2018 Tour - Spain & Portugal

[Rynglieder]

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

[VladTepes]

Great thread mate. I follow it with much interest !  Thanks for sharing the pics and the story !

[grog]

Rynglieder, sure is a brilliant write up. Something i could never do anywhere near yours.

[Rynglieder]

A quick thanks to those that have commented 

[Rynglieder]

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

[Rynglieder]

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

[Rynglieder]

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

[Rynglieder]

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

[Rynglieder]

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.

[Rynglieder]

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

[Rynglieder]

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

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