A 24 hour ferry journey from Portsmouth to Santander went by smoothly. Six other touring cyclists were also taking the journey South. A solo female from Canada, heading towards Madrid. A couple on a tandem, a Brit heading back to Portsmouth via France and Derek and Mick cycling around Spain and Portugal for 4 months.
Once we disembarked the ship, I joined up with Derek and Mick and spent the next hour or so cycling around Santander looking for a place to sleep. We eventually found a room in a hostel near the port.
The next morning we obtained our Camino de Santiago passports which allows pilgrims to sleep at Alburges and hostels at special rates. With everything in order, I took the local ferry across the bay from Santander to Playa de Somo. From Somo I took the road CA – 141 until the turn off towards Guemes. The road towards Guemes was tree lined, rolling and little traffic. A popular Argentinian man named Martin Miguel de Guemes, whose father was from Santander, had once organized local gauchos in Northwestern Argentina to resist royalist forces loyal to Spain during the Argentine War of Independence.
From Guemes I followed the back roads passing through San Mames de Meruelo, Escalante before arriving back on the semi busy road near Cicero. From Cicero the road undulated towards the bridge into Colindres. When I arrived in the fish smelling town of Colindres, I located the Alburge de Municipal, paid my 5 Euros and had the full hostel to myself.
The following morning, rain had descended on Northern Spain. I followed the main coast road towards the seaside town of Laredo, paradise lost. From Laredo a long climb ensued. By the time I had reached the peak and zoomed down the hill towards Liendo, I was soaked to the bone.
More stiff climbing followed until I reached the turnoff towards Valle de Villaverde. I joined onto road CA -151 and beautiful alpine forests and moody dark green mountains shadowed the road.
After 25 Km, the climbing began as I headed towards Balmaseda. Long straight climbs with no mercy, soaked to the bone, I was now in Basque Country. When I arrived in Balmaseda I located the Alburge Municipal and moved in. All clothes wet, impossible to dry!
From Balmaseda the climbing continues. The road snakes in and out of the Basque Country and into the neighbouring Burgos region. The scenery is beautiful, but the climbing is tough.
I folllowed the road towards the medieval town of Artziniega dwarfed by the surrounding mountains.
Through Artziniega, another long stiff climb followed, reminiscent of climbs in Turkey.
I reached Menagarai and stopped for a break. Whilst chewing on my sandwich, a man stopped in his van and asked if I would like to come with him to a remote place in the mountains.
I agreed, he put my bicycle in his van and we drove 15 km on a small but beautiful road towards Cozuela on the Basque – Burgos border.
He introduced me to the few inhabitants who were staying at his lovely cabins, before I set off on foot exploring the local environment. I discovered waterfalls, forests and a beautiful mountain range.
I spent the night sleeping on the patio of one of the cabins.
The next morning, I set off back towards Menagarai in the rain.
Back on track, I reached the town of Amurrio soaked after more steep climbing. I stopped in Amurrio for lunch before pushing on.
The road towards Vitoria-Gasteiz from Amurrio was tough. Lots of climbs and no hard shoulder.
I gained over 300 meters in 2.5km near the village of Altube.
Through the town of Murgia I reached the village of Letona as it was becoming dark. At this point, I wasn’t sure where I was heading but there didn’t seem to be any other options apart from a dirt track.
Onto the dirt track I goes and I noticed an abandoned workshop. I moved in for the night. I ate chocolate and biscuits for supper washed down with a coffee, it was a cold night.
The next morning, I continued along the dirt track, through a village, more dirt tracks, before arriving at the local airport.
At the airport I asked for directions into Vitoria-Gasteiz. From afar the city looks very industrial. The capital of the Basque Country, Vitoria-Gasteiz is rated as one of the best places to live in Spain. Voted the European Green Capital in 2012, the locals are dubbed bean sacks! Fracking is banned in Basque Country through the hard work of its citizens. Let’s ban fracking in the UK.
One night in Vitoria-Gasteiz was enough. I met a 20 year old Swedish lad, who had cycled from Sweden to China and across the states. Heading back to Sweden, via France. A wise head on young shoulders, respect to him
I headed out of Vitoria in a South easterly direction. I picked up a rail trail on the outskirts and stayed on it until reaching Argandona.
From the rail trail I picked up the road A132. Alpine forests either side, the cold air encourages me onwards.
I climb upto 887m and zoom down 7km into the small hamlet of Azaceta. A light breeze punctures through my clothes, I can see my breath, keep moving.
I reach the Umbrian looking hamlet of Bujanda and join onto another rail trail.
From Bujanda it’s traffic free all the way to Estella if your heading that way, about 40km.
I reached Sta Cruz de Campezo and was surprised the trail kept going. The surrounding mountains, a kaleidoscope of colours. I am now in the foothills of the Sierra de Codés, under the watchful gaze of the Loar and Costalera mountains, near the Basque/Navarro border.
The Navarro Vasco trail is so peaceful. The trail is dotted with old stations, viaducts and tunnels forming part of a fascinating piece of railway heritage, known affectionately as El Trenico (The Little Train).
When I reach the village of Acado, I decide to head south. The scenery changed almost immediately. Gone are the beautiful green alpine mountains standing tall with dignity. Welcome to an agricultural zone of multi colours.
Well versed in renewable energy, the state of Navarro is Europe’s shining light. I pass lots of wind and solar energy farms as I head towards Los Arcos.
Los Arcos is a peaceful hamlet on The Pilgramage to Santiago route. A pension/hostel is located here for the pilgrims. I decided to push on, passing colourful vineyards.
From Los Arcos the road rolled through some beautiful desert like landscape.
I reached the village of Sesma just before dark. I was able to fill my water bottles before pushing on until reaching a forest. I found a great spot to camp and enjoy the solitude of the forest. The wind rustled through the trees, music to my ears.
Last night the sky was just spectacular. Clear, stars shining bright through the opening in the trees.
This morning, I awoke to sunlight piercing through the branches. The wind silent, beautiful, magical. I make a coffee and pack.
I am now cycling on route NA 129 in a southerly direction. Wind turbines dot the landscape as I approach the village of Lodosa. I keep moving enjoying my surroundings. I have the Rio Erbo to my right. The second longest river on the Iberian Peninsula.
I stop in Carcar for supplies. A small village on a hillside. I like the fact that I shop locally, my money staying within the community. I eat and move on.
Through Carcar, I pick up route NA134 which is busier with heavy goods traffic and tractors. Vineyards are everywhere, the surrounding landscape a rainbow of colours.
The road is flat, I imagine the earth with no buildings, empty and vast. I wave at the cops as I pass through a town, no helmet on, I’m playing the game!
I stop for break at the side of the road. I eat my last remaining snacks and quench my thirst with pure clean water.
As I’m having my break, a shepherd passes by with his flock. It turns out he’s Arabian. I take a photo, he asks for money. I say I don’t understand, he leaves me alone.
I can get by in Spanish ok. It’s far from perfect, but the more I listen and learn, the words come back.
I am now only 20km from Tuleda, the second largest city in the province after Pamplona. I am also cycling on the widest hard shoulder in the world. Orange coloured mountains to my left, a sight to behold.
I reached Tuleda, a city with a lot of history. I slept on a bench for the night, a great contrast from the night before. I woke the following morning and decided a rest day was due. The hostel here is reasonable priced.
A famous Jewish traveller by the name Benjamin originated from Tudela. Back in the 12th century, his intrepid travels took him to the lands of Asia, Europe and Africa. He set off from Zaragoza, my next destination.
From Tudela, I crossed the River Ebro and travelled south along road NA126. Flat cycling, agricultural land to my right, desert mountain scenery to my left.
I passed through the sleepy towns of Cabanillas and Fustinanas without any fuss. I had a canal to my right, with a very rideable dirt track alongside it, but with little traffic I decided to keep to the road.
After 40km I crossed into the Aragón region, province of Zaragoza. The road immediately deteriorated, maybe due to more farming traffic than a lack of maintenance on behalf of the local municipality.
I reached the village of Alagon, had lunch in the plaza and pushed on. Following the signs towards Zaragoza, I somehow ended up on the Spanish equivalent of a motorway, the A68. I pulled off this road after one junction, into the village of Pinseque, through some farmers fields, a couple of wrong turns here and there before I eventually found the road I needed.
I picked up the semi busy N232 and rode straight into Zaragoza. Known for its folklore, local gastronomy and landmarks, the city is also home to the largest collection of Francisco de Goya’s work, considered one of Spain’s most influential artists.
I got lazy and spent the night in Zaragoza. The next morning I picked up road N11 and headed eastwards. More flat cycling, little traffic because it was Sunday.
I reached the town of Bujaraloz without much incident. The scenery was fairly bland, I spent much of the day singing to myself.
At some point in the journey it did feel like I was cycling through a desert.
The highlight of the day was finding a great place to camp. With the village of Penalba to far off the road to consider a detour. I passed a service station and climbed a small hill. At the top of this hill I just stopped, noticed a dirt track, pedalled down it and set up camp.
I spent the night looking at the sky, it was amazing. No light pollution, crystal clear.
Thank you for giving me the strength and the conviction to complete the task you entrusted to me.
Thank you for guiding me straight and true through the many obstacles in my path. And for keeping me resolute when all around seemed lost.
Thank you for your protection and your many signs along the way.
Thank you for any good that I may have done, I’m so sorry about the bad.
Thank you for the friends I have made. Please watch over them as you watch over me.
Thank you for finally allowing me to rest. I’m so very tired, but I go now to my rest at peace. Knowing that I have done right with my time on this earth.
I will fight the good fight, I will finish the race, I will keep the faith.
I was so tired, I didn’t rise and get moving till gone 11.30. The N11 was busy with heavy goods vehicles. I reached Fraga, had something to eat and decided to change the route.
From Fraga I decided to head directly south along the river Cinca towards Massalcoreig. The traffic died off immediately.
Vineyards and olive groves lined the road, I had found my little bit of peace for the day. At Massalcorieg, I turned left up a hill and made my way towards the village of Seros.
The road was beautiful, I could have been in Egypt.
I reached the hamlet of Seros but unfortunately all the shops where closed, siesta time.
However, I did pass a shop named….
I was now in Catalonia. I crossed the Segre River and a long climb ensued.
I was also in a big fruit growing region. The landscape was dotted with fruit trees, all empty!! I stopped for supplies at the village of Maials. I had to wait until 1730 for the local shop to open before pushing on to find a place to camp.
It was cold during the night. I woke the following morning and Jack Frost had left his mark. Everything was white. Good job the sleeping bag goes down to -15.
With a few undulations and the sun beating down, I soon arrived in the town of Flix. An industrial town situated on the River Ebro, Flix was the site of a major battle during the Spanish Civil War. Named the Battle of the Ebro, the International Brigades defeated Francos fascists forces at Flix, losing 3000 soliders.
After stopping for lunch in Flix, I pushed on along the C12 knowing a long climb was forthcoming. Surrounded by beautiful alpine forests it was such a shame to see a nuclear power plant. It really spoilt the scenery.
I pedalled along the river Ebro until reaching the town of Mora d’Ebre. Flat cycling until the turnoff towards Tivissa. Here the climbing began, all 15km. Steep to begin with, I reached Tivissa and had a well earned break.
Alpine forest cloaked the Montalt mountains. The climbing continued from Tivissa. The sun was cracking flags, slow going.
I reached the top, a sign read 500m. It felt like I had climbed to the moon! The glory took me all 12km down to the coast. The scenery on the downhill was beautiful. I didn’t stop for any photos, I just kept going. I passed through the villages of Vandellos and Masboquera without blinking.
I reached the beach at Miami Platja, so happy, haha. Tough day. It was warmer, people wearing shorts and t shirts. I slept on the beach, I didn’t bother putting the tent up.
Packed up this morning and set off northwards along the coast. Deserted beaches, sun shining, peace on Earth. I stopped in a cafe for breakfast and had a chat with the English owners. 13 years living in Spain, with no intention of heading back to Blighty. Can’t say I blame them.
It took me most of the day to cycle 30km to reach Tarragona. I passed through the resorts of Cambrils and Salou. I can imagine it’s chaos in these towns during peak season.
From Tarragona, I pedalled upto Sitges and took the train into the centre of Barcelona. I slept at the airport for two nights before catching a flight to Cairo.