The School Run (Santiago de Compostella)

[steve1]

Back on Track

Even though Mr Sat Nav doesn't recognise the road he can at least tell me the direction i'm heading. Hopefully it appears i'm generally heading in a Northerly direction. This is good because Portugal should eventually run out and Spain should happen!
I start picking up signs for 'Nao' , i'm guessing it's a place so i follow it. 15 minutes later i see signs for the motorway- this is a good omen. Going downhill the trees are begining to thin and i can see a built-up area ahead and to my left, the road forks and i go left instinctivly riding towards civilisation. The road straightens out and becomes wider, a car approaches from the opposite direction. This is a good sign - people, houses, shops. I breath a sigh of relief as i realise i'm out of the enchanted forest.
10 minutes later i'm in a place called Guinaraes. The are people at the petrol station, in my experience people who work or frequent petrol stations usually know where they are and how to get to other places. I dont need petrol but a drink would be in order.
I head into the shop and pick up a bottle of water, the man behind the counter is sporting a ridiculosly large cowboy hat, as i move closer to pay i notice he has a large eagle belt buckle and is wearing cowboy boots, ( not exactly traditional Portuguese dress but hey-ho it may be fiesta or something)
I say howdy to John Wayne an mouth the word- 'ESPANIA?' I look out of the window with my best confused gaze. He takes one of his thumbs from behind his belt buckle, adjusts his 16 litre hat and gestures right in the direction i have been travelling. As i leave he gives me the knowing look as if i'm heading into "injun territory"
I walk across the corral untie my ride from the post, check my saddlebags and mount up. The cowboy looks across as i dig in my spurs and my steed disappears through the cactus into injun country!

 

[steve1]

Onwards to Spain

Riding out of Guinares the forest is long gone and civilisation has taken over. I pick up a sign post for the autovia- right off the roundabout and then an immediate toll- just collect a ticket no payment. Then i'm on the motorway I blast North towards Braga, the sun is hot on my back and the road is very quiet, brilliant riding conditions and the cherry on the cake- Mr Sat Nav has decided he now knows where he is!
After an hour and a half i can almost taste Spain, Braga is long past but hunger gets the better of me and i stop close to the Spanish border on the Portugeuse side. The sun is cracking the flags as i head into the average sized border town of Vallenca.
Traffic is the heaviest i've seen in a while and i have to keep my wits about me- you think Spaniards are bad- try mixing it with these Portugeuse nutters- all have a death wish and are trying to prove that their fiat cinqueciento can out drag me (like i care- just stay out of my personal space!). I nip into a space outside a gift shop and seriuosly piss one of the locals off,-think he was about to park there. He leans his head and shoulder out of his window and barks what i'm sure are Portugeuse rude words at me. "O-B-R-I-G-A-D-O" i say and smile at him. He speeds off and nearly causes an accident as another car passes. I feel proud at how my Portugeuse has begun to develop.
It's very hot, i'm parked in the shade but the heat is still amazing. I lock my helmet on the side of the bike and thread my bike lock through the sleeve of my jacket. I lock it onto the rack and drape the jacket over my gear. I remove my tank bag an put the sat nav in it. Lengthen the strap and now i have a rather fetching handbag with which i can mince around Vallenca.
I stroll around the town with my gay bag on my shoulder looking for food.
At what seems to be the centre of town there's a huge fountain on a roundabout. On one corner there are tables and chairs set out with people eating and drinking coffee - that 'll do for me

 

[Stevie73]

C'mon Steve!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm loving this ride report......! It's like a soap opera, can't wait for the next episode!

You're a superb writer!!

 

[steve1]

even more cheese!

I enter the cafe and every single head turns (must be local day). There were a few spare tables outside however inside its heaving. I wander over to the counter attracting much attention in my hein gericke bike pants with matching handbag.
I think these people are holding some sort of smoking competition, there's a dense cloud just hanging in the air at about chest level, many competitors are still doing their best to contribute and maintain the potency of the fog.
There are several people at the counter, being British i can feel my automatic queuing reflex starting to kick in, i do my best to supress it but it's too strong. After several minutes and numerous push-in/ queue jumper incidents i manage to shake off my Anglo-Saxon line forming heritage and bark "Senoir" at the young lad behind the bar.
In this Portugeuse backwater i suddenley realise that i still retain a much under-used advantage (one which has been stripped away from English society since the 70's).
I feel a little uncomfortable pulling rank, as it were, on the tiny females clamouring for the barista's attention but a traditional Portuguese upbringing has taught him that men come first (even with handbags).
He serves me next as i feel 10 pairs of feminine ibearean eyes burning through the back of my skull.
He speaks to me in Portuguese, i do the point and sign language in response.
I need to be quick, the women behind me are baying for blood and i dont think it would do well to keep them waiting more than necessary.
I point at a tray of what looks like toasted sandwiches and show the lad two fingers.
He must have picked up a hint of UK in my signing and retorts "HOT?" I nod eagerly and go on to ask him for a large cafe con leche in my best Spanglish. I point outside and he nods.
I'm trapped against the bar, i manage to turn on the spot but have to be careful not to knock out any of the dwarf species of 'female' with my handbag. I clear the crowd and make my way through the smoke to safety of sunshine and petrol fumes.
I find myself a clear table and settle down watching the Portuguese drivers negotiating the roundabout.
Moments later the lad appears with my feast- 2 cheese on toast with coffee-yes indeed i know how to have a good time in a foreign place.
As i sit in the sun and devour my last mouthful the lad brings the bill 3.20 euro. Bloody marvellous - i'm coming here again!
I gather my belongings and decide to go for a stroll around the shopping centre. I always feel much more comfortable just wandering around than sitting, i think its because my arse gets numb on the bike. As im walking i see a roadsign showing me just how close i am to my goal.
"Spain?"
"Yeah mate, you wanna take the third exit at the roundabout!"

 

[steve1]

Curiosity

Eventually the Portugeuse Sun gets the better of me and i duck into a bar for a refreshing slurp. As i enter there's some sort of commotion in one corner. A crowd of people are huddled around the TV and are transfixed by the performance of some boy band (a la Take That). I have a look (nothing attracts a crowd like a crowd) but its nothing to write home about. (sorry-couldn't resist) Why all the fuss?
I finish my beer and wander back to the bike past numerous shops selling fake footy shirts and massive beach towels.
Loads of people are walking up the hill towards a fort, something is happening. Being a bit of a nosey bastard i decide to walk the beer off and have a look.
The fortifications are spectactular- i walk through a tunnel cut through one of the walls - it must be forty feet thick.

 

[steve1]

Generator

I emerge from the tunnel into a courtyard, a huge mobile generator is humming and several thick power cables are running from it around the corner. The generator has "Antenna 3" logos plastered all over it, i'm guessing it's a tv station. I follow the cables around the corner. Music is blaring and there is a huge crowd.

 

[steve1]

Famous??

I can see a film crew operating a boom camera, sweeping over the crowd and panning about. As i move into the crowd for a closer look i see the boy band from the tv - well i never!
The band finish their number and hundreds of local teenagers go apeshit. Then a bloke says something to the camera and and old chappy with a guitar comes out from one of the buildings.
The crowd erupts once again (i'm guessing he maybe famous in Portugal.)

 

[steve1]

The old fella kicks-off singing and most of the crowd know the words and join in. Sounds shite to my English ears so i turn to explore the fort.

 

[steve1]

The fort itself consists of a small village on top of a hill surrounded by amazingly thick earthworks and walls. Access to the interior is limited to a narrow bridge over a dry moat which then takes you through a narrow passageway.
I have no idea what the occupants were trying to protect or who from. The only thing i can guess at is this place is on the border and there is a plentiful supply of water. Any rode someone went to a lot of trouble to keep this place safe!
From the top of the embankment defensive forces would have had an amazing field of vision and been able to pick off any approaching bad guys. I would not have attempted to storm this place (not without close air support anyway).

 

[steve1]

light controlled people

Interestingly vehcles are allowed into the fort. Access across the bridge and through the tunnel is so restrictive that traffic lights control the flow of pedestrians and cars.
Me, being relatively unobservant, almost became wedged between a police car and the wall. Luckyly enough the militia in the car realised my Anglo Saxon origin and swiftly told me to remove my person from the tunnel when the red light was showing. At least that what i interpreted it as. Nice blokes.

 

[steve1]

Back inside the fort the narrow streets form a small grid which opens into a modest plaza with a church and a statue of the towns patron saint (didn't catch his name)

 

[steve1]

Wierd Walls

As i stand in the square taking pictures in the heat of the afternoon something catches my eye. Its a wall at the back of the square- i can't quite make it out, it appears to be moving. As i move closer for a better look i notice many people are touching it.

 

[steve1]

wonderwall

Then i realise the whole wall has water running down it!
Must be 60 feet long- one giant waterfall disappearing into a slit in the ground.

 

[steve1]

Tourism

This place has obviously had tons of money spent on it and is attracting many tourists. The bars and resaurents are clued up and the waiters hassle passers by for business. I hate that sort of thing but i suppose they have to make a living, the tourist euro has it's downside.
After realising its just Blackpool with the sun i check the people-lights and head off down the hill back to the bike

 

[steve1]

Spain here I come

Back at the bike i punch in the coordinates for Monte de Gozo- it's another campsite in Santiago, a bit furhter from the city centre but hopefully not as steep! ( although with "Monte" in its address i'm starting to have my doubts)
I fire up the bike, first roundabout, then autovia immediatly.
The sun is high in the sky and Bono is telling me that 'sometimes you can't make it on your own' as i blast North towards Santiago.

 

[steve1]

Wingman

Weather conditions are fantastic, the autovia is quiet apart from the odd truck and i soon settle into a relaxed riding rythmn, steady 80-85mph gently curving in and out of the fast lane whilst i overtake trucks.
Another truck ahead, preliminary check of the mirrors, what's this? I'm being shadowed by another bike. I pass the truck and move back into the slow lane, check my mirrors and he's followed me and tucked in behind.
The road ahead is clear, he could easily pass me if he wanted to but no, he justs sits there.
I ease the bike closer to the shoulder and he moves up alongside, both of us in the same lane. I look across and the faceless blue mirrored visor gives me a peace sign, i nod in response.
He's riding a big bandit with some of theose canvas saddlebag thingys with rain covers on (you gonna need them, i think to myself, if you're going North).
He eases past revealing Dutch plates.
We track each other for the next half an hour leapfrogging as we pass traffic. He overtakes, then I overtake, not competitve just a steady rythmn. Its good to have a riding partner, it seems to make the other traffic more aware of your presence.
Ahead two motorways merge, three lanes join our two. Two more bikes join from the right riding parallel. The first is a GSX riding with a pillion and luggage, the second I think is a Moto Guzzi but i'm not sure becxause of the tank cover and the luggage. Both bikes have Spanish plates and move in front of us as the autovia reduces down to three lanes.
The road is clear and our four bikes ride as a group for a while.
The guy on the Bandit has become playful and is dropping back, then overtaking. The remaing three bikes just keep a steady pace and formation.
We're close to Vigo and the motorway begins to fall at an alarming gradient............

 

[Stevie73]

Steve, 7 days and no update?

C'mon....

 

[steve1]

Steve, 7 days and no update?

C'mon....

apologies....been busy
keep the faith

 

[steve1]

Lightspeed

Almost on cue the bandit responds to the falling gradient, not by backing off. He goes for it- big time, gives the bike a huge handful. His engine screams above the buffeting wind as he streaks ahead downward along the empty autovia. Christ that's a fast bike!
I find myself drawn in, instinctively i reciprocate (I've never tested the GS in that sense but there's no time like the present) I twist the throttle as far as i can. The bike responds instantly, i momentarily shit myself as i adjust to the acceleration and lie across the tankbag.
The gradient assists and i fly past the 100mph mark. A quick check in the mirrors reveals that i have company. The remaining two bikes have responded and are following in close formation. Meanwhile El Bandito is still pulling away (How fast can these bikes be??) The gradient is still sucking us in as we pass 115mph, the motorway is now 3 lanes diving steeply and turning gently to the right.
I become aware of a serious vibration- behind me, the bike lock (bungeed to the roll bag across the back seat) has shifted and is beating the crap out of my pannier. I shift back on my seat and wedge it between the bag and my arse. The vibration stops- result.
We emerge from a cutting and our descent continues out over the estuary. A noticeable change in wind direction coupled with an approaching bend reminds me of my mortality and i begin to ease back on the throttle. Ahead the Bandit
disappears as the gentle right turn tightens and begins to climb the other side of the estuary.
We round the bend at around 90mph and start to climb. Vehicles are now joining from the right and i can see the bandit in the distance, he appears to have dropped out of light speed and is cruising in the middle lane.
All four bikes are soon back riding as a group, the motorway has become crowded, we find ourselves in the fast lane cruising past many HGV lorries many of which seem overloaded with timber.
We ride as a group up through Pontevedra and all the way to Santiago de Compostella. I give the three bikes a wave as i take the exit and they continue to blast Northwards. What a fantastic road.

 

[steve1]

random acts of kindness

True to form the sat nav drops me at some random bus stop in the centre of Santiago and announces that i have reached the camp site. Fantastic- I park up and rummage around the tank bag for the paperwork, find the address and re- input into the temperamental device. It keeps telling me i'm already here so i guess the address is wrong. Looks like i'll have to interact with the locals, 3 student types are walking up the road. In my best Spanglish and pointing at the address in my hand i ask them if they know where the campsite is. To my relief one of them speaks better English than my crap Spanish. She tells me that it is quite a complicated route and goes through all the twists and turns and roundabouts. The Spanish bloke with her jabbers away (he obviously knows a better way to get there) I'm left thinking that i should return to the Golan Heights (As Cancelas) but i'm not sure my nerves could stand the barrage, then the girl tells me that it would be easier if i followed them. Their car is parked just up the street. Brilliant- they lead me across town to a road with a big campsite sign on it- i give them a thumbs up and a toot on the horn- nice people. God it's good to be back in Spain.