Raissac D'Aude at last!

 Monday April 29th

Yesterday at 13.10 I finally cycled past the Mairie, past le parc, past la croix along rue du tilleul to la maison du murier here in Raissac d'Aude. Home at last. What a week! 

I didn't want to "put pen to paper" until I actually got here because I was beginning to feel a little jinxed. The old song "If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all" came to mind.

Tuesday in Seville was mainly spent looking for a bike box and taking my bike apart and packing it ready for my early morning flight on Wednesday to Toulouse. The receptionist had been very helpful and suggested Rebiciclate a bike repair shop in Macarena. Since I was staying in the middle of the Santa Cruz area with its twisty narrow streets the bike shops were all quite far away. The bike shop, Rebicilate had a box and I must have looked quite a sight as I walked the half an hour clutching my prize, back through the maze of tiny streets which by then were packed with a sea of humanity.

My first mistake - my excuse is that I am unused to taxis - was to book a taxi using the ride hailing app Bolt. Normally (I've used it twice before once in Bratislava and once in Budapest) the app shows you where the drivers and what kind of car they are and you click on the car and you watch as it speeds towards you. If you book the day before someone picks up the booking but you don't know who and crucially what kind of vehicle.

Wednesday morning 05.00 no taxi. Eventually a text "I am at the end of the street I can't come into your street it is too narrow." I have my bike in a box 30kgs and my hand luggage. I manage to carry it to where my Bolt taxi was waiting. It was an 8 seater but the seats didn't fold down. Disaster the bike box wouldn't fit. After half an hour of trying to make it fit he left me at the side of the road. So I hailed another Bolt in the normal way - a Tesla 3 would be with me in 10 mins. When he arrived he took one look and shook his head. His seats didn't or wouldn't fold down and he left me by now getting desperate. The normal taxi rank was about a 100m away so I half dragged half carried my box to the "normal" taxi who was quite happy to fold down his seat and took me to the airport. Whew I thought that was a close one. 

On arrival I couldn't see my flight on the departures board. The flight was cancelled. The efficient lady on the Ryanair desk booked me on the next available flight Thursday morning. Another day in Seville beckoned BUT Seville was practically full. 97% according to Booking.com. The only reasonable accommodation was in Apartamentos Resitur in Triana. The apartment was a decent size but very poorly equipped and a bit frayed around the edges. But it was only one night so it would do. Getting my bike box in the lift to the fifth floor was a performance not to be repeated too often. By now my box was also frayed around the edges and I set out to by some tape to repair it. Where do you buy tape in a city with thousands of tapas bars? Aldi, which was just around the corner had duck tape in the sale section for €3. What a lucky break. First and last.

By mid-day my Thursday flight was cancelled because of French air traffic controllers striking and the Friday flight was full so I booked myself on the Saturday 14.20 flight and headed to reception to book my room for two more nights. I could have one more night but there was no room at the inn for Friday night and Seville was FULL. I was looking at hundreds of euros for one night in the only rooms that were left or I could have a room in an 8 bed house which was STRICTLY FOR MEN ONLY. Nudism was practised and you had to be comfortable with that. Help!!

It turned out tha my room became available due to a cancellation and I didn't have to discover what the nudist men only house was about. It should have been good being a tourist in buzzing Seville but the stop start hanging about made it difficult. I only had the clothes that I stood up in because once I had repaired my bike box I didn't want to risk taking it apart again. 

Saturday finally dawned cold and wet. 17 deg cold and raining. Fortunately I had kept the number of the regular taxi which had brought me from the airport so in my best halting Spanish I had booked him to pick me up at 11.30. At 11.25 he was a the front door with his back seat folded and a friend with him to lift my box. Things were looking up. Bolt you can bolt. Things continued well at the airport. My box had to be individually scanned in an XL scanner which was fired up by a friendly security guard for me alone. When I lifted my box onto the conveyor belt it fitted with about 2mm on either side.Whew again.

Checked in I headed through security to discover that surprise surprise the flight was delayed by an hour which quickly turned into two hours. The plane took off at 17.35 3 and a quarter hours late. By then all hope of catching a train from Toulouse had disappeared and I was searching Booking.com for accommodation near the airport and near the train station. In the end the fact that it was raining when I landed made me book an airport hotel. There was an eerie silence in the huge arrivals hall as I rebuilt my bike (which had been last off the plane) All of the passengers had long departed by the time my bike and I emerged into the dim evening rain. It seemed a fitting near end to what had been a disastrous trip.

However Sunday went smoothly enough as I was able to cycle to Toulouse Matibiau following a cycle path first along the Garonne and then alongside a canal. Bike on train to Lezignan - Corbieres then short cycle to Raissac D' Aude. If I was starting to have doubts about having stopped my cycling this little trip confirmed my decision. I had to stop twice because my chest was tight and my breathing wasn't easy. This was on a pancake flat 10kms with not a breath of wind.

My PA has been busy while I have been missing in inaction.I am going to be busy pursuing Ryanair for compensation but nothing will compensate me for my disappointment. Thank you to everyone who has followed my lack of progress and who has sent me well wishes and encouragement. Pauline says that I will never be let out on my own ever again but I'LL BE BACK.

Day 8 Caceres to Seville

 Monday April 22nd

I slept well enough in my new digs in Caceres butIi was up before the 08.00 alarm ready to find a way to Sevilla. If I had known how long it would take I would have  been a bit less anxious to get going. 

I was at the  bus station window 21 as it opened at 08.45 to  be told that I couldn;t take my bike on the bus despite what it said on their web site and that they had no boxes or bags for sale for €12 despite what it said on the web site. I could try putting it on the bus, as is. the counter bureaucrat suggested helpfully, but I wasn't going there again gracias.

The train station was 100m further on and the difference in attitude and helpfulness and effectiveness, there, was stark. The bus "service" is privatised the rail service is still national. By 9 o clock I was booked on the 14.30 to Sevilla with a reserved space for my bike ( no need to dismantle) Only 5 hours to kill. I went back into central Caceres for a two hour breakfast and to sit in the sushine.

Eventually 14.30 mcame round and the five hour slow chug to Sevilla began. I had cycled it in four days a car would take two hours the bus takes three hours  but.the train .. every lamppost!

I arrived at 19.00 having booked via booking.com ( must get shares) on the train. Mrs google came up trumps and guided me skilfully through the maze of little streets that is central Sevilla to my home for the next two nights. My room is enormous. It opens from  a typical Sevillian courtyard and consists of a big room with double bed as requested and single bed and a further room with a double bed each room with AC and a lovely spacious bathroom. Lots of room to fill my bike box if I can find one tomorrow.

This evening I decided to reprise a visit to the oldest tapas  bar in Sevile- el Rinconcillo, where the speciality of the house is garbanzos con espinacas (chicpeas with spinach) When we were last there the age old tradition of marking the bill in chalk on the counter was alive and kicking. Disappointingly, they had replaced the counter tops and installed a state of the art computer system. When I asked what had happened to the chalk tally the barman pointed to the computer and marked my order in chalk on the counter. I am sure I wasn't alone in my disappointment. However the bar was so busy they had a doorman controlling entry so they hadn't got ot all wrong. Still progress uis not always forwards. Old man rants,

Once in. I  squeezed into my place in an international line up which considted of a couple from London using google for everything. A chinese man who worked in finance in Dublin and could eat for Ireland. A Scot on his way to France was next to an Italian lady who lived in Valencia and was eating for two. To her right was a nice couple from Guadelahara in Mexico. An international brigade indeed.

Fortunately I spared the manzanilla (fino sherry) and was able to find my way back to the hostal Sierpes to complete this essentially non day. However my cough is no worse, my achilles is forgotten about and I am feeling able to eat and drink almost normally again, although I am still weak and sure that I took the right decision to stop when I did.

We shall see what tomorrow will bring. I can be sure there will be something unforseen.

Day 6 Caceres

 Friday didn't start well but it ended worse. On arrival in Caceres I headed straight for a nearby main square for something to eat. big mistake. HUGE. By 8 pm I didn't feel great. The bottle of cava I had purchased lay stubbornly half drunk. By midnight I was in the "bano" and by 06.00 I was still there.

Suffice to say the I endured one of (if not the worst) episodes of food poisoning ever. Saturday disappeared with sporadic sleep and whenever I vetured out to buy water or visit the farmacia I returned totally wiped out. Having slept all Saturday night I awoke feeling a little better and ventured downstairs for tostado and coffee. On the way back upstairs I had to stop twice on one flight of stairs. Decision made. 55kms uphill was not going to be possible.

As ever my wife came up with the solution. Go back to Seville and fly on form there. so began a frantic round of cancelling what I could of my booked accommodation and booking a flight from Seville to Toulouse. (My only bit of luck the flight was €12.95) In spain not much happens on a Sunday but I found a bus going from Caceres to Sevilla  at 13.30. Perfect. Only it wasn't!!

All of the ticket offices (21 in all) were closed. So I downloaded the Alsa app and paid for my ticket and €10 for my bike. The bus arrived and the driver refused to allow me to board with my bike because it wasn't in a box or a bag as the rules required. No amount of wheedling or begging or explaining that I had a ticket I was ill and I had to get the bus was successful.

So back to booking.com (I should buy shares) for another room for the night in Caceres. (€30 and it is absolutely fine) My alternatives for tomorrow are:    persuade Alsa to honour the ticket I bought once I find a bag or a box for my bike (UNLIKELY) or get one of the three bike spaces on the one train that goes to Seville tomorrow (possible) of hire a car for a one way trip (possible but expensive) One way or another it is Caceres adios tomorrow.

If I was in any doubt about having made the right decision when I arrived back from the bus station, a flat journey of less than 10 kms I was exhausted and had to lie down.

Day 5 Merida to Caceres

 Friday April 19th

Today has been a fine day.  Not as easy as yesterday but notable for the first appearance of what cyclists dread more than hills - wind. fortunately for most of the day it was a quartering wind from the east (not the prevailing westerly) since the road was mostly fairly straight north it wasn't too much of a headwind.

The first problem of the day, as it often is, was finding my way out of Merida and on to the road to Caceres. My not so trusty Cicerone guide gave directions from the Parador which was about 2 miles in the opposite direction from my less illustrious hotel. What pilgrim stays in Paradors?? So I was stuck with trusting Google with disastrous consequences. Just as I left Merida on a quiet well surfaced road congratulating myself on a swift smooth exit, I was chased by a pack of angry dogs. There must have been about ten dogs and when it came to flight or fight I chose flight. I didn't know that I still had a sprint in me and when I was finally clear of the last brute everything was shaking. 

Never mind I was clear of Merida and on a quiet flat road when Mrs Google told me to "take a slight left" which was up an unsurfaced steep track with which  a 4x4 would have difficulty. Up into the unknown or back into the pack. Twist or twist? That I chose to brave the dogs for a second time tells you everything about the uphill track. I approached the field with the dogs as fast as I could muster  but they had gone off to chase someone else  because I didn't see them for a second time.Heart rate slowed to racing. An hour after setting off I was  back where I started with no more idea how to leave Merida.

I struck gold for a second day running with my direction giver who gave me good directions to get back on my by now favourite N630. 10.00 and I was just setting off with a freshening wind.

It was fairly hilly at first so I stopped for a rest at the side of the road and stupidly only unclipped my left foot. Unsteady on my feet after my exertions my weight went to the right and I was certain I was headed for a three metre deep ditch when miraculously my subconscious kicked in and unclipped my right foot just in time. Road rash  beckoned but was averted  but not without a huge spike in heart rate for the second time in the morning.

The rest of the ride to Caceres was fairly innocuous, so much so that I was playing games with the very few place names that appeared on the signs. The first was Aljucen (Al Hussain) Saddaam's younger brother in my twisted universe. Next up was Aluescar (ally's car) and then Aldea del Cano where I stopped at a cafe called Las Vegas (no one armed bandits in sight) Instead I met a German lady who was walking the Camino staying in the Albergos (hostels with dormitory accommodation) She tried but failed to convince me that this was a better option than hotels. Another hour and a half passing  by Valdesalor and I was bowling along into Caceres. 

Much to my surprise my small hotel was in the yellow list of hotels at each major junction which made navigation so much simpler. On arrival I received a warm welcome and was shown to my spacious well equipped room which has a room next door for my bike. Perfect. What I have seen of Caceres so far is positive and I look forward to exploring this evening and tomorrow. Photos to follow when available.

Accommodation:    Hotel Alfonso IX    Parras, 9, Cáceres, 10003, Spain    pop. 100k

Booking.com    7.9    €88 (2 nights)    

Nice room on first floor with flat entrance from street and spacious bathroom and AC. Plus marks for choosing a room with a room next door for my bike.

Distance 77 kms

Day 4 Zafra to Merida

 Thursday April 18th

The Roman remains are amongst the largest in Spain and have UNESCO World Heritage Site status.

However, when I went to visit this afternoon 1t was 17€ to get in and 35 C. I promptly decided to save my site seeing for my day off in Caceres tomorrow.

Last night I decided that I wanted to watch Manchester City play Real Madrid in a spanish bar. The only one near my hotel was heaving but didn't do tapas - crisps or olives. A beer and olives 1.5€

The match was exciting and when Kevin de Bruyne equalised I let out and unrestrained YES announcing my allegiance to the whole bar. Extra time and then penalties. Luca Modric missed with Real's first penalty and again an unrestrained YES. Unfortunately after that it was SI SI SI and Real won. The Spaniards were jumping up and down but good naturedly. most had been drinking soft drinks. I got back to my hotel at midnight which was not the best preparation for today but today has been very good.

I was packed up and on the road by 08.30. It promised to  be an "easy day" but I have had them in the past turn nightmarish so I was careful as I left Zafra. It was very unattractive and industrial. Getting out of towns is always harder than getting in so it wasn't long before Google and Cicerone had me lost.(nothing to do with me) Fortunately the first person I asked was good at directions and he set me on my way perfectly. Todo recto (straight on)

the N630 was much  busier today, like a normal road but there was still a metre an a half hard shoulder and the traffic was careful to give me room. 

That was as exciting as it got. The road was fairly flat and Roman straight and I was able to make good time between the three towns en route. Villa Franca de los Barros sounded alot more interesting than it was. I stopped for coffee but whn I hadn't been seved after ten minutes I decided to take my custom elsewhere. Which turned out to be two toens further on. I spent the next 15 kms or so trying to get my tongue around Almendralejo. (Al mend ra layco) It was a huge disappointment. 3kms of industrial  chimneys and agricu;tural suppliers. The one coffee outlet was unattractive so I carried on.

I wasn't tempted to take any photos which may tell its own story. Torremejia was next and I had almost given up on coffe altogether when I spied a touring bike outside an otherwise empty cafe. Pauline would definitely not have stopped. It ensued that the owner of the bike haiked from Elgin and he had started in Santander and was nearly at his destination of Seville. We had a brief chat about what was to come for each of us before heading off into our separate distances. When I tried to explain to the cafe owner the coincidence of two Scots meeting in the middle of Extramadura she seemed unimpressed - obviously it happened nearly every day. (or maybe it was my Spanish)

An hour later I rolled into Merida over the very long Roman bridge

and it took me a while to find Hostal Pompeya because all of the streets in the centre are having work done to repave them and there are closures etc. Google was not my friend so I used my sense of direction and eventually found it.

I have wandered this afternoon but it is very hot so I have installed mysel in a Plaza Major terrace to read my book and people watch and sip a gin and tonic.

Later when it had cooled down I took a trip on the little yellow train.

The commentary was in Spanish only which limited my understandind of which century what was constructed but most was by Augustus Caesar which means 1st century BC.

The tour was interesting and couldn't have been covered on foot even without the searing heat.

They were determined that you were not going to see their Roman theatre without paying the 17€ entrance fee.

The site was surrounded by a high hedge. This was the only chink I could find.

Accomodation:    Hostal Pompeya Merida    19 Calle Parejos, Merida, 06800, Spain    pop. 60k

Booking.com    8.1    €35    

Nice room with private facilities and AC (necessary today) but marks off for no desk to write this blog. Plus marks for the receptionist pushing my bike for me to a position just outside my room while I carried my panniers.
 

Day 3 El Real de la Jara to Zafra

 Wednesday 17th

well signed

the first 11 kms

During the night I was seriously wondering if I could continue. I had several bouts of calf cramps and my hamstings were screaming "no more". However the good news is I have forgotten that I had an achilles problem and haven't felt it at all.  But by the time I had finished my ablutions and had packed up all of my gear the sun was shining and my legs were at least moving.

As it turned out today has been a MUCH better day. I am writing this in Zafra having had a menu del dia a shower and a rest and it is only16.30.

Dave from Wyoming

The first decision was road or off road. The road route involved retracing last evening back to Santa Olilio and then onwards, whereas the off road headed straightish to the junction with the N630. 11kms of  C. Jose Maria Pedrero instead of 24kms. How rough could the road be? Quite rough actually but endlessly interesting. I met Dave from Wyoming, a Swiss guy who spoke only German (that made for a short conversation) a couple from Holland who spoke good English (what a surprise) and a guy from Singapore

mad guy from Singapore

who flagged me down and offered me a beer (09.00 he was going to take a while to finish the Camino) The one thing they all had in common apart from being pellegrinos was nobody spoke any Spanish. Still I was glad I had chosen off road for the first 11 kms but I wasn't sorry that I was back on the empty N630. Except it was much busier now maybe 20 cars per hour?

nice couple from Holland

Between where I rejoined and Monasterio was 10 kms and 250metres of climbing which was quite challenging. Half way up I couldn't understand why I couldn't put down any power. Then I thought about it and put my seat up by about 40mm. I had marked the position with tape which must have slipped down. How did you not know I hear you ask? Well I hadn't been on a bike for a year and I had been unwell so I put yesterday's travails down to that. When I say that a climb is tough  I am always aware that for my son for example and other climbers this is just a gentle warm up. However Monasterio was reached and coffee was required, There I met a Greek couple and a lady from Cyprus who all worked in Seville but had decided to have a day away from the Feria revellers.

is this Beziers?

At this stage there was 57 kms to Zafra but it was to be fairly easy compared to yesterday. The temparature was a pefect 25 C a little hazy and (whisper it) no wind,



The terrain was rolling and at times I was bowling along. What a difference the seat adjustment made. Just after Monasterio the terrain changed dramatically and the oak trees disappeared to be replace by vast fields of cereal or grass and then later with vines.

obviously red wine

Fuente de Cantos was reached by 1300 and I was sure to buy some water there while I could. After Fuente I had about 25 kms to go and so I felt sure I could reach in time to have a menu del dia as my main food for the day.

My "trustyish" Cicerone guide told me to turn off at kilometre marker 786 which turned out to be 686. This led 5kms later to Puebla de Sancho Perez where I decided to stop for my meny del dia which was even better than yesterday for 11euros. 4kms later I arrived at the Hotel Cervantes in the centre of Zafra.

Accommodation:    Hotel Cervantes    Cervantes, 7, Zafra, 06300, Spain    pop. 17k

Booking.com    8.2    €28.5    

I have a fantasic room with AC and a decent sized bathroom and a safe space for my trusty steed. Perfect.

Distance:    77kms

Day 2 Sevilla to El Real de la Jara

 Tuesday April 16th

Before I start on today I have to tell you about the Feria ( a week long festival in April two weeks after Semana Santa.

I was staying in Triana a good twenty minute walk from the centre of the Feria and all afternoon and evening there were literally thousands of Senoras and Senoritas dressed in traditional flamenco dresses with flowers in their hair and the Senors all had on at least a jacket and tie if not a nifty suit. 

When I went for a walk in the evening I could see why everyone was walking. There were thousands of scooters parked in the surrounding streets and taxis couldn't get within ten minutes walk of the site of the Feria. Think Links market times ten with everyone in their finery. Unfortunately my phone died before I arrived at the main venue so missed the opportunity to take a picture of thousands of revellers.

This morning when I got up with the lark to make an early start on what I knew would be a tricky first day (silly me) the streets were still thronged with the Feria goers on their way home. When I sat down for a coffee and croissant at 07.00 I was surrounded by red eyed Feria returners having "desayuno" (breakfast) still dressed in their finery. I asked on pair of young ladies if it would be ok to take their photo but surprisingly they said no, I took a surreptitious snap anyway.

I was putting off time in the cafe because I stupidly failed to check when sunrise was in Seville. 07.47 would you believe, I could have had at least another hour in bed. As I left my resting place of last evening at 06.30 I was tiptoeing (which isn't easy in cycling sandals) trying not to wake up my hostess who I had heard return at about 3.30. However the stairs were pitch black and I was mindful of my recent injury so I tried to put the outside stair light on but instead rang the bell! 

I finally set off at 07.45 and before long I had to stop to put an extra top on because it had got cold as the dawn broke. Just as well Pauline insisted that I should take a warm jacket "just in case"

There was a good cycle path along side a busy main road out of Seville and once I had crossed the Rio Guadalquivir it was straightforward and flat to Santiponce. At the roundabout where I had to choose between the offroad pilgrim route and the N630 I met a Spaniard on a roadbike waiting for his pals. When I suggested that I was thinking of taking the offroad route he rolled his eyes and I think explained why that wasn't a good idea. In the end I took his well meant advice and followed the N630 all the way to Santa Olilio. He and his pals passed me after a few kms.

The N630 used to be the main road north until they replaced it with a motorway that is never further than a few kilometres away and often alongside. It is in remarkably good condition and after the first few kilometres has only bikes (push and motor) and the odd car. I shouldn't have used the word push.At one point I counted three cars in an hour. All good, Except that once the road  started to climb it climbed gaining 300metres over 20kms only to lose all of them in one mad descent before climbing back up over the next 14 kilometres to Ronquillo about halfway.

Unfortunately my legs gave out halfway up this climb and the rest of the day was challenging to say the least. I phoned Pauline about 10.30 and she was surprised to hear that I had already covered 33 kms she would have been even more surprised to hear that I had only covered 44 kms when I stopped for lunch at a lovely restaurant in a little square with a fountain. (mainly because I couldn't go any further) It was 30deg, not a breath of wind (usually welcomed by cyclists) and I had totally underestimated the terrain and my level of fitness. The lack of exercise rehabing my achilles and the stinking cough I brought back as a souvenir of Madeira had combined to leave me weaker than I had hoped.

Stupidly I had subscribed to the advice of my Cicerone guide that said because we were on the Camino there were lots of places to get water. So I set off with 2 1litre water bottles which were completely insufficient for the terrain and temperature. The tree towns I have named so far are the ONLY towns villages or hamlets or garages on the route.

I had an incredibly good value menu del dia in Ronquillo. Lots of choices and bread a drink and three courses or two courses and coffee for 10 euros. Incredible. I don't know how they do it but it was good and revived me briefly before the road headed up once more. About twenty kms out from Santa Olilio and despite being prepared to flag down a passing car to ask for some agua, none passed and I limped into Santa Olilio to the first garage I came to. The attendant, seeing my face, insisted that I sit down at his coffee area to drink a litre of water. 

Fortunately, for I was totally spent, it was a mostly downhill 7.5 kms to my overnight stop in Real de la Jara. 

I will see what tomorrow brings but I will definitely set out with more water and keep it topped up.

Accommodation:    Alojamiento Mª Carmen    C/ Cordoba, 2, El Real de la Jara, 41250, Spain    pop. 1.5k

Booking.com    8.2    €28

My room is small but it has a private en suite bathroom with toiletries, air conditioning which in today's 30deg is good. There is a fridge in the hallway for water and bananas (and the rest) of which I am partaking as I write this.

Distance:    80 kms