WEEK 3

Monday, Day 15
67 km to Vadillos leaving Cuenca on CM2105 then left on little white road to Collados, Ribagorda and Canamares on CM 210 and then right to Vadillos. Cool (10C), dampish day. Left Jucar Gorge for easier ride than envisaged. Nothing in Canamares looked open so feeling daring we push on through a ghastly tunnel (prohibited to cyclists). No obvious way to avoid tunnel. Vadillos lies in a tight little valley (Rio Cuerva) and is dominated by a large noisy factory which makes …what? Excellent hotel - the first ‘complete’ one we’ve had! No mobile (GSM) signal here. Saw some eagles? Villages no longer white washed. Fellow diners speak a little English and warn us for our planned route. Much shaking of heads.Very bad roads ahead.

Day 16
59km to Molina de Aragon (on CM210) on roads so bad they are even marked on the map as such! Large potholes and quantities of slippery grit everywhere. The Hoz de Beteta is a spectacular, winding gorge that takes us and an accompanying cuckoo to Beteta. Two vehicles passed us but after the CM2101 we feel very alone. The National Park of Alto Tajo is stunning and isolated. The road is too steep for me at one point but I struggle on, hoping we can find accommodation in Molina. A hard day but worth every minute! Drizzle sets in at Taravilla and we meet a lone Spanish cyclist pushing for the coast without his girlfriend whose knees have given up. He tells us all about Molina and its almost too good to be true castle but when we arrive it is raining and we are cold and hungry, and the castle looks for all the world like a Hollywood set.

Day 17
64 km to Daroca on A 211 over Puerto de Santed (1153m) Weather much the same as the day before but terrain much gentler although still feels very isolated. Several abandoned hermit churches and nothing else save an isolated petrol station whose owner does his best to chat to us as we stand sipping Coca Cola from his wobbly little fridge. A lorry driver’s mate tries to converse with us as we sweep down into Daroca but gives up only to come and meet us on his bike and guide us through the town to yet another hostal and an evening of tapas and beer. We’re feeling rather pleased with ourselves. The hotel guests in Vadillos had implied that the going was very tough between there and Daroca but here we are all in one piece. We both take the opportunity to post home maps & unused/unwanted clothing. As I wait for my brother who is taking an age in the post office, 6 Guardia Civila police jeeps turn up, blue lights blinking and tyres screeching. The occupants jump out and rush about slapping shoulders and greeting one another and then descend on a bar for morning coffee. Quarter of an hour later they emerge and after much shouting and back slapping speed off in different directions. My brother finally arrives having missed all the action. I am left stunned!

Day 18
82km to Zaragoza on the N 330. A climb up to Puerta de Paniza (938m) and then a descent to a hotter, dustier climate again and flatter roads much of the time next to La Huerva river.  Plenty of traffic and Zaragoza very busy as siesta lifts for the evening but it is possible to avoid the main road on route into town by following a ‘via de servicio’. A bit boring compared to the last few days. Find the Youth Hostel without any trouble and eventually persuade the management that our bikes can not be left in the yard with all the students’ broken bikes. They are given a shower room and we lock them to the radiator! The ban on food in rooms and the constant unintelligible tannoy system has us in fits joking about old POW films.  Despite a heavy thunderstorm we enjoy our evening in town and find an excellent tapas restaurant - pigging out on the ‘assortment for two’ – 3500 pts inc. beer and wine.

Day 19
78km to Huesca. Leave on A 123 which runs east of Rio Gallego. Past the monastrey at Cartuja de Aula Dei and a weird church spire in Penaflour. Run on white roads that zig-zag under N330. A hot, dusty, boring day gently uphill and into the first headwind of the trip. We leave Zaragoza rather late having stopped off at a bike shop for a cap for my brother. The owner says the Col de Somport is open but that the ride to Sabinanigo is harder than the Somport. He rides with us to the nearest supermarket and is waiting for us when we come out with more info about the Pyrenees. What helpful people the Spaniards have been. Today was very heavy and I have a headache. Perhaps I am sickening. I hope not.

Day 20
54 km to Sabinanigo over Puerta de Monrepos (1280m) on N330 – a 25 km climb inc. two well-lit but horrendously noisy tunnels, cycling permitted. A gorgeous day despite health not being at best.  Clear, warmish weather, almost perfect in fact. Pete broke a spoke on the ascent and had lots of fun finding a large spanner to remove cassette with so most of the day I was alone and took it as easy as I could.  From the top (Puerta de Monrepos) my first and the most fantastic views of Pyrenees and then a gorgeous descent to Sabinanigo crossing the Rio Gallego.. Nice, totally empty hotel, one bike on balcony the other chained to handrail in stair well. With a sore throat and aching body I decide to put health and the continuation of the trip first and take public transport over to France. The ticket man speaks no English but after much drawing and hand waving it seems I can take the train to Canfranc and then transfer to a coach for the descent into France. We pop into the police station and the officer there says Somport is open, no problems but (smirk) tunnel is not finished. What tunnel – where did I get the tunnel thing from?

Day 21
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To Oloron by train to Canfranc via  Jaca, then bus from Canfranc. Pete is doing the whole thing by bike. The climb up to Col de Somport is long via Jaca (46km) but well-graded and surfaced. The descent into France is steep, narrow, winding and very pretty.
Train worked well but getting my loaded bike on and off was almost beyond my capabilities as the guards van was locked and bikes have to be put on through the narrow passenger door and up the steps.  In Canfranc the grumpy French coach driver says no bikes, I say Spain says bikes ok and in the end I am permitted to load my bike and luggage into the completely empty luggage section. Hopefully we’ll meet our parents today or tomorrow. They know we’re doing Somport but my mum’s mobile phone is not working. I find a really nice campsite on the outskirts of the village and wait. Eventually I pitch my tent and go off in search of my brother in the hope of meeting him and helping him miss the detour I had taken to find the campsite. It was a vain attempt. I spin out the afternoon siting by the roadside watching the tourists and eating everything edible in my panniers. Back at the campsite I have an entertaining hour learning French swear words whilst watching the locals trying to get a large pinball machine into a Ford Fiesta! Finally my Dad arrives. They’ve seen Pete, popped into Spain and couldn’t understand how they’d missed me!
 
 

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