
Today started out flat, and got gradually hillier. Now, not far outside Burgos, the landscape´s gently rolling hills. It´s quite nice to have some variation, though I bitterly observed that whatever hills there are, my road seemed to go over them - as the motorway cruised along on a level I puffed and panted up above it and flew beneath it, cursing the traffic.
It´s been a while since I spoke English.
Portugal was nice, people more or less understood me - I didn´t appreciate it then though, as I had Hannah and Nick to yammer to. Now they´re gone and I´m in Spain, the most intimate conversation I´ve had has been ´where´s the water fountain´or ´Wales. no not England, Wales. Yeah, you probably don´t know it..´
Which is probably why, among the mirages flooding the road ahead I´ve been seeing phantom cyclists- legging it to catch up as they disappear.
The number of real cyclists I´ve bee seeing is going up, though, as I´m pretty much on the Camino de Santiago- the pilgrims route that runs from Santiago de Compostella to... well everywhere as far as I can tell. I´m going to have to find out more about it as according to my housemate Suzanne you can get hostels for 2-3 euro a night, and that´s worth it to stay dry!
The cyclists I´ve seen all seem to take themselves very seriously, in their universal skintight fluoro uniform with the impermeable glasses, heads down, only about half replied to my enthusiastic Hola!´s.
But anyway, I´m happy. My chest is better enough for me to sing again, though not belt it ut like before. It´ll come.
The sun´s out and as it goes down I´m sheltering in a poplar wood, by the Urbel river. The nearby motorway sounds like an ocean if I fuzz my ears, a trick a good friend taught me.
It´s been a while since I spoke English.
Portugal was nice, people more or less understood me - I didn´t appreciate it then though, as I had Hannah and Nick to yammer to. Now they´re gone and I´m in Spain, the most intimate conversation I´ve had has been ´where´s the water fountain´or ´Wales. no not England, Wales. Yeah, you probably don´t know it..´
Which is probably why, among the mirages flooding the road ahead I´ve been seeing phantom cyclists- legging it to catch up as they disappear.
The number of real cyclists I´ve bee seeing is going up, though, as I´m pretty much on the Camino de Santiago- the pilgrims route that runs from Santiago de Compostella to... well everywhere as far as I can tell. I´m going to have to find out more about it as according to my housemate Suzanne you can get hostels for 2-3 euro a night, and that´s worth it to stay dry!
The cyclists I´ve seen all seem to take themselves very seriously, in their universal skintight fluoro uniform with the impermeable glasses, heads down, only about half replied to my enthusiastic Hola!´s.
But anyway, I´m happy. My chest is better enough for me to sing again, though not belt it ut like before. It´ll come.
The sun´s out and as it goes down I´m sheltering in a poplar wood, by the Urbel river. The nearby motorway sounds like an ocean if I fuzz my ears, a trick a good friend taught me.
Tuesday, 7 September 2010
7 Sept, Palencia
Well ironically though last night and today probably make the best reading of my adventures so far, I don´t think I can do it justice; I´m utterly exhausted.
You probably guessed already my sleeping spot of choice last night didn´t really do the job, I was getting desperate.
I lay there feeling smug, snug and happy and even when it started to drizzle it was fine at first.
I kind of don´t want to go through this I can almost hear you laughing, it may be funny from a distance and I know it´ll be funny tomorrow or the day after (or if i wasn´t on my own...) but it´s all a bit fresh and I feel silly.
The drizzle continued and grew in strength. So did the smug feeling, in fact my shelter was so good a few mosquitoes came to join me in it, complete with that terrible intangible stereo hum.
When rain started to come through one little bit of the bales, I didn´t worry too much. It´d probably stop soon anyway and I could avoid the drip.
It wasn´t very nice, though, when I started getting bitten by horrible crawly things that I couldn´t see, but weren´t the mozzies. I still lay there, trying to ignore it and at a loss for an alternative.
In fact I still lay there until my whole sleeping bag, all the cozy clothes I had layered on, my pillow and most everything, was wet, muddy and scratchy with straw and entirely different from the soft warm refuge I´d created a few hours earlier.
It wasn´t until something scuffled, right by my head, from a gap in the bales, (that was definately not a mite or a mozzy) that I leapt up and packed. I would have to continue cycling until I found a hostel and hope that there´d be someone awake to let me in. At least I´d be warm, on the move.
The next while was the closest thing to dreaming so far all night, white line drifting by on my left, edge on the right, wobbling along somewhere between the two.
A village I passed through´s church struck 2, twice.
Rabbit!
After an age, I passed a motel thing, loads of lorries parked all around and not a glimmer of light.
Oh, but some out-buildings! Look, no door on that one!
Full of shit. Great.
Another dream of white lines. I ran over a frog and cried.
And finally- a 24-hour garage, thank god, yes, yes, light and humans; who aren´t hurtling past on massive lorries.
The man hardly batted an eyelid as I stumbled in, soaking and muddy and bedraggled, his dog barking at me from the end of his rope.
I had some hot water and tried to blag a lift to Palencia with truckers, and he got a bit of my situation out of me- I was a bit embarrassed, to be honest.
But it was lucky I let my pride drop for a minute, cos the next thing he´s offered me a place to sleep- his and his brothers house is just round the back of the garage, so I gratefully hung my stuff up to dry and snuggled up in the most incredibly squishy, comfy bed until morning., while kind night-shifter worked next door.
Obviously there´s been today as well, but it wasn´t that eventful and now I´m in Palencia. Sleeping in a hostel tonight as I need to do some laundry, get decent sleep and it´s still raining.
I just had a frustrating but heart-warming silent chat with mum over skype, we could grin at each other like loons and gesture wildly but neither of us could hear a thing. That´d keep me going through another last night :)
Ate amanha x
You probably guessed already my sleeping spot of choice last night didn´t really do the job, I was getting desperate.
I lay there feeling smug, snug and happy and even when it started to drizzle it was fine at first.
I kind of don´t want to go through this I can almost hear you laughing, it may be funny from a distance and I know it´ll be funny tomorrow or the day after (or if i wasn´t on my own...) but it´s all a bit fresh and I feel silly.
The drizzle continued and grew in strength. So did the smug feeling, in fact my shelter was so good a few mosquitoes came to join me in it, complete with that terrible intangible stereo hum.
When rain started to come through one little bit of the bales, I didn´t worry too much. It´d probably stop soon anyway and I could avoid the drip.
It wasn´t very nice, though, when I started getting bitten by horrible crawly things that I couldn´t see, but weren´t the mozzies. I still lay there, trying to ignore it and at a loss for an alternative.
In fact I still lay there until my whole sleeping bag, all the cozy clothes I had layered on, my pillow and most everything, was wet, muddy and scratchy with straw and entirely different from the soft warm refuge I´d created a few hours earlier.
It wasn´t until something scuffled, right by my head, from a gap in the bales, (that was definately not a mite or a mozzy) that I leapt up and packed. I would have to continue cycling until I found a hostel and hope that there´d be someone awake to let me in. At least I´d be warm, on the move.
The next while was the closest thing to dreaming so far all night, white line drifting by on my left, edge on the right, wobbling along somewhere between the two.
A village I passed through´s church struck 2, twice.
Rabbit!
After an age, I passed a motel thing, loads of lorries parked all around and not a glimmer of light.
Oh, but some out-buildings! Look, no door on that one!
Full of shit. Great.
Another dream of white lines. I ran over a frog and cried.
And finally- a 24-hour garage, thank god, yes, yes, light and humans; who aren´t hurtling past on massive lorries.
The man hardly batted an eyelid as I stumbled in, soaking and muddy and bedraggled, his dog barking at me from the end of his rope.
I had some hot water and tried to blag a lift to Palencia with truckers, and he got a bit of my situation out of me- I was a bit embarrassed, to be honest.
But it was lucky I let my pride drop for a minute, cos the next thing he´s offered me a place to sleep- his and his brothers house is just round the back of the garage, so I gratefully hung my stuff up to dry and snuggled up in the most incredibly squishy, comfy bed until morning., while kind night-shifter worked next door.
Obviously there´s been today as well, but it wasn´t that eventful and now I´m in Palencia. Sleeping in a hostel tonight as I need to do some laundry, get decent sleep and it´s still raining.
I just had a frustrating but heart-warming silent chat with mum over skype, we could grin at each other like loons and gesture wildly but neither of us could hear a thing. That´d keep me going through another last night :)
Ate amanha x
Monday, 6 September 2010
later on the 6th. Somewhere outside Benavente.
Well, Benavente is a horrible place without a soul but plenty of shops and a thriving industrial estate.
On my way in the first bit of graffiti that jumped out at me said Capitalism is Terrorism. It certainly terrifies me.
It took me 2 hours, 10km and a tear or to to leave it, circling round this horrid industrial estate full of lorries, windy and dusty and the feel of a storm coming in.
Occasionally I´d find a sign for a road I was actually allowed to cycle down, but if I followed it I´d invariably end up on the motorway sliproad or back where I started...
Eventually just followed farm tracks in what I guessed was the direction just until I´d escaped the sprawl.
Anyway, finding shelter with rainclouds on the horizon isn´t as simple as just an ok flattish bit of ground, so I kept going for a while looking for somewhere to stay- just a roof, anything, but there´s been nothing and now it´s dark so I´ve sheltered - sort of - under an overhang of hay bales, wrapped myself in bin bags anf now I´m going to try and get some well-needed rest; I ended up doing 140km today and would like to reach Palencia in time to get out again tomorrow.
Goodnight x
On my way in the first bit of graffiti that jumped out at me said Capitalism is Terrorism. It certainly terrifies me.
It took me 2 hours, 10km and a tear or to to leave it, circling round this horrid industrial estate full of lorries, windy and dusty and the feel of a storm coming in.
Occasionally I´d find a sign for a road I was actually allowed to cycle down, but if I followed it I´d invariably end up on the motorway sliproad or back where I started...
Eventually just followed farm tracks in what I guessed was the direction just until I´d escaped the sprawl.
Anyway, finding shelter with rainclouds on the horizon isn´t as simple as just an ok flattish bit of ground, so I kept going for a while looking for somewhere to stay- just a roof, anything, but there´s been nothing and now it´s dark so I´ve sheltered - sort of - under an overhang of hay bales, wrapped myself in bin bags anf now I´m going to try and get some well-needed rest; I ended up doing 140km today and would like to reach Palencia in time to get out again tomorrow.
Goodnight x
6 Sept - lunching alone - Benavente - 99.4km
Last night I slept in a mossy oak woodland, on the shore of Lago de Sanabria, so beautiful and wild it has a natural park all of its own.
It was strange and eery going to sleep on my own; little noises jump out much more and time stretches...
I heard wolves in the night- we were told that what I´d thought were dogs on our way to the festival were probably wolves going by their behaviour- moving in packs, howling at each other and moving all around for quite long distances.
What I could hear last night were behaving in the same way. Eek!
Today I´ve done 100km already- I set off towards Leon but got a taste for the straight roads- I love it, if I´m pedalling hard, to actually be going somewhere at a decentr speed- and though the mountains are so beautiful I´ve got plenty of Pyrenees to come- so I´ve changed my route for a flatter version and am having a little rest in Benavente after a motivated morning- from 9 till 1.15 I did 99.4km, including various breaks for coffee, stretches, snacks, 2swims and a chat- what´s that, about 25km/h average? Woo!
PS Anyone know how and when to sign up for the Dyfi Enduro?
PPS Anyone know how to say "No chance you dirty bastard" in Spanish?
Love always x
It was strange and eery going to sleep on my own; little noises jump out much more and time stretches...
I heard wolves in the night- we were told that what I´d thought were dogs on our way to the festival were probably wolves going by their behaviour- moving in packs, howling at each other and moving all around for quite long distances.
What I could hear last night were behaving in the same way. Eek!
Today I´ve done 100km already- I set off towards Leon but got a taste for the straight roads- I love it, if I´m pedalling hard, to actually be going somewhere at a decentr speed- and though the mountains are so beautiful I´ve got plenty of Pyrenees to come- so I´ve changed my route for a flatter version and am having a little rest in Benavente after a motivated morning- from 9 till 1.15 I did 99.4km, including various breaks for coffee, stretches, snacks, 2swims and a chat- what´s that, about 25km/h average? Woo!
PS Anyone know how and when to sign up for the Dyfi Enduro?
PPS Anyone know how to say "No chance you dirty bastard" in Spanish?
Love always x
Sunday, 5 September 2010
5 Sept - Puebla - 16km
I´ve just said goodbye to my friends, and trying to figure out how I feel about this new solitude.
I haven´t had enough time to frighten myself, as I only found out they ad to leave 1/2 hour ago, when we discovered trains can´t go on the bikes until Valladolid- so they´re missioning that way sharpish to catch the train from there, so they don´t miss the ferry.
I´m going to find some food in town then go to the nearby lake to lap up the evening sun and get clean.
Miss you all x
I haven´t had enough time to frighten myself, as I only found out they ad to leave 1/2 hour ago, when we discovered trains can´t go on the bikes until Valladolid- so they´re missioning that way sharpish to catch the train from there, so they don´t miss the ferry.
I´m going to find some food in town then go to the nearby lake to lap up the evening sun and get clean.
Miss you all x
Saturday, 4 September 2010
4 Sept - Puebla de Sanabria - 42km
What a day - absolutely stunning and truly trying, too.
We took the diddy road from Bragança to Puebla de Sanabria, through some of the most picturesque villages I think I´ve ever seen, complete with friendly and helpful locals and fresh, cold water springs and dogs and cows. The hills have been killers, but with descents so incredibly breathtaking I think everyone should have a go.
It would help if my chest wasn´t rattling sounding like an angry bear with every breath, and I wan´t coughing up things resembling alien molluscs on every hill.
Funny to arrive in this well-presented city, hair matted and sweaty streaks through the dirt coating our faces. My knickers stretched over my handlebars to dry after their wash in the river earlier, our lives piled high and bungeed tight to the back of our bikes.
Now as Saturday night noisily awakens around and above us we´re cooking another amazing meal on the little camp stove under the bridge. It´s great, we´ve got trees, grass to sleep on, light, a table-of-sorts to cook and eat off, and a river!
Despite all this I´m a little melancholy, I don´t know if it´s the knowledge I´ll be alone for the next however long, or the exhaustion of today´s excercise combined with remnants of tummy bug and chest bother, or just the moon and the distance and the river and the time...
I better go to bed before I waffle too much, muy chin´s on hte table and I haven´t even unrolled my rolmat yet.
We took the diddy road from Bragança to Puebla de Sanabria, through some of the most picturesque villages I think I´ve ever seen, complete with friendly and helpful locals and fresh, cold water springs and dogs and cows. The hills have been killers, but with descents so incredibly breathtaking I think everyone should have a go.
It would help if my chest wasn´t rattling sounding like an angry bear with every breath, and I wan´t coughing up things resembling alien molluscs on every hill.
Funny to arrive in this well-presented city, hair matted and sweaty streaks through the dirt coating our faces. My knickers stretched over my handlebars to dry after their wash in the river earlier, our lives piled high and bungeed tight to the back of our bikes.
Now as Saturday night noisily awakens around and above us we´re cooking another amazing meal on the little camp stove under the bridge. It´s great, we´ve got trees, grass to sleep on, light, a table-of-sorts to cook and eat off, and a river!
Despite all this I´m a little melancholy, I don´t know if it´s the knowledge I´ll be alone for the next however long, or the exhaustion of today´s excercise combined with remnants of tummy bug and chest bother, or just the moon and the distance and the river and the time...
I better go to bed before I waffle too much, muy chin´s on hte table and I haven´t even unrolled my rolmat yet.
4 Sept... Siesta time
We´re just sitting under the shade of a mulberry tree eating a truly continental lunch, in the most picturesque little village on the Spanish border.
As we sat chewing our way through drybread with chorizo and cheese, a hunched over old lady slowly hobbled down the road dressed thickly in black and carrying a bucket of massive tomatoes.
As she passed us she stopped, put down her bucket and grabbed 3 big juicy ones; held them out to us, a big smile on her wrinkled face - this has improved our meal tenfold.
Since then a lone beautiful cow with handlebar horns has ambled past purposefully, and a horse with a little dog on her back looking very smug. The sweetcorn in the fields is ripening and we´re surrounded by grapevines bearing riches.
We´ve come about 25k from Bragança, in who´se outskirts we slept last night, but the remaining 14 or so to Puebla de Sanabria are supposedly ALL uphill. I´m guessing by tonight I´ll be too tired to write much, so this is my contribution for now.
I´m still with Nick and Hannah, who are going to catch a train fom Puebla to Santander, and chill out in the area for a day.
I think it´d be just about possible to get there on time by bike, but it wouln´t be nice, and as nobody´s in best health this is probably best! I know I wouldn´t want to be doing 100k a day on htese hills, coughing my guts up every time I breathe too much...
Just doing some washing in the river and having a quick nap in preparation for the mountain.
With love x
As we sat chewing our way through drybread with chorizo and cheese, a hunched over old lady slowly hobbled down the road dressed thickly in black and carrying a bucket of massive tomatoes.
As she passed us she stopped, put down her bucket and grabbed 3 big juicy ones; held them out to us, a big smile on her wrinkled face - this has improved our meal tenfold.
Since then a lone beautiful cow with handlebar horns has ambled past purposefully, and a horse with a little dog on her back looking very smug. The sweetcorn in the fields is ripening and we´re surrounded by grapevines bearing riches.
We´ve come about 25k from Bragança, in who´se outskirts we slept last night, but the remaining 14 or so to Puebla de Sanabria are supposedly ALL uphill. I´m guessing by tonight I´ll be too tired to write much, so this is my contribution for now.
I´m still with Nick and Hannah, who are going to catch a train fom Puebla to Santander, and chill out in the area for a day.
I think it´d be just about possible to get there on time by bike, but it wouln´t be nice, and as nobody´s in best health this is probably best! I know I wouldn´t want to be doing 100k a day on htese hills, coughing my guts up every time I breathe too much...
Just doing some washing in the river and having a quick nap in preparation for the mountain.
With love x
Friday, 3 September 2010
3 Sept, morning
I left Vila Nova de Foz Coa about an hour after the other 2, and found it´s very differrent cycling alone, you get all kinds of attention- at least in Portugal I can say I´m not interested, I´ll just have to cycle on in Spain and France.
When I caught them up in Sampaio we stopped for a bit, but I felt I needed more rest in the shade when we started moving again, so I found a lovely orange tree to rest and stretch under, and fell asleep for a good hour!
It still hadn´t cooled down when I woke up, gorged myself on bulging juicy yellow (!) figs off a nearby tree, and set off after my friends.
The road quickly started climbing. And climbing , and climbing. I had beautiful views of vineyards, the Rio Sabor (River of Flavour?) and deep forested valleys fanning out to my right, and plenty of time to look at them as a dawdled sweating and panting round the many corners in granny gear.
I found Hannah and Nick in a layby near when I stopped to fill my bottle from a spring, looking sorry nd eyeing up a pickup who had stopped for the same reason.
Hannah wasn´t feeling well (same tummy bug as me, probably :( and they´re in a hurry now, needing to get to Santander for the 9th, so I asked the driver if we could have a ride.
We chucked all the bikes and ourselves in the spacious back, with sacks of corn to cuddle up to, and had a lift for about 10k of uphill- the wind in our faces fresh and fast as the views whistled by at an unfamiliarly quick rate :)
1more lift and we´re in Macedo de Cavaleiros.
Last night we pitched up on a little island on the lake just out of the town; that´s where I am now scribbling away with the fresh morning sun drying the night´s dew and warming our bones for another hard day.
I may be continuing alone, as I don´t want to hitch more (another adventure for another day) and the others are going to have to. It´s going to be hard when they get picked up not getting in with them, and harder still adjusting to travelling alone.
I´ve got so used to their company, stories, laughter that I fear I may have tken it for granted. Let´s see what today brings. x
When I caught them up in Sampaio we stopped for a bit, but I felt I needed more rest in the shade when we started moving again, so I found a lovely orange tree to rest and stretch under, and fell asleep for a good hour!
It still hadn´t cooled down when I woke up, gorged myself on bulging juicy yellow (!) figs off a nearby tree, and set off after my friends.
The road quickly started climbing. And climbing , and climbing. I had beautiful views of vineyards, the Rio Sabor (River of Flavour?) and deep forested valleys fanning out to my right, and plenty of time to look at them as a dawdled sweating and panting round the many corners in granny gear.
I found Hannah and Nick in a layby near when I stopped to fill my bottle from a spring, looking sorry nd eyeing up a pickup who had stopped for the same reason.
Hannah wasn´t feeling well (same tummy bug as me, probably :( and they´re in a hurry now, needing to get to Santander for the 9th, so I asked the driver if we could have a ride.
We chucked all the bikes and ourselves in the spacious back, with sacks of corn to cuddle up to, and had a lift for about 10k of uphill- the wind in our faces fresh and fast as the views whistled by at an unfamiliarly quick rate :)
1more lift and we´re in Macedo de Cavaleiros.
Last night we pitched up on a little island on the lake just out of the town; that´s where I am now scribbling away with the fresh morning sun drying the night´s dew and warming our bones for another hard day.
I may be continuing alone, as I don´t want to hitch more (another adventure for another day) and the others are going to have to. It´s going to be hard when they get picked up not getting in with them, and harder still adjusting to travelling alone.
I´ve got so used to their company, stories, laughter that I fear I may have tken it for granted. Let´s see what today brings. x
Wednesday, 1 September 2010
Today I tried solo cycling. I wanted to use the internet and do some things in the next biggish town, Vila Nova de Foz Soa- so to avoid holding anyone up I sped ahead and gt here early.
A taste of things to come- I kept trying to imagine my 2 friends weren´t following close behind, trying to picture speding through Spain and France with only myself.
We´ve covered quite a distance today, this time heading towards the storms not away, the wind whipping dust into my face as I struggle against it.
By the time I arrived, panting, and had done a thorough tour of the whole town in search of internet, the library had closed- I went a little way off route to see if the youth hostel did, found out the price just in case... checked in for the night.
Seems a shame to be boxed in fromm such an exquisitely scenic place, but after the intense drama of the thunderstorm battering our eardrums intruding our eyelids and seeping into our sleeping bags last night, and with 3 dodgy tums it just needs to be easy, just for tonight.
Nick´s laughing at me spraying myself and my bed with water cos it´s too hot.
A taste of things to come- I kept trying to imagine my 2 friends weren´t following close behind, trying to picture speding through Spain and France with only myself.
We´ve covered quite a distance today, this time heading towards the storms not away, the wind whipping dust into my face as I struggle against it.
By the time I arrived, panting, and had done a thorough tour of the whole town in search of internet, the library had closed- I went a little way off route to see if the youth hostel did, found out the price just in case... checked in for the night.
Seems a shame to be boxed in fromm such an exquisitely scenic place, but after the intense drama of the thunderstorm battering our eardrums intruding our eyelids and seeping into our sleeping bags last night, and with 3 dodgy tums it just needs to be easy, just for tonight.
Nick´s laughing at me spraying myself and my bed with water cos it´s too hot.
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