Day 28 – Ademuz to Estrencuby
A really lovely morning. Iffy photo but nice view though, take my word for it. Would I lie to you? Of course not
The intention is today to really break the back of the journey back North, so we asked (as politely as possible for folks without any lingo) for an 8am breakfast. It wasn’t a difficult conversation and Juan was only too happy to oblige. Good man.
Breakfast was another treat. We descend the stairs to a smashing and very familiar smell. Juan was cooking Bacon and Eggs for us which I thought was a really nice touch and making very, very good coffee which is served repeatedly. More rustic bread also appeared and things hit the spot
He then nips out and down the road. 'I'll be back' he gestures and reappears shortly with this sort of flattish apple cake.. the food never ends..!
The bike was safe and sound last night..
It's really tough to move on after such a brief stop, but that is such as it is. The hospitality of Juan and Anna was superb. At the point of the bill he wants to charge 12 euros a person for dinner, the wine, beer and breakfast. This is madness I tell him so I make sure we pay properly. I think they really appreciate the gesture.
It's a little after 9am now and again we decide we want to get North. The early start, plus the proximity of the Autovia for an hour will let us rack a few miles up.
The journey north from Andemuz towards Teruel is a great little start to the day aside from less than five minutes in I get a tap on the shoulder with crossed fingers waved in my face which means ‘I need the lav’. Already? Paying the price for that good coffee. Fortunately we come across facilities and we’re not long delayed and there’s some nice riding done.
The scenery has changed now. We’re moving out of the mountainous parts to flatter plains as we approach Teruel and cross towards the A23 which will take us up to Zaragoza. I settle in for an hour of boredom to be relieved by a ‘Stuff you should know’ podcast.
Speaking of relief, in no time I’m getting another tappity tap tap on the shoulder with the crossed fingers being waved madly. Eh? Good grief. There’s no sign of facilities or a sign for services so we pull off at the next junction.
There's no sign of anything, just a yellow painted ‘club’ out on its own. "That will do" she says.... "Erm, no it won’t" I say, pointing out that garishly painted ‘clubs’ and ‘whiskeyterias’ are actually brothels. (Oh, and I read that in Lonely Planet before anyone gets excited
)
But we’re now heading North on a plain with nothing, and I mean
nothing around us. At this point I’m getting seriously shoved and prodded. There’s nowt here.. nada. As the good lord is my witness, no, wait, in fact as Google Street View is my witness, here’s what I mean..
Eventually there’s a reasonable sized bush so I just stop. "That’ll do".. and she hot foots it off down to the cover of the sole piece of good cover around. I’m left at a loose end, so I set the self timer and go for an arty photo, the result of which I really do like:
Now my encounters with Mr Plod always come in clusters. As if it were scripted, from absolutely nowhere two Guardia Civil on RT’s come hooning down the road and pull in. They dismount and the first rather suave one wanders over ‘OK?’ he asks politely, to which I reply ‘Yes’ at which point the little lady emerges a bit flustered and bright red in the face.
Our law man breaks into a chuckle, points to the white line at the side of the road and says "No stop here" with a broad grin. His pal is having a giggle too, she was obviously out of sight when they pulled in and it didn't take them long to work out what why we were here..
I’ve learned to say 'I’m sorry' in Spanish, so with a "lo sciento senor" and a suitably apologetic look I get us back on to the bike. A snappy salute from our man and he’s back to his bike. They pull away slowly, checking that we don’t opt for any other activities at the roadside no doubt.
We’re back following them presently and they’re both cruising along slowly and well over to the right. “Ah, is this a test..” I think to myself, so I just give a wide berth and float past, we both give them a cheery wave. They then pick up and follow for a minute or so, the two of them, side by side, looming large in my mirrors. I don’t sense we’re going to be pulled and I’m right- after a minute of my impromptu Police escort they promptly zoom past, really kicking on. They both wave as they disappear off, and the RT’s they’re on, well, I doubt very much they’re sporting stock exhausts.. they sound ace, like a pair of WWII fighters..
That little yarn comes to a close then, and a roundabout or two later and we’re back on the A23 now and climbing up towards Zaragoza. It is still bright sunshine but as we head North the temperature drops from a very pleasant 19 downwards. I’m jogged by a crash hat head butt, which turned out to be her first experience of being asleep on a bike.
The dreaded side winds cut in again, once again a dull-ish float to get some miles in turns to a very much be an exercise of be on your guard. Short of Zaragoza we stop at a service station for a hot drink and some extra layers; the temperature has dropped to 10 now, and an elderly English chap wanders up and comments on how cold it is considering it is so sunny and he hopes it isn't like this in Malaga. It isn't.
We stop again at services in another hour or so as I’m finding the wind a bit wearing. There’s a few shady types knocking about so we don’t hang around long, briefly enough for the joys of a Repsol khazi, but long enough for a Cornetto, and to decide that we can go a fair way still today, and even do very well if the wind decides to leave us alone for a bit.
We’re now heading North West, away from the main drag of the Autovias, back on the ‘N’ roads, although traffic is very sparse. Mountains with snowy peaks can be seen to the North.
A stop on the A127, somewhat different to the Southend Arterial Road of the same name where I live and a whole lot more interesting than the gateway to Basildon. For this we are thankful. By now, a fair few miles on from our last stop, the wind has all but disappeared
After some more very minor roads that wound for miles through the shade of the trees and by rushing rivers we’re in a far greener landscape, and the character of the country and style of the buildings have changed. Curiously, a strange language has emerged and is quite prominent. Ah yes! We’re in Basque Country.
Check out the language on the top right of the menu, if you’ve never seen it then it really is most odd. Being the environmentally friendly type I’m recycling my previously used Hungarian Scrabble gag/comment from Round 1 of 2012 - I should think that the letter ‘X’ will only be worth 1 point in Basque Scrabble and you get stuck with a load of 'E's you can't use.. (Woof. I'm here all week...)
On the Route Hemingway, no less..
Still continuing North now, we pick up the N135. We figure since we’re so close why not head across the border and take in a night in France tonight? So a plan is set- that’ll be what we do.
As we approach the border there’s a shop..
I head in, and am delighted by it being a veritable treasure trove of Eurotat, of which I most naturally must indulge in..
Yarr.. treasure!
Hmm. I wonder if I could have it permanently mounted to the bike, smashing thing that it is.
Lots to see here. There’s a classic car rally coming the other way and there are a few interesting sights amongst the oncoming traffic.
On the road and working our way over to France now. The N135 is a lot of fun, a little winding gem across the border, peppered with old cars noisily working their way over the border.
Basque again, ‘Antencion’ becoming ‘Kontuz’..
And soon enough we’re over the Pyrenean border and in France..
Nice riding..
The classic motors continue to come..
After checking what’s what in St Jean Pied de Port we head off down to the tiny village of Estrencuby.
We’re staying at a Logis hotel tonight.
A nice setting..
We have dinner at the hotel as there’s really nowhere else around. The service is very friendly with the wife of the owner serving dinner. She was a real bundle of fun and had a great sense of humour teaching us words in Basque with every table visit.
The food was nothing special, strange for a Logis hotel with one of their top restaurant ratings, but perhaps I was still clouded by last night.
Another really interesting day
There's a lovely restaurant along the seafront walk in Calpe called Aperitif, it's below the Casita Blanca Appartments kinda halfway between the port and the more touristy bit IYKWIM 
( hope it's still there, last time i spoke to the owner he was on about selling up which would be a shame) A walk up the Penon is good but not on a red hot day & deffo not in bike gear.
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