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
Sunday, 12 September 2010
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
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