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05.08 day 42 In the morning I continued in the vas

05.08 day 42 In the morning I continued in the vast flat Jiloca valley. The first pueblo I entered was Alba. On the hill overlooking town are the ruins of the pre-14th century fort that was built to protect the Roman road running through the valley.
I made my way down the hill into the pueblo to check out the castle and cathedral and made my way to the single cafe to have a coffee in the morning sun.
Afterwards, I hit the road once more heading south east to Teruel. Not far out of Alba I joined the Via Verde Ojos Negros, another rail to trail conversion which would ultimately take me to Valencia.
As I got closer to Teruel the landscape again went through a transformation getting a lot drier and desert-like, arid would be a good word to describe it.
Not far out of Teruel I met Pedro, who had ridden from Madrid himself and was on his way to Valencia via the Ojos Negros.
We rode together until Teruel where we parted ways, he continued along the via verde and I dropped down into Teruel where I would book myself into the hostel to rest for a couple of days.

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04.08 day 41 I rejoined the Rio Jiloca that mornin

04.08 day 41 I rejoined the Rio Jiloca that morning and visited Daroca, a beautiful walled town made up of 3 castles which I entered through the stunning lower gate, filling my water bottles in front of the gate at the Fuente de los Viente Caños which was built in 1638. Wowzers.
After a coffee and back on the camino, it was pretty much the same as the day before - an incredibly overgrown trail, plenty of bushwhacking and frequent stops to swim in the river's clear, icy water.
Ancient bridges can be crossed, usually to a small pueblo on the other side, always with a piece of El Cid´s adventure to be found, in fact, he can be found in the pueblo of El Pollo del Cid where there is a statue of El Cid himself.
And, as I headed south, always heading upstream, the river slowly got smaller and smaller, the landscape changing with it too and getting drier and flatter.
The camino itself transformed too, becoming a rideable via verde with the typical ruins of a bygone railway era to be seen.
Slowly the pueblos changed to reflect the change in the agricultural industries surrounding these towns, from vast fruit orchards and now to wheat once more.
The green landscape changed to brown and by the end of the day, I was riding along a now dry Rio Jiloca, it's banks now open and clear of the big, green, lush trees further downstream.
It was about the time where I started looking for a place to pitch the tent and I was getting a bit worried as there was no cover anywhere to be seen and a wind had picked up too so I would need a wind break ideally.
It looked like a low wall, but once I rode up to it, it became clear what it was - it was an old Roman dam wall. I was on the bank of a dry Rio Jiloca, a low stone wall ran parallel to the river, then, it made a 45 degree turn and went across the river. Where there once would have been a pool of water, was now a small field that had been planted with crops.
I pitched my tent right next to the dam wall on the river bank, sheltered from the wind.
After a shower, it was dinner and bed as the sky burnt bloody red.

03.08 day 40 and onto the trail of a Templar, and

03.08 day 40 and onto the trail of a Templar, and one of, if not, Spain's most famous knights, El Cid.
Camino El Cid follows the trail of this famous 11th century knight and is based on the poem Cantar de mio Cid of legendary tales.
I joined El Cid's trail at Calatayud, and immediately before entering the city I was looking in awe, above these sheer cliffs I was riding along, there overlooking the city itself, Ayub Castle, remnants of the Moorish rulers from the 9th century! Unreal!
Once I entered Catalayud it immediately became clear I was in a different world: Mudejar architecture.
The Mudejar were Muslims who stayed behind after the Christian conquest who were primarily builders and used bricks and ceramics to create their art.
After leaving Catalayud, the camino itself was pretty much abandoned, but I rode it anyway, no traffic after all.
It follows the Rio Jiloca and it is incredibly overgrown and at times, almost unrideable, often I would have to hard push my bike through thick, man height grass and through overgrown trees. There was also an abandoned railway line running parallel to the camino, but that too was unrideable, the track was nothing but grass and weeds poking up from the bed of loose rocks.

The river was small but ran with clear fast moving water. There were several spots where the river pooled and I had several swims along the way, it made the effort of bushwhacking just about worth it as quick glimpses of deer in the shadowy lushness alongside the trail.
Small towns were not too far apart and all of them had beautiful examples of the Mudejar influence.
At Morata de Jiloca the camino left the river and opened up into beautiful empty countryside and I started heading up into some wild hills, the trail now clear and rideable.
It was quite late in the evening when I came across another church in the middle of some hilly nowhere while hunting for a place to kip. The church was no good, the floor was cobble. I then spied with mine eye, a small creek just below the church where I found some dry ground and shelter with thick green grass that had matted down nicely, I had found my spot.

02.08 day 39 I called the day “Spirit of the Gre

02.08 day 39 I called the day “Spirit of the Great Heart” (after “Great Heart” by Johnny Clegg) because it was one of those insanely brilliant days where I felt like I had found the Great Heart, in the vast open landscapes that had me spellbound, the sense of freedom and adventure that it evoked and sent deep, tingling vibrations all through my African roots.
It started nicely from my spot on the hill. To the west, the dark outline of a mountain ridge that I would be skirting along soon as I headed south east.
I left the hay mattress where it was, compressed now and wheeled back down onto the road, hit cruise mode and let the experience take me where it may.
Initially it was through vast fields of wheat where huge kettles of vultures circled high above. As I neared the ridge the landscape changed, dotted with rocky hummocks, often with vultures perched atop them. In the middle of nowhere I came across a small Ermita on the edge of a sunflower field. The gates were closed but unlocked so I went in to have a look and found a dusty room and a cupola freshly painted.
I stopped for a long lunch in front of a church in a small farming pueblo where I found a picnic table. A local came over to chat and told me about a small community room I could use if I wanted to use the toilet or relax, it even had wifi. He offered me some food and gave me some fruit as I had just had lunch.
After the pueblo I headed up onto a wide plateau, another carpet of wheat, where a big storm rumbled behind me all the way across, before I finally dropped down and out of the fields and into Villalengua sitting up on top of a hill. The sun was just about to set and I asked a guy watering his flowers if I could top up my water which he duly helped me do, all 8 litres.
I needed a place to sleep now and as I headed out of town I noticed a potential place under some trees. I double backed, snuck into a small olive grove, quickly pushing my bike through the ruts and up onto a flat spot under pine trees. The road was right below me but I was completely out of sight and behind me, Villalengua up on it´s hill.
Perfect.

01.08 day 38 The Via Verde Santander Mediterraneo

01.08 day 38 The Via Verde Santander Mediterraneo is a trail that connects Santander on the Spanish north coast to the Med in the south - another rail to trail conversion and I had joined it at Abejar. Feeling much better after a good chow and now dry, I made my way onto a sunny gravel trail and turned towards Soria, an easy 20 odd kilometer ride. Nice bit of Via Verde too - back in the wheat fields. Lots of rabbits on the trail and plenty of vultures circling around, no doubt roosting in the rocky cliffs running parallel to the trail. Also along the trail, the typical abandoned, ruined railway buildings giving you glimpses of another era. Ocenilla, a pretty farming pueblo, was a nice place to stop for a coffee while the vultures circled overhead.
Then into Soria where I spent some time wheeling around town checking out the sights. Later that afternoon went up to the castle on the hill then down onto the Rio Duero and to behold the Ermita San Saturio perched on the opposite cliff side.
After a visit to the Ermita I jumped back on the bike and headed east and out of Soria back into the fields of wheat.
In the evening I came across a nice hill overlooking the vast plain around me so I made my way up to have a look if I could find a place for the night. Ground was pretty rough, spiky grass and lots of stones, but not far away was a massive stack of hay bales. An idea formed. I emptied my rack pack and headed down to the hay. One of the bales had broken open, so I pulled out clumps of hay and stuffed my bag with it. I made a few trips to and from the campsite and by the end I had a fat hay mattress up on the hill. I pitched the tent right on top in time for dinner with the sunset. Hay mattress did the trick too.

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31.07 day 37 The two rest days turned into sick da

31.07 day 37 The two rest days turned into sick days after my stomach turned green from some dodgy water I had drunk at a fuente and I was feeling pretty flat and queasy when I left camp in the early morning under dark clouds spitting rain like an angry alley cat. But my head said I needed to burn the bug and the road wound out before me, winding up and up through the vast forest of pine, Pinares Grande. I slowly, ever so slowly cranked the pedals, head slumped over the bars, the road hypnotically sliding underneath. Sometimes I couldn´t crank no more and I would slop my disconnected body down on the grass to lie burning on the ground, my sodden clothes steaming off me. Several times I thought to pitch the tent right there but never did, thinking it would take too much effort.
So, after some time staring at the stars behind my eyelids I would very slowly get my leg over the bicycle, lift my backside up and back into the saddle and grind out the revolutions on the pedals…and it worked…by the time I peeled myself once more from the ground in the afternoon I was feeling ok, and I was hungry, always a good sign…but the rain too had intensified and I was soon cleansed and soaked through, baptised somehow.
From the summit I freewheeled down the other side of the hill, now freezing cold as my body rapidly cooled off. I reached Abejar around Spanish lunch time and pulled into a cafe with a buzzing atmosphere. I wanted to order a beer but I needed to get warm so I sat for half an hour with a hot cup of tea in both hands, willing my hands and feet back to existence.
There was an albergue next door and I thought I would check if it was open, it was…checked right in. Place even had heating.

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28.07 day 34 I started the morning with a gentle r

28.07 day 34 I started the morning with a gentle roll down into a vast pine forest, the air quite cool at 1200m. It was to climb a few more meters that morning and as it was so glorious in there I spent a lot of time stopping and enjoying the buzzing quiet of the forest. I came across a green grassed glade and decided to stop for a while and enjoy the sun and quiet. A while became a while more and at some point a breeze started brushing the tree tops and snow white shape-shifting clouds started pacing across the blue sky. I carried on along the trail in the woods, crunching through the carpet of fallen cones and in the afternoon I arrived in Quintana de la Sierra. Just outside the pueblo was a campground and my arm was quickly twisted and dragging me into the reception where I booked in for 2 nights for some rest, a hot shower, eating, hiking and shopping for supplies. Not far from the campsite is a medieval 10th century necropolis situated on a large rock which protrudes from the forest floor nearly to the treetops, the sides are sheer and carved out into the rock are ledges big enough to fit a small human. Up a few carved stairs, rounded and smooth from hundreds of footsteps, is a clear square platform where once a small religious building sat. All around the square, carved into the flat rock, mostly pointing west, are 183 small body shaped holes where people were buried hundreds of years ago. This is the Necropolis del Alto Arlanza.

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So, to continue from the last post a long time ago

So, to continue from the last post a long time ago...

27.07 day 33 Under the reddening morning sky I packed up and continued south east to the pueblo of Arlanzon where I joined the Via Verde Sierra de la Demanda, one of the best VV´s I have ridden in Spain. Just outside of the village the trail entered a tunnel of oak, the light green and yellow from the burning morning sun. The trail is nice, smooth and small deer scatter from the path. Slowly gaining altitude until I crossed over the ridge and in front of me spreads a lake in the valley below. The oaks are no more and I am now a dark cool forest of pine, the smell rich of resin, the view of the lake below being flickered into life by tree stems whipping by. At Pineda de la Sierra there is a cool mountain stream where I had lunch and an ice cold swim. Refreshed, it was another gentle climb up a second ridge and progress is halted by a flooded tunnel. Detour is straight up and over, so a sharp push up to the ridge at 1400m and then fast down into the next valley making a huge U shape along the pine forested valley sides, eventually clattering over the red bridge and to the end of V.V. Felt good with the days progress so I trekked up the hill a short way and put the tent up under a pine, overlooking the V.V towards the west.

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26.07 day 32 in the morning I made my way up into

26.07 day 32 in the morning I made my way up into the ancient city of Frias up on its lofty perch. I wandered through its early morning deserted cobbled lanes trying to imagine life here a 1000 years ago. The town has a commanding view of the landscape and the Ebro river to the north and you can see how important this location was hundreds of years ago. I can see the orchard where I spent the night and wonder if once there were armies camped down below. I left Frias via the southern gate and entered into a rugged mountainous landscape, a natural defense to any army wishing to approach from the south. I followed the Molinar river and arrived at the pueblo of Tobera and the spectacular gorge the river gouged through the mountain. The river comes cascading down the cliffs, creating a waterfall and a fast running stream. The is a huge, vast overhanging cliff under which is the Ermita de Santa Maria de la Hoz. Unreal. From there I continued south and up to the pass of Portillo de Busto, and in front of me, another vast plain of cereal fields. Down on the plain it was rolling hills, small farming pueblos, deserted rural roads and a sea of golden wheat. In the late afternoon I intercepted the Camino Norte and rode the 2km´s to San Juan de Ortega, where I pitched the tent outside the monastery in a red burning sunset.

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25.07 day 31 I packed up the tent under cloudy ski

25.07 day 31 I packed up the tent under cloudy skies and continued along the via verde heading south east in the Rio Ebro floodplain, sierra´s flanking me on both sides as I cruised through the wheat fields and lush fields, full of bird life and deer. The sunflower crops were in full bloom by this time and the landscape was bright yellow, beautiful. I had lunch at another picnic spot on the edge of a pueblo. There was running water so I had a shower, washed some clothes and filled my belly before doing the last stretch to Frias. The via verde was a work in progress and several bridges were uncrossable so after several detours I finally hit the Rio Ebro just north of Frias, crossing the old roman bridge to stand on the plain looking up at the town on up on the cliff. I circled the town, following the river through the canyon and circled all the way round back to the southern plain before finding a secluded fruit orchard to put the tent.

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24.07 day 30 and this is where I had no expectatio

24.07 day 30 and this is where I had no expectations, focused as I was on the peaks from the day before and this is what made this day special in its own way. After a quick shop at Lidl I headed east and along the north bank of the Ebro reservoir, ambling through lakeside pueblos geared for farming and it was once more wheat fields and hay bales, the land nice and flat for some easy cruising in the sun. Before I knew it I had 30km in the bag, was leaving the reservoir behind and entered into more beautiful backcountry, a vast open landscape of canyons, black rock, purple and yellow gorse and empty road. I had lunch at a picnic table in a pueblo then onto the Rio Nela, into thick green woods with table top hills flashing in the gaps of the trees. I found a via verde and decided to ride it as it was heading in the same direction but discovered why it wasn’t open with several bridges blocked and uncrossable. I made it to Villacayo though and treated myself to kebab in town before heading back onto the via verde and pitching up tent on some green grass next to a nursery, the via verde just a few meters away and the tent screened and hidden by a hedge.

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23.07 day 29 I had been waiting for this day, know

23.07 day 29 I had been waiting for this day, knowing what was to come. I also stopped in Pejanda because this was the dip before the tip. I was at just under 800m and the tip I was heading for, 7km away, was at 1500m. It started nicely, a concrete country lane, not quite so steep I couldn’t just about ride up…it did not last long. For the next 6km I fought for every meter. The gradient went up a few notches, the road turned to loose gravel, struggling to get grip underfoot, the front wheel also slipping out sideways, half carrying the bike, one push, stop, breathe, another push, stop, breathe and so it went. Almost 5 hours later, I hit the first summit. Rest, then along the crest and to a refugio (with running water) where I cooked lunch and washed out my sweat drenched clothes. Then the fog came, visibility dropped to mere meters. From the mist a man appeared who took me on a walk to his refugio and regaled me with stories of bears and wolves up in the Misty mountains. I noted my landmarks and made my way back to my bike where I left it next to the trail, at one point fearing I took a wrong turn. One more hill to go and it was another couple of hours of pushing until I made it, the cloud clearing briefly to reveal herds of cows and horses chewing the cud. Then down and the mist wrapped me in its embrace and soon I was dripping as if in the rain. Slowly, slowly down, the trail rough as it was coming up. Finally tar and freewheeling, yeeeehaaa, forests, mist, winding tar then out into open air, suddenly warm…down to Reinosa and the Rio Ebro upon whose banks I camped.

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22.07 day 28 after a couple days rest it was time

22.07 day 28 after a couple days rest it was time to hit some hills and no time was wasted as immediately out of the pueblo, it was nothing but up, up and up. Slowly but surely I made my way up to my highest altitude this tour at 1780m, where I had an up close and personal view of the Picos, stunning. The descent was intense down a steep gravel track with lots of loose gravel and rocks and I crunched my way into Cantabria, popping out onto the tar at 500m, a descent of 1200m! The day wasn’t done and after lunch I steeled my mind for another climb, hitting the next pass at 1300m and a view looking west to the jagged peaks from whence I came. Wow. I started on the descent and came to Pejanda, a bar and a house and asked the bar owner if I could sleep on the patch of grass opposite the bar, he obliged.

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19.07 Day 24 the air that flowed into the hut when

19.07 Day 24 the air that flowed into the hut when I opened the door was cold so I closed it and went back to bed to wait for the sun to shine through the eastern window. A little while later a square of golden sunshine struck the inside wall and it was time. Once packed I headed down the knoll and onto the cow track which disappeared into the forest still in dark, cold shadow. Immediately the track loomed up, a steep, hard push followed and I exited into a clearing in the full morning sun, suddenly hot. The hilltop was bald and there in front of me, bang! was the peaks of the Picos, my first sighting of them. I sat down to rest and enjoyed the view for a bit, the wild horses chomping and chewing the grass around me. I then smoked my brakes going down the hill, happy I didn’t have to come up this side, hit the tarmac and edged closer and closer to the Picos. I stopped in Posada de Valdeon, found an albergue and checked in. From the balcony it seemed as if I could reach out and touch the Picos they were that close! It was a mesmerising sight.
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18.07 Day 23 feeling well rested and mentally read

18.07 Day 23 feeling well rested and mentally ready I was on the road before sunup, the river valley still in shadow and still cold as I made my way through misty pueblos and up to the Rioseco reservoir where I had a coffee and pincho. Then back in the saddle, up, up, up, first to Tarna pueblo, then to Tarna pass at 1490m, leaving Asturias and back into Castille y Leon. I freewheeled down the other side, and stopped for a swim. I then left the road and followed a hiking trail north…and came across a refugio. Expecting it to be locked, I was nicely surprised when the door opened. I swept the hut out, got some water from the fuente down the hill, which meant I could shower, which I did, frei körper style, in the setting sun, nothing but me out there…cooked dinner in the hut, then I was gone to la la land…
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17.07 Day 22 after a tough early morning climb ove

17.07 Day 22 after a tough early morning climb over a forested hill with an average of 20% gradient I freewheeled down through green tunnels to the Nalón valley, joining the Nalón river and following it south and east. The valley is quite built up and industrialised with a big hydro-electric installation on the river. There were suddenly more towns too which made a nice change as this meant there was a walking and cycling along the river. There is also a history of mining in the valley and there are hundreds of bridges where you can cross from one side to the other. Loads of places to swim too and an apple orchard with fresh cut green grass at the end of the day was my spot for the night.
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16.07 Day 22 after a good meal and great nights re

16.07 Day 22 after a good meal and great nights rest, it was up to San Lorenzo pass and down to Samartín and onto the ridiculous via verde Senda del Oso (Path of the bear)…it follows the Rio Teverga then Rio Trubia, through fantastic gorges, the cliffs rising up and over the via verde itself. I can’t remember how many tunnels it has but plenty, epic ride. I found a beautiful spot on the river to make lunch under an oak whose leaves were bright green in the sun, hanging over the ice cold crystal clear water.
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15.07 Day 21 I spent the night at 1200m which mean

15.07 Day 21 I spent the night at 1200m which meant I had a short climb up to Puerto de Magdalena at 1434m, I made it hard for myself by taking the MTB route. I never learn. However, I took a holiday on the tarmac dropping down to about 1000m, before heading up to the next pass, Puerto de Semiedo at 1486m. Cold brewski plucked from the mountain stream was sunk then flew down down down to Puerto de Semiedo (750m), where I treated myself to some Asurian cuisine, hearty! I was gonna need it.
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14.07 Day 20 On my own Camino now, no more yellow

14.07 Day 20 On my own Camino now, no more yellow arrows pointing towards Santiago, I continued NE out of Astorga in a lush, green landscape. Changes were afoot. Wheat still present but a lot more corn now and something I’d never seen before, hops, still in flower. I followed the Canal de Carrizo north and joined the Rio Omaña, with cold crystal clear water. Everything so green, trees, forests, I was bug eyed. In the afternoon I climbed up out of the river valley and popped the tent amid the midges.
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13.07 Day 19 From Benavente I had 80km to do to re

13.07 Day 19 From Benavente I had 80km to do to reach Astorga, where the Ruta de Plata meets the Camino Frances and where I would be leaving the yellow arrows behind. The weather remained cool but the wind had died away. Slowly but surely the landscape started changing once more, becoming greener as I made my way along and over rivers and a lot more trees and shade along the golden fields of wheat. I passed through small farming pueblos, very quiet places where I sometimes would not see anyone on my way through. I reached Astorga and went on to Murias to sleep in an albergue as I wasn’t sure when next I’d find one. From here, I was on my own Camino.
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