Zurgena to Aguilas:
https://www.strava.com/activities/852718345/embed/99966b715c0218e6fbff7319588625714b7e4009
So, another mini tour to cram into my 2 week trip, this time solo as Nick had work commitments. As day 1 was to be relatively short I declined the offer of a lift down the track in favour of an extra half hours faffing time, I wished I hadn’t.
‘The track’ is the 5km approach to Nick’s house once the road has been left. It’s a twisting climb on an unsurfaced camino which can be relatively easy or can demand more concentration depending on the preceding weather, it’s usually the worse for wear after heavy rain although the local council are generally quick to repair it.
The descent of the track on a loaded and rigid touring bike demands care! I’m not sure I was fully awake when I left Nick’s gate but the immediate ramp had me floundering on loose gravel and flopping embarrassingly on to the steep bank to the side.
I managed a few hundred metres before finding myself in the wrong gear for the next ramp and grinding to a halt for a second time. Not a great start to the tour! The steepest climb of the mostly downhill track was concreted a couple of years ago but the lip to gain the concrete had me off for a third time resulting in a steep walk up the well surfaced concrete section, never an easy option for me.
The rest of the descent was without incident and I arrived at the bottom of the track relieved that an ignominious defeat and return to Nick’s had been avoided and I could press on with the tour.
My bike made some strange noises in the first mile or so, fearing another broken spoke I stopped to make an inspection. I’d already had one broken spoke to replace this week, it seems to be a fairly common occurrence when I’m touring, partly due the heavy load of my panniers but mostly due to what Neil Hannon might describe as ‘an arse the size of a small country’. The bike was fine, the noise unexplained.
I had a few miles through the ever present orange and lemon plantations noting that most are now enclosed in chain link fencing, not the case a few years ago and no doubt a sign of the times.
I reached the Autopista (motorway) and picked my way through the service station to join the adjacent camino. Most, but as previously learned the hard way, not all Spanish motorways are accompanied by caminos or quiet roads for use by local traffic and ideal for cyclists. Most of these caminos are the original road which has been superseded by the motorway and are generally , but again not always, in good condition. They are also pretty much traffic free.
The quiet camino alongside the E15 motorway:
Further on, the tarmac ended and a short section of rough track lay ahead. The track reared up and ahead I spotted a strange scene. At the top of the slope I could see a bike and lower down a person facing towards me but digging his heals into the loose slope to aid the pulling uphill of what looked like a large trailer. The scene was being closely monitored by a big dog. Was the dog a stray or farm dog which was hassling the cyclist? As I closed in and had to dismount myself I could see that the dog had a jacket on and appeared to be with the cyclist.
I caught up just as the sweating cyclist managed to drag the heavy load to level ground. I stopped to chat in my best pigeon Spanish, he was French. He told me he had come from Toulouse and had been travelling for a year. Having cycled across Spain myself I was incredulous at the prospect of towing the ridiculously heavy looking trailer. He clearly wasn’t a leisure cyclist, he was wearing normal street clothes, no helmet, no gloves and his trailer was hooked on with heavy rope and old steel carabiners. He looked as though he was moving house by bicycle and his appearance made me wonder if he was heading to the south of Spain to make his way over to Morocco?
He asked if he was heading in the right direction for Vera. He was and when he enquired about the distance to Vera I opened the top box on my pannier rack to get my map out. I took the map from the top of my bag exposing my wallet which lay underneath. His focus seemed to change instantly and the interest in my wallet was obvious, I felt uneasy.
He showed little interest in the map or what I had to say, he was much more interested in my belongings. I went on the defensive and returned the map to cover my wallet before closing the lid. Although we were at the side of a motorway we were unsited and actually in the middle of nowhere.
‘I have no money’ he said and ‘no food for the dog or me’. If I’d had a few euros loose in my pocket I’d have given it to him but I didn’t, just my wallet which I didn’t want to take out. Something just didn’t feel right.
I sympathised and told him I didn’t have food which was true. I wished him good luck and bade him farewell, he didn’t bother with any niceties and didn’t look happy, maybe because he was genuinely hungry and desperate. I left but soon felt guilty and I pondered the balance between being ‘streetwise’ and having enough humanity to take a risk. I may have got this one wrong, I’ll never know.
A few miles of busy ‘for Spain’ roads lead me down to the coast at Vilaricos.
Mining museum at Vilaricos: History of Mining in the area
Vilaricos Marina:
Further east along the coast is San Juan de los Terreros, a popular holiday resort for the Spanish, but not in January!
I need one of these for my garden in Chorley:
I reached my destination of Aguilas late in the afternoon but before the shops reopened at 5pm. I was lucky to find a Panaderia that was open so I had a late alfresco lunch on the promenade.
The hostal I’d chosen was of course the cheapest available but even so was a bit posher than I’m used to!
The view from my room however easily qualified in my ‘Classic views from Spanish Hotels’ gallery.
The day had been an easy one, I suspected the next day wouldn’t be!
2 Wheels and a Walking Stick 