March 18, 2012
To Ronda
up and down
The octogenarian's English isn't as good as I thought because he starts coughing violently when I tell him - as I'd done over dinner last night - that I'm cycling to England. He's finding it hard to breathe and it seems he might not make it to noon mass, but thankfully he recovers and composes himself, and - after I've had enough of the dry toast, ham, cheese, pate and jam - I wish him well and set off in what are pretty chilly conditions with my fleece jacket protecting me from the worst of the strong wind that gusts through Yunquera's narrow, deserted streets at around 10 o'clock.
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A small convenience store is open so I pop in and get a few oranges and a small round cake, because it's doubtful much else will be open along the way on a Sunday.
There's a few-kilometre climb to get me warmed up. My fleece comes off soon enough, although whizzing down to El Burgo has me wishing it was still on. It's coffee time when I arrive - not long into the day I accept; just 9 km clocked up on my computer - but this's going to be a fairly short ride again, as my goal, Ronda, is just 27 km further on: time to relax.
The road curves up from El Burgo. It's one of those that seems to go on and on and it's noon when I reach the top - or what I think is the top - but it then keeps rising after.
A sign says this was Sierra de Las Nieves, a parque that I've never heard of. The countryside is a mix of barren peaks with lower slopes cultivated with olive groves, while pine trees sprout from the light-coloured stone. It's all very serene.
What I think is the real top comes 18 km into the day and I have the cake to celebrate. It's a nice one, a hint of orange flavor to the chocolate topped sponge. I also have a second orange and wonder about how long it'll take to get to Ronda for something proper to eat.
The pass actually comes 25 km into the ride. Almost 1,200 metres high, it makes a nice moment as I recall being at the same altitude sign 10 years ago with Dave and Debbie. Today, as opposed to yesterday, the route is more as I remember it: fairly narrow, with course aggregate like you find on minor roads in the UK. Perhaps a car passes me every five to ten minutes, then, as I get closer to Ronda, there are more roadies out, each giving a friendly palm-up acknowledgment as they whiz by.
The Roman aqueduct is a real memory-jogger. I dig out the photo from my bag that Dave must have taken of Debbie and I as we approached it from Ronda a decade ago, me wearing an 'Arches' cycling shirt I'd bought in Utah. It's quite easy to locate where it was shot and I hold up the snap and used my 17 mm lens to take a photo with it inset...
My stomach is calling for a bite to eat and once I've made it into the town, I stop at a pizza place, order a medium something and a chilled Fanta and enjoy 20 minutes rest.
The tourism office has just closed (at 3:00) when I get to it, so I have a quick look at the main attraction - the wonderful bridge spanning the vertigo-inducing gorge (El Tajo) then sit and wonder what to do... The tourism office is a good place to get a cheap room recommendations.
My energy is low, despite it being a short day, mainly due to not having slept very well for some unknown reason.
I decide to explore the possibilities... Voila: across the street from an old church is a neat-looking hotel, sat on a corner, with just one star to its name, which, and you won't be surprised to know my Spanish is crap, seems a bad choice for anything: Colon.
The woman at reception quotes me 22 euros for a single, so I don't even bother looking, instead simply handing her my passport and asking where my bike can go (it goes down in the basement). Later, after a rest on the bed for a while, I reckon the next day will see me cover more miles, but I've said that before.
Today's ride: 41 km (25 miles)
Total: 446 km (277 miles)
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