clairedavieswriter

You’d be hard pressed to find either of these Castilian villages in a travel guide. They lack many of the features that tourists generally seek, but the welcome was warm, the locals accommodating (see The Kindness of Strangers, below) and frankly we were just grateful to find somewhere to stay in roughly the right place. We were also grateful for the efficiency of that electric heater in our room, which meant that we set out this morning in socks and shoes that were very nearly dry after yesterday’s virtual immersion. Though for a while we wondered why we’d bothered…

But the cycling gods came good. This was me sweating up the final hill of the day under a warm sun.

Speaking of gods, check out this guy, who kept an eye on the lads while we had our morning coffee.

This might be a good time to mention my culinary Discovery of the Week: the delight that is the Bollo de Mantequilla. Literally, a butter bun, but it’s so much more than that. Think brioche, but one that doesn’t take itself too seriously. A doughy bundle of deliciousness, topped with granulated sugar and stuffed generously with something suspiciously like butter with icing sugar whipped in. Divine. I could berate myself for taking so long to discover it, or I can simply rejoice in the discovery and try to make up for lost time. I think you know which approach I favour.

With the contents of my mid-morning bollo coursing through the bloodstream, Bernard and I made short work of the next few miles. Fortunately, Jonis’s customary choice of a napolitana de chocolate (pain au chocolat for francophile readers) had a similar effect on his performance. Following the Ebro upstream, we wove through the dramatic limestone canyon of the Desfiladero de la Horadada, with granite pinnacles and bluffs looming above our heads. It was pointless trying to capture the majesty of such scenery in a photo, so you’ll have to make do with a distant shot across an attractive old bridge.

In the pretty town of Oña, we ate our lunch (tortilla sandwiches with an obligatory addition of bacon – vegetarianism is difficult in Spain) on a sunny bench beside a former convent. I’m afraid I’m not too sure who the statue commemorates – hunger overcame my curiosity.

And on the recommendation of a young German couple we met there, who were cycle touring with their baby daughter, we re-routed the next 20k of our ride onto a via verde, which follows the line of an old railway between Santander and Sagunto on the Mediterranean coast. I’d seen it while planning the trip, but was wary of the condition of its ‘unpaved’ surface. I needn’t have worried. It was well maintained:

Clearly signposted:

And informative:

Though the old stations were in need of some TLC.

And the graffiti was a little out of date (Tejero was the army officer who held Spain’s parliament at gunpoint during the attempted military coup of 1981, whose failure was largely attributed to the intervention of the king – hence ‘rey traidor’ – traitor king – in the graffiti).

Fortunately, this was our only detour into politics today. Personally, I was happier indulging my love of old doorways.

While these flyers caught Bernard’s eye

And all of us enjoyed the novelty of a blue sky, and the sun on our backs

Tonight we’re in this lovely Casa Rural, which we have entirely to ourselves. We found two cans of beer waiting for us in the fridge and as I write, our laundry is drying in front of a log burner. Close to cycle touring perfection. Salud!