WEEK TWO

Day 8 - Thursday 28 August - Chateauneuf sur Charente to Libourne - 100 km / 60 mls

My little sleeping pod / glamping was great, and although there was no rain at least I was able to give the tent a rest. I moved away from the River Charente and headed across country sort of southwest so that I could get to the River Dordogne and wine country. There was quite a bit of up and down getting from one river to the other over the countryside, and then through some pretty expensive wine real estate with names such as Pomerol and Lalande. I think that nice wine is grown and made around these parts. Probably outside my budget / price mark of M&S / Waitrose Exceedingly Good Claret. The forecast was that it would thunderstorm overnight, and so I booked an AirBandB, which was perfect for my needs for the night, and rather than going out to eat, I picked up some very nice titbits and cheese from a traiteur and a fromagerie. And a little vin de pays ! I watched a couple more episodes of King and Conqueror, which still fails to impress me, the dialogue especially. You could superimpose the script on to any modern drama and it would work. I’m sure they didn’t speak to each other back in the 11th century like that. And I’m not sure King / Saint Edward the Confessor killed his own mother. Anyhow, it was something to keep me occupied until I fell asleep. Riding yesterday I was aware of some grinding from down below in the bike. More about that.,,,

(Accommodation:  Airbnb Libourne)

Day 9 - Friday 29 August - Libourne to La Réole - 55 km - 40 mls

That grinding got worse, and I had a few attempts at readjusting and tightening the bottom bracket, which is a rare strange specimen on my Rohloff bike. It’s an eccentric bottom bracket designed to be readjusted in situ to take account of chain stretch over a period time. My bike doesn’t have a derailleur or a tensioner. Anyhow, at La Réole on the banks of the Garrone I abandoned the idea of going any further, and given that there was a local campsite, that is where I am tonight. The weather has not been great, the passing showers and thunderstorms have continued all day, and perhaps tonight they will still be around. However, I’ll put up with whatever happens, and wait until tomorrow when I think I will have to take the train in to Bordeaux and see if I can get a French bike mechanic to have a look at it and see what, if anything, can be done. I suspect I will just get a Gallic shrug, because this bottom bracket isn’t a mainstream one, so if that is the case I think I might have to think about making my way home and abandoning this trip. I’m sure over the course of a couple of days I could get myself and bike by train to a channel port, Le Harve / Ouistrahem / Calais, and then home. I’ll be sad if that is the case, but I’ll just have to put up with whatever is the best course of action. C’est la vie ! Anyhow, tonight I’m hoping that the stormy weather has passed and that it will be a dry night and that tomorrow early on I can come up with a plan that works one way or another. I’ll let you know what happens !

(Accommodation: Camping Municpal de la Réole)

Day 10 - Saturday 30 August - La Réole to Bordeaux to Mont St Marsan - by train

Well, a bit of a day today. I was up early, wakened at 6 am by a rainstorm, and made headway so that I could get a train to Bordeaux where I would most likely find the kind of bike shop that I needed in order to fix my bottom bracket. Actually, I’d worked out that it might not be as complicated as I had imagined, but still I don’t have those kinds of tools or a new bottom bracket with me. So a bike shop it needed to be. The first place I found near the station was sympathetic, but said it was beyond him today, but pointed me in the direction of a bike coffee place, where cool, hipster cyclists seem to hang out, and where he said the mechanics were used to dealing with tourers like me. And, so it proved. Tim and Quentin were all smiles, no problem, promised to get it done by 4 pm, and seemed to know what they were doing, so I left them to it. I went down the road to a nearby launderette and dried my tent, and gave everything else that I am carrying a good wash and dry, so that I am all now kiss fresh.

Well, sort of. By the time I was finished, the bike was ready, and I was able to work out a plan to get me back on track, which means getting the train I am on, as I write, to Mont de Marsan, where I would have been tonight anyhow if I hadn’t had my little flurry of bike mechanic activity. I’ll stay in an AirBandB tonight. I’ve had enough of getting wet and being damp for the whole day. More wet weather is forecast over the weekend, not cold, in fact very humid and warm, but lots of showers and thunderstorms. So, I’ll stay indoors if I can for the next couple of days.

Bordeaux was interesting, quite a young population, probably students, and pretty ethnic. It looks as though it could do with a bit of gentrification, especially around the backstreets, which have lovely 18th and 19th century - I think - houses built with the local lovely white chalky stone, It does have a hipster feel to it, but most importantly, as is common with the majority of French towns and cities, there are decent food shops, grocery stores, epicerie and traiteur places.

I’m quite impressed with SNCF French trains, two of which I’ve been on today. These are the middle distance ones, not the TGV, but they seem to be on time, are spacious and clean, and always have spaces for bicycles. There is no shortage of onboard staff who wear snazzy uniforms and a hat. Always a hat, which does give some sense of being in charge and sending off a don’t mess with me message. Better than some of the staff you see on Avanti or LNW. And, the trains are bike friendly, very important to me on a day like today !

So, I’m hoping that tomorrow I will be back on track, and able to continue down to Biarritz and be on hand to cross the border in to Spain on Monday. Then over to Pamplona, turn west to Burgos and Leon, and then south via Valladolid, Salamanca, Caceres to Seville, then west to Faro. I might have to pop a train for a day or two in order to keep to time so that I’m in Faro for 10 August for meeting up with David and hopefully Richard. I’ll try and get a rest day somewhere so that I can do a bit of tourist stuff and more laundry and bike maintenance.

Surprise of the day was breakfast. Coffee, pain au raison, pain au chocolate, and very nice too, all for less than 5 euro. Back home, that would cost you almost close to 10 euro / 8 sterling, I think. Mind you, train journeys seem expensive, but then I guess most people have concession travel as I do at home being an OAP. Here, I'm having to pay the full whack, no concession, no railcard. Still, I've been grateful for the trains today.

(Accommodation:  Airbnb Mont de Marsan;  Bike Shop: Musette Bicyles & Coffee)

Day 11 -Sunday 31 August -  Mont de Marsan to Urt - 110 kms / 65 mls

Today was characterised - massively - by thunderstorms and torrential rain, and when not doing that just gently drizzling, so it was a damp and miserable ride, although through some lovely countryside, especially when I joined the River Adour in the afternoon. There are some decent cycle paths at various stages, otherwise quiet roads alongside the very busy dual carriageway that seems to go as straight as a die from Marsan to Bayonne. I passed a place called Dax, with a huge steam cloud, which I can only take to be a power station, probably nuclear, which the French seem to be very keen on. Something like 70% of French electricity is nuclear generated. Or so Google AI tells me.

My destination was Urt, a small town on the River Adour, where there was a campsite. Now, I hear you ask, why was I camping in such atrocious weather ? Good question. Well, probably because I was living in hope that things would improve by the evening - which they did not - in fact, so much so that the two rules of the buggeration of cycling, namely that in the last half hour of a trip there will be either a big hill to climb, or it will rain, proved right, both of them. There was a massive hill up from the river, and it poured mightily in order to ensure I was thoroughly wet through, if I wasn’t already so. And, because there was a dearth of Airbnb and Booking.com places in the region, and I would have had to go another 20 miles or so in to Bayonne to find something. And, because on the camping site’s webpage I had seen that they had glamping pods and thought one of those would do, although I was not able to book on the internet. So, I Iived in hope that there would be something, and so it proved ! I was able to secure a two person glamping pod, with mattress, sheets, duvet and pillows, all covered and dry, for 25 euro. Bargain ! And once I had got myself sorted out, dried out - thanks to the onsite launderette - I was able to sleep warm and dry. Grateful for small mercies.

I guess one reason I slept so well was because I had a bit too much wine ! The next door glamping pod was occupied by Matt, who is walking the Camino route, the very long one through France, but had hurt his ankle, and was resting up for a few days. I thought I detected a Brummie accent, and yes, I was right. He was bought up in Moseley. So, we got chatting, well chatting as well as he could and as well as I could understand, because he was zonked, I think on weed, so it was an interesting conversation ! When I said I was off for a pizza - the only offering around - he decided he would hobble along with me, and I’m afraid I didn’t keep an eye on the wine being ordered. Anyhow, one has to be able to be let off the leash every now again, right ? He hadn’t appeared when I left this morning, I suspect on account of the cocktail of weed, wine and painkillers. It’s one of the joys of this kind of touring, running in to all sorts of odd and strange people, mostly nice. I still keep up with Lucas in Germany almost ten years after we cycled by each other. And John W and Deano from the USA. Not that they are odd. Just nice.

So, I slept very well in my warm, dry, glamming pod.

Day 12 - Monday 1 September -  Urt to Andoian - Train & 20 kms / 12 mls

It was still raining this morning, so getting up and about was a bit of a chore. The forecast was for it to thunderstorm and be wet for the most of the day, so after my experiences of yesterday I decided to take the train from Urt to Hendaye on the border, cross over in to Spain, and then take a train either to Burgos or Pamplona, which the various train websites said was possible. But, when I arrived in Irun on the other side of the border there were no trains running because of engineering works which will last a week. I was able to get some independent Basque commuter train to San Sebastián, but same problem there, no forward trains. The staff seemed confused, conflicting advice and stories proffered, but eventually I went on the promise that there was a train from Andoian some 20 kms away, but I wouldn’t make the 2 pm one today. So, I have cycled to Andoian and checked out the station and timetable, but am still not convinced that there is a train tomorrow, although I am sure there is from a station a further 15 kms up the line. The staff seemed unsure. I’ve booked in to a modest pension for the night near the station. So, I will cycle tomorrow to Tolosa and get the train from there to Burgos. Where it will be sunny, dry and warm ! I’ll get ahead of myself by a day or two, but that’s good because I think I miscalculated my trip and just how big France and Spain are !

My dinner tonight in Andoian was Secreto de Jerez, which turned out to be duck, which I was not expecting, but still very nice. And then some local cheese with membrillo. And a little Tinto. This is Basque country, so perhaps I should have had something more local. It’s also very green - lots of rain - and very hilly. Tomorrow my train ride will help me avoid the vertiginous Picos range, which I’m not unhappy about missing. I’ve experience them several times before. Burgos will see me on the Plain, as in The Rain in Spain. The signs here are all in Basque which is replete with Z and K and is indecipherable and unfathomable to me. Sturdy people, look like they won’t be messed with. And, as I say, green and very hilly.

PS - the Serving Person - to be unTrumpian PC - tells me the Secreto de Jerez was in fact pork ! So much for my taste buds and palette !

Day 13 - Tuesday 2 September - Andoain to Burgos (train)

Today, I have mostly been on the train. My plan was to make up a couple of days of my route, because I think I will be hard pushed to get to Faro for next Wednesday, 10 September, so given that on the north side of the Picos and associated mountains and hills the weather is still very wet and unpredictable, and given that the climbs in those mountains are pretty arduous, especially when the bike is carrying load, I thought I’d bypass the weather and the climbs and hop the train to Burgos, where the weather is fine and where there are not so many demanding climbs. Only a few years ago I would have baulked at the idea of doing this, but I guess increasing old age has made me realise that sometimes it makes sense to take an easier option and be kind to oneself ! So, I did. Although, I still wasn’t convinced that my intelligence from the young RENFE people at the Andoain station was correct, given my experiences of yesterday in San Sebastián. They assured me the media distancia train I needed to get to Burgos was starting in Andoain, but I could find no mention of it on the RENFE website or booking system. Those said that it started in Tolosa, some 15 kms away. So, I got up early, and got a commuter train to Tolosa just to make sure that I got the right train. Which I did, and it took me through some valleys through the mountains, and then on to the plain to Burgos. Tonight I’m in a camping site on the outskirts of Burgos, the old heart of which is well hidden by the modern apartment buildings and small factories that shield most Spanish cities and their old centre.

First impressions of Spain are, as I’ve seen and heard many times before, that the Spaniards are like a murmuration of starlings, all crowded together and chattering away at the same time, usually sitting around at one of the multitude of bars and cafes that are everywhere. I think Spaniards live out their lives at a cafe table, eating tapas, and smoking, and chattering away. All very sociable and nice. But, just occasionally I wonder if it is all a bit too much, and that I would eventually hanker for some peace and quiet. Another impression is that jobs that would usually be done at home by people from other countries are done here by young native Spaniards. The kids at the RENFE station, for example, in proliferation; the youngsters working across the counter in bars and cafes. I’m just wondering if here there is a culture of having to get out and do some work, no matter what, to earn your keep and to be occupied, perhaps encouraged by a spartan welfare system which isn’t going to support you if you choose not to work. Whereas, I sense, at home too many youngsters are able to choose not to work, ostensibly because of mental health problems, and no doubt other issues, and the welfare system facilitates that. And so, the jobs that they could and should be doing are done by newcomers to the country. And because they don’t do those kinds of jobs, we have to go elsewhere to find the workers, and so a driver to immigration. Remember, there are between 750.000 and 850.000 youngsters between the ages of 16 and 24 in the UK who are NEETs - not in employment, education or training - in other words doing very little, and getting some sort of welfare money to let them do so. Or am I being unnecessarily harsh on our young people ?! Whichever way, it can’t be good for them, for their futures, for the country’s economy. Just saying ! I’m sure I’ll come up with all sorts of other observations about Spain and the Spaniards as I pedal along.

Tomorrow, Wednesday, I will head off on my bike down to Palencia, and connect with the Ruta de La Plata, which is an ancient Roman route as well as a camino route to Santiago from south to north, which will take me through Valladolid, Salamanca and Caceres. Of course, I’m going in the opposite direction, but I’m sure I’ll catch sight of some of the camino walkers on my way. I’m wondering what happened to the wounded walker Matt from the other night ?! He may, of course, not be able to remember anything about our meeting and conversation. He was truly zonked. I’ll just stick to the red wine.

Tonight I’ve had paella and a tuna salad at the campground restaurant / cafe, and it is buzzing with Spaniards out for a drink, something to eat, and to meet and greet. All very convivial. And noisy. I’ve had to take my hearing aid out so that I can hear myself think.

Day 14 - Wednesday 3 September - Burgos to Torquemada - 90 kms /55 mls

Today the Wind Gods did not favour me. No wonder there are so many wind farms in this part of the country. It made for hard going, also the unpaved routes I was taken on, I think mostly because the main N road has become an Autovia, and they don’t seem to have made provision for people who are not allowed on the Autovia, like me on a bike. Anyhow, it was a longish day, hard work fighting the wind, and some very big hills, on top of which are the wind farms. Other than that, it is sunflowers and wheat - the latter already harvested, the sunflowers drying out and no doubt due for harvest. There were very few towns of any size, just villages and hamlets, deserted, nobody about. I guess they all come out in the evening, as they have tonight in Torquemada where I find myself in an hostal for the night. Torquemada makes me expect the Spanish Inquisition from Monty Python to suddenly appear. Remember them ? Most little towns and villages have a sturdy looking church at the centre, built more like a fortress with few or no windows, no doubt a place of refuge when the barbarians / Moors / Conquistadors / Franco attacked. Not pretty or uplifting, as were all those beautiful Romanesque / Norman churches I saw in France.

Torquemada is north of Palencia, where I had originally planned to land this evening, but I realised that I’d had enough of wind and gravel paths, so I got a simple hostal in Torquemada. I arrived at 6:30 pm, but had to wait until 7:30 pm when they opened up again, having closed at 4:00 pm, presumably for a late afternoon siesta. I think I was given a stern lecture about the rules of booking in by the receptionist when she turned up at 7:30 pm, but my Spanish is not good. They like their rules, the Spanish, all that Conquistador / Inquisition / Catholic Majesties / Franco / Jesuits / Teresa of Avila / John of the Cross nonsense. So, I had to go with the flow, and while I waited I had a beer at a bar down the road, cost of 1.50 euro ! That would be at least 5 euro at home. My breakfast was a humongous tortilla, cheese and tomato baguette and two coffees which cost me 9 euro, but that was on the camino trail and I think they hike their prices for the pilgrim trade.

The first part of the morning was on the Camino route out of Burgos, with lots of pilgrims / walkers on their way, I think to their next major stop at Leon. There was a steady stream of them, from all over - the ones I managed to talk to were from Korea, The Philippines, and Ireland. They are not always easy to engage with, heads down, and ploughing on. I think there’s a sense of solitude as they walk along. I left them by lunchtime as I headed southwest, and I will head in the next few days towards the Ruta de La Plata, which is also a south to north Camino route, but they will be going the other way to me, of course. I think the minority of walkers will be doing the Camino for purely religious / Catholic reasons, although there will be hardcore ones, and usually you can tell them as they are festooned with religious stuff and reciting the Rosary as they go along. And, they are not wearing the trendy trekking Patagonia gear that the less religiously motivated are wearing. Most walkers, I think, are doing it for a whole range of reasons - finding themselves, solitude, centering, challenge, history, tradition, wanting to lose weight, because it’s there….take your pick ! The thought occurs to me that my cycle touring trips would fall in to those same categories. I definitely prefer the bike to walking. And I don’t buy the bones of St James stuff, although I have great respect for those who do walk the Camino for whatever reason and wish them a fulfilling and satisfying Camino. There is a thousand years of tradition and past walkers/pilgrims along this route. Has to be respected.

My dinner tonight is a nice salad, and some ravioli with duck liver / foie and sauce. Very nice, both. I’m finishing my dinner at 9:30 pm, and the locals are only just coming in to eat. The kids are still up, the streets are full of people chattering and nattering, but if you had come through here mid-morning, mid-afternoon, or early evening, the streets will have been deserted. They keep strange hours, these Spaniards.

Tomorrow I plan to pass through Palencia and Valladolid and find a camping site just south of Valladolid. Let’s hope the wind abates, or turns and favours me, and that there are not too many gravel roads. A good bit of the route is along the Canal de Castille, so I expect towpaths of various kinds.

Day 15 - Thursday 4 September -Torquemada to Tordesillas - 110 km / 68 mls

My hostal last night was perfectly nice, even if the Señora was a bit stern about the booking in. My dinner was simple, but very tasty. I slept well, even though the chattering out on the street didn’t subside until 1:00 am. I was up by 8:00 am and on the road by 9:30 am, the plan being to get past Valladolid to Tordesillas on the banks of the River Duoro, where there is both a Parador and a campground ! I was tempted to treat myself to the Parador, but have settled on the campground. TBH the camping is okay if the weather is fine, it solves the issue of what to do about the bike and all the negotiations that go on at hotels, and it’s much more of a canvas for seeing people, observing all kinds of behaviours and coming up with generalisations. Like tonight, at the perfectly nice restaurant at the campsite - actually a very, very good restaurant - at the next table to me was an oik of a German, drunk, smoking, loud and everything that a diet of sauerkraut and sausages can produce. Then when he left, a couple of dominant, bossy women arrived with an aggressive and loud dog, and spent the whole time fussing over the dog and trying to get it behave. And loud and squealing kids at 10 pm running around like little precious princesses. Nowt as queer as folk. But, the food was very good, a nice mushroom risotto with some steak strips, and a salad of cheese and jamon.

Tomorrow, I will head further on south to Salamanca, and camp the night there, and then I will have to think and plan carefully as to the best way to make sure that I get to Faro on Wednesday next. I think it will mean me having to jump a train somewhere like Placensia or Zafra and make up a couple of days, and then wherever I land cycle from there west to the border at Ayamonte, and then take the ferry over to Portugal. I won’t cycle from the border to Faro because the road that I would need to take is something like out of the Third World. I did it last year, and it was horrendous. So, I will hop the train to Faro. Spanish roads are much more developed, and the driving much more disciplined than is the case in Portugal.

Today’s ride was much more pleasant and easier than yesterday, less hills, and the wind was much diminished, although still a little breeze to my face. I changed my preference on my Komoot app to road cycling rather than touring, and I think that made a difference in keeping me on tarmac roads rather than on tracks. Even still, I did about a third of today’s trip on dusty tracks, and both me, the bike and my bags were covered in white chalky dust by the end of the day, I passed through Valladolid, which is really scrappy on the outskirts to the north, lots of derelict industrial stuff, but a nice historic centre, and then a pleasant ride out to the south, which is definitely the des res bit of Valladolid. Mostly apartments, which seems to be the style of habitation in Spanish cities, even suburbs. Tordesillas is on the River Duoro, as is tonight’s campground, and the wine I had this evening with my dinner is a Duoro Tinto. Very nice.

And, at 10:30 pm as I prepare to take to my tent, there are still two year olds up and about and making a lot of noise. And the barking dog.

Day 16 - Friday 5  September - Tordesillas - Salamanca - 90 kms / 55 mls

There was a noisy family out for a weekend of camping near me last night, and they didn’t start to eat until 11 pm and were still at it at 1 am.  Good job that when I take out my hearing aid, I can barely hear anything, so it didn’t stop me going to sleep.  Exercise and a tipple of Tinto helps as well.

My route today was to take me close to Salamanca, where I have been many times before, and to a camping ground along the river.  The Komoot routing still took me on some very difficult tracks, in the morning, and later as I approached Salamanca.  The morning tracks were really quite tricky, and it took me over 2 hours to do about ten miles.  I suppose I could have bombed along , but not only is it uncomfortable, I really don’t want to slip and fall, certainly not at my age, so I take it easy these days on surfaces like that.  Also, they are very remote, so you don’t want to be in trouble in the midst of cares and acres of vineyards with nobody coming along for hours.  So prudence. Later I was directed on to some very nice roads, quiet with wide margins, and bowled along, although there were some steep climbs as well.  The run in to Salamanca was a delight,m until I ended up on tracks again for the last few miles.  Weather was lovely, just a little breeze to keep me cool.  

The last time I was in Salamanca I stayed at The Parador, and very nice it was as well, but tonight I will be camping.  What amazes me about these Spanish campsites is that they always have a very nice restaurant for the happy campers.  Spaniards do not dumb down when it comes to eating.  The restaurant was fully booked, but I could get a table in the bar, and was served very fine food - a small pot of tripe, which was’t as earthy as the tripe I had in France, some croquettes, some fried ravioli with shrimp inside, and some pork tacos, all as small dishes, just a bite on each.  But, very nice.  Even though fully booked, the restaurant was never more than a third full throughout the evening, and I guess it’s to do again with a drama chef who wants to strictly control the flow of food, but the daft thing is that people like me were coming in to the bar and ordering the same food. Someone please explain !

This campsite was quiet, I slept well, and all was good with the world.

Day 17 -Saturday 6 September - Salamanca - Bejar - 90 kms / 55 mls

A nice ride today in very pleasant weather, and no rough tracks !  The route out of Salamanca had a good cycle route, and then the road was wide, good margin and not busy.  I was directed off that main road on to some provincial roads that took me over some steep climbs, up 600 meters in the morning, and then another 600 meter climb as I approached Bejar.  The countryside is very expansive with wide horizons, lots of wheat already harvested, and then in to granite country and over a range of Sierra to Bejar, which is itself not exactly flat !  I lucked out at lunchtime in a little town that I came across, where there was a bar at which I was able to get some lunch and stock up on water, but so often in these little towns and villages there is nothing on offer.  I wonder, outside bigger towns, where people shop and get groceries, because I struggle to find anywhere most days.  Mind you, there is always a pharmacy in most of these places !  Sometimes a local bar, which will offer simple tapas.  It’s always a daily concern as to where to stock up along the route.

I had a quick swing around the historic centre of Salamanca, but it isn’t that huge, and like most historic and lovely towns in Spain is encircled by modern apartments and industrial bits, not pretty.  You have to be determined to get to the historic centre.  I think Salamanca claims to have the oldest medical school, perhaps even university, which won’t make Oxbridge happy.

Notwithstanding the climbs, today’s ride saw me in Bejar by 5 pm, and I’m in in a small hostal.  It’s given me time to work out the next few days so that I can be in Faro Portugal by Wednesday.  So, I’ll cycle to Plasencia tomorrow, Sunday, camp there, then get a train on Monday to Seville (5 hours !), stay a night there in an Airbnb, then Tuesday take a train to Huelva early in the morning, from where I will cycle to Ayamonte, and hopefully late Tuesday afternoon I will take the short ferry over to Portugal Vila Real de Santo Antonio and then a train to Faro, and then a quick cycle to Casa de Amendoeiras to arrive on Tuesday night.  Well, that’s the plan, and I’ll be chuffed if it all works out after all my planning !  That gives me time on Wednesday to pick up a car at the airport and get ready for a week relaxing in the sun.  Which will probably also mean a few days of bicycle maintenance, cleaning and packing for the return flight.

There’s a Fiesta del Pueblo tonight in Bejar, so it’s very busy and lively, everybody out and promenading, all kinds of stalls and entertainments.  I found a restaurant for dinner, but the kitchen didn’t open until 9 pm, so I took and array of the very interesting tapas dishes that were available at the bar, pretty much all offal, and very tasty, especially the pig’s snout two ways (braised and deep fried - very nice) and I think some kind of liver, but whether it was pig / beef / lamb or chicken I could not tell. I guess it’s best sometimes not to think about what bit of the animal you are eating, just enjoy it. The bar man was very happy that I was trying out their local dishes and specialities. Can you imagine serving pig’s snout at one’s dinner party ?!

And, I will enjoy my simple hostal bed, and an opportunity to do more than my basic ablutions when I am camping, to properly wash out a few things, and get them to dry.  Luxury !

Day 18 - Sunday 7 September - Bejar to Plasencia - 60kms / 40 mls

I had a gentle start this morning, because I didn’t have far to go to Plasencia, and much of it is on a Vias Verdes which is mostly downhill, a repurposed  part of the Salamanca to Plasencia railway line.  It was pleasant and easy riding after the hills of yesterday. It brought me down from the Sierra that I climbed up to most of yesterday, with some wonderful views along the route.  I wanted to get to Plasencia by just before 2 pm so that I might get the direct train to Seville, although I had reason to believe that there were works happening that might occasion a bus for part of the journey, which would make taking the bike an impossibility.  The stern woman at the station - I blame Franco and the Falangists for this Spanish tendency to rigourism and harshness - was not having any of it, and would only sell me a ticket with bike reservation for tomorrow, Monday, which was my fallback plan anyhow.  So, that is what I will do, although tomorrow is a regional holiday in Extramadura, so here’s hoping that the train happens !

I was going to camp, but the weather is a bit damp today, although still very warm, and I don’t like being damp in my tent.  So, I’ve take to a little, rather modern, hostal near the station, where Hector the factotum was very helpful in welcoming me and saying that the bike wasn’t a problem and giving me a safe storage for it.  A little tapas at a bar down the road, and a glass of Tinto, has set me up for a pleasant and soporific afternoon, and then later this evening I will take a walk and see what Plasencia has to offer.  I’m actually glad of this little pause, because I have been going without much stop for the last couple of weeks, so I will enjoy my enforced idleness until I get the train to Seville tomorrow at lunchtime.. Extramadura fiesta permitting !

Plasencia is an up and down town, on a river, and with most old towns has a pleasant historic centre, but surrounded by a ribbon of industrial areas and masses of apartments.  I’ve been here before in 2021 on my Ruta de la Plata trip and stayed in the Parador, which was lovely.  I did think about that for tonight, but tbh when I’m all alone it seems like a waste to do something special like that and be all Billy no mates. Hence my nice hostal for tonight. I’m sure there is lots to explore here, but to be honest I’m not in tourist mood.  My main interest when I’m cycling is the route, the countryside, the landscape, the trails, people watching, and what takes my fancy to eat and drink. I’m having my dinner in the Plaza Major this evening, and as you would expect it is buzzing, everybody out and about, enjoying a drink and a good natter.  They will be here until late, I’m sure, whereas I will be off to my bed at a decent hour.  Next question is what to eat, and what to drink !

The Spanish are very convivial, and like to gather together, mostly in the evenings.  It seems to be part of the timetable for the day to set out and go for a walk and gather in some square, usually for a nibble and a drink.  I’m not sure how the bars and cafes make money, because people sit over an inexpensive drink - a wine at 2 euro, say - and talk and occupy a table for hours.  I guess if they live in the apartments that I’ve seen with no real space, or garden, then they need to get out and about.  Groups are very often family and multi-generational, including little toddlers out and about until very late. The only oik I’ve seen on my trip has been a German.  The Spaniards, although they can be loud, are pleasant and courteous.  But, then there is that rigourism and authoritarianism and telling you the rules stuff I’ve come across, usually from people sitting at desks.  In most of the parts of Spain I’ve been this trip the population is homogeneous.  I think you have to go in to the big towns and cities to see much diversity.  I notice those things living in Birmingham, which is a very diverse city, and increasingly Pakistani origin Muslim, with other sizeable Sikh, Hindu, Hong Kong Chinese communities, as well as smaller groups of Horn of Africa people, like Somalis and Eritreans.  Oh, and of course, quite a number of Afghans, especially over the last few years.  And then there’s Edgbaston’s finest and best !

THIS IS THE WORLD ACCORDING TO CHRIS - so please feel free to skip !  I’ve been catching up on the news as I wait upon my train, and how thoroughly depressing it all is.  Reform has just had its conference in Birmingham, only a mile from where I live, and I’ve been watching the razzmatazz surrounding Farage.  He/They, I believe, are quite dangerous.  Their playbook is that of most aspiring right wing / authoritarian / fascist types, namely to home in on a single issue that appeals to the fears and anxieties of people, and that, of course, is immigration, especially illegal immigration and in particular The Boats (which only constitute 4% or annual immigration in to the UK, the other 96% being through legal channels). They know nothing about economics, social policy, foreign policy, world events.  Even on immigration, their broad brush declarations about the issue don’t survive the test of forensic investigation and questioning.  It’s all headline stuff.  Mind you, they are right at identifying immigration as a major issue for the UK, indeed as it is for much of Western Europe.  Whether you like it or not, immigration has the capacity to change, and has already done so, the character, face, culture, even values of the UK.  Largely it’s been left by successive governments to happen in a laissez faire way over the last decades, and some of those chickens are coming home to roost - lack of integration and assimilation, separation of communities, challenges to British values, fear between communities, and so on.  I recognise that a certain amount of immigration is necessary, perhaps even good, for a modern society and economy, but in a controlled and managed way, in terms of numbers, expectations of both immigrants and the settled communities, and above all with an insistence that the values of the UK are not an optional extra for new comers to accept, but are an integral and essential element and expectation if they wish to come to live here - such as respect for other people and communities, respect for women, diversity, sexuality, other faiths, British laws and values and culture.  That means a commitment to becoming British themselves, even while at the same time quite legitimately having cultural respect for their own backgrounds and origins.  Without that as a prerequisite, immigration is always going to be a problem and seen as a threat and will engender fear and anxiety, which has the capacity to morph in to violence between communities.  Which the likes of Farage and Reform will feed on.  Reform is not the answer to this problem.  But, I really hope that the Labour Government will find a way of gripping this issue and settling fears and anxieties, as well as ensuring managed and integrated immigration, otherwise we are in for a very difficult and dangerous time, for all communities.  

Of course, most emigration would not be happening if the places where people emigrate from were places of peace, stability and hope where people can see a safe and prosperous future for themselves and their children.  You don’t leave family and home if it is a good place for you.  So, perhaps more focus and interest on making those places safe and prosperous would be a good starting point ?. Yes, I know, very idealistic, but why not ?

WEEK 1    WEEK 2