More Riding than Writing

It happens every time, as soon as I go abroad I wish I’d learnt a bit of the language. I can’t stop saying “Oui” instead of “Si” ,although I have snook into the darkest corner of what to most other people is commonly known as a brain, and dug out “Lo siento, no hablo espanyol” which, if nothing else, seems to break the ice.

I really had to at least do this after I attempted to order my evening meal last night at a small bar in a village not far from where I’m staying. It was privately owned with the daughter being ‘front of house’, however when I ordered what I understood to be cold meats, mother emerged from the back, put a forefinger either side of her head and started mooing. Not like in the words of Alf Garnet “You silly old moo”, she was only trying her best to help me understand, but if I don’t want the rest of this trip to turn out as the World’s longest game of charades, I need to do at least a little bit!

After the 200 miles I racked up yesterday, today was also going to be a decent ride out, so I ordered breakfast for opening time at 8am, despite not switching the bedroom light off until 1.30am due to an ongoing battle with a mozzie, which I eventually won 1-0.

This morning was refreshing 22c with low cloud as I headed south on the infamous (for The Picos) N621 from Potes. I hadn’t considered the possibility of rain, but the closer I got to the coast the damper it got, which after yesterday’s experience from Bilbao, didn’t come as a great surprise. But when the oncoming cars started to have their headlights on and wipers on intermittent, I resigned myself to the fact that I would dry out when I eventually headed back south.

The 621 between Potes and Panes is a nadgery affair, it runs through a tight gorge so subsequently throws up the odd low baller, if you ride this road spiritedly it’s likely to bite you on the bum, so I choose a hint of spirit with what I consider a good dose of sensible.

The 40 mile ride east from Panes to Cangas de Onis is a different kettle of fish, still as bendy as bendy thing, but wider, with ample opportunity for safe overtakes of those taking their time to admire the dramatic scenery. The small village of Poo in no way reflects the quality of road.

The truck engine which is in the new bike is really smooth as a three cylinder engine should be, handles and performes better than I do and the burble from the exhaust which happens with the slightest roll off of the throttle, is music to my, if not everybody else’s, ears.

Heading south from Cangas to Puerto del Ponton takes us back to serious nadgery stuff again so care is needed not to be too enthusiastic. I remind myself that motorcyclists are only as good as their next decision, corner, overtake……accident! I know the same applies to drivers, but generally speaking motorcyclists tend to ‘lean’ more towards the sporting style of motorised propulsion.

As expected the sun came out to reveal the tops of some dramatic peaks. After lunch the temperature was rising as I skirted the Picos on a minor road. I was thirsty but it was siesta time in the few villages I rode through. When I eventually got back to the N621 south of Potes I just had to stop for some shade to let me, if not the bike, cool down a bit.

After a short break I headed back to Potes and the road along this stretch is wide and smooth, but certainly not straight, the bike is rarely completely upright, which is fun.

Tomorrow I head west for four nights at a new base. I’ve had problems posting this hence a lack of photos but once I get WiFi you’ll be bombarded with them!