Musings

I broke the journey between Toledo and Bilbao by staying once again at the minicipal campsite in Burgos, and woke up to a cold morning, but sunshine eventually breaking through. The route to Bilbao went through beautiful orange, yellow and some green patchwork plateaus unfolding in the distance, and the mountainous, green countryside of the Parque Natural de Gorbeia.

My short visit found Bilbao to be an interesting city – geographically condensed into both sides of a steep-sided estuary valley, some 20km from the port, with the countryside ‘right there’. I did two bike-exploring trips from the private campervan stop high-up above the city, and found contemporary riverside areas and buildings, including the Guggenheim musem, next to the old quarter. Visiting the museum will have to wait for another trip. But I was again feeling jaded and in effect ready to down exploring tools, so I just enjoyed the views from the pitch, still sunny and warm. My dutch neighbours had travelled into Spain from France due to the days of rain they’d experienced with no change forecast. We were very fortunate to have the good weather we experienced, particularly in Galicia, with the days prior to our time there very rainy, and then in the week after I travelled back to Seville

The ferry journey from Bilbao to Portsmouth was the best I’ve enjoyed – a really comfortable ‘shiny’ ship ‘Salamanca’ – everything looks and feels new and my 4-berth cabin, which was the only type remaining to book, was luxury – even a TV with british mainstream channels, and film viewing. Some 29 hours of enforced doing nothing other than blissful reading, while the sea was flat – leaving in the sunshine, and skirting the Isle of Wight in some sunshine, some 28 hours later.

I feel it has been a more ‘out of comfort zone’ August & September this year but I know I am very fortunate to have all the means necessary to be able to undertake this travel and different activities. Spain has certainly put on a show. It’s a massive, varied country, landscape-wise, with a fantastic road infrastructure. My van has been a great drive and haven once again. Consistently, with few exceptions, I have found people to be courteous and helpful whether that’s on the roads as a cyclist or pedestrian or in the cafes, restaurants, campsites and hotels. My tech has helped with video calling, and the purchase of a new phone and kindle this year has been worthwhile for reliable battery life particularly for navigation, storage for photos and videos and getting into reading some great fiction again.

I have had pleasant, albeit too short conversations this trip with campsite neighbours, with help offered to solve my leaking water tank outlet, or put air in the van’s tyres from the supportive motorhome/van community.

Travelling solo, I feel I am always on a camino in terms of reflecting as I go on my life, past, present & future, and the world in which it finds itself. I continue to be aware of and thankful for my life’s relative good fortune including good health and my fantastic family. I know that my long-distance cycling bucket-list item would most likely not have happened without the invitation and support of very good friends.

The planet and humanity, though, it has seemed to me for a long time, are not in a good place. As a ‘little person’ I can do very little but hope that the current social media-led, history-forgetting, lemming-like misplaced trajectory towards the cult, narcissistic, gangster leadership!! of ‘strong men’, whether political or oligarchs, will ultimately be seen for what it is without the impact of their non-accountable power grab, and in increasing cases horrendous crimes, spreading further. Where is the voice of the female 50% of the world’s population in what we see unfolding? May Kamala Harris break through in November as Obama and Biden managed to do against the toxic tide.

At preparation meetings in the previous Autumn, we had decided to call ourselves the Spanish version of The Famous Five, particularly given that our Julian was the oldest.  I think I claimed George, (wonder why), Nicola or Judith were Dick and/or Anne, and Graham was Timmy the dog. Julian and Judith had 2 years previously cycled a pilgrim route from Folkestone to Rome on their road bikes, and had also walked the Camino del Norte route to Santiago, so their confidence as to feasibility certainly carried me through at that stage.

On 4/9 I left Camping Villsom to move to Area Parking Caravane where, via very informal email exchange, I had booked my van for a storage stay up to 23/9.  It was one of those locations on one side of a dual carriageway, very easy to see and, if heading in the wrong direction, sail past the unlikely slip road it was on. I could envisage this shoot-past happening more than once, so was relieved to get to the entrance first time and everything was confirmed.  I would be on an electric hook-up spot for that night, it is possible to stay there for approx 20eu per night and for info they have a small swimming pool, but then I needed to move it to a storage spot after getting my bike and stuff ready before my set off the next day around 7:15am.

That afternoon I had a dry-run, cycling into the city to transport the battery to the other e-bike rider Nicola.  She and the other tres famosos had flown their bikes across from the UK, then having to put them together after the bike box disassembly requirements. Bike batteries are not carried by airlines however, (nor coaches, and regional trains in Spain) hence me transporting it along with mine in the van from the UK.

Overall I was feeling extremely weary, and in effect ‘less than up for’ this bike challenge.  I think this was due to the trepidation mentioned in an earlier post and the significant amount of decision-making, organisation both mental and physical, and underlying stress of anticipation of a lot of unknown in a relatively short space of time, after working very hard to round off my contract, in preparation and since I left the UK.  I was not able to summon up enthusiasm and excitement to match the others, and I have recognised in this hindsight journalling that my sentiments would not be what they wanted/needed to hear, dampening possibly the start of their long-awaited holiday. In my mind I was always ready for the bail-out options – by train or hire car from one of our visited towns – but I was concerned about the possibility of stuff going wrong with the electric motor when we were high up in the middle of nowhere. And I certainly didn’t want the others’ holiday to be affected which was a pressure in itself.

But, early the next morning, having packed the bike up, stilI feeling that I wanted to back out, I forced myself to go and cycle the approx 5 miles to the meet-up at Seville Cathedral.  I didn’t use the battery, but knowing from very shortly after our group set-off how I had to have the battery on the lowest ‘Eco’ setting to keep up with the others on the flat, this did contribute to the second day of ‘bloody hell, how am I going to achieve this’ blues.

It was a glorious morning, as indeed were all mornings apart from one which was particularly cold and a wind across the plains for a couple of hours. Eventually a rhythm was reached as we left Seville and headed for the first overnight at a village called Almaden de La Plata, approximately 80km away. We were following the on-road route described by John Haynes in the Cicerone book of the Ruta Via de la Plata

Unfortunately a good few kms short of the destination my bike battery suddenly ‘went’.  I had been monitoring it as it discharged and how the gauge was displaying.  Even though I had done a 60-mile ride around York, I had never come anywhere close to the display showing only 1/5th of battery left. Given this unknown on a very long ride, I had only been using the first 2 of 4 settings of motor power, only resorting to the 2nd when I had to to get up hills. 

Some of my luggage was taken by Nicola, and there was still at least a visible longish downhill section before a reasonably long uphill.  It’s seared into my memory, pushing my still very heavy bike & luggage in 38 degrees up the considerably steep hill, hanging a scarf from under my helmet to try and shelter from the relentless sun. With the encouragement of my own personal mountain rescue team member in the form of Graham, we got our bikes to the top and with tremendous relief, free-wheeled downhill into Almaden which we could see below.

For the first night we targeted the municipal albergue. Not able to book anything in advance, I was very relieved to see we would at least have a bunk. It was a very pleasant place with well-equipped kitchen, nice dining room, bathrooms etc with other pilgrims being 2 older women from Brazil, a 76-year old French woman and a young British guy walking.

The whole village had other ideas however, as they congregated after a pilgrim’s bedtime on public benches right outside the dormitory window on the ground floor. All ages remained there in loud (and happy) community until at least gone midnight. Those who know I’m a very light-sleeper may realise that even the trials of the day did not take me out of the misery of lying there awake for hours, ear-plugs not doing it. More about accommodation in the next post.

There are photos of me waiting for the rest of the team to finish their prep the next morning for set-off. My face speaks volumes, but I am too conceited to include an aged and weary ‘older generation family-likeness’ me here. Worse than the washout. Nevertheless, 24-hours of a long kilometer-wise Day 1 had been survived.

Learnings:  as suggested by some of the team, at every café stop I needed to ask and if necessary pay to get that battery plugged in.  I duly did so.

The cycling trip, which I heard about last Autumn, and for which my request to join was accepted, has finally come around and headspace for this re-engaged following toddler exit. I am on the move taking 5 days to travel down to Valencia and then across to Seville.

It’s been a re-engaging after over a year with major campervan solo pottering. Notwithstanding my fan/battery trials described in the previous post, I enjoyed a 3-night stay at a motorhome site in Alcossebre, on the coast some 60 miles or so north of Valencia, last discovered on my career break 5 years ago. It is just across the Serra D’Irta natural park area which I posted about in last year’s travels re Peniscola.

On a beach visit I had an interesting conversation with a Swiss mother of 3 who was there with her Spanish husband and the children. Both of them ‘insect researchers’ (‘life’s like a box of chocolates’), met and married at UC Berkeley, California and now moved to Valencia, to be closer to in-laws in Europe. The conversation started as she offered me her shoes so that I could actually get into the stony cove’s water without risking my knees or ankles, something one is very aware of given the need to drive and then cycle! Perhaps I already appear as a hobbling geriatric to younger generations :). In the end I abandoned the attempt to actually launch myself off the painful, slippery stones and into the very inviting water in favour of sitting very close to her in the shallows and asking where her English accent came from, as I couldn’t place it. I could have asked ever more nosy questions as I’m always interested in life decision-making of international families, but I do credit myself with some emotional intelligence re not causing people to fear that they won’t be able to shake off this solo, older person.

Saturday saw a drive of approx 6.5 hours to get within 2-3 hours of Seville, enjoyable scenery, great roads -only busy near to Valencia-, and I remembered to connect my phone via bluetooth and play some great music.

I was very glad to reach my destination in a village called Santa Elena on the edge of the Parque Natural de Despenaperros, which is only about 1 km off the motorway. This area describes itself as a gateway to Andalucia, and I found the site via the Park4Night app which I continue to highly recommend. For approx 17 euros per night without electricity, the campsite even has a swimming pool and good wifi as provided in Alcossebre. As a first, I decided to eat some olives which came with a glass of wine at the campsite bar, rather than be embarrassed because I didn’t tell the waiter I didn’t want them when he first brought them! Interesting human behaviour, and observing, analysing, recording. Notwithstanding the cerebral activities, the taste could grow on me.

I wonder whether I can create the moorish feel of the toilet block entrance in my little bathrooms at home. The actual toilets themselves have thrown down a gauntlet to my squatly-challenged legs, as they are all small child-height off the ground, reminding me that once back I do need to be more intentional about other forms of regular exercise if I want to keep being active.

I am staying a second night for squat exercise, then heading to Seville.

The next day, Monday ……., having looked at some cycling group messages late last night, I realised that my expected rendez-vous time of Wed was wrong. We are setting off on Thursday. I have therefore decided to aim for two nights at Camping Villsom, where I stayed before to visit Seville. It has a lovely swimming pool which, having arrived and set up, I’ve already taken advantage of. I’ve gone for the 7amp luxury electricity supply as the fridge gave up running on gas overnight. So it does obvs need a tiny bit of electricity even for that.

It’s been 34deg driving across the very, very dry plains between Cordoba and Seville. Thank goodness the aircon’s working. I did have a panic when, driving quite happily, all of a sudden a big bee flew past my shoulder. Majorly flapping (me) to find a solution to keep the bee where it was – stuck thankfully in the driver seat window frame -, I got undertaken by a tanker and honked at rightfully, as the motorway added an extra slow climb lane which I failed to notice. The normally 2-lane motorway was pretty empty so this wasn’t too bad a misdemeanor. I had to come off the motorway to get it out of the vehicle. There’s always something. At one point some of the flowering shrubs in the central reservation were on fire – looked like it had just started.

Andujar looked nice as I drove past – further research to be done.

I confess to trepidation regarding the heat, which on the coast was hot enough at 30deg, never mind up through Spain’s landmass, as well as my performance ability, even on my trusty e-steed. The aim is to leave my campervan in a motorhome parking near the airport , meet up with the other 4 ‘Los Cincos Famosas’ at 10:00am at Seville cathedral 4/9 5/9, and cycle many days along the Ruta Via de La Plata to Santiago de Compostela in northwest Spain. The return leg will be via Spain’s high-speed rail network back to Seville, with my extremely heavy bike in a bag, minimalist clothing backpack and an extra bike battery belonging to one of the group, to re-join my home on wheels. Then I will make my way surely but quicker back to the UK than I had envisaged due to previously unplanned circumstances.