Month: December 2023

It was yet another lovely morning as I packed up the car on the sunshine coast, if the weather forecast is to be believed it’s not due to rain here for another 9 days and then it’s just for the one day. But it was only 2 hours before the windscreen wipers were getting a good thrashing about, temperatures dropped to 4c as I crossed the Sierra Morena north of Seville, but once I’d cleared the high plains things looked up, the sun re-emerged and it got to a relatively toasty 17c, although the wind chill factor determined that at motorway speeds the roof should stay up.

Today’s first leg of 346 miles would be the longest time I’d spent behind a steering wheel, or in fact holding handlebars, since pre cancer. It went surprisingly well, I was no more tired than any normal sexagenarian would be, probably helped by having a ‘Grand Touring’ machine, or at least I can kid myself into thinking that.

The Kevin Mystery

For those of you who are still wondering about the note on my windscreen, it turned out to basically be an advert from a fellow Porsche owner wishing to sell his car. A little bit like a wrapped Christmas present, often turns out to be more exciting than when it’s unwrapped 😆.

If you didn’t already know, I at least ‘like’ everybody’s comment and mostly reply, but you probably don’t get a notification so I’m telling you now, but please don’t feel any NEED to comment. 🙂

Before sunrise I gazed out of my bedroom window and saw the wisps of orangey pink clouds with the pale blue sky above, the car was looking splendid, as always, in the car park below, and these two sights seem to mask the industrial estate on which the hotel is situated. I just see the things I like.

What followed was a roll in bed with some honey, well other than the bed that is, in the restaurant I had just a small roll with some butter and honey, washed down with half a glass of orange juice & a small coffee. 

As I lifted the lid of the hotplate my eyes, nose and mouth longed for the frittata but my redesigned inside is the boss these days and said “no, you’ve had enough or I’ll kick off”. This is what I would describe as ‘extreme grazing’, I think that I’ve always been a good grazer but this is a new level to the sport, and so I reluctantly resisted the tasty ‘afters’.

Before the sun had made a proper appearance I returned to yesterday’s road, the A66. I’d seen plenty of signs telling me that I was on Ruta de la Plata and mistakenly assumed that I was on the ‘Route of the Plains’, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Wiki:

Ruta de la Plata (Silver Route) is an ancient commercial and pilgrimage path that crosses the west of Spain from north to south, connecting Mérida to Astorga. An extended form begins further south in Seville and reaches north to the Bay of Biscay at Gijón. The path is used by the modern A-66 and AP-66 freeways, as well as by the older N-630 national road. Plata is commonly thought to derive from the modern Spanish word for silver, plata. The name actually derives from the Arabic word al-balat, which means cobbled paving and described the road as engineered by the Romans.

History lesson over, now back to almost the present, an apt word with Christmas looming.

It was cold, so much so that the heated seat and steering wheel were fired up, but with the cold weather came some lovely views. As I drove north and looked to my right I saw the sun not much above the horizon with the silhouette of a line of dark cypress trees set against the silvery cloud behind, a lovely sight which I could treasure. Inversions were commonplace but being on the motorway I couldn’t stop, and as is the case, photographs rarely do justice to being there.

I could really enjoy the scenery from the comfort of the car, not being distracted by freezing cold extremities, as would have been the case on the bike. Sounds like I’m getting soft in my old age? Well maybe I am!

With 170 miles to go and now being in the cloud at 2c it was yet another reminder, should I need one, that Herman the German was the right choice for mode of transportation. Ooh, now I’ve given him a name does that mean he is now part of the family like Reg the Rocket? If so, where does that leave the BMW K1600GT?

As is always the case there’s a tinge of sadness as I wave goodbye to my family at St Jouan after just a couple of days with Amy, Yann, Evan, Arthur and Yann’s family Luc, Servane and Yann’s brother Gwendal. Loneliness, just a hint, but positivity of seeing Sarah & Rob in the next day or so, and what more could one want than a relatively calm night crossing assured?

I was very comfortably accommodated in Chez Luc,, Yann’s folks’ new gite, should any reader be looking for a place on the outskirts of St Malo you know where to come! 😆

I may do a proper review of my trip once home as I’m just rattling this off on my phone in the boat’s bar.

Until then, or next time? Thanks for reading 🤗