Back in the saddle
After coffee we stretch our legs for a while and then its back onto the bike.
The diversion takes us around 5 miles through some serious twisties, which although normally would be mucho fun, proves to be hard work- with the bike so heavy.
The next autovia junction bekons and soon we're cruising in hot sunshine.
The miles slip by and the day becomes a scorcher. The road is straight, flat and relatively empty.
As the GS eats the miles the soothing tone of the engine lulls me into a false sense of security. The chatter between us stops as i enter a transcendental zone somewhere between reality and Mexico (circa 1865). This usually occurs when i'm tired,(not always as specific as Mexico) i'm totally on autopilot and my mind is free to wander. I'm truley at peace with my machine. The bike, the luggage, SWMBO and the landscape- we have become one. I am no longer riding but flying through a spaghetti western landscape half expecting the man with no name to tip his hat as we blast through his high plains.
My daydreaming is abruptly shattered by Green Day's American Idiot blasting through my headphones. (Not sure what's goin on with the volume on that track.)
Woken from my trance i realise it's time for a stop. The odometer reads 225 and the Repsol station ahead could be the last one for a while. Decide to pull in for petrol and a coffee.
Check my mirrors as we drop out of light-speed and am sure i catch a glimpse of a poncho-ed drifter guiding his horse across the carriageway. Thats it i definitely need a lie down.