Tuesday I couldn’t resist a pre tour ride out, after all, the sun was breaking through in Carlisle north of the river, so I donned my open face Union Jack crash helmet and added my Triumph shades to complete the image. Three miles down the road the sun was nowhere to be seen, hidden by cloud, which made me say to myself “Ain’t no sunshine”. Now lyrics of songs were never my strong point, but the little I do know was enough to finish the line off. It doesn’t take the winner of Pop Master to work out the state I was in by the time I arrived at Rachel’s grave! In the words of Tom Jones ‘It’s not unusual’.
For fear of turning this blog into some kind of ‘Guess the lyrics/guess the artist’ game, I shall desist from such a theme and move on to the adventure in hand.
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!
I gaze out of my bedroom window to see drizzle and think of the phrase ‘The sun shines on the righteous’, or is it the SON shines on the righteous? Well whatever/whoever is supposed to shine, the SUN wasn’t shining on me this morning, nor by the forecast would it for the next few days, as I am in the only place in Spain with one rain drop, and I’m not even on the plain! So much for all these so called sayings.
Glad I decided to travel light!
But I feel grateful to be here, and take my time loading up the bike thinking that the weather will improve in an hour or so, and I was right, the drizzle had subsided sufficiently to allow me to sit in the saddle without wiping it with the knee of my jeans, a practice commonplace amongst us northern European bikers.
I look longingly at those in the restaurant sitting at the tables around me, all seem to have chosen either a medium rare steak, or some other instantly recognisable meat to accompany their chips, whilst I stare down into my bowl of chorizo. Now I like chorizo, hence why I chose this from the tapas board, however I expected a little variety other than some bread to mop up the inevitable greasy soup it floated in. To my credit I managed to consume the entire helping, albeit by pacing myself, but I fear the consequences of such an ingestion.
It’s a Spicy One!
My glimmer of hope is how my body coped with last night’s meal. A couple of days ago I met two young Spanish bikers up at the monastery at Covadonga, the Rocket seems to instigate conversation, to which I always have to reply in Spanish “I’m sorry but I can’t speak Spanish”. They usually then start talking to me in English, as these guys did, and after chatting about bikes we got onto the subject of local food delicacies. They recommended Fabada, an Asturian (not Austrian) bean stew. I searched all the restaurants in Potes but without luck, but to my surprise it was on the menu at this hotel/bar, so that what I had. Beans…..mmmmm, I was thinking that it’s probably a good job that I’m only sharing my room with mosquitos, but even they daren’t enter! To be fair my insides coped remarkably well with that assault, fingers crossed this time!
Saturday night’s Fabada
Today’s ride was going to be a leisurely 60 miler but ended up being twice that and not so leisurely at times, I gave myself a slap for being too enthusiastic at times, not dangerous (in my humble opinion) just a bit too enthusiastic. This next bit is for my biker followers so if you dare read it you may immediately conjure up the image of me next to that village sign ‘Bore’ (which was actually ‘Bores’), you’ve been warned!
A great ride out exploring a little of green Spain, but not such a great day back at base camp with a few technical issues! Here are some stills to keep you going until I eventually sort out video, which may be a day or so. Also I may get around to doing some ramblings at some point……..
119kms that 75 miles in old moneyCabanaquintaAS252 looking down on Tolivia (I think)A.C.A.B. – bit of a generalisation to which I obviously don’t subscribe!Embalse de Tanes
I don’t know the reason for this, maybe because having walked into the bar at 8.15pm I said to the barman “Lo normal por favor” (“The usual please”), or was it because, when in the restaurant, I ordered for the first time a second vino tinto? Well whatever the reason, after dinner, the owner brought a small unlabelled bottle of clear liquid to accompany my cafe Americane, and gesticulated for me to top up my coffee with it. Having sniffed it and detected a hint of alcohol content, I duly obliged, coz that’s the kind of guy I am. How much to put in I had no guidance, but I felt it needed a double dose, if not to dilute the strength of the coffee at least! Afterwards as I meandered into the bar, the young barmaid gave me another half glass, which I duly obliged to sip. I left the glass on the bar whilst I walked back through to the restaurant to ask the waiter “Quesque se, what is it, que”? To which he replied “From the grape, 40%”. I returned to my half glass to find it full, the owner had topped it up! By 10.30pm I resembled some typical old drunk propping up the bar, but like the young barmaid said “It’ll help you sleep”.
Looks harmless, the clearer the drink…….The owner out of focus, in more ways than one!Some old drunk at the bar!
Talking about bedrooms brings me to another subject, that of the time lapse film. My bedroom is on the lower ground floor, some may say basement, but it has and air of chic about it, especially after a few glasses of 40%. The time lapse was taken from a bedroom on the second floor, draw your own conclusions……. 🤔 I set it filming at 6am and ran it for three hours. Oh, you want to know what I’m doing in somebody else’s bedroom at 6am? Well no doubt you would, but the boring truth of the matter is that it was an empty room, for the only time I was allowed access. Yes, life can be quite mundane can’t it, and nothing like your mind was envisaging?!
I’d asked for the room specifically for that purpose as it gives a great view of the mountain, but the room was taken for the duration of my stay, however I got a WhatsApp from the owner last night to say somebody had cancelled so he let me use the room for that purpose. Yes I really am like my road sign!
Now for the biking day so look away now if it’s not your thing.
I refrained from replying with the obvious when a fellow guest this morning asked me if I was an artist? Maybe he’d seen me in the bar last night, but it seems word is getting around that I’m the ‘English guy who does the creative filming around here’! 😆 The owner is quite pleased with that time lapse I did the other day and has put it on their Facebook page, I won’t hold my breath for the royalties to come flooding in, I’m just pleased they liked it.
Waiting for the low cloud to disperse before I set off downhill
I enjoyed this morning’s gentle tootle down from La Raya, apparently the highest village in Asturia, and I had in my head that I was heading south once I arrived at the village of Collanzo, I knew that I’d be going on minor roads and after I passed through the narrow gorge follows the Aller River for a short distance. I noticed a large sign which said something along the lines of moto something not permitted, but gave it scant regard as the road was actually attributed with a number. When I entered the tiny village of Ruayer the road suddenly got very narrow and steep and as I zig-zagged between the houses the tarmac had turned to concrete and became ridged, presumably to aid grip. As I left the other side of the village the road turned to a track. Possibly it’s do-able, possibly not, but being on my own and contemplating the significance of a puncture I decided against risking it. Rachel would be proud, usually when we were in a tricky situation in the motorhome I would say something like “We’ve been through worse than this” or “Have I ever got us into a situation we couldn’t get out of”? She was the cautious one, or should I say, wise one? So it’s quite an achievement for me to tell myself NOT to do something!
I had the GoPro mounted on my chest at this point and therefore you can hear me talking to myself about the conundrum, however you can’t hear the conversation at the Relive app won’t play sound other than its own music.
So it was a short ride out, I returned back to the hotel and basically phaffed until Santiago arrived.
