Round 3: Ramble around Iberia
- Thread starter Roberto
- Start date
certain northerners would ensure you wouldnt work again if you brought any of those snacks back 
Cheers gents.. 
Gotta keep those panniers clear for the all important stuff mate..
certain northerners would ensure you wouldnt work again if you brought any of those snacks back
Gotta keep those panniers clear for the all important stuff mate..
Quarteira to Plesancia
First thing to do: get priorities in order. Early shopping for take out. (Note the plan is for this to be savoured in the UK some time later)
Al arrives to bid me farewell…
It starts to rain, so not with not ten minutes on the bike I decide to stop for breakfast. The weather begins to clear up, and I'm not in a hurry particularly, so the I don't really get moving until just befrore midday.
It's grand to be back on the bike but kind of strange. I feel very relaxed, almost so that my mind is just wandering and I can't really focus on what’s occurring on the road. Never had that before. Strange sensation it is. Anyhow, that's not healthy and I have to jolt myself to concentrate a couple of times, rather like you might do if you feel yourself getting drowsy in the car.
I manage it. The journey away from the coast was pretty simple. I take the main non-highway known as the IC1 away and North and head towards Beja. Traffic is light, the occasional lorry helping me pass and pulling right over. All a very pleasant re-entry to this biking lark. Odd, there was just a tinge of apprehension last night before getting away today.. The likes of 'You're on your own.. What are you doing here.. You're a long way from home..' all that garbage. Five minutes on the road and that's all melted away.
The road gets more interesting as we move into the hills before I turn towards Beja.
Soon enough I'm delivered to a couple of Michelin's green roads and they're typical Portugal; fairly narrow, what you might call pretty technical, bumpy, with lots of twists and turns, many for no apparent reason that matches with the landscape. Odd but fun.
Straying orf' the beaten track..
And back on the beaten track again. Soon enough Portugal will turn to Spain..
.. Which it does.
Petrol is obtained just over the border, just short of 40 cents or so a litre cheaper than it is in Portugal. Portuguese registered cars are there filling up, and a Pick up truck fills several jerry cans.
There's more grand riding. Despite some threatening looking clouds the rain doesn't arrive. It's all easy flowing stuff.. Steady 60-70mph across pretty much everything that comes along, the roads more or less deserted.
Hot dog.. jumping frog..
The final part is a quick nip up the A66 AutoVia to get a few more miles in. Darkness comes in quickly. Booking.com delivers me the promise of a room for £30 which I take up. I leave the main road and am closely inspected by the Guardia Civil. My customary diversion wave at them leaves them looking at each other apparently confused, but there's no tug for me which we like because I've got the sound of Stevie Nicks' gorgeously shrill voice rattling around inside my System 6.. and apparently Fleetwood Mac is illegal in Spain on a bike. (Alright, well, not exactly.. Headphones and music are for some bizarre reason).
I turn into the place. Hmm, what have we here? It looks kind of a truck stop in a town. A very fat man appears and tells me that Parking for the bike is behind the hotel. Excellent.. Good start.
But behind the façade of what looks like some crappy little chef, there's a cosy restaurant, an inviting bar, and a lounge with terrific reclining seats where I can watch a bit of la liga while surfing the internet. Not the first time a hotel in Spain has shown to have more to it than initially meets the eye.
The night air is taken. Plasencia is.. Well.. Pleasant. A walled town enveloped by development, but houses and flats now built well into the ancient facades. It's a nice shirt sleeved evening to wander about. It's hilly here too, so I earn dinner. I don't feel like taking photos as I'm trying to not get lost, it's a bit of a labyrinth.
Of course, I forget to sort out the timings, you move back ahead a hour from Portugal to Spain. It's OK though and I still get dinner..
An excellent day.. great being back on the road
First thing to do: get priorities in order. Early shopping for take out. (Note the plan is for this to be savoured in the UK some time later)
Al arrives to bid me farewell…
It starts to rain, so not with not ten minutes on the bike I decide to stop for breakfast. The weather begins to clear up, and I'm not in a hurry particularly, so the I don't really get moving until just befrore midday.
It's grand to be back on the bike but kind of strange. I feel very relaxed, almost so that my mind is just wandering and I can't really focus on what’s occurring on the road. Never had that before. Strange sensation it is. Anyhow, that's not healthy and I have to jolt myself to concentrate a couple of times, rather like you might do if you feel yourself getting drowsy in the car.
I manage it. The journey away from the coast was pretty simple. I take the main non-highway known as the IC1 away and North and head towards Beja. Traffic is light, the occasional lorry helping me pass and pulling right over. All a very pleasant re-entry to this biking lark. Odd, there was just a tinge of apprehension last night before getting away today.. The likes of 'You're on your own.. What are you doing here.. You're a long way from home..' all that garbage. Five minutes on the road and that's all melted away.
The road gets more interesting as we move into the hills before I turn towards Beja.
Soon enough I'm delivered to a couple of Michelin's green roads and they're typical Portugal; fairly narrow, what you might call pretty technical, bumpy, with lots of twists and turns, many for no apparent reason that matches with the landscape. Odd but fun.
Straying orf' the beaten track..
And back on the beaten track again. Soon enough Portugal will turn to Spain..
.. Which it does.
Petrol is obtained just over the border, just short of 40 cents or so a litre cheaper than it is in Portugal. Portuguese registered cars are there filling up, and a Pick up truck fills several jerry cans.
There's more grand riding. Despite some threatening looking clouds the rain doesn't arrive. It's all easy flowing stuff.. Steady 60-70mph across pretty much everything that comes along, the roads more or less deserted.
Hot dog.. jumping frog..
The final part is a quick nip up the A66 AutoVia to get a few more miles in. Darkness comes in quickly. Booking.com delivers me the promise of a room for £30 which I take up. I leave the main road and am closely inspected by the Guardia Civil. My customary diversion wave at them leaves them looking at each other apparently confused, but there's no tug for me which we like because I've got the sound of Stevie Nicks' gorgeously shrill voice rattling around inside my System 6.. and apparently Fleetwood Mac is illegal in Spain on a bike. (Alright, well, not exactly.. Headphones and music are for some bizarre reason).
I turn into the place. Hmm, what have we here? It looks kind of a truck stop in a town. A very fat man appears and tells me that Parking for the bike is behind the hotel. Excellent.. Good start.
But behind the façade of what looks like some crappy little chef, there's a cosy restaurant, an inviting bar, and a lounge with terrific reclining seats where I can watch a bit of la liga while surfing the internet. Not the first time a hotel in Spain has shown to have more to it than initially meets the eye.
The night air is taken. Plasencia is.. Well.. Pleasant. A walled town enveloped by development, but houses and flats now built well into the ancient facades. It's a nice shirt sleeved evening to wander about. It's hilly here too, so I earn dinner. I don't feel like taking photos as I'm trying to not get lost, it's a bit of a labyrinth.
Of course, I forget to sort out the timings, you move back ahead a hour from Portugal to Spain. It's OK though and I still get dinner..
An excellent day.. great being back on the road
David Lee
Guest
Its nearly lunchtime here and your last photo has not helped at all......
Keep enjoying
Keep enjoying
Its nearly lunchtime here and your last photo has not helped at all......
Keep enjoying
Ta. And sorry old bean.. Tisn't going to get better any time soon. May I recommend catching up after 13:00 hours
Ta. And sorry old bean.. Tisn't going to get better any time soon. May I recommend catching up after 13:00 hours
I assume the new healthy lifestyle has been shelved?
I assume the new healthy lifestyle has been shelved?
Man cannot liveth on lettuce alone
Plasencia to Luyego de Somoza
I fell off of the bed in the night. Boing, crash, splat. Somehow I managed to pull the bed over on to its side too. OK, it was a bit flimsy and on a frame but it was still some achievement that somehow I managed it. And on to a tiled floor, double bonus. Lord alone knows what went on. Perhaps another Linda Lusardi recurring dream but if it was I can't remember, more's the pity. It sure is an interesting way to wake up.
Getting ready. It was clear outside and I thought it might be nippy, so here come the thermals.
..'And all because the lady loves Milk Tray'.. der nah.. ner nah ner nerrrr..
Alternatively: For sale: One fat ninja. Toothbrush not included.
I set off Northwards. It's a pleasant little start after the bike was a little hesitant to turn over this morning.
Wow.. Nearly November and fires still smouldering..
40,000 miles up. Every 10k completed on my bikes and I call it a birthday. Happy Birthday junior..
A nice place is found to stop. Tea is made. A reminder that we'll be needing a service pretty soon..
More lovely miles follow.
I meet a couple from South Wales on their way back to Santander well loaded up aboard this fella. I like the smurf.
Ah, the humble 'Overtaking Permitted' sign. Two greyed Hillman Imps and a barcode. They puzzle me in Spain; sometimes they're just misplaced and many times they lead to an overtaking stretch so short that unless your company car is a Bugatti Veyron then you've not a great deal of hope passing anything..
An impressive gorge appears out of nowhere..
I skirt along the far North Eastern Portugal border, albeit on the Spain side. Stunning views. Braganca in the far, far distance there, now to my South West, with its fine Super Bock Stout (I have some on board, of course) and ballistic's fat prostitutes (of which I have none)
Splendid tiny villages..
Not all roads have been maintained to most of the immaculate tarmac that adorns Spain. This one was a treat. Not so bad on the straights, but on the bends the road had almost completely crumbled away. Not sure that the photo on the go does it great justice, but no 'knee downs' on these bends, racer folks..
A deserted church and an ideal setting for that 'Fistfull of Traveller's Cheques' gunfight..
Evening is fast approaching. I pass two Guardia Civil who look to be doing random stops. There are a lot of police about around here. Two more on RT's turn across down a road ahead of me so I play nicely for a while.
I hit Astorga and look for somewhere to stay. (Note purposeful avoidance the use of the term 'somewhere to crash'). According to that new fangled internet thing, in this town places either look nice and are expensive or look crap and are only moderately cheap.
I find a Tourismo Rural place and book for 40 Eurobobs, including breakfast (OK, including toast and jam and a coffee then). Booked and I'm heading ten miles or so Westwards as the sun beats a retreat..
Well. What a delightful little place. A lovely room, a bed that not even me and Lucious Linda are going to be able to wreck, a really nice bar with a woodburner going to keep out the chill night air, draft San Miguel Select (a dark sort of an ale, not that other hangover drivel) and a curious little man sat drinking with his pal that seems to be able to make a noise that sounds a lot like Chewbacca. Odd. Oh and the small matter of this…
I sit and watch the end of the Barcelona v Celtic siege, nursing my small beer ration.
Fear not, my Nutty fellow GSer, I shall be out jogging at 8 as a penance
I fell off of the bed in the night. Boing, crash, splat. Somehow I managed to pull the bed over on to its side too. OK, it was a bit flimsy and on a frame but it was still some achievement that somehow I managed it. And on to a tiled floor, double bonus. Lord alone knows what went on. Perhaps another Linda Lusardi recurring dream but if it was I can't remember, more's the pity. It sure is an interesting way to wake up.
Getting ready. It was clear outside and I thought it might be nippy, so here come the thermals.
..'And all because the lady loves Milk Tray'.. der nah.. ner nah ner nerrrr..
Alternatively: For sale: One fat ninja. Toothbrush not included.
I set off Northwards. It's a pleasant little start after the bike was a little hesitant to turn over this morning.
Wow.. Nearly November and fires still smouldering..
40,000 miles up. Every 10k completed on my bikes and I call it a birthday. Happy Birthday junior..
A nice place is found to stop. Tea is made. A reminder that we'll be needing a service pretty soon..
More lovely miles follow.
I meet a couple from South Wales on their way back to Santander well loaded up aboard this fella. I like the smurf.
Ah, the humble 'Overtaking Permitted' sign. Two greyed Hillman Imps and a barcode. They puzzle me in Spain; sometimes they're just misplaced and many times they lead to an overtaking stretch so short that unless your company car is a Bugatti Veyron then you've not a great deal of hope passing anything..
An impressive gorge appears out of nowhere..
I skirt along the far North Eastern Portugal border, albeit on the Spain side. Stunning views. Braganca in the far, far distance there, now to my South West, with its fine Super Bock Stout (I have some on board, of course) and ballistic's fat prostitutes (of which I have none)
Splendid tiny villages..
Not all roads have been maintained to most of the immaculate tarmac that adorns Spain. This one was a treat. Not so bad on the straights, but on the bends the road had almost completely crumbled away. Not sure that the photo on the go does it great justice, but no 'knee downs' on these bends, racer folks..
A deserted church and an ideal setting for that 'Fistfull of Traveller's Cheques' gunfight..
Evening is fast approaching. I pass two Guardia Civil who look to be doing random stops. There are a lot of police about around here. Two more on RT's turn across down a road ahead of me so I play nicely for a while.
I hit Astorga and look for somewhere to stay. (Note purposeful avoidance the use of the term 'somewhere to crash'). According to that new fangled internet thing, in this town places either look nice and are expensive or look crap and are only moderately cheap.
I find a Tourismo Rural place and book for 40 Eurobobs, including breakfast (OK, including toast and jam and a coffee then). Booked and I'm heading ten miles or so Westwards as the sun beats a retreat..
Well. What a delightful little place. A lovely room, a bed that not even me and Lucious Linda are going to be able to wreck, a really nice bar with a woodburner going to keep out the chill night air, draft San Miguel Select (a dark sort of an ale, not that other hangover drivel) and a curious little man sat drinking with his pal that seems to be able to make a noise that sounds a lot like Chewbacca. Odd. Oh and the small matter of this…
I sit and watch the end of the Barcelona v Celtic siege, nursing my small beer ration.
Fear not, my Nutty fellow GSer, I shall be out jogging at 8 as a penance
excelente rob
próxima parcela por favor
próxima parcela por favor
Late evening in Luyego de Somoza
Remember 'Stars in their Eyes?' Whatever happened to that.
Anyhow, Tonight Matthew, I'm going to be a nutter magnet.
Weird.
After getting ready to post my last ramble excerpt I got harangued by Han Solo after his mate Chewbacca had sodded off and out into the night. He appeared stage left and came and sat with me. His name was Rafael and he claimed to be 'Abogado', of which I do understand, and that is a lawyer. He didn't look much like a man of law in his natty off-the-shoulder donkey jacket and kappa sweater combo, but hey ho, perhaps that is indeed the legal look out in rural Spain, and after all who am I to say any different. Of his announcements that much I got; I explained 'No hablo Espanol', but not for the first time on this trip I got the say-it-slower-and-repeat-it-again-and-again treatment, only this time from our legal eagle.
He clearly got that I didn't understand.. And so he just waffled on regardless. His waffling became more of what I might call 'darker' in tone and his eyes widened. I could get that much even though I couldn't get a word of whatever the message actually was. I got the vague familiarity of a sort of a 'Stay on the road.. Keep clear of the moors..' style piece of advice from 'An American Werewolf in London' but I have not a clue. I asked the girl behind the bar if she could speak English but she pretty much said no before even I'd finished asking.
So, in the words of the investigative red top reporter in the brothel, I made my excuses and left.
He's out in the car park now talking to a woman. I wonder if she's in the legal framework too? Hmmm, she's no Ally McBeal. In actual fact it looks like she's eaten Ally McBeal. Anyhow, I digress.
For those of you that tuned in to this last night, that's why the pictures were initially cocked up, my proofreading was abruptly curtailed by our resident legal loon.
My encounter with Rafael it put me in the mood to listen to this
<iframe width="640" height="480" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Ej5n2oieXYo" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
I'd better get some sleep!
Remember 'Stars in their Eyes?' Whatever happened to that.
Anyhow, Tonight Matthew, I'm going to be a nutter magnet.
Weird.
After getting ready to post my last ramble excerpt I got harangued by Han Solo after his mate Chewbacca had sodded off and out into the night. He appeared stage left and came and sat with me. His name was Rafael and he claimed to be 'Abogado', of which I do understand, and that is a lawyer. He didn't look much like a man of law in his natty off-the-shoulder donkey jacket and kappa sweater combo, but hey ho, perhaps that is indeed the legal look out in rural Spain, and after all who am I to say any different. Of his announcements that much I got; I explained 'No hablo Espanol', but not for the first time on this trip I got the say-it-slower-and-repeat-it-again-and-again treatment, only this time from our legal eagle.
He clearly got that I didn't understand.. And so he just waffled on regardless. His waffling became more of what I might call 'darker' in tone and his eyes widened. I could get that much even though I couldn't get a word of whatever the message actually was. I got the vague familiarity of a sort of a 'Stay on the road.. Keep clear of the moors..' style piece of advice from 'An American Werewolf in London' but I have not a clue. I asked the girl behind the bar if she could speak English but she pretty much said no before even I'd finished asking.
So, in the words of the investigative red top reporter in the brothel, I made my excuses and left.
He's out in the car park now talking to a woman. I wonder if she's in the legal framework too? Hmmm, she's no Ally McBeal. In actual fact it looks like she's eaten Ally McBeal. Anyhow, I digress.
For those of you that tuned in to this last night, that's why the pictures were initially cocked up, my proofreading was abruptly curtailed by our resident legal loon.
My encounter with Rafael it put me in the mood to listen to this
<iframe width="640" height="480" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Ej5n2oieXYo" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
I'd better get some sleep!
Luyego de Samoza to Cosgaya
The morning jog would have to be postponed. I think it was a combination of staying up a bit to pen the closing activities of last night and the bed having an Alzheimer's brand memory foam mattress which turned out to be as comfortable as a very uncomfortable thing, having a profile not dissimilar to that picture of that awful road I posted yesterday.
So I'm tired again and the morning is a dozy bumble around. Amongst the dyspraxic highlights is me ripping my fairly new Michelin map as I try to stuff it in the silly tank bag enclosure (the map pocket is the right size, the space to get the map into it is half witted)
Yes. I'm tired. Fortunately for me I've cracked the lion's share of the trip North now, and it’s only three hours or so back to the Picos according to Google Maps which is a bit of a relief.
I was a bit nervous about the bike being outside after last night, but thankfully Perry Mason didn't appear to have touched anything, and all was in order. Phew.
Breakfast was toast and jam and coffee, but lots of all of it. I felt a bit guilty leaving so much toast but it was for the best. The coffee though, well that was most definitely welcome.
And to the road we go. As I head North East Garmin wants to take me on to the AutoPista, which is a toll road, even though toll roads are selected to be avoided. It starts to have a fit and do crazy stuff so I switch the routing off for a bit as the bloody thing is giving me the pip.
The drizzle quickly wears off and going is very nice. The riding is calm, progressive, lovely. One of those days where traffic is all in your favour, overtakes come up at the right time, etc. Splendid. I don't feel tired any more.
I run across another Camino Santiago route and travel along it for a good dozen or so km's. There are still a lot of folks around doing the walk..
After a run North, negiotiating a lot of road building activities (in Spain? Surprise that is, eh?) I join up with the CL-626 which takes me on towards the N-621 and the Picos. Again the riding is first class.
As I'm heading out of a village I can see Guardia Civil.
I'm a fair way off but the bloke is in the road with his hands on his hips so I guess that'll be me then. My gormless waving tactic won't cut me a break in this situation. I'm signalled to stop and am able to unplug quickly my headset from my hidden MP3 so I can hear the rozzer and not Bryan Ferry. The Sunglasses come off but my lid stays on and flipped up. Genius.
Papers. Driving Licence. Stuff. Things. I'm bang on the speed limit and I have a regular light bulb, no HID, so there's no immediate infraction that comes to mind and I'm not told anything.
Out of the two of them, the main man has some English. I tell him I have a uniform just like that back at home in the UK. I stand tall with my hands behind my back, in fact just like his uninterested mate. I hope that he thinks that I'm a traffic policeman and this will mitigate any potential pernickityness.
The truth is I do have a uniform rather like it - I briefly had a weekend job at Homebase
My legal briefing with Rafael last night was sadly lacking, but I'm fairly sure that 'Impersonating a DIY store employee' is not classified as a crime in Spain, so where's the downside?
After the papers meet the grade he has a good look around the bike. I'm glad to have not affixed my 'Gibraltar' coat of arms sticker as yet; I refrained just in case of such an encounter. He's impressed that even though the bike is filthy I've cleaned my number plate and rear light cluster, tapping the plate and pointing and gesturing approval. I have law abiding credibility to go with my eluded law credentials.
Everything is in order, so I'm shown palms offering me the road, to which I accept.
There are no smiles from me; I stay in character and offer a stylish stately salute as a farewell, from one greenhouse and potted plant assistant to another professional clad in green and yellow.
There is so little traffic- no wonder I generated an interest, I guess they were just having a mooch.
Onwards we go. A refreshing cup of tea is taken in Riano, by the reservior..
The odd on the road obstacle to navigate..
Lovely views over the armco..
I get another opportunity to ride the San Glorio Pass. It's super. I don't see any traffic at all until the final few kilometers.. the riding can't be beaten. My own riding, dare I say it, was absolutely grand.. even if I do say so myself. Nothing special speed-wise, just flowing, composed and not a foot (er.. tyre then) put wrong.
And as if by Magic, I'm back in Potes..
It's overcast but warm on this side of the mountains now, 22 degrees. The picturesque backdrop of the Picos brightens up the greyness of an otherwise perfect day.
So it will be my last day in Spain on this trip so I decide to spoil myself. I do a little research and settle on the Hotel Del Oso which isn't so far away from me. It's in a terrific spot.
Rather nice place, this is..
.. After a swift walk and a bit of exercise I can occupy a very nice wing chair and wait for the restaurant to open
The morning jog would have to be postponed. I think it was a combination of staying up a bit to pen the closing activities of last night and the bed having an Alzheimer's brand memory foam mattress which turned out to be as comfortable as a very uncomfortable thing, having a profile not dissimilar to that picture of that awful road I posted yesterday.
So I'm tired again and the morning is a dozy bumble around. Amongst the dyspraxic highlights is me ripping my fairly new Michelin map as I try to stuff it in the silly tank bag enclosure (the map pocket is the right size, the space to get the map into it is half witted)
Yes. I'm tired. Fortunately for me I've cracked the lion's share of the trip North now, and it’s only three hours or so back to the Picos according to Google Maps which is a bit of a relief.
I was a bit nervous about the bike being outside after last night, but thankfully Perry Mason didn't appear to have touched anything, and all was in order. Phew.
Breakfast was toast and jam and coffee, but lots of all of it. I felt a bit guilty leaving so much toast but it was for the best. The coffee though, well that was most definitely welcome.
And to the road we go. As I head North East Garmin wants to take me on to the AutoPista, which is a toll road, even though toll roads are selected to be avoided. It starts to have a fit and do crazy stuff so I switch the routing off for a bit as the bloody thing is giving me the pip.
The drizzle quickly wears off and going is very nice. The riding is calm, progressive, lovely. One of those days where traffic is all in your favour, overtakes come up at the right time, etc. Splendid. I don't feel tired any more.
I run across another Camino Santiago route and travel along it for a good dozen or so km's. There are still a lot of folks around doing the walk..
After a run North, negiotiating a lot of road building activities (in Spain? Surprise that is, eh?) I join up with the CL-626 which takes me on towards the N-621 and the Picos. Again the riding is first class.
As I'm heading out of a village I can see Guardia Civil.
I'm a fair way off but the bloke is in the road with his hands on his hips so I guess that'll be me then. My gormless waving tactic won't cut me a break in this situation. I'm signalled to stop and am able to unplug quickly my headset from my hidden MP3 so I can hear the rozzer and not Bryan Ferry. The Sunglasses come off but my lid stays on and flipped up. Genius.
Papers. Driving Licence. Stuff. Things. I'm bang on the speed limit and I have a regular light bulb, no HID, so there's no immediate infraction that comes to mind and I'm not told anything.
Out of the two of them, the main man has some English. I tell him I have a uniform just like that back at home in the UK. I stand tall with my hands behind my back, in fact just like his uninterested mate. I hope that he thinks that I'm a traffic policeman and this will mitigate any potential pernickityness.
The truth is I do have a uniform rather like it - I briefly had a weekend job at Homebase
My legal briefing with Rafael last night was sadly lacking, but I'm fairly sure that 'Impersonating a DIY store employee' is not classified as a crime in Spain, so where's the downside?
After the papers meet the grade he has a good look around the bike. I'm glad to have not affixed my 'Gibraltar' coat of arms sticker as yet; I refrained just in case of such an encounter. He's impressed that even though the bike is filthy I've cleaned my number plate and rear light cluster, tapping the plate and pointing and gesturing approval. I have law abiding credibility to go with my eluded law credentials.
Everything is in order, so I'm shown palms offering me the road, to which I accept.
There are no smiles from me; I stay in character and offer a stylish stately salute as a farewell, from one greenhouse and potted plant assistant to another professional clad in green and yellow.
There is so little traffic- no wonder I generated an interest, I guess they were just having a mooch.
Onwards we go. A refreshing cup of tea is taken in Riano, by the reservior..
The odd on the road obstacle to navigate..
Lovely views over the armco..
I get another opportunity to ride the San Glorio Pass. It's super. I don't see any traffic at all until the final few kilometers.. the riding can't be beaten. My own riding, dare I say it, was absolutely grand.. even if I do say so myself. Nothing special speed-wise, just flowing, composed and not a foot (er.. tyre then) put wrong.
And as if by Magic, I'm back in Potes..
It's overcast but warm on this side of the mountains now, 22 degrees. The picturesque backdrop of the Picos brightens up the greyness of an otherwise perfect day.
So it will be my last day in Spain on this trip so I decide to spoil myself. I do a little research and settle on the Hotel Del Oso which isn't so far away from me. It's in a terrific spot.
Rather nice place, this is..
.. After a swift walk and a bit of exercise I can occupy a very nice wing chair and wait for the restaurant to open
Mr K
Registered user
they do splendid(ly large) G&Ts at del Oso......and a rather large veal chop......
And as if by Magic, I'm back in Potes..
It's overcast but warm on this side of the mountains now, 22 degrees. The picturesque backdrop of the Picos brightens up the greyness of an otherwise perfect day.
So it will be my last day in Spain on this trip so I decide to spoil myself. I do a little research and settle on the Hotel Del Oso which isn't so far away from me. It's in a terrific spot.
Rather nice place, this is..
.. After a swift walk and a bit of exercise I can occupy a very nice wing chair and wait for the restaurant to open
Some good memories of late October in exactly the same spot, 4 years ago
they do splendid(ly large) G&Ts at del Oso......
Under investigation currently..
.. to be investigated shortly..
Hotel Del Oso.. what a great place
I trust you gave the three sisters a hug.. and the slobbery dog a kiss? Or, should that be the other way round?
Veal chop, did someone say? Just look at the size of this Mother...
Wow, that looks incredible.
And some G&T's as a warm up Rob, you have to post some pictures dear boy.
that place looks cushty
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