Once again, this year's trip has been done on the GTR1400 and the report has been posted up on that bike's forum but I will post up again on here in case it is of interest to anyone thinking of their own future trips:
I'm just settling back in after this year's foray into Europe, this time having done a half lap of Spain and Portugal.
The GTR did us proud again, never missed a beat. Not so many insects were harmed on this tour, it was just too damned hot for them to be flying!
A trip report as per the previous two will follow in instalments over the coming weeks after I have found time to pick out a few of about 800 photos and shuffled my memories back together. It may be past the end of the biking season before it's finished but looking at a bit of sunshine over the winter may cheer you up and keeps a bit of traffic on the forum during the quiet time.
Here's a first picture as a taster; our bike next to some 1st Century BC hilltop ruins....
[9091] Castro de Santa Trega
The plan
Having done north last year (Norway) and East the year before (Croatia) I decided it was time to be rude enough to impose myself on our southern European neighbours. Knowing that Spain and Portugal were likely to be uncomfortably warm in high summer this trip was planned for late September in the (ultimately misguided) belief that it may be more suitable for wandering round in bike gear.
I stuck to my usual format of moving around at around 200 miles a day with a four day break in the middle to relax things a bit and as usual made sure I had an apartment with a washing machine available so that we felt somewhere near human for the return journey. (I have been told that there are four different ways you can wear a set of underpants, but I have never felt like rising to the challenge).
As it goes of course there were some days that were going to need more than 200 miles to reach a hotel that seemed good value and on other days slightly fewer. I still wanted to leave time to stop off at places at various times during the day as have never seen the point of a straight drag from A to B without taking in the world I am passing through.
Everything was fleshed out last winter, a return sailing from Portsmouth to Santander was booked first, then the apartment and then everything else was built around it. At least this time (unlike Norway) I managed to get decent looking rooms booked for less than my target £75.00 per night this time.
The expectation was for around 2,200 miles plus a few flexible excursions and allowing another 10% for being stitched up by my hateful little Garmin Zumo.
A week prior to leaving the GTR top case was fitted with a small carrier to give a little more capacity and was treated to a new front tyre.
Day 1 Stourbridge > Portsmouth (161 miles)
Our ferry was not due to sail until Friday evening so there was plenty of time in the morning to locate an Emergency Barber and sort out a few Euros in cash. I know you can do pretty much anything on plastic these days, but I like to have enough on me at all times for at least a tank of fuel or a budget hotel room, just in case.
This was our third sailing on Britany Ferries' Cap Finestere so we pretty much knew what to expect. The decent down the steep ramp to level 1 in the belly of the beast is not something I much look forward to. On previous occasions it has been a bit of a free-for-all but now each bike is held at the head of the ramp until the preceding one is safely down. We didn't have to secure our own bikes this year either, they are now pretty insistent that it is done by the crew.
The good thing about being loaded down there is that you are already up on the passenger decks whilst the cars are still driving on, so you can get into your cabin and changed or straight to the bar as is your preference.
They try hard to entertain and cater for passengers (and separate them from their cash) during the journey. The 24 hour crossing is just about tolerable, but I am always itching to get on with my ride even before land is in sight.
Day 2 Santander > Cobraces (25 miles)
A very smooth crossing got us into Santander early on Saturday evening but being first on the ferry means we were last off, so there was a fair bit of hanging round before we broke free of the port. In the knowledge that this would be the case I had booked our first hotel just 25 miles away along the coast in Cobreces. We were shown a decent sized room with its own balcony, access from the courtyard and a (just) sea view.
Although the skies were a little dull it seemed very warm and we were happy enough to get out of the bike gear even after this short run. The first day was finished with a walk down to the Playa De Luna and a beer in one of the beachside cafes.
1.1 Leaving Portsmouth
2.1 Hotel El Refugio, Cobraces
2.2 Playa de Luna, Cobraces
Day 3 Cobraces > Barreiros (190 miles)
It was a slightly dull but nevertheless hot morning that we woke up to and we set off for a fairly straightforward run westwards along Spain's north coast.
A number of intermediate stops had been plotted into the Zumo, the first was a coastal viewpoint but it failed right away, directing me to go straight on at a point where there was quite obviously a railway line across my path with no crossing. (I checked on Street View when I got home just to check I had not imagined it):
https://www.google.co.uk/maps/@43.4462579,-4.9921111,3a,75y,90t/data=!3m6!1e1!3m4!1si2B-gTRBgtVHxQJEGhRMCQ!2e0!7i13312!8i6656 I know from previous experience that I would have spent the next half hour fighting my Nav unit and that the paper maps I was carrying were not sufficiently detailed for such small roads, so the first stop was skipped and we pushed on.
Next up was another coastal viewpoint "Mirador de la Providencia") on which sat a modern staircase-sculpture affair offering views over Gijon where we took a bit of time off the bike and a few photos.
It was just a short run then down into Gijon city centre where we smuggled the GTR into a line of parked scooters (it probably looked like a Burgman in calf), found a bit of lunch and then took a walk around a headland fort, Bateria de Santa Catalina.
There were still some miles to cover though so we saddled back up and road along the A8 motorway in increasing heat until we reached the Playa de Las Catedrals, a beach known for its rock formations eroded by the sea to give arches that resemble cathedral buttresses. Arriving there I found that my planning was not as detailed as it should have been as it became apparent that access to the beach was by pre-booking only. We were left to content ourselves with what we could see from the clifftop walkways and a cold drink from one of the cafes.
From there another handful of miles to our next hotel in Barreiros. The manager was good enough to lift the chain to his rear yard so that we could park the bike a bit more securely than on the front of the hotel and we were again given a fairly spacious room with a (just) sea view.
The day ended exactly as the previous one with an hour walking on the beach in the last of the sunlight before having an evening drink in one of the local bars.
Apart from the few excursions off the direct route it had been a day mostly spent on the A8 motorway, but not bad riding for all that.
3.1 Mirador de la Providencia
3.2 Mirador de la Providencia
3.3 Bateria de Santa Catalina.
3.4 Playa de Las Catedrals
3.5 Pria de Coto. Barreiros
Thanks for posting Pete. Always enjoy reading trip reports. Not going to read it on my phone but will look forward to reading it when l get home in a couple of days.
As you say, it may be helpful to others planning trips.
Our trip away has not been on a bike but we have learned so much.
:cheers:
Great pics & thanks for sharing. I will read the report when I'm home as well.
Looks like a great trip 👍
You had me at "Burgman in calf" :clapping:
Day 4 Barreiros > Viana do Castello (240 miles)
After checking out in Barreiros, we re-joined the A8 motorway knowing that we had a fairly long run in front of us. There were no specific intermediate stops planned for the days run until Santiago de Compostela which was over 113 miles down the road. Most of the morning's biking was therefore a motorway cruise, but not too bad for that. This section of the A8 (like that we had travelled the previous day) was toll free for about half of the distance and now had the added attraction of some curves and elevation changes as we crested Spain's northern mountains. It was therefore just a couple of coffee stops and a refuel that broke the journey.
We let the Zumo take us into the centre of Santiago de Composella. This, like most other Spanish cities sees heavy use of scooters so we again found that there were plenty of opportunities to park up the bike. My guide book had suggested the cathedral to be worth a look so this is what we headed for and after taking the obligatory tourist snaps made our way into a KFC for a late lunch.
Another 90 miles of "direct" motorway riding brought us almost to the border with Portugal, but there was one final attraction in North Western Spain that I wanted to break away to see before we crossed. We left the motorway and followed the northern bank of the Minho River which forms the border toward the coast and ascended the curves and hairpins that reached the top of the headland. As we climbed we found ourselves weaving in and out of a coastal fog and I began to wonder if the views I had promised myself I would see were actually going to be visible.
It was worth the detour though; from the summit we saw ever shifting cloud banks in the valley below revealing and then hiding the Minho below, sometimes rolling over our hilltop and dropping the temperature before easing away and bringing us back into hot sunshine. Several photos were taken as the view was constantly changing and although we lingered for a while with a coffee I would have been content to stay longer if time had permitted. We knew the sea was also down there somewhere – the map said so and we could hear it – but we never saw it as the clouds were a permanent fixture below us on the coastal side.
As we wound our way back down the hill we noticed something that we had missed on the way up due to the cloak of hill fog, a series of tightly packed foundations of ancient round houses including a couple of reconstructed houses (see photo in opening post). We executed a bit of a U-turn and spent a while longer on the hill.
We then returned to the A8 for the crossing into Portugal and it was only a little further then until we reached our overnight destination of Viana do Castello. Before going into town and finding our hotel we weaved our way up another hill which overlooked the town. The hilltop is the site of Santuário de Santa Luzia, an impressive chapel and again gave good view over the surrounding area.
Time had inexplicably run away from us and when we arrived in the town below we were further delayed by gridlock. The Portuguese and Spanish (much like the Italians) have a very competitive attitude to driving and seem happy to force their way into an already blocked junction just to ensure that no one can go if they can't. It must have took half an hour to do the last mile through the centre in ever increasing heat, perhaps making one car length's worth of progress each time the lights changed. Annoyingly having missed the hotel entrance and got caught in the one way system we had to do it all over again.
The hotel did at least have covered parking and we felt fairly content with the bike's home for the night. When checking in, the manager presented us with a city centre map. "I like people to stay longer and get to know our city" he said, "But as you are staying just one night, can I suggest that you look at the old town?" He circled an area between the hotel and river and then took his pen and circled another area to the north of the hotel "But don't go here, it is really dangerous" Then getting the reaction he wanted from Carole's face added, "Only joking....."
We got changed out of the riding gear and settled into a T-shirt and jeans for our evening walk. We took in the old town as the manager had suggested and then continued down the riverbank to yet another coastal fort, Castelo Santiago da Barra near the river mouth. "Forts everywhere," I commented to the wife, "These Portuguese and Spanish always seem to be up for fighting..." I got to find out why later in our travels.
A walk back through tight streets full of old houses with patterned ceramic tiled frontages bought us back to the town centre and a couple of beers were consumed outside a café. Going to bed, I reflected on what had seemed a long day – I couldn't quite get my head around it, it was the following morning that I realised what I had overlooked.....
4.0 Day 4
4.1 Santiago do Compostela
4.2 Santa Trega
4.3 Santa Trega
4.4 Santa Trega
4.6 Santa Luzia
4.8 Fort, Viana do Castelo
:onya: I love reading trip reports, it seems when I try I can hardly string a comprehensible sentence together :whatever:
Day 5 Viano do Castelo > Peniche (230 miles)
It was after I finished loading up the bike in the garage that I realised what had put my timings out the day before. I noticed the clock on the GTR which I had not bothered adjusting, had synchronised back to the time on my phone. So there it was, Portugal is on the same time zone as the UK, one hour behind Spain. I'm used to this sort of thing travelling west to east but I had never considered it crossing a border north to south.
First job of the day was to join the motorway at make sure I exited for the first service area, just south of Viana do Castelo. Portugal is rolling out a barrier-less motorway toll system to improve flow and entrants to the country are supposed to enter the "Foreigners" lane at the service area, log their registration and present a credit or debit card for the tolls to be charged against after 30 days. It needs a bit of work though......
I parked up in the normal service are car park and walked over to the registration lanes to do the deal. There were a couple of traffic officers sat between the two lanes seemingly dying for someone to talk to as there were no punters around and fortuanely their English was pretty good. They explained I would need to ridge the bike down the HGV lane and then do a U-turn and come up the car lane the wrong way so that the camera could photograph the registration plate on GerTRude's arse. It seemed an interesting, but not very well thought out system. I was handed back my credit card and a receipt that the machine had spat out – luckily, the Officer Of The Law spotted that one of the digits from my registration had not appeared on the receipt and then through an intercom managed to get things corrected at their control centre. I felt quite fortunate he was there and taking an interest, I have no idea how I would have sorted that out on my own.
Onwards then. On my original plan the first proper stop of the day was to have taken us inland a bit to Braga, however Carole had expressed an interest in calling in to Porto having seen Julia Bradbury or some such personality gesturing at it on the television. As we had been up two chapel capped hills the previous day I agreed to the Porto visit instead. It was already going to be a heavy day on mileage, this would save us a bit and she does not ask for much input into our trips.
We found our way into the centre of Porto easily enough, the odd mistakes mostly down to me not reacting quickly enough to the Zumo's directions when lanes split into underpasses and flyovers immediately after islands. We chanced to park up on the riverside at the base station of a cable car that would take people to the higher parts of the city. We felt we should give it a go for the few Euros they wanted and enjoyed some decent views down the Douro River.
From Porto there were more motorway miles (without stopping at toll booths) down to Figueira do Foz, where we parked up near the fort of St Catarina. I'd seen a year's worth of forts by now, so I was rather more taken with the tall art deco style clock tower on the sea front - I really want one of those in my back garden. It was an OK break from the motorway, but not a highlight of the trip.
The same could probably be said for the next stop, Nazaré. The Miradouro do Suberco had been plotted into the Nav and it was at that clifftop viewpoint that we found a space for the bike and to look down the beach and take in another drink. A bit disappointing though, not a fort in sight.
It was only about another 40 miles down to our hotel for the night in the town of Penice, which is set on a small peninsular that pokes out into the sea a bit like the peg on a jigsaw puzzle piece. Inevitably we had to pass another fort on the final mile to the Hotel Pinhalmar. We were to be there two nights and I had managed to secure another room with a (substantial) sea view from its balcony.
It had been another hot day on the bike (35 degrees and more) and it was a relief to get into the jeans and tee shirt again. From our room we could see a lighthouse in the middle distance so took a walk out to it and watched a pretty decent sunset from the cliffs before purchasing a couple of bottles from the hotel bar to sit outside with before bed.
Another day that was a bit heavy on motorway, but not too bad.
5.1 Porto
5.2 Porto
5.3 Figueira do Foz
5.4 Figueira do Foz
5.5 Nazaré
5.6 Peniche sunset
Day 6 Around Piniche (65 miles)
In the great plan the day had been set aside for a bit of a relaxation with local riding so that we had the option of a lie-in or an early night. After a leisurely breakfast we set out on a much lighter bike to see some bits of Portugal that were not framed by motorway crash barriers.
Our ride lead us to Torres Verdas where first we found our way to a hilltop overlooking the town (oh, yes, it had a fort on the top) and after taking the obligatory photos we made our way down into the town and took a gentle walk up the hill to the castle and looked back across the valley to-ward the hill and fort that we had just left.
There was some enjoyable riding to be had on "proper" roads back toward the coast where we settled at Porto Novo, a beautiful small beach resort that due to being out of season was very qui-et. We took a short walk around in the sunshine, had a coffee at the café on the esplanade and enjoyed it and the surroundings so much that we stayed for another.
Another pleasant ride northwards along the coast brought us to Consolacao where unsurprisingly we found a fort that we could sit below and watch the waves crash against the rocks for a while.
It was not much more of a ride to complete the circle back round to Peniche where we parked up by the harbour before going to town and dining on a takeaway hamburger. Although the day was wearing on there was still time to have a walk around the town (including its fort) before we took the last brief ride up toward our hotel. This time we passed by the entrance and rode out toward the clifftops again in the hope of catching a sunset as good as the previous night. As soon as the sun dipped below the horizon we headed back for the hotel only to find now that we were not the only bike on the car park, we had competition from eight matching Polish BMW GSs. I don't know if they were expecting trouble, but I did notice that they seemed to have a support van for their trip. A beer was taken in the bar and then another one on our little balcony before the night's sleep.
A proper day's leisurely riding, I need to be incorporating more lazy days in future trips.
6.1 Torres Verdas – fort
6.2 Tores Verdas – castle
6.3 Porto Novo
6.4 Consolacao
6.5 Peniche - harbour
6.6 Peniche – fort
6.7 Peniche – last of the evening sun.
Great write-up, looking forward to the next installment, also very envious as a trip through Europe has been on my bucket list for years now but have never got around to going yet
Day 7 Peniche > Albufeira (240 miles)
First job of the day after breakfast was to go into Peniche and buy Carole a new pair of gloves. During the run a couple of days before she had taken them off due to the heat and stuffed them into the gap between us. I was not aware of it and at one point during a long motorway stint lifted myself form the seat slightly to change my position a bit and of course you can guess the consequences; her gloves are on the inside lane of a Portugese motorway somewhere. Finding a pair of gloves for sale in 40 degree heat was challenging, you could get any amount of sunblock or shorts, but we cracked it in the end. I'm sure the shopkeeper was ecstatic, I bet he never thought he would shift those this week.
That done, we were back on the motorway heading south. It was back to traditional tolls now, the barrier free networks has not yet crept down there and we dropped into the usual routine of Carole feeding the machine so I was ready to make a quick exit.
The first real highlight of our run came just after we past Lisbon; The Vasco de Gamma Bridge. At 17km long it was worth the motorway toll and I thought it was a better ride than the Milau Viaduct which you have to be underneath to appreciate.
After this long and gentle cruise above the Tagus river we continued our motorway excursion and then dropped into Alcácer do Sal where we parked the bike at the side of its river and stretched our legs for a while and took the opportunity to grab another couple of cold drinks.
There were not too many more motorway miles before we broke away again for Santiago do Cacem where yet another hilltop castle had been plotted into the Zumo. It looked sensible enough on a flat map but the reality was narrow and very steep cobbled streets punctuated with blind crossroads; a bit challenging on the GTR. However, we managed to park up and take a walk around the gardens at its perimeter, taking advantage of a bit of shade from the trees.
At first there was some good cross-counrty running but the rest of our run down to the Algarve must have been seriously dull despite the hot sun and blue skies because I am struggling to remember anything much about it at all except for constantly feeding the toll machines until we came back into the areas covered by the cameras and charged to my card. Over the whole 17 day trip I had taken about 800 photos, but looking back at this day there are just 9 – I think that says it all.
The lack of stops on this leg of our tour did mean that we arrived at our hotel (about three miles east of Albufeira) at a reasonable time and after getting changed in our room with its balcony and (just) sea view took the receptionist's suggestion of taking the short ride into the Old Town.
I was beginning to realise I have become a bit of a travel snob. This busy resort full of British people, all-day breakfasts and Happy Hours did not appeal to me one bit. The thought "Blackpool with whitewash" presented its self for consideration and was duly accepted. We spent an hour or so walking round as dusk fell and then took the short ride back to the hotel. When the bike was secured on the hotel car park we proceeded to the bar next door which looked a bit more inviting than the one at the hotel. The customary beer (or was it two?) was downed before heading up for our last night's sleep in Portugal.
Back to Spain tomorrow – must remember to add the hour on......
7.1 Alcácer do Sal
7.2 Santiago do Cacém
7.3 Albufeira
Takes a while for the post to load.... but worth the wait :onya: great write and pics :clapping:
Day 8 Albufeira > Cadiz (226 miles)
Breakfast at the Hotel Velamar was the first time we had come across other English guests at any of our hotels, the upside of which was there was more of a selection of the food we were used to to set us up for the day. I still can't get accustomed to the Portuguese / Spanish thing of a breakfast consisting largely of cake.
Whilst in an ideal world we would have just followed the coast eastwards back into Spain, there was the matter of a huge area of wetlands with no roads through, which means a rather circuitous route between Albufeira and Cadiz.
There was time for a last stop in Portugal though and our first break from the motorways came at Tavira where we walked a loop including two bridges that took us over the river and back and included a coffee at a street café.
From there we were faced with another motorway run as not much had caught my eye or intermediate stops when planning. The idea was that we would stop briefly in Seville. OK, we were not going to get to see much of it because of our schedule, but I reckoned an hour there would be more interesting than taking a break at yet another motorway service area. We got in easy enough and straight to the motorcycle parking area near the Plaza de Espana I had seen when flicking through Google Street View many months back.
It was another almost unbearably hot day but a bit of parkland in front of the building we had come to see at least gave some shade below the trees and access to a kiosk for some bottled water. We only spent half an hour or so around there, I was conscious that we had made arrangements to meet the keyholder of our apartment in Cadiz at 17:00 and I was going to need a bit of time to find the place and find somewhere suitable to park the bike.
Unfortunately getting out of Seville was nowhere as easy as getting in. The Zumo had had another of its tantrums and was just showing a diagonal line across the face of the display with no regard for the lack of any actual road there. I knew I wanted to go south, so it was back to the old fashioned method of looking at where the sun was and pointing the bike in roughly the right direction. For no obvious reason the traffic was just not moving and it must have been the best part of an hour before we finally crawled to the motorway junction. Not only is the GTR hard work to hold up in stop-start traffic, I do find the clutch to be heavy and it was a great relief when the tendons in my wrist got a rest.
We took the first opportunity we could to pull off the motorway somewhere near Jerez so that I could drop a quick text to the keyholder to give bit of notice we were going to be late; just one word stuff, I had no idea how much English they understood. That done it was a case of getting into Cadiz as quickly as possible.
The general area of the apartment that we would be staying in for four nights was found easily enough but unusually there was no obvious place to park up the bike. That is to say, there were loads of allocated motorcycle spaces, but all rammed full of scooters with no GTR sized gap. In the end, wife and bags were dumped at the kerbside and whist she hauled the lot off toward the apartment I went off in search of somewhere I could leave the bike.
I have to say that when we got in there the apartment was a bit of a disappointment. The bed growled at us when we tried sitting on it to unpack the panniers and we quickly realised that the central legs were broken. We had also hauled about 60 PG Tips tea bags across Iberia so it was a crushing blow to Carole to find that there was no kettle. First exploration of our accommodation suggested that there was no balcony or outdoor space which lead me to having an attack of the grumps in anticipation of having to walk down four flights of stairs whenever I wanted a smoke. At least it had a well functioning air-conditioning system and after cooling off a bit, taking a shower and putting the last of the clean clothes on we then managed to teach a Tasimo coffee maker how to produce reasonably hot water that we could dribble over a tea bag. I then spotted the narrow staircase just outside the apartment door that lead to a roof terrace where I could have a cigarette. It was far from perfect, but looking a bit better.
We finished the day by spending the evening walking around Cadiz (and getting hopelessly lost in the process). Why Cadiz? When I was sorting out the route in the late winter I was drawn to it as being an interesting and historical city rather than a tourist resort of the sort that I have already confessed an aversion to. It was a good choice and suited us perfectly for our mid-holiday base. The whole city is pretty much a fort and sits on a nib of land that almost makes it an island. On our first evening we walked from our rooms which were literally next-door-but-one to the cathedral, along the centre of the city until we reached the sea on the western side of the peninsular. As I have said, we did manage to get rather lost on the way back but at least we had managed to pick up a couple of bits from a supermarket and I would have a bottle of something in the fridge to look forward to.
It was good to settle down for the night's sleep in the knowledge that there was no compulsion to do any big mileage in the morning. The day's riding had been mostly motorways or city centres; not the best, but at least we had seen a bit more of the world.
8.1 Tavira
8.2 Seville – Plaza de Espana
8.3 Cadiz – the cathedral square from our roof terrace.
Day 9 Cadiz > Ronda > Cadiz (192 miles)
The thing with having a bedroom about ten metres from a cathedral bell tower is that it makes setting the alarm on your phone pretty pointless. My good lady did not seem to be overly disturbed by it though, so I let her sleep in whilst I took tea and tobacco onto the roof terrace and watched the bar and café staff slowly drag out the parasols, chairs and tables into the square below. They do seem to start late over here, nothing much seems to happen until 10:00 in the morning but small children can still be seen running around the city under the watch of their parents at 23:00.
We talked about what we wanted to do with our three days in Cadiz; I definitely wanted to make the trip into the mountains to Ronda, we would have one day around the city to give us and the bike a break from each other (and get the laundry done), another day we might perhaps take a run down to Gibraltar. Carole suggested that as the run to Ronda was my "must do" we should tackle it today.
The start of the ride was the usual fight out of a city centre and then re-crossing the Puente De La Constitución De 1812 suspension bridge onto the mainland before a short back-track along the motorway toward Jerez. We left at the exist for the A382 and passed the race circuit that is familiar to motorcycle sport fans and continued eastwards toward Arcos de Frontera, the road was a motorway standard dual carriageway and not particularly challenging at this stage, but the mountains on the far horizon promised better things to come.
There was a first stop to fuel the bike and buy a couple of soft drinks from the fridge in the service station (it was knocking on forty degrees again) followed by another as we reached the foothills and slipped off the main road near El Gastor to finish our drinks and just enjoy the peace and quiet. The area was sparsely populated, the roads were well surfaced and were now giving interesting riding through an attractive landscape – I was even starting to overtake things!
We reached Ronda and with some difficulty found somewhere we could tuck the bike away in the centre of town and then navigated our way on foot to the famous Puente Nuevo, an ancient tall arched bridge that spans the gorge that splits the town. At least with most of our gear still in Cadiz we now had room in the panniers to stuff the jackets in so that we did not have to carry them round. We walked around Ronda for an hour or so and took in a coffee, we both really enjoyed the place. I fancied the walk down into the gorge to get a better photo of the bridge. Carole was not up for it (probably more so the walk back up in the heat) so I abandoned her in the shade of some trees at the top and I took the plunge while she caught up with a few calls and texts home. It was well worth the visit and another one on the "to go back to" list.
On leaving Ronda I enjoyed a superb run on the bike along the edge of the Siera de Grazzelema national park, passing through Gaucin and down to Jimena le Frontera, it was one of those runs that you wanted to keep going and I was looking forward to more of the same on the loop back t Cadiz.
Unfortunately although it started OK the roads on the loop back were not quite as well surfaced with ruts in the road on the riding line; nothing too seriou,s but enough to make the bike feel slightly unsettled in the bends. Worse still, the sun was dropping really low now so I was alternately blinded or into darkness as we weaved our way through the wooded hills. The road ran through very sparsely populated country and it seemed an age before we found a safe place to pull the bike off the road so that we could take a short break. We pushed on and was eventually rewarded with a spectacular sunset silhouetting the wind turbines on the hills nearing the main road to Cadiz.
Back on the more major roads there was a rather urgent fuel stop before making our way into the city in darkness. Due to the late start, it had been a longer day that I had intended so the evening beer was forgone. A good day though, a proper ride on a bike.
9.1 Alarm clock
9.2 A break near El Gasto
9.3 Ronda
9.4 Serania de Ronda
9.5 Benadalid
9.5 Mirador de los Castanares, Benadalid
Great thread mate. I follow it with much interest ! Thanks for sharing the pics and the story !
Rynglieder, sure is a brilliant write up. Something i could never do anywhere near yours.
A quick thanks to those that have commented :)
Days 10 & 11 – Around Cadiz
Our second full day in Cadiz was the planned day off the bike, the previous weeks clothes were fed to the washing machine and then spread around the apartment to dry. Having discharged our domestic duties we spent the rest of the day exploring the city. We really liked the place and would be happy to return one day.
For the third day I had considered the run down to Gibraltar but when we were finally up and about the decision was taken to abandon the idea due to the heat, walking around the whole day in the bike gear was not so attractive. It was a similar situation to Norway last year; if we had actually booked a room for the night we would have not thought twice about seeing it through, but we took the option of another lazy day including a climb of the cathedral bell tower to see what had been waking us up each morning and take in the view over the city. We dug deeper into the city and started to learn more of its history including the fact that it had been pretty much raised to the ground by the British and Dutch in the past which explained the city's fortifications and presumably those around the coasts we had been coming across over the last week.
Our stay in Cadiz was great, I would recommend it to anyone to visit but I think we had reached the point where we were going over the same ground and it was about right to be moving on.
10.1 - 10.6 Cadiz
Day 12 Cadiz > Granada (204 miles)
It did not take much more than a quick wipe around the apartment to leave it as we found it. Checking out was easy enough, just leave the keys on the table and shut the door behind you.
The start of our next stint was the same as on our ride to Ronda a couple of days before; up to Jerez on the motorway and then the main road toward Arcos de la Frontera. Eventually we diverged from the previously ridden roads and made a first stop at Olvera. The bike was left at the bottom of the town and after fortifying ourselves at a cafe we took a slow but steady walk up the hill to the church and castle. In truth the castle did not look much more than a tower, the spire of rock on which it stood was certainly impressive though. The terrace in front of the church gave good views across the landscape we were traversing so we left it at that, the climb to the castle would have been more than one step too far, the heat was still not letting up.
There was another spell of good riding on eastwards the A384 until we veered southwards toward Antequera where we took the opportunity for another brief stop and photo opportunity above the town. We did not really linger as the next planned break was just a few miles back west along narrower winding roads that climbed ever upwards through the Torcal de Antequera National Park, ending at a visitor centre at the summit of this small mountain range. Geology is not particularly one of our interests, as far as I am concerned a rock is pretty much a rock (unless of course it is a pebble), but I do appreciate a landscape and the formations up here were pretty unique. As a bonus, due to the altitude it was also slightly cooler, had a café, and that rare thing – a public toilet. It was a bit of a diversion from the straight run between Cadiz and Granada but had been worth the extra miles.
The rest of the days ride toward Granada was on primary dual carriageway with more upright riding and the centre of the tyres being scrubbed away. The city centre and the Zumo did not seem to be getting on, but I quickly realised that I had an entitlement to bus lanes and once I had worked that out the final run in made a bit more sense. Before too long we were parked up and checked in at the Hotel Alexares. This was one of the more expensive hotels I had booked for the trip, the odd star more than usual but it was more or less right opposite the entrance to the famous Alhambra Palace which I had intentions of getting up early for and visiting the next morning. The plan was dealt an immediate and fatal blow by the hotel receptionist who advised us that you needed to book days in advance for tickets –it seemed that once again my planning had not been quite as thorough as I had thought. There was a chance though that and cancellations hat came though would result in tickets being sold on the web site late at night, so we were left to cling on to a faint hope.
After getting changed we took the walk down the steep hill along the edge of the Alhambra grounds and down into the city centre. First job was to find something to eat so we settled down in a café in a square with a couple of pizzas and beers which were only slightly spoiled by some American students on an adjacent table who kept like annoying us by saying like at least once in every sentence which really like started to scrape at my nerves. As it was starting to look unlikely that we would see the palace from the inside I decided to take the consolation prize of the viewpoint on the opposite side of town so that we could at least see it from the outside. We headed on foot from the old town in the valley and slowly climbed the narrow winding streets up the hill on the opposite side. The city hangs on to is Moorish heritage and the shops in the streets looked more like an Arabian bazar than an European shopping street (not that I should really judge, I have never set foot in an Arabic city in my life). The rugs and incense seemed to be doing their job of trapping the tourist cash OK.
We started to get glimpses of the Alhambra between the buildings as we slogged upwards and eventually reached the Mirador San Nicholas where a good and lively crowd was already gathered, entertained by street musicians. The light was fading rapidly and the palace was stating to stand out against the darkening mountains behind as the floodlighting began to pick it out. We soaked up the atmosphere for a while before starting the walk back down, which was not too bad – going back up the other side was going to be hard on the legs though.
I rewarded myself with a couple of beers in the hotel bar on our return. Frequent checking of the web site had not revealed any cancellations though, so I was going to have to think of something else to entertain us with in the morning.
12.1 Olvera – Castle & café
12.2 Olvera – church
12.3 Antequera
12.4 Torcal de Antequera
12.5 Torcal de Antequera
12.6 Granada
12.7 The Alhambra from Mirador San Nicholas
Day 13 Granada > Brazatortas (252 miles)
As the Alhambra had been struck from the itinerary we had time on our hands and there was no big rush to check out. I was going to have to amuse myself as I went along today as when planning the route to our next overnight destination it had not shown up many interesting intermediate way points, I had an expectation of mile after mile of dry earth and olive groves.
And so just about half a mile from the hotel we had left we made our first stop to take in the view over Granada. From there we picked up the A4 motorway with the bike pointed northwards and giving a feeling that we were now at the start of the long run toward home. The run toward and past Jaen was pretty much as I expected, nothing much to see apart from the ubiquitous olive tree –and another one, and another one...
It was not too bad of a ride in parts, as we left the Andalucía region the motorway threw up the odd curve, viaduct and tunnel at some points to keep it interesting. At one point the main road seemed to be being shadowed by a smaller local road (the N-IVa?) and the suggestion came from behind me that perhaps we should exit and take the more leisurely and scenic option. I was more than happy to do that as we had plenty of time in hand so we left the motorway and took a coffee at a café conveniently placed on the island before back-tracking a little way to the Mirador de los Organos in the hills where we spent some time watching the birds of prey circling the mountains above us and skimming the valley below.
After a while we re-joined the motorway and continued our journey for just a short while before leaving to head west. The one stop that I had got planned in for the day was at Calatrava la Neuva where I had in mind climbing the road that winds around an isolated hill to the castle above. Things were not going to go my way again though and as we approached we noted storm clouds seemed to be gathering all around us and here were flashes of lightning in the distance. In the main we were lucky, there was about a three minute bust of moderate rain (the only rain we were to see on the whole of our trip) but given that the heat was holding up it seemed to dry from us and the bike almost as soon as it had finished.
Calatrava la Neuva was clearly visible for some distance before we reached the lane at the bottom. I swing the bike in and made some slow progress up the first 100 metres or so of the stone paved road but this quickly gave way to a much rougher surface and with being fully loaded the bike was not at all happy. It was quickly decided to abandon the rest of the run up and satisfy ourselves with the view from below.
Leaving the monument our road was taking us through a changing landscape, we passed a huge Repsol LPG refinery with it stacks flaring off against the still heavy sky (I had forgotten that sky could be any other colour than blue) and past the remains of what looked like long abandoned mining workings near Puertollano.
Brazatortas was then straight upon us and as we were still well ahead of schedule I chose to go into the town its self as our accommodation for the night was a little further out. I wish I had not bothered; I can't think of anything positive to say about the place and I doubt that I will ever go there again unless I need to stop for fuel or want to hide in the middle of nowhere from a hit-squad. We quickly got back on the bike and went in search of our lodgings for the night although it still felt way too early.
La Cassa Rual La Posada De Alcudia is set back off the road and I did not see the driveway until I had passed it. I was then held up for several minutes behind a small white van belonging to a shepherd who was crossing a large assortment of sheep and goats across the road aided by some big woolly dog. After a while he indicated we should pass although there was still unfinished business so I carefully crawled the bike through the tide of livestock. The woolly dog seemed to take exception to this and set about the process of rounding us back up, concerned that he would run in front of the bike if he got ahead I picked up speed which he saw as some sort of challenge and now the dog was a couple of hundred metres from his day-job I felt I had no option but to give the throttle a good twist in the hope he would give up on us.
We reached the end of the road and pulled over for a moment, I was not minded to do a U-turn and go back toward the hotel right away, it would only wind-up the dog again and I reckoned he would have his work cut out to recover the sheep and goats who would probably have made a break for it while he was distracted. I was a little concerned then when a white van pulled up some way behind us and the driver started waving and gesturing. I wondered if I was about to get into some sort of argument about a dog with a heart attack or lost farm animals, but he did not seem to be approaching us so I set off again to loop back through Brazatortas and approach the hotel in the same direction as we had before. The white van seemed to be pursing us and as I pulled over to the side of the road and it passed us I saw the branding of the hotel on its back doors and realised that I was not after all being chased down by an irate shepherd. The hotel owner had obviously realised that his English guests had missed the entrance and was helpfully trying to direct us back.
Although we now knew where we were going we fell into line and followed him back round. We were shown to a nice very traditional room, all communication was by him speaking into a smart phone and letting it translate. He seemed to be all alone at the establishment but indicated to us that he had to go out for a while. And that is how we found ourselves with the keys to the hotel, unhindered access to the beer fridge and sole possession of the bottle opener. Naturally we had our pick of the tables on the terrace and we spent the rest of the evening sitting on our own reviewing the images that we had gathered over the last week. Although it was not very lively (let's be honest it was dead) Carole commented that it would be a great place for a group of bikers to book for a night or two, the accommodation was good and the terrace looked like a great place for a gathering after a days riding. We waited for the owner to return and presented him with our bottle tops so that he knew what to add to our bill in the morning before retiring for the night.
Not a bay day's riding and the GTR had been solid again.
13.1 View over Granada
13.2 View from Mirador de los Organos
13.3 Mirador de los Organos
13.4 Calatrava la Neuva
13.5 Calatrava la Neuva - After abandoning the run up
Day 14 – Brazatortas > Mataelpino (202 miles)
The problem with being the only guests in an establishment is that there is going to be no buffet at breakfast, you are going to get what is brought to you. We sat outside on the terrace and managed to pick enough out of what was given to set us up for the day and then loaded up the bike for the next run north.
After skirting the city of Cuidad Real there was a quick stop for a smoke and a cold drink at the side of a lake near Peralvillo. The day had been set up to be relatively motorway free and although the route was arrow-straight and not particularly challenging it was good to feel that we were experiencing the culture and landscape of the region. It was back to blue skies again and as it had been for the trip so far, rather hotter than was really comfortable.
Next up was Orgaz where after a coffee a t a roadside café we took a brief walk around the town with its central castle and picked up some bits from a supermarket to stash in the top box for later.
We stayed with the N401 for a good while longer until the Zumo took us into the city of Toledo where I had picked out a waypoint for the Mirador which would give us views over the river and city. This gave us the opportunity to eat what we had purchased earlier for a bit of late lunch before taking a short walk across the river and back
Our day's riding then took us further north and swung us around the capital, Madrid before detouring westwards to the next intermediate destination, Santa Cruz del Valle de los Caidos.
A short way off the motorway we came to the foot of the hill with the turning for the monument and was confronted by a sort of ticket office or toll booth. I had no issue with the displayed admission price of €9 but did begin to wonder if it was somewhere else that I should have booked in advance or arrived earlier for; the sun was already dropping down behind the mountain above us. There was a bit of a surprising interrogation at the booth, we were asked where we had come from and whether we had our passports with us. After producing them, the lady official seemed a bit more disposed to us and said we could carry on through. When we offered payment we were told not to worry, there was no charge for us. I'm still at a loss as to why....
We rode up the winding road through the forested hillside until we reached a parking area below a large plaza or parade ground. Santa Cruz del Valle de los Caidos translates as "Valley of the Fallen" and is a memorial site commissioned by General Franco after the Spanish civil war. It is regarded with hostility or at least mixed feeling by many, who regard it suspiciously as a monument to fascism and want it gone. I had no interest in the politics of the place, the landscape, views and architecture were what had drawn me there – particularly the 150m (500ft) high cross that stood at the summit of the mountain and had been visible for several miles on our approach.
I was a little disappointed that the sun had now dipped behind the hill and the cross was now silhouetted, there did not look to be any chance of a decent photo except of the landscape toward Madrid in the opposite direction. From the plaza, a huge portal lead into the mountainside where a basilica or mausoleum formed an enormous man made cavern hung with tapestries. There were many visitors, all silent and respectful as we walked down to the chapel at the end. We noted Franco's tombstone (or at least, a memorial slab- I'm not really sure) and that several bunches of flowers had been laid upon it by supporters. There was the ubiquitous gift shop at the exit to the basilica and from a postcard on the stand I suddenly realised I was a literally not seeing the who picture; there must be another entrance and group of buildings on the opposite side of the hill so perhaps there may be a chance of a decent photo of the cross after all.
We returned to the bike and followed the driveway around the crown of the mountain where sure enough I managed to get the pictures I was looking for.
After coasting back down the hill we followed local roads through the mountain landscape to our hotel for the night, the Sierra at Mataelpino. I really wanted to like this hotel, the location in the mountains just north of Madrid was perfect, the buildings, terrace and bar looked inviting and the reception staff very helpful. Somehow though it became a bit of a disappointment, our room was down at the lowest level as the building stepped down the hillside and felt like being in a basement. It did not have much of a view, the window pane was cracked and there was efflorescence on the wall suggesting dampness. Later that night a wedding party or some other event continued on long after we were trying to settle down and was somewhat intrusive. In between though a couple of drinks from the bar taken onto the terrace compensated a little. Perhaps we were unlucky with that particular night and room, I would not entirely dismiss the idea of staying there again if I am that way.
14.1 Peravillo
14.2 Orgaz
14.3 Mirador Toledo
14.4 Santa Cruz del Valle de los Caidos
14.5 Santa Cruz del Valle de los Caidos
Day 15 Matealpino > Burgos (178 miles)
After clearing our hotel the day stated with a perfect, if short, ride through the mountains around Navecrrada including a brief stop for a smoke at Fuente de la Cantina, the car parks either side of the river bridge suggesting this was a favourite setting off place for hikers.
Not much further on was our first proper stop of the day in the ancient city of Segovia where I had been drawn to in planning the trip by the huge Roman aqueduct that crosses the city. Parking the bike was unusually challenging here and we ended up in a pay and display bay with the ticket posted to the screen with a bit of the insulation tape that always travels with us in the top box. It was of course hot again and after securing a couple of cold drinks I set about walking below some of the length of the aqueduct to capture my pictures. I was only as we left Segovia when I caught sight of an imposing castle in the mirrors of the bike a while later that I realised there was probably more to it than I had seen and it has of course become a candidate for a re-visit in the future.
We joined the Autovia northwards, a somewhat boring dual carriageway ride, now through a flatter and less interesting landscape of mostly dust and more olive trees. In fact I never really had much expectation of this leg of our journey and for no other reason than we would need a stop I had plotted in a course to the centre of the city of Valladolid. Compared to many of the places we had visited it seemed pretty unremarkable, I hunted down the cathedral to see if it was worth a photo while Carole sat on a bench near the bike catching up by text with friends and family back home. After finding a bit to eat we made our way out of the city and continued our progress along the A62 without any further significant stops.
I knew from the point of booking that there was no car park at the Hotel Via Gotica in the centre of Burgos, but there was the entrance to an underground car park just round the corner, so that's where we anchored the GTR for the night.
On checking-in we were directed to the fourth floor but told that the lift only went as far as the third. It soon became apparent that I had booked the one and only room up there, a sort of budget penthouse with a big Velux rooflight which gave views across the river and to the cathedral. It also had a bit of a balcony where I could have a quick smoke whilst the whirlpool bath was filling up (an unexpected luxury and totally alien to a bloke brought up in Gornal, who has never had to deal with buttons on a bath before).
Thanks to our laundry operations back in Cadiz there were still plenty of clean clothes to change into and we were soon crossing the bridge into the city centre to catch the last of the sun hitting the cathedral and the town beginning to liven up. We found a restaurant that look suitably basic for our tastes and had a meal with a couple of beers. There was still time for a bit of window shopping (everything seemed to be open late) and a walk along the river bank before retreating to the hotel for our last night in Spain
It had been a good morning and evening, even though the afternoon had been a bit dull. Tomorrow we were against a deadline, there was a ferry to meet......
15.1 Fuente de la Cantina
15.2 Segovia
15.3 Valladolid
15.4 Burgos, city gate
15.5 Burgos, cathedral
15.6 Burgos, Hotel Via Gotica
15.7 Burgos, view from the bedroom window.
Day 16 Burgos > Santander (150 miles)
The day's journey was to be relatively low mileage to make sure we had plenty of time to reach the ferry if there were any small hitches. There was plenty of time then to take another walk from the hotel, over the bridge and into the centre of the city to take a few more pictures in the better light. With the bike gear back on, we checked out of the hotel and extracted the bike from the underground car park (at a discounted rate as it worked out, if you pay for the parking at the hotel reception and feed their ticket into the machine it saves a couple of Euros).
There was then an hour or so riding north-westwards until we reached Aguilar de Campoo and picked up the motorway for a short blast, the tops of the Pico de Europa mountain range starting to come into vision on the horizon.
I'd promised myself a quick detour into the mountains if we had pleasant of time in the schedule and as we were well on track we left the motorway near Reinosa and too the CA-183 for a gentle ascent to the Mirador Fuente de Chivo. The days riding so far had been under the usual blue skies and intense heat (which we had still not really come to terms with) but the air did cool as we climbed into the mountains. There was no chance of the ski resorts we passed doing any trade, but when we reached the viewpoint at the summit of the road the jackets remained firmly on, up until then on this trip there was always a bit of a rush to get partially undressed as soon as the bike had stopped.
The odd bit of cloud tried to roll round some of the peaks but there were still some extensive views to be had and that sense of peace that seems to pervade in the mountains. We had spent a week in the Picos back in 2011 (our first trip away on the bike when I was financially able to do so again and the kids being old enough to abandon). We had enjoyed it at the time and this brief return has made me want to do it again soon.
We made a slow decent back toward Aguila with one eye on the cattle grazing at the side of the unfenced roads and also keeping our speed in check as we approached the villages. In this region of Spain speed controlled traffic lights are common and if you enter a village too quickly you will be held at a red light, to the annoyance of anyone coming in behind you.
Back on the A67 we soon reached Santander and skirted the harbour and town to make our way to a bit of a headland occupied by the Magdalena convent set in its parkland. My exploration on Google Street view had suggested that we could probably park up there for a couple of hours, but the gates were closed to public traffic and we ended up squeezing in to one of the beach car parks and walking in. It was a nice place to kill a bit of time before our evening sailing and we circuited the park on foot taking in a coffee at the café, brief look at some old sailing ships and a raft illustrating the city's se-faring heritage and spending some time looking at the seals and sea lions in the pens adjacent to the shore.
There was still a little time left, so we rode back into the centre of Santander and picked up a few bits to eat at a supermarket which we took to a bench at the harbour side, the time was just about right then to head for the ferry queue. As usual bikes were pretty much the first "passenger" vehicles to board and as our cabin was already prepared we were able to get changed and settle on the rear outside deck with a beer well before the Cap Finistere edged away from the harbour.
It felt pretty much all over although it was going to be almost another two days before we arrived home.
16.1 Burgos
16.2 Mirador Fuente de Chivo
16.3 Mirador Fuente de Chivo
16.4 Mirador Fuente de Chivo
16.5 Santander
16.6 Parque de la Magdalena
16.7 Parque de la Magdalena
Day 17/18 Santander > home
The return crossing to the UK always seems like a long one, but at least this time the ferry seemed to be sailing a lot closer to the coast of France than I ever remembered from previous trips. To be fair, I think we may have made this section of the crossing at night before. The bar steward who served up my cup of tea explained that they can't always take this shortcut near Brest; the tide has to be in the ships favour so that there is 7-8m of depth below the hull to make it possible. This seemed a lot of detailed knowledge for a barman and as I sipped my tea I wondered if it was in fact the captain doing a bit of moonlighting to make up his income. The coast looked attractive though and has planted a seed in my mind for a future trip.
Still, sailing within a stone's throw of the Islands and (Phare de Jument?) lighthouse did make a change from 24 hours of unbroken sea.
We docked in Portsmouth pretty much on time, but the problem with bikes being first on is that they are last off. When the trip was planned I had no idea what the weather would be like on our return and to avoid the chances of a 3-4 hour trip in the dark and rain so I had booked a night at the Premier Inn in Southsea. The intention was to find something to eat before we checked-in but by the time I had found a cash machine in Portsmouth it was too late for the planned fish & chips so it was a case of settling for a proper Imperial Pint at the bar and straight to bed.
There was then the uneventful run back home up the A34 and M40 and the bike was back on the drive for lunchtime. An hour and a half later the bike was unloaded, washed and Carole had put two pannier's worth of laundry through the machine. I was certainly all over now.
It had been a good trip – still not perfect though – places that were just names to us before like Porto, Cadiz, Seville, Granada and Toledo now meant something more to us. I had had a few sessions of proper motorcycling but on the other hand there had still been too much motorway, even many of the primary roads I had selected to avoid motorways were pretty much like motorways themselves.
Seville and Valladlolid had been two city centres too many on a bike the size of the GTR, but our day around Peniche and the ride out from Cadiz to Ronda were a couple of highlights that I will remember fondly.
There must have been plenty to catch my eye as over 800 photos were taken. A few have been posted on here and if anyone is interested to skim through a few more I have thinned it down to nearer 300 and they can be found here:
https://www.flickr.com/photos/rynglieder/albums/72157672190420447 (https://www.flickr.com/photos/rynglieder/albums/72157672190420447)
The biggest disappointment I got was when I went to my computer to download the video footage I had taken. For this trip I had purchased an Innov C5 camera which was mounted and hard wired to the bike for a permanent power source. Over 15 high speed high capacity mico SD cards were brought to cover every moment of the trip and it had all worked perfectly on the trial runs before we left. Unfortunately I have found that despite taking the trouble to insert a fresh card every morning I have not got one single data file captured. I have not got round to investigating yet but will try and do a post-mortem on it over the coming weeks.
It is usually about now that my thoughts turn to net year, but the whole Brexit thing is making me hesitate at the moment, I feel it would have been better for things to remain as they were (tonight's headline on the BBC home page says "No deal Brexit could cause six months of delays at Dover". I would never get that much time of work.
I'll probably take the plunge anyway, as far as I understand it everything should hold good for the two year transition period. It's just a case of deciding where to now.
Thanks to those who have read through and commented.
Enjoy your tours next year wherever they may take you.
Pete