This year the 4 of us - Ade, Al, Phil & I were all going, although due to work commitments, Phil would fly in, ride a rented GS joining us a couple of days in to the tour & leaving us a day or so early.
Days 1 & 2
Ade, Al & I met up sat the Southbound Liphook services on the A3 Monday night. After the short run to Portsmouth, we boarded the ferry to Santander with no drama, got to our cabin and then went for a few drinks. The entertainment crew were looking for karaoke volunteers, but we all declined. Me on the basis of being far too sober. The first “singer” was as spectacularly bad as he was loud, but thankfully the rest were better and quieter. Shortly before bed we got talking to a bunch of Scots bikers who were very drunk. One guy about the same height as me would not believe I rode a 1300 GS until I showed him pics on my phone. We didn’t get to bed until 2:00am. Breakfast on the boat was alright, but heaven knows what meat was in the sausages? I said no to lunch but Ade and Al did eat, bringing me a packet of crisps. The afternoon was spent setting up the intercoms - Ade and Al looked prize plonkers with their helmets on in the bar, talking rubbish as per, and partaking in a game of Bingo and a general knowledge quiz. We didn’t excel at either. Dinner was pretty good, especially the buffet starter course and then we got a much needed, earlier night. We were up on good time before disembarking and had time for a couple of coffees. There was a bit of a delay clearing passport control in Santander because of the EU’s EES system where we all had to do facial recognition and give fingerprints, but soon we were on our way. The clouds were ominous and we did ride through some rain, but it was short lived and fairly light so no stopping to get waterproofs on. Once clear of the Santander suburbs the riding improved as did the scenery. Our breakfast stop was at the very pretty town of Potes.
IMG_E0014 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
We rode on into the mountains, pausing at the bronze oryx statue for photos before, predictably, Al on his thirsty Ducati Multistrada V4S needed fuel, when we were out in the sticks. It was marginal for Al and as we rode into the petrol station as he’d been on zero range according to his dash, for several miles. Lunch was much bigger than we’d planned. We stopped at a traditional local restaurant off the tourist path. The only choice was a 4-course menu. Ade and I started with small samosa like things while Al had enough vegetable soup to float a battleship. Then it was paella followed by pork cheeks. We all declined the pudding but Ade and I had coffee. The bill was ridiculously cheap at €11 each.
We rode on towards Pontferrada through some spectacular scenery including one seriously steep sided limestone gorge where a huge deer ran parallel to the road for a fair distance before thankfully turning away to the right. Ade was flagging a bit after a while, so I took over the lead and eventually the roads transitioned from tight hairpin intense riding in the hills and mountains to fast sweepers at closer to sea level. We slowed only for the small towns and villages we passed through, riding past several abandoned industrial plants in the valley floors until the outskirts of the modern city of Pontferrada. At low altitude the temperature peaked at 28deg C. Our hotel was in the older part of the city near the ancient castle. After showering, we headed out for a drink followed by some excellent tapas.
IMG_E0030 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
Al, an avid sea food hater even joined the grown-ups and tried the calamari, which he liked so much we ordered some more. Walking back to the hotel past the pretty square and the castle, the temperature had dropped but it was still very comfortable in shorts and t-shirts. It was time for bed after a long, but fun first day of riding in the Picos
Day 3
I was awake first as per, and went down to get coffee. Ade then went for a run and then we strolled out for a light breakfast. It was a glorious day and temperature about 16 degrees - just warm enough for having our breakfast outside in shorts and T-shirts. We filled up the bikes before leaving Pontferrada and headed out. Once clear of the suburbs, the riding was superb. Lots of medium pace bendy sections and plenty of elevation change riding through beautiful landscapes. We paused very briefly on the bridge over a reservoir with stunning deep blue water (forgot to take a pic though) Shortly afterwards the riding became a lot more challenging. A steep, uphill, concrete farm track (see pic taken by Al with his Meta glasses) heralded the start of about an hour of nerve frazzling roads.
BWUO4974 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
The surface deteriorated to a gravel track, it was very narrow, with steep, tight, uphill hairpin bends and no protection from the drops on the outside of the bends. The downhill sections were, if anything more difficult, requiring lots of rear brake to slow for the tight bends in order to prevent locking the front wheel on turn in. Shame I didn’t “street view” this section said Ade. No shit, said Al and I amongst other less charitable comments. Eventually the surface improved and we stopped at a tiny village for a much needed decompress and a cold drink. The day was warming up considerably. I was about to criticise the few locals at the cafe for being on the beer so early, before I looked at my watch and realised it was 1:00pm.
The riding was very different towards our (very late) lunch stop in Lugo. Perfect tarmac, very fast sweeping bends and a few long straight sections saw us “making progress” and light work of the traffic. As we entered Lugo, we did hit a bit of traffic. It’s a pretty big place, with a very substantial old city wall, inside which, from the little we saw, new buildings including a University Campus has been constructed. Lunch was fantastic in a little cafe. Ade and Al have introduced me to Amstel Radler, a low alcohol beer with a hint of lemon - refreshing and delicious.
The final segment of our ride to Santiago de Compostela took us into pretty countryside reminiscent to me of Surrey and East Sussex except for the occasional groves of eucalyptus trees that smelled wonderful. Our waypoint of Castle of Pambre involved a very short diversion down a hill off the main route to see the castle itself. Al decided not to, but Ade and I did. It was nice to see, but not spectacular. We U-turned at the bottom of the hill and then Ade needed a comfort break. By the time we got back on the main route, Al was nowhere to be seen and out of comms range. We assumed he’d ridden on to find a bit of shade under which to wait for us as it was by now 30 degrees, but we rode for miles without linking back up with him. Ade and I knew we’d get to Santiago on one tank of fuel, but Al couldn’t, so we assumed he’d gone to find fuel and would be at the hotel when we got there.
We broke the rules by riding for 200m in the pedestrianised area and parked the bikes outside the hotel. We unloaded, got a cold drink and waited for Al, who had not yet arrived. While waiting the local Police swung by, gave us a gentle ticking off for riding in the pedestrian area and told us to move on. We messaged Al, who somehow was 40km and close to an hour away, so we went to park our bikes. Entering the nearby underground car park, we got just the one ticket and were parking both bikes in a single car space when the rather excitable and extremely officious attendant came over and started shouting and gesticulating furiously. He took our ticket and directed us to the specific, but un-signposted bike parking bay, saying he would give us a ticket each before disappearing. We walked to the carpark entrance/exit, where the attendant booth was and waited for him to return with the tickets. After at least 10 minutes, we were just going to bail when we heard Al ride by. Ade went to meet Al, while I continued to wait for “Senor Jobsworth” Al arrived on his bike and had his ticket taken too. We’ll have to get 3 tickets from someone to get out of the car park tomorrow. Our registration numbers have all been recorded.
Walking the short distance to the hotel with Al he explained that he’d got lost and then increasingly desperate for fuel. He was also thwarted in his attempts to get on the motorway for the last few miles, by roadworks, so he was properly hot and bothered to the extent that he had to just sit a while before getting out of his riding kit.
Once we’d all showered and changed, we headed out for drinks and dinner, walking past the stunning cathedral.
As we came round one corner of said cathedral, a full orchestra were playing to the public in a large courtyard with a big set of steps. They were really good so we stopped to listen for a while. It was then time for photos in front of the cathedral main entrance, before hitting a fabulous tapas bar for our dinner and drinks.
MQGP6735 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
Seating was at a premium so Al grabbed a stool and Ade and I stood initially until 2 more stools came free. As we ate, we got talking to a retired American couple who had settled in Spain. On our way back to the hotel, by now it was midnight, there were still lots of people out. Near the cathedral a crowd was gathered round a band playing traditional Basque Country music, wearing traditional dress. Again, we stopped for a while to listen. It was a nice way to end a cracking day.
Day 4
Today was a rare one. Much less riding and much more relaxing. We spent most of the day in Santiago de Compostela seeing more of the old town, buying gifts and just chilling out.
IMG_E0052 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
Ade seriously put the pro into procrastinating when buying a cycling jersey. He must have tried 6 on. When he eventually decided on “the one” he also bought the matching socks for that FKW look.
Ade and I then set off on about an hour’s ride to Finisterre for a bit of beach time. By then it was hot - 35 degreesC, so the sea felt really cold at first but when we came back into the shallows it was much warmer. We both Face-Timed our wives who were a tad jealous to say the least.
IMG_E0083 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
After a cold drink in the beach bar, we had to get a wriggle on to get back to Santiago in time for our dinner reservation, so let’s just say that “we made progress” and significantly beat the Google maps ETA.
Phil had been delayed in picking up his hire bike, as the only person in the know was on siesta. So he joined us later in the restaurant to help at least make a better dent in the huge pile of veal and ox steak that we’d not been able to finish. The food had been fantastic. Asparagus being another first for Al. The service however was not as good. Phil seemed remarkably relaxed after a long day, starting with an early run to the airport and ending with over 600km of riding in high temperatures. After a night cap in a very lively bar, we retired to bed.
Day 5
After his tough day yesterday, we let Phil have a decent sleep in, but it did mean we departed Santiago de Compostela slightly later than planned. We parked the bikes as close as we reasonably could to the main square to get a final photo and have a coffee before getting on the road.
FDHRE2072 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
First we got a telling off from the Police and were made to move the bikes just outside the pedestrianised zone despite the fact they were in no way causing any obstruction and then we had to deal with the exceptionally rude waitress at the coffee shop, but at least the iced coffee was really good. It was already hot.
Once on the road and clear of the outskirts of Santiago, the riding was great. The petrol stop was slightly exciting - Phil’s bike was parked facing downhill and very nearly rolled off the side stand, but he and Ade just about saved him from having to pay his insurance excess. I gave Ade a break from leading most of the day and set a pace that was brisk, but comfortable for all. At one point we stopped to let a family of about 8 beautiful wild horses go on their way. They were trapped on the road due to steep banks either side and were protecting the foal they had with them. They ran past, clearly frightened as we sat, silent and stationary on the bikes. I hope they found a way back to safely soon after. We entered Portugal and then the Penedes-Geres National Park where the granite rock formations were impressive.
PLQVE2719 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
We saw loads of cows including 2 that were definitely too cool for school, lying down, chewing the cud, wearing green headbands and just giving us a nonchalant look as we road past! Lunch was at an excellent little restaurant, although Al didn’t fancy anything on the menu (too sea food centric) so he went down the road for a Pizza. As we ate, the cars from a classic rally went past - Lotus Cortina, Porsche 912 and early 911, Lancia Fulvia etc. a nice bonus.
IMG_E0099 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
We left the restaurant, just as a cow casually wandered past and we heard thunder claps in the distance, but we missed any rain. As it was nearly 18:00 when we hit Porto, the traffic was a bit heavy, but soon enough we were parked up next to our accommodation for the next 2 nights. Ade had outdone himself this time. A luxury apartment with a terrace and great views over the River Douro right next to the Luis Bridge.
IMG_E0105 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
After much needed showers and a bit of decompression time we headed out for drinks and then dinner. There was a big festival underway with hundreds dressed in traditional clothes.
The white Port and Tonics at the Sandeman gaff were both delicious and very refreshing. Dinner was great in a very busy restaurant. We sat outside with a view of the river as the festival participants went past. The group of VERY loud drummers was the only negative aspect. The food was great and after generally surly Spanish waiters, the Portuguese were a breath of fresh air. After dinner we walked further along the river bank so Phil could check out the hotel, he’s booked for a family holiday later in the year. If the rest of it is as good as the roof terrace bar, I’m sure they will have a nice time.
IMG_E0144 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
After a couple of rounds of drinks and lots of chatting, we strolled back along the river bank, past a large crowd outside a bar watching Brazil vs Morocco (we think) in the football World Cup at well after midnight. We crossed the Luis Bridge, got to our apartment and went to bed. The forecast for the next day included a risk of some rain, so we’ll make plans in the morning.
Day 6
We woke to a bit of light rain. Al had been snoring ALL night as far as I could tell. Both he and Phil got a bit more of their much-needed beauty sleep, while Ade and I went out for coffee and a walk round the south side of the city. It was a pretty quiet Sunday morning at that time.
Back at the apartment we tried to get the Le Mans 24 hours on the TV but failed, so watched on Al’s phone while sitting about and talking for some time waiting for the weather to clear. Phil went out and got baguettes, meats and some eggs for lunch, which made a nice change.
Al declared he was not riding today, so the rest of us headed out early afternoon. It had brightened up considerably. As we rode west along the Douro River there was quite a bit of traffic and lots of bikers out, which provided a bit of sport for us. We headed north across the river and up to the castle area, high up and opposite our apartment. Having secured a table in a bar with a great view south and east down the river, a bank of fog promptly rolled in spoiling said view. Over drinks we mainly talked music and I tried with mixed results to explain prog rock to Phil.
IMG_E0166 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
He left about 5:30 to get back the apartment and after wandering up to the high grassy knoll where people were gathered listening to music, having a drink and generally enjoying the day, we rode off to Matosinhos down the coast in the hope it would be clearer. It wasn’t, but we had a quick look about on the bikes, spotting a very cool fishing net art installation suspended above a roundabout. On the return ride, we went back into the south side of the city as Ade wanted to show me the Imperial McDonalds. We didn’t eat but it was certainly very fancy (for a McDonalds anyway)
After locking the bikes up back at the apartment and showering we headed out for dinner along the south bank of the river.
It was busy and without a reservation it took a few attempts to secure a table, but when we did, we had a right result. The restaurant Mescia had a really cool vibe and dishes from around the whole of the Portuguese empire of old. The staff were very friendly and helpful and the cocktails both cheap and delicious.
IMG_E0185 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
After a really good dinner we headed back, in search of a place to have one more drink before retiring for the night, but the places we asked only wanted to accommodate us for food as well, so we went home and I broke out the last of the whiskey I’d brought with me. We sat on the terrace in the cool of the night before hitting the sack. 7:30 was the agreed wake up time. Let’s see!!
Day 7
This morning, for the first time this tour, we got away at our target time of 9:00am. It was cool and cloudy for the first couple of hours. We rode North across the Douro River along the Douro Valley, through some really nice scenery. After riding across a pretty impressive dam, where a big river cruise boat was going down a boat lift, we stopped for coffee at Porto Antigo by the river, which was very pretty even with the cloudy weather. It was starting to warm up by the time we left.
After another couple of hours great riding including a very narrow, twisty, downhill section through tiny villages and farms, that due to a navigational challenge we ended up doing twice and riding the faster, more open roads down the Douro River including crossing another dam, it was time for a light lunch at the vineyard / hotel at Quinta do Valado. We ate at the pool bar with great views across the valley. The pool itself looked really tempting. Before getting going again Ade went to the shop to pick up some port. It was now about 32 degrees.
We rode up from the valley floor on mostly medium pace twisty mountain roads with great views of the terraced vineyards, that were reminiscent of the rice growing terraces you see in North Vietnam, but in a much drier environment. We climbed up to the national park at Lamas de Olo. It was thankfully much cooler at 23 degrees and the riding was more flowing through the stunning granite boulder fields. An otherworldly landscape. It got warmer again as we lost height, but the riding was still good. We rode into Vila Real and went on the motor racing street circuit, complete with painted kerbs, Armco barriers and catch fencing. It looked like they were preparing for an upcoming race meeting. After a much-needed cold drink and a petrol stop we were on the last stretch to Braga. The castle at Guimaraes was impressive, but the driving of the locals in the very busy evening rush hour traffic was less so. I was really feeling the combination of a long, intensive day’s riding that had demanded 100% concentration and the physicality of the riding itself in hot conditions. My hands were sore and I was tired, as were the others. We rode into Braga which was in having a festival. The streets were decorated with colourful banners and there was a huge fun fair.
We had ridden well over 200 miles, but Braga is only about 35 miles from Porto, taking a direct route.
The entrance and parking for our accommodation took a bit of finding and the very pretty young lady that checked us in spoke very little English. Whist she showed me the apartment and how to access the secure parking the others were getting concerned and plotting alternative accommodation, but I assured them the apartment was really nice, and once inside everyone was happy.
After much needed showers we heading into the nearby walled old town for a very nice, very reasonably priced Italian dinner. Ade had checked the forecast and I was glad I had taken my hoodie as we walked home as the temperature has dropped considerably.
MLIU0043 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
Back at the apartment, I went straight to bed and completely crash out.
Day 8
We arranged to check out of the apartment in Braga a bit late, at 9:45, so it was just after 10:00 by the time we got in the road. It was already warm.
The riding was been superb, a few sections of tight, twisty roads, but mostly fast sweepers and even though we covered a lot of miles, I was still feeling pretty fresh by the end. The rear tyre on Phil’s hire bike has definitely seen better days so he’s been trying to sort a replacement bike all day. The tyre has given him some “focussing moments” with small slides, under acceleration on corner exit. There was also plenty of faffing about with tyre pressures today. I should have left mine well alone as the bike felt great, but I accidentally dropped the front pressure too low, and whilst I’m not the most sensitive to small pressure variations, it then felt horrible - the front tyre was pushing on corner turn in, denting my confidence in the bike’s handling.
We stopped for coffee in a tiny village and had a chat with a group of Portuguese bikers while I put my portable tyre inflator to good use. The bike immediately felt better when we set off. We crossed the border back into Spain. Lunch was at a cafe right next to a petrol station in something of a 1 horse town. As we’d crossed into a different time zone it was 16:00 before we ate.
We passed back through Ponferrada where we’d stayed a few days ago, before climbing up to a beautiful parkland. It had rained not long ago, so we had to take care given the reduced grip, but the temperature drop was very welcome.
The outskirts of Astorga were not attractive, but the old town is charming. Our hotel was lovely and in a pretty square, with the beautiful and ancient Ayuntamiento de Astorga building just at the end. On the hour, two figures known as “Los Maragatos” strike the large bell.
IMG_E0217 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
IMG_E0214 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
We had 2 twin rooms, so arranged to meet downstairs in the square once showered. The cold beers went down really well. We set off, walking towards the restaurant recommend by the hotel receptionist, but decided to go back to the square to eat at the busy place next to our hotel. The food was simple, but good. I did have food envy when Ade and Phil’s ribs were brought out, but my blue cheese burger was actually more than enough. Phil had a few emails to clear, before bed, but I was out like a light as soon as my head hit the (very comfortable) pillow.
Day 9
We woke to a beautiful morning in Astorga. Breakfast in the hotel was excellent. I went for a quick walk and grabbed a couple of photos before we headed off. I was leading as we exited the town. At the bottom of a steep hill, we had to make a really tight left-hand turn. I ran slightly wide and went down a ditch. Thankfully I reacted quickly and decisively and accelerated hard out of the ditch otherwise I’d have toppled over. I didn’t feel an impact, but the others said the bash plate under the engine on my bike earned its keep.
We rode to and through the city of Leon. As we left, the traffic police were out in force. We were alert and rode past at just under the speed limit and exchanged a polite wave. Some of the drivers were less than agreeable though. One articulated truck driver took offence to us passing him. OK, there was a solid white line, but there was loads of room to get past. As I was passing him, he deliberately swerved and tried to run me off the road. I gassed the bike and was soon past. He got an appropriate hand gesture. We rode through some beautiful scenery, some reminiscent of Switzerland, but with better road surfaces.
We stopped for brunch in the small town of Guardo. The cafe had a radio station playing with loads of great rock tracks. They turned up the volume a bit when I asked, so we could hear it better from our seats outside. The food was delicious and ridiculously cheap.
As we ate, we made a plan for the afternoon. Al would ride with us for a good while and then take a more direct route to the hotel as he didn’t fancy increasing the daily mileage to over 300 in the heat. Ade and I rode with Phil via the BMW dealership in Bilbao where he swapped his R1300 GS with the worn-out tyres, that needed a service, for an Adventure version with brand new tyres that had just been serviced (but not cleaned).
I needed rear brake pads and although I didn’t like the price, they helped me fit them to my bike. The old pads were definitely past their best. On our way to Bilbao, we rode through a couple of very short rain showers. The cool air and the rain provided welcome, if short lived relief from the heat. Passing through the small town of Pedrosa, we saw the start of a huge limestone escarpment up to our right. This magnificent feature went on and on for something like 20 miles. As an ex-rock climber, I, in particular was in awe.
We rode out of Bilbao on a cracking road, snaking up and over the hills surrounding the city - Excellent for Phil to scrub in his new tyres. As we rode into Vitoria-Gastiez the traffic was heavy and almost every light seemed to turn red as we approached. We were all very glad to get to the hotel, get the bikes parked and get showered.
IMG_E0234 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
After a quick drink in the bar next to our hotel we walked to the very impressive Espainia Plaza, in the centre of the old town, for the obligatory team photo, before heading to Aiztogile K, the street best known for Pintxos, the Basque County equivalent of Tapas. It was a rather bohemian area. Lots of heavily tattooed people and a very lively, but relaxed vibe. We hopped from one bar to the next. The food was amazing. After a night cap in a cafe close to our hotel we went to bed.
IMG_E0247 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
It was still very warm and our rooms had no A/C so the balcony doors stayed wide open. Despite having ear plugs in, I was woken at 3:00am buy people presumably leaving a night club.
Day 10
After being woken up at 3:00am by late night revellers returning home and not being able to get back to sleep, I eventually went for an early morning walk in search of an open coffee shop round Vitória-Gasteiz, taking a few pictures as I did. It’s a cool place.
We’d agreed to meet downstairs at the Hotel Dato by 08:30 before retrieving the bikes from the nearby underground car park, loading up and getting on the road by 9:00. Well, quelle surprise, due to the inevitable faffing about that didn’t happen, so as we rolled out of town at 10:00 it was already hot.
LAWM4626 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
We rode to Pamplona through scorched plains with the foothills of the Pyrenees in the distance. Stopping for lunch in Pamplona, Ade and I parked in really narrow parking bays that only a bike could fit into, but we still got a bit of grief from the locals as they weren’t dedicated bike parking bays. Phil and Al, were in specific bike bays close by, but we couldn’t be bothered to move our bikes. Lunch was just a cold drink and small sandwich for me. Unusually, we ate indoors because the cool of the A/C was preferable to sitting outside. On returning to the bikes, a parking warden was taking pictures of Ade’s and my bikes. I played the innocent tourist and acted as though I didn’t understand we were incorrectly parked. I made the point that nothing other than a bike would fit in the bay. Thankfully the warden understood me and I think we got away with it. Time will tell.
After a fuel stop on the outskirts of Pamplona, we carried on. Ade was flagging so I took over the lead. The scenery was beautiful and the roads were fast and flowing, until they weren’t. Suddenly we rode into a section of gravel track that soon turned into rutted dirt. I was particularly uncomfortable at that point. Being short, I’m not able to get both feet down if I need to stop suddenly, so I soon dropped back from the others. We then lost comms and I took a wrong turn. After a horrible 15 minutes or so when I nearly came off the bike, albeit at slow speed, several times, I did get back onto the properly surfaced road. I passed Al and Phil, who’d parked up and were waiting for me, but I was too pissed off at being left behind to stop and engage, so I rode on thinking I’d see Ade a bit further up the road. When that didn’t happen, I guessed Ade had doubled back to try and find me, so my anger began to dissipate somewhat. The roads were bumpy for several miles and then smooth and fast. Eventually I got a message that the guys had stopped at the town of Jaca for a cold drink and a snack. I was already several miles down the road, so said I’d find a place to stop and “drop a pin” so they could meet up with me later. I’d stopped at a large petrol station and had time for a drink, to check the tyre pressures and calm down a bit more before the group was reunited. The post-mortem of the split up could wait until later, over dinner.
Despite the 37-degree heat at low level, we could see small amounts of snow up in the Pyrenees in the near distance.
Soon it started to rain, and in the distance, it looked heavy, so we stopped to put on waterproofs. For some reason, Al did not put on his leggings and was soon whining about being soaked and cold. The rain intensified until turning into really heavy hail. The riding was horrible and it really spoiled it for me because the roads were amazing as was the scenery. Eventually the rain eased off a bit and we stopped at Les Cretes Blanches, a high-altitude restaurant not far from the town of Laruns for a break and coffee.
INYEE9716 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
Al decided to at last put his waterproof leggings on. He was soaked, but they would keep the wind blast at bay and he’d be warmer. Now putting leggings on over bike boots and trousers is not easy at the best of times, but when you’re already wet and if, like Al, past injuries reduce your flexibility, it’s very awkward indeed. The old lady proprietor of the restaurant came to Al’s assistance.
XIOCE0683 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
As we were about to set off, the rain that had eased off became very heavy again, but we all just wanted to get to our accommodation for the night, so we pressed on. After a short while the rain eased and as we crested a pass, we saw the extremely welcome sight of sunshine up ahead. We stopped for a herd of cows and a flock of sheep that were completely blocking the road. There was nobody controlling the animals, but they seemed to know the way. Al, the cow whisperer took over the lead as with engines off, we rolled slowly downhill creating a way through them. Al then set a really good pace in the damp but drying conditions. Once in the dry, Ade took the lead back and we upped the pace on some amazing roads.
We made it to our charming apart-hotel in Lux Saint Saveur by just after 19:00 which was pretty good given the late start, the delays caused by split up and the couple of hours of much reduced pace due to the weather.
After showering we went for a very nice dinner at a pub / bistro. The split-up post-mortem was handled well. A frank exchange of views occurred and we quickly drew a line under the incident.
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[/url]TQTV5796 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
The conversations though, did become almost profound for us lot, covering prejudice, the rise of “woke” and relationships, before we headed off to bed.
Day 11
It was a beautiful morning in Luz-Saint-Sauveur.
IMG_E0308 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
As Ade went for a run, I had a walk around and took some snaps. There were lots of great looking places for breakfast so we agreed to eat before setting off.
IMG_E0322 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
IMG_E0319 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
KCAAE6692 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
Al was most in need of petrol as his bike, nicknamed Oliver (Reed) does like a drink. After some classic Ade navigation resulting in a gratuitous lap of the town we found a single unmanned pump, but it wouldn’t take our cards, so we set off up the Col Due Tourmalet, a gruelling stage of the Tour De France. After fighting through the traffic and roadworks Phil dived into the fuel station on the opposite side of the road, followed by the others. I was already past and having a bit of range, decided to wait until the next opportunity rather than faff about making a u-turn, so I said, I’d ride up to a safe place to stop and wait. I waited for ages and there was still no sign of the guys, so I phoned to say I would continue to the next petrol station.
I rode up and over the Col. It was steep and twisty.
IMG_0343 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
Many of the cyclists riding up seemed to be in agony and those coming down, were going really fast, so care was needed to be taken to avoid them and planning overtakes was crucial. On the way down the other side, I rode through several ski resorts, some fairly large, but found no fuel. On one section of the downhill run towards Saint-Marie de Campan at the valley floor there were major resurfacing works. Riding on the rough gravel strewn surface on a big, capable motorbike was bad enough - it must be hell on a push bike. I’d still not found fuel and was down to my last few km of range. I stopped and did a google maps search and after planning to meet the others back at Saint-Marie de Campan went to fill up. We linked up at a cafe, the others had already eaten. I grabbed a couple of bottles of very much needed cold water. We said our goodbyes to Phil, who was headed home and continued on our way into the Spanish side of the Pyrenees. It was very hot.
The riding was fabulous, fast sweepers along the valley floors and tight twisty sections with great views in the mountains. We stopped for a very late lunch at Vielha. The Paella was very nice. More great riding followed until I noticed the peg on my gear lever was flapping about so we pulled over and saw that the retaining pin had sheared, so we broke out the cable ties and made a temporary repair.
TMDTE0490 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
As we were going this, a huge group of Harley Davidson riders went past, waiving and tooting their horns. Do worry, I shouted, you’ll soon be seeing us again. We were soon off, and despite it being childish, the desire to catch and pass the HD riders motivated me to up the pace a notch as I led Ade and Al through the mountains. It only took about 10 minutes to catch the Harley crew, who we identified as Polish from their plates. Taking care not to cut any of them up, we were still through the group of about 25 like hot knives through butter.
After one final stop for petrol and cold drinks, we rolled into the Hotel del Prado in Puigcerda, close to the Spanish / French / Andorran border. We quickly dumped our bags, changed into swim shorts and hit the covered, outdoor pool. It was about 9:00pm and we had the pool to ourselves. Cold at first it was a fabulous way to cool down and relax after a long, hot but fantastic day.
LAWM4626 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
The hotel restaurant stayed open until 10:00pm, but Ade used Google Maps to find a better rated option just a short walk away. The food was very good and we went to bed slight too full.
Days 12 and 13
Our last full day was going to be a big one in terms of riding (350 miles plus) so it was good we got away from the Hotel del Prado in Puigcerda fairly early. We rode into the Pyrenees on some brilliant roads, partially retracing our steps from the previous day, until we stopped for coffee and pastries at a beautiful little spot by a river.
We then rode on to Casteljon de Sos, stopped for fuel and a cold drink before riding one of the absolute best sections to the N-260, known as the Rio Seira. About 15 miles of perfectly smooth, grippy tarmac snaking through a steep sided mountain gorge with a river at the bottom. What a thrill. We then stopped for a light lunch and after riding through a small town hosting a very big road cycling event, the rest of the day’s riding was on fast dual carriageways, in 37/38-degree heat. Gruelling to say the least. We rolled into San Sebastián and got the bikes parked. After dumping our kit in the apartment, Ade and I walked the short distance to Playa de La Concha for a swim in the warm, clear water. It was a fantastic way to cool down and relax after a properly tough days riding.
We went straight to meet Al for a beer in our swim shorts and then had the first of several stops for Pintxos and drinks. I didn’t even have shoes on, so we went back to the apartment and Ade and I quickly showered and got changed. We then got properly “on it” for our last night. Very high quality Pintxos and lots to drink. It was Saturday night so the old town was buzzing. I was pretty pissed by the time we headed back and my wife Jane had to put up with my “drunken drivel” when I Face-Timed her before bed. Al said I snored like a chainsaw most of the night, which is clearly BS.
Next morning, I went for a good walk round and took a load of pictures while Ade went for a run and Al got a bit more shut eye. We had a light breakfast before heading off to Santander for the ferry home. We needed to make good time, so for once we unticked “Avoid Motorways” and “Avoid Tolls” and just got a wriggle on to the ferry. We just made the published last check in time, and after clearing passport control rolled straight on to the boat. The bar was too appealing, so we stopped for a pint before even dropping off our kit in the cabin.
IMG_0434 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
We ate a good dinner in the restaurant and went to bed.
Day 14 (June 22)
More slanderous comments about my snoring were made next morning.
After a lovely calm crossing, some good food and a bit to drink on the ferry we docked in Portsmouth about 5:45pm
IMG_0450 by andy tims 1965, on Flickr
It was hot and sunny as we queued to get through passport control, which took much longer than when we docked in Santander 2 weeks ago, despite all having to do the facial recognition and fingerprinting required by EES.
I only had a short ride home, but needed fuel.
It was fantastic to see my wife and our black Labrador, Elsie again and have a lovely roast dinner.
Fairly early to bed I slept better than I have for weeks.
I’d like so record my heartfelt thanks to Ade, Phil and Al, for their company, support and all the banter during our tour and an extra thanks to Ade for doing the planning. It’s been fabulous.
We start some initial planning for next year’s tour soon.
Days 1 & 2
Ade, Al & I met up sat the Southbound Liphook services on the A3 Monday night. After the short run to Portsmouth, we boarded the ferry to Santander with no drama, got to our cabin and then went for a few drinks. The entertainment crew were looking for karaoke volunteers, but we all declined. Me on the basis of being far too sober. The first “singer” was as spectacularly bad as he was loud, but thankfully the rest were better and quieter. Shortly before bed we got talking to a bunch of Scots bikers who were very drunk. One guy about the same height as me would not believe I rode a 1300 GS until I showed him pics on my phone. We didn’t get to bed until 2:00am. Breakfast on the boat was alright, but heaven knows what meat was in the sausages? I said no to lunch but Ade and Al did eat, bringing me a packet of crisps. The afternoon was spent setting up the intercoms - Ade and Al looked prize plonkers with their helmets on in the bar, talking rubbish as per, and partaking in a game of Bingo and a general knowledge quiz. We didn’t excel at either. Dinner was pretty good, especially the buffet starter course and then we got a much needed, earlier night. We were up on good time before disembarking and had time for a couple of coffees. There was a bit of a delay clearing passport control in Santander because of the EU’s EES system where we all had to do facial recognition and give fingerprints, but soon we were on our way. The clouds were ominous and we did ride through some rain, but it was short lived and fairly light so no stopping to get waterproofs on. Once clear of the Santander suburbs the riding improved as did the scenery. Our breakfast stop was at the very pretty town of Potes.
IMG_E0014 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrWe rode on into the mountains, pausing at the bronze oryx statue for photos before, predictably, Al on his thirsty Ducati Multistrada V4S needed fuel, when we were out in the sticks. It was marginal for Al and as we rode into the petrol station as he’d been on zero range according to his dash, for several miles. Lunch was much bigger than we’d planned. We stopped at a traditional local restaurant off the tourist path. The only choice was a 4-course menu. Ade and I started with small samosa like things while Al had enough vegetable soup to float a battleship. Then it was paella followed by pork cheeks. We all declined the pudding but Ade and I had coffee. The bill was ridiculously cheap at €11 each.
We rode on towards Pontferrada through some spectacular scenery including one seriously steep sided limestone gorge where a huge deer ran parallel to the road for a fair distance before thankfully turning away to the right. Ade was flagging a bit after a while, so I took over the lead and eventually the roads transitioned from tight hairpin intense riding in the hills and mountains to fast sweepers at closer to sea level. We slowed only for the small towns and villages we passed through, riding past several abandoned industrial plants in the valley floors until the outskirts of the modern city of Pontferrada. At low altitude the temperature peaked at 28deg C. Our hotel was in the older part of the city near the ancient castle. After showering, we headed out for a drink followed by some excellent tapas.
IMG_E0030 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrAl, an avid sea food hater even joined the grown-ups and tried the calamari, which he liked so much we ordered some more. Walking back to the hotel past the pretty square and the castle, the temperature had dropped but it was still very comfortable in shorts and t-shirts. It was time for bed after a long, but fun first day of riding in the Picos
Day 3
I was awake first as per, and went down to get coffee. Ade then went for a run and then we strolled out for a light breakfast. It was a glorious day and temperature about 16 degrees - just warm enough for having our breakfast outside in shorts and T-shirts. We filled up the bikes before leaving Pontferrada and headed out. Once clear of the suburbs, the riding was superb. Lots of medium pace bendy sections and plenty of elevation change riding through beautiful landscapes. We paused very briefly on the bridge over a reservoir with stunning deep blue water (forgot to take a pic though) Shortly afterwards the riding became a lot more challenging. A steep, uphill, concrete farm track (see pic taken by Al with his Meta glasses) heralded the start of about an hour of nerve frazzling roads.
BWUO4974 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrThe surface deteriorated to a gravel track, it was very narrow, with steep, tight, uphill hairpin bends and no protection from the drops on the outside of the bends. The downhill sections were, if anything more difficult, requiring lots of rear brake to slow for the tight bends in order to prevent locking the front wheel on turn in. Shame I didn’t “street view” this section said Ade. No shit, said Al and I amongst other less charitable comments. Eventually the surface improved and we stopped at a tiny village for a much needed decompress and a cold drink. The day was warming up considerably. I was about to criticise the few locals at the cafe for being on the beer so early, before I looked at my watch and realised it was 1:00pm.
The riding was very different towards our (very late) lunch stop in Lugo. Perfect tarmac, very fast sweeping bends and a few long straight sections saw us “making progress” and light work of the traffic. As we entered Lugo, we did hit a bit of traffic. It’s a pretty big place, with a very substantial old city wall, inside which, from the little we saw, new buildings including a University Campus has been constructed. Lunch was fantastic in a little cafe. Ade and Al have introduced me to Amstel Radler, a low alcohol beer with a hint of lemon - refreshing and delicious.
The final segment of our ride to Santiago de Compostela took us into pretty countryside reminiscent to me of Surrey and East Sussex except for the occasional groves of eucalyptus trees that smelled wonderful. Our waypoint of Castle of Pambre involved a very short diversion down a hill off the main route to see the castle itself. Al decided not to, but Ade and I did. It was nice to see, but not spectacular. We U-turned at the bottom of the hill and then Ade needed a comfort break. By the time we got back on the main route, Al was nowhere to be seen and out of comms range. We assumed he’d ridden on to find a bit of shade under which to wait for us as it was by now 30 degrees, but we rode for miles without linking back up with him. Ade and I knew we’d get to Santiago on one tank of fuel, but Al couldn’t, so we assumed he’d gone to find fuel and would be at the hotel when we got there.
We broke the rules by riding for 200m in the pedestrianised area and parked the bikes outside the hotel. We unloaded, got a cold drink and waited for Al, who had not yet arrived. While waiting the local Police swung by, gave us a gentle ticking off for riding in the pedestrian area and told us to move on. We messaged Al, who somehow was 40km and close to an hour away, so we went to park our bikes. Entering the nearby underground car park, we got just the one ticket and were parking both bikes in a single car space when the rather excitable and extremely officious attendant came over and started shouting and gesticulating furiously. He took our ticket and directed us to the specific, but un-signposted bike parking bay, saying he would give us a ticket each before disappearing. We walked to the carpark entrance/exit, where the attendant booth was and waited for him to return with the tickets. After at least 10 minutes, we were just going to bail when we heard Al ride by. Ade went to meet Al, while I continued to wait for “Senor Jobsworth” Al arrived on his bike and had his ticket taken too. We’ll have to get 3 tickets from someone to get out of the car park tomorrow. Our registration numbers have all been recorded.
Walking the short distance to the hotel with Al he explained that he’d got lost and then increasingly desperate for fuel. He was also thwarted in his attempts to get on the motorway for the last few miles, by roadworks, so he was properly hot and bothered to the extent that he had to just sit a while before getting out of his riding kit.
Once we’d all showered and changed, we headed out for drinks and dinner, walking past the stunning cathedral.
As we came round one corner of said cathedral, a full orchestra were playing to the public in a large courtyard with a big set of steps. They were really good so we stopped to listen for a while. It was then time for photos in front of the cathedral main entrance, before hitting a fabulous tapas bar for our dinner and drinks.
MQGP6735 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrSeating was at a premium so Al grabbed a stool and Ade and I stood initially until 2 more stools came free. As we ate, we got talking to a retired American couple who had settled in Spain. On our way back to the hotel, by now it was midnight, there were still lots of people out. Near the cathedral a crowd was gathered round a band playing traditional Basque Country music, wearing traditional dress. Again, we stopped for a while to listen. It was a nice way to end a cracking day.
Day 4
Today was a rare one. Much less riding and much more relaxing. We spent most of the day in Santiago de Compostela seeing more of the old town, buying gifts and just chilling out.
IMG_E0052 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrAde seriously put the pro into procrastinating when buying a cycling jersey. He must have tried 6 on. When he eventually decided on “the one” he also bought the matching socks for that FKW look.
Ade and I then set off on about an hour’s ride to Finisterre for a bit of beach time. By then it was hot - 35 degreesC, so the sea felt really cold at first but when we came back into the shallows it was much warmer. We both Face-Timed our wives who were a tad jealous to say the least.
IMG_E0083 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrAfter a cold drink in the beach bar, we had to get a wriggle on to get back to Santiago in time for our dinner reservation, so let’s just say that “we made progress” and significantly beat the Google maps ETA.
Phil had been delayed in picking up his hire bike, as the only person in the know was on siesta. So he joined us later in the restaurant to help at least make a better dent in the huge pile of veal and ox steak that we’d not been able to finish. The food had been fantastic. Asparagus being another first for Al. The service however was not as good. Phil seemed remarkably relaxed after a long day, starting with an early run to the airport and ending with over 600km of riding in high temperatures. After a night cap in a very lively bar, we retired to bed.
Day 5
After his tough day yesterday, we let Phil have a decent sleep in, but it did mean we departed Santiago de Compostela slightly later than planned. We parked the bikes as close as we reasonably could to the main square to get a final photo and have a coffee before getting on the road.
FDHRE2072 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrFirst we got a telling off from the Police and were made to move the bikes just outside the pedestrianised zone despite the fact they were in no way causing any obstruction and then we had to deal with the exceptionally rude waitress at the coffee shop, but at least the iced coffee was really good. It was already hot.
Once on the road and clear of the outskirts of Santiago, the riding was great. The petrol stop was slightly exciting - Phil’s bike was parked facing downhill and very nearly rolled off the side stand, but he and Ade just about saved him from having to pay his insurance excess. I gave Ade a break from leading most of the day and set a pace that was brisk, but comfortable for all. At one point we stopped to let a family of about 8 beautiful wild horses go on their way. They were trapped on the road due to steep banks either side and were protecting the foal they had with them. They ran past, clearly frightened as we sat, silent and stationary on the bikes. I hope they found a way back to safely soon after. We entered Portugal and then the Penedes-Geres National Park where the granite rock formations were impressive.
PLQVE2719 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrWe saw loads of cows including 2 that were definitely too cool for school, lying down, chewing the cud, wearing green headbands and just giving us a nonchalant look as we road past! Lunch was at an excellent little restaurant, although Al didn’t fancy anything on the menu (too sea food centric) so he went down the road for a Pizza. As we ate, the cars from a classic rally went past - Lotus Cortina, Porsche 912 and early 911, Lancia Fulvia etc. a nice bonus.
IMG_E0099 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrWe left the restaurant, just as a cow casually wandered past and we heard thunder claps in the distance, but we missed any rain. As it was nearly 18:00 when we hit Porto, the traffic was a bit heavy, but soon enough we were parked up next to our accommodation for the next 2 nights. Ade had outdone himself this time. A luxury apartment with a terrace and great views over the River Douro right next to the Luis Bridge.
IMG_E0105 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrAfter much needed showers and a bit of decompression time we headed out for drinks and then dinner. There was a big festival underway with hundreds dressed in traditional clothes.
The white Port and Tonics at the Sandeman gaff were both delicious and very refreshing. Dinner was great in a very busy restaurant. We sat outside with a view of the river as the festival participants went past. The group of VERY loud drummers was the only negative aspect. The food was great and after generally surly Spanish waiters, the Portuguese were a breath of fresh air. After dinner we walked further along the river bank so Phil could check out the hotel, he’s booked for a family holiday later in the year. If the rest of it is as good as the roof terrace bar, I’m sure they will have a nice time.
IMG_E0144 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrAfter a couple of rounds of drinks and lots of chatting, we strolled back along the river bank, past a large crowd outside a bar watching Brazil vs Morocco (we think) in the football World Cup at well after midnight. We crossed the Luis Bridge, got to our apartment and went to bed. The forecast for the next day included a risk of some rain, so we’ll make plans in the morning.
Day 6
We woke to a bit of light rain. Al had been snoring ALL night as far as I could tell. Both he and Phil got a bit more of their much-needed beauty sleep, while Ade and I went out for coffee and a walk round the south side of the city. It was a pretty quiet Sunday morning at that time.
Back at the apartment we tried to get the Le Mans 24 hours on the TV but failed, so watched on Al’s phone while sitting about and talking for some time waiting for the weather to clear. Phil went out and got baguettes, meats and some eggs for lunch, which made a nice change.
Al declared he was not riding today, so the rest of us headed out early afternoon. It had brightened up considerably. As we rode west along the Douro River there was quite a bit of traffic and lots of bikers out, which provided a bit of sport for us. We headed north across the river and up to the castle area, high up and opposite our apartment. Having secured a table in a bar with a great view south and east down the river, a bank of fog promptly rolled in spoiling said view. Over drinks we mainly talked music and I tried with mixed results to explain prog rock to Phil.
IMG_E0166 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrHe left about 5:30 to get back the apartment and after wandering up to the high grassy knoll where people were gathered listening to music, having a drink and generally enjoying the day, we rode off to Matosinhos down the coast in the hope it would be clearer. It wasn’t, but we had a quick look about on the bikes, spotting a very cool fishing net art installation suspended above a roundabout. On the return ride, we went back into the south side of the city as Ade wanted to show me the Imperial McDonalds. We didn’t eat but it was certainly very fancy (for a McDonalds anyway)
After locking the bikes up back at the apartment and showering we headed out for dinner along the south bank of the river.
It was busy and without a reservation it took a few attempts to secure a table, but when we did, we had a right result. The restaurant Mescia had a really cool vibe and dishes from around the whole of the Portuguese empire of old. The staff were very friendly and helpful and the cocktails both cheap and delicious.
IMG_E0185 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrAfter a really good dinner we headed back, in search of a place to have one more drink before retiring for the night, but the places we asked only wanted to accommodate us for food as well, so we went home and I broke out the last of the whiskey I’d brought with me. We sat on the terrace in the cool of the night before hitting the sack. 7:30 was the agreed wake up time. Let’s see!!
Day 7
This morning, for the first time this tour, we got away at our target time of 9:00am. It was cool and cloudy for the first couple of hours. We rode North across the Douro River along the Douro Valley, through some really nice scenery. After riding across a pretty impressive dam, where a big river cruise boat was going down a boat lift, we stopped for coffee at Porto Antigo by the river, which was very pretty even with the cloudy weather. It was starting to warm up by the time we left.
After another couple of hours great riding including a very narrow, twisty, downhill section through tiny villages and farms, that due to a navigational challenge we ended up doing twice and riding the faster, more open roads down the Douro River including crossing another dam, it was time for a light lunch at the vineyard / hotel at Quinta do Valado. We ate at the pool bar with great views across the valley. The pool itself looked really tempting. Before getting going again Ade went to the shop to pick up some port. It was now about 32 degrees.
We rode up from the valley floor on mostly medium pace twisty mountain roads with great views of the terraced vineyards, that were reminiscent of the rice growing terraces you see in North Vietnam, but in a much drier environment. We climbed up to the national park at Lamas de Olo. It was thankfully much cooler at 23 degrees and the riding was more flowing through the stunning granite boulder fields. An otherworldly landscape. It got warmer again as we lost height, but the riding was still good. We rode into Vila Real and went on the motor racing street circuit, complete with painted kerbs, Armco barriers and catch fencing. It looked like they were preparing for an upcoming race meeting. After a much-needed cold drink and a petrol stop we were on the last stretch to Braga. The castle at Guimaraes was impressive, but the driving of the locals in the very busy evening rush hour traffic was less so. I was really feeling the combination of a long, intensive day’s riding that had demanded 100% concentration and the physicality of the riding itself in hot conditions. My hands were sore and I was tired, as were the others. We rode into Braga which was in having a festival. The streets were decorated with colourful banners and there was a huge fun fair.
We had ridden well over 200 miles, but Braga is only about 35 miles from Porto, taking a direct route.
The entrance and parking for our accommodation took a bit of finding and the very pretty young lady that checked us in spoke very little English. Whist she showed me the apartment and how to access the secure parking the others were getting concerned and plotting alternative accommodation, but I assured them the apartment was really nice, and once inside everyone was happy.
After much needed showers we heading into the nearby walled old town for a very nice, very reasonably priced Italian dinner. Ade had checked the forecast and I was glad I had taken my hoodie as we walked home as the temperature has dropped considerably.
MLIU0043 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrBack at the apartment, I went straight to bed and completely crash out.
Day 8
We arranged to check out of the apartment in Braga a bit late, at 9:45, so it was just after 10:00 by the time we got in the road. It was already warm.
The riding was been superb, a few sections of tight, twisty roads, but mostly fast sweepers and even though we covered a lot of miles, I was still feeling pretty fresh by the end. The rear tyre on Phil’s hire bike has definitely seen better days so he’s been trying to sort a replacement bike all day. The tyre has given him some “focussing moments” with small slides, under acceleration on corner exit. There was also plenty of faffing about with tyre pressures today. I should have left mine well alone as the bike felt great, but I accidentally dropped the front pressure too low, and whilst I’m not the most sensitive to small pressure variations, it then felt horrible - the front tyre was pushing on corner turn in, denting my confidence in the bike’s handling.
We stopped for coffee in a tiny village and had a chat with a group of Portuguese bikers while I put my portable tyre inflator to good use. The bike immediately felt better when we set off. We crossed the border back into Spain. Lunch was at a cafe right next to a petrol station in something of a 1 horse town. As we’d crossed into a different time zone it was 16:00 before we ate.
We passed back through Ponferrada where we’d stayed a few days ago, before climbing up to a beautiful parkland. It had rained not long ago, so we had to take care given the reduced grip, but the temperature drop was very welcome.
The outskirts of Astorga were not attractive, but the old town is charming. Our hotel was lovely and in a pretty square, with the beautiful and ancient Ayuntamiento de Astorga building just at the end. On the hour, two figures known as “Los Maragatos” strike the large bell.
IMG_E0217 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrIMG_E0214 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrWe had 2 twin rooms, so arranged to meet downstairs in the square once showered. The cold beers went down really well. We set off, walking towards the restaurant recommend by the hotel receptionist, but decided to go back to the square to eat at the busy place next to our hotel. The food was simple, but good. I did have food envy when Ade and Phil’s ribs were brought out, but my blue cheese burger was actually more than enough. Phil had a few emails to clear, before bed, but I was out like a light as soon as my head hit the (very comfortable) pillow.
Day 9
We woke to a beautiful morning in Astorga. Breakfast in the hotel was excellent. I went for a quick walk and grabbed a couple of photos before we headed off. I was leading as we exited the town. At the bottom of a steep hill, we had to make a really tight left-hand turn. I ran slightly wide and went down a ditch. Thankfully I reacted quickly and decisively and accelerated hard out of the ditch otherwise I’d have toppled over. I didn’t feel an impact, but the others said the bash plate under the engine on my bike earned its keep.
We rode to and through the city of Leon. As we left, the traffic police were out in force. We were alert and rode past at just under the speed limit and exchanged a polite wave. Some of the drivers were less than agreeable though. One articulated truck driver took offence to us passing him. OK, there was a solid white line, but there was loads of room to get past. As I was passing him, he deliberately swerved and tried to run me off the road. I gassed the bike and was soon past. He got an appropriate hand gesture. We rode through some beautiful scenery, some reminiscent of Switzerland, but with better road surfaces.
We stopped for brunch in the small town of Guardo. The cafe had a radio station playing with loads of great rock tracks. They turned up the volume a bit when I asked, so we could hear it better from our seats outside. The food was delicious and ridiculously cheap.
As we ate, we made a plan for the afternoon. Al would ride with us for a good while and then take a more direct route to the hotel as he didn’t fancy increasing the daily mileage to over 300 in the heat. Ade and I rode with Phil via the BMW dealership in Bilbao where he swapped his R1300 GS with the worn-out tyres, that needed a service, for an Adventure version with brand new tyres that had just been serviced (but not cleaned).
I needed rear brake pads and although I didn’t like the price, they helped me fit them to my bike. The old pads were definitely past their best. On our way to Bilbao, we rode through a couple of very short rain showers. The cool air and the rain provided welcome, if short lived relief from the heat. Passing through the small town of Pedrosa, we saw the start of a huge limestone escarpment up to our right. This magnificent feature went on and on for something like 20 miles. As an ex-rock climber, I, in particular was in awe.
We rode out of Bilbao on a cracking road, snaking up and over the hills surrounding the city - Excellent for Phil to scrub in his new tyres. As we rode into Vitoria-Gastiez the traffic was heavy and almost every light seemed to turn red as we approached. We were all very glad to get to the hotel, get the bikes parked and get showered.
IMG_E0234 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrAfter a quick drink in the bar next to our hotel we walked to the very impressive Espainia Plaza, in the centre of the old town, for the obligatory team photo, before heading to Aiztogile K, the street best known for Pintxos, the Basque County equivalent of Tapas. It was a rather bohemian area. Lots of heavily tattooed people and a very lively, but relaxed vibe. We hopped from one bar to the next. The food was amazing. After a night cap in a cafe close to our hotel we went to bed.
IMG_E0247 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrIt was still very warm and our rooms had no A/C so the balcony doors stayed wide open. Despite having ear plugs in, I was woken at 3:00am buy people presumably leaving a night club.
Day 10
After being woken up at 3:00am by late night revellers returning home and not being able to get back to sleep, I eventually went for an early morning walk in search of an open coffee shop round Vitória-Gasteiz, taking a few pictures as I did. It’s a cool place.
We’d agreed to meet downstairs at the Hotel Dato by 08:30 before retrieving the bikes from the nearby underground car park, loading up and getting on the road by 9:00. Well, quelle surprise, due to the inevitable faffing about that didn’t happen, so as we rolled out of town at 10:00 it was already hot.
LAWM4626 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrWe rode to Pamplona through scorched plains with the foothills of the Pyrenees in the distance. Stopping for lunch in Pamplona, Ade and I parked in really narrow parking bays that only a bike could fit into, but we still got a bit of grief from the locals as they weren’t dedicated bike parking bays. Phil and Al, were in specific bike bays close by, but we couldn’t be bothered to move our bikes. Lunch was just a cold drink and small sandwich for me. Unusually, we ate indoors because the cool of the A/C was preferable to sitting outside. On returning to the bikes, a parking warden was taking pictures of Ade’s and my bikes. I played the innocent tourist and acted as though I didn’t understand we were incorrectly parked. I made the point that nothing other than a bike would fit in the bay. Thankfully the warden understood me and I think we got away with it. Time will tell.
After a fuel stop on the outskirts of Pamplona, we carried on. Ade was flagging so I took over the lead. The scenery was beautiful and the roads were fast and flowing, until they weren’t. Suddenly we rode into a section of gravel track that soon turned into rutted dirt. I was particularly uncomfortable at that point. Being short, I’m not able to get both feet down if I need to stop suddenly, so I soon dropped back from the others. We then lost comms and I took a wrong turn. After a horrible 15 minutes or so when I nearly came off the bike, albeit at slow speed, several times, I did get back onto the properly surfaced road. I passed Al and Phil, who’d parked up and were waiting for me, but I was too pissed off at being left behind to stop and engage, so I rode on thinking I’d see Ade a bit further up the road. When that didn’t happen, I guessed Ade had doubled back to try and find me, so my anger began to dissipate somewhat. The roads were bumpy for several miles and then smooth and fast. Eventually I got a message that the guys had stopped at the town of Jaca for a cold drink and a snack. I was already several miles down the road, so said I’d find a place to stop and “drop a pin” so they could meet up with me later. I’d stopped at a large petrol station and had time for a drink, to check the tyre pressures and calm down a bit more before the group was reunited. The post-mortem of the split up could wait until later, over dinner.
Despite the 37-degree heat at low level, we could see small amounts of snow up in the Pyrenees in the near distance.
Soon it started to rain, and in the distance, it looked heavy, so we stopped to put on waterproofs. For some reason, Al did not put on his leggings and was soon whining about being soaked and cold. The rain intensified until turning into really heavy hail. The riding was horrible and it really spoiled it for me because the roads were amazing as was the scenery. Eventually the rain eased off a bit and we stopped at Les Cretes Blanches, a high-altitude restaurant not far from the town of Laruns for a break and coffee.
INYEE9716 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrAl decided to at last put his waterproof leggings on. He was soaked, but they would keep the wind blast at bay and he’d be warmer. Now putting leggings on over bike boots and trousers is not easy at the best of times, but when you’re already wet and if, like Al, past injuries reduce your flexibility, it’s very awkward indeed. The old lady proprietor of the restaurant came to Al’s assistance.
XIOCE0683 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrAs we were about to set off, the rain that had eased off became very heavy again, but we all just wanted to get to our accommodation for the night, so we pressed on. After a short while the rain eased and as we crested a pass, we saw the extremely welcome sight of sunshine up ahead. We stopped for a herd of cows and a flock of sheep that were completely blocking the road. There was nobody controlling the animals, but they seemed to know the way. Al, the cow whisperer took over the lead as with engines off, we rolled slowly downhill creating a way through them. Al then set a really good pace in the damp but drying conditions. Once in the dry, Ade took the lead back and we upped the pace on some amazing roads.
We made it to our charming apart-hotel in Lux Saint Saveur by just after 19:00 which was pretty good given the late start, the delays caused by split up and the couple of hours of much reduced pace due to the weather.
After showering we went for a very nice dinner at a pub / bistro. The split-up post-mortem was handled well. A frank exchange of views occurred and we quickly drew a line under the incident.
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The conversations though, did become almost profound for us lot, covering prejudice, the rise of “woke” and relationships, before we headed off to bed.
Day 11
It was a beautiful morning in Luz-Saint-Sauveur.
IMG_E0308 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrAs Ade went for a run, I had a walk around and took some snaps. There were lots of great looking places for breakfast so we agreed to eat before setting off.
IMG_E0322 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrIMG_E0319 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrKCAAE6692 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrAl was most in need of petrol as his bike, nicknamed Oliver (Reed) does like a drink. After some classic Ade navigation resulting in a gratuitous lap of the town we found a single unmanned pump, but it wouldn’t take our cards, so we set off up the Col Due Tourmalet, a gruelling stage of the Tour De France. After fighting through the traffic and roadworks Phil dived into the fuel station on the opposite side of the road, followed by the others. I was already past and having a bit of range, decided to wait until the next opportunity rather than faff about making a u-turn, so I said, I’d ride up to a safe place to stop and wait. I waited for ages and there was still no sign of the guys, so I phoned to say I would continue to the next petrol station.
I rode up and over the Col. It was steep and twisty.
IMG_0343 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrMany of the cyclists riding up seemed to be in agony and those coming down, were going really fast, so care was needed to be taken to avoid them and planning overtakes was crucial. On the way down the other side, I rode through several ski resorts, some fairly large, but found no fuel. On one section of the downhill run towards Saint-Marie de Campan at the valley floor there were major resurfacing works. Riding on the rough gravel strewn surface on a big, capable motorbike was bad enough - it must be hell on a push bike. I’d still not found fuel and was down to my last few km of range. I stopped and did a google maps search and after planning to meet the others back at Saint-Marie de Campan went to fill up. We linked up at a cafe, the others had already eaten. I grabbed a couple of bottles of very much needed cold water. We said our goodbyes to Phil, who was headed home and continued on our way into the Spanish side of the Pyrenees. It was very hot.
The riding was fabulous, fast sweepers along the valley floors and tight twisty sections with great views in the mountains. We stopped for a very late lunch at Vielha. The Paella was very nice. More great riding followed until I noticed the peg on my gear lever was flapping about so we pulled over and saw that the retaining pin had sheared, so we broke out the cable ties and made a temporary repair.
TMDTE0490 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrAs we were going this, a huge group of Harley Davidson riders went past, waiving and tooting their horns. Do worry, I shouted, you’ll soon be seeing us again. We were soon off, and despite it being childish, the desire to catch and pass the HD riders motivated me to up the pace a notch as I led Ade and Al through the mountains. It only took about 10 minutes to catch the Harley crew, who we identified as Polish from their plates. Taking care not to cut any of them up, we were still through the group of about 25 like hot knives through butter.
After one final stop for petrol and cold drinks, we rolled into the Hotel del Prado in Puigcerda, close to the Spanish / French / Andorran border. We quickly dumped our bags, changed into swim shorts and hit the covered, outdoor pool. It was about 9:00pm and we had the pool to ourselves. Cold at first it was a fabulous way to cool down and relax after a long, hot but fantastic day.
LAWM4626 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrThe hotel restaurant stayed open until 10:00pm, but Ade used Google Maps to find a better rated option just a short walk away. The food was very good and we went to bed slight too full.
Days 12 and 13
Our last full day was going to be a big one in terms of riding (350 miles plus) so it was good we got away from the Hotel del Prado in Puigcerda fairly early. We rode into the Pyrenees on some brilliant roads, partially retracing our steps from the previous day, until we stopped for coffee and pastries at a beautiful little spot by a river.
We then rode on to Casteljon de Sos, stopped for fuel and a cold drink before riding one of the absolute best sections to the N-260, known as the Rio Seira. About 15 miles of perfectly smooth, grippy tarmac snaking through a steep sided mountain gorge with a river at the bottom. What a thrill. We then stopped for a light lunch and after riding through a small town hosting a very big road cycling event, the rest of the day’s riding was on fast dual carriageways, in 37/38-degree heat. Gruelling to say the least. We rolled into San Sebastián and got the bikes parked. After dumping our kit in the apartment, Ade and I walked the short distance to Playa de La Concha for a swim in the warm, clear water. It was a fantastic way to cool down and relax after a properly tough days riding.
We went straight to meet Al for a beer in our swim shorts and then had the first of several stops for Pintxos and drinks. I didn’t even have shoes on, so we went back to the apartment and Ade and I quickly showered and got changed. We then got properly “on it” for our last night. Very high quality Pintxos and lots to drink. It was Saturday night so the old town was buzzing. I was pretty pissed by the time we headed back and my wife Jane had to put up with my “drunken drivel” when I Face-Timed her before bed. Al said I snored like a chainsaw most of the night, which is clearly BS.
Next morning, I went for a good walk round and took a load of pictures while Ade went for a run and Al got a bit more shut eye. We had a light breakfast before heading off to Santander for the ferry home. We needed to make good time, so for once we unticked “Avoid Motorways” and “Avoid Tolls” and just got a wriggle on to the ferry. We just made the published last check in time, and after clearing passport control rolled straight on to the boat. The bar was too appealing, so we stopped for a pint before even dropping off our kit in the cabin.
IMG_0434 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrWe ate a good dinner in the restaurant and went to bed.
Day 14 (June 22)
More slanderous comments about my snoring were made next morning.
After a lovely calm crossing, some good food and a bit to drink on the ferry we docked in Portsmouth about 5:45pm
IMG_0450 by andy tims 1965, on FlickrIt was hot and sunny as we queued to get through passport control, which took much longer than when we docked in Santander 2 weeks ago, despite all having to do the facial recognition and fingerprinting required by EES.
I only had a short ride home, but needed fuel.
It was fantastic to see my wife and our black Labrador, Elsie again and have a lovely roast dinner.
Fairly early to bed I slept better than I have for weeks.
I’d like so record my heartfelt thanks to Ade, Phil and Al, for their company, support and all the banter during our tour and an extra thanks to Ade for doing the planning. It’s been fabulous.
We start some initial planning for next year’s tour soon.
