August 17, 2014
Sunday: Pine Forest to Bonville.
I plot on the map a route south to Motilla del Palancar and ride. Warm sunshine early on moderated during the morning with milky cloud and a sudden gust of crosswind catches me off guard on a fast roll down making me wobble until regaining control. The wind turns to a headwind not too severe. In actually fact much welcome as it has a cooling effect as the cloud clears again.
I make my first stop of the day at a Repsol gas station on the way into Almodovar del Pilar, buy a clear plastic box of assorted cakes for later and a cold beer for outside where I fill my water bottles at the tap. My road turns right leaving town and continues along a dead straight road lined with tall Poplar trees on the left and with fields of sunflowers on the right.
In Motilla I quickly find the planned road onwards. A quiet regional road climbing gradually straight up an incline plain not as pleasing to the eye with manmade structures rising along the horizon at the top. Grinding further up I see they are bridges across the Madrid-Valence autopista that once the road crests the hill I cross over. A dead straight scare of two wide bands of tarmac below in a cutting stretching off to the distance with fast traffic whishing by in both directions underneath.
The road continues dead straight with thorny shrub either side easing gradually into rows of young vines being supported by taut wires. Then further I see the same except the wires have been removed and the vines lay collapsed on the ground as if a disaster has struck. My theory is once the branches have grown so far, they are lain down to allow the strongest to thrive while the weaker branches will be pruned.
It being Sunday I meet with a classic car rally. A succession of open top British sports cars from the fifies leading, one of which lets off a foghorn and the goggle wearing driver waves. French cars are well represented with a beautiful sky-blue Citroen D12 followed by six 2CVs. The Italian's by old Fiat 126s conjuring up an image of a hot day in Rome in the sixties. Then four Ladas. I wonder why.
The plain this time of year dry and arid. I pass a maize field with irrigation machine sprouting out water that rains down on the green ears. Looks like there won't be any place with shade where I can lunch. But then I come to a grove of pines already used as a rest-place with a loop track access off the road. I lunch on the second can of tuna bough the day before and boil water for tea and break into the plastic box of cakes. Looking out it doesn't look all that hot until two lycra clad cyclists pass. As they hunch over the handlebars I can see they are wilting.
I plug away getting the kilometres in across a dead flat plain to the next town, Roda. In the centre I lose my bearings unable to find the road onwards. Going round in circles until I find myself upon a long avenue lined with white houses, reaching the end of which is a road where I turn right. It looks to be the right way. A few blocks along there's a Repsol gas station and I'm not leaving town before having a cold beer.
The next town is approach by a long steady climb towards wind turbines in a line across the brow of the hill. The town hidden from my view being situated on the slope down the other side, so that it looks a small place until fully cresting the hill where I find a sizable place. There's only cafes open and the gas station is shut. The watertap turned off. The next place, Bonvilles is only eleven kilometres, but the whole way is one gradual incline with a piece de la resistance, a two kilometre last steep slog up. Though seeing a Repsol sign on the edge of town near the last helps tremendously.
There's no large bottles of cola in the fridge which I was thinking about all along. But there are one and a half litre bottles of cola coloured, says Sangria on the side, so I buy one along with a cold beer. Sitting down outside I open the bottle and take a slug. Tastes a little bitter and I expect alcoholic. Checking the side I see Alc 7% proof and the ingredients read that it is a mix of red wine. Nevertheless it is cold and refreshing. I drink it down, finishing the bottle off before getting up and filling all my bottles at the watertap before riding on.
I ride through town with a happy buzz pass old men sat on every bench chatting, enjoying a Sunday evening. Once left town I start urgently looking out for somewhere to camp. The sun is low turning the plain ahead a deep golden colour. The sky deep blue and my bike with me on it casting a long shadow. Then I come to a track off on the right. I turn along the track and ride about two hundred metres from the road where it ends at an olive grove with a level spot plenty big for the tent. All along the track is old overgrown bricks and demolished building rubble leading me to assume that it may've been a landfill once.
Today's ride: 129 km (80 miles)
Total: 4,009 km (2,490 miles)
| Rate this entry's writing | Heart | 0 |
| Comment on this entry | Comment | 0 |