September 29, 2011
The unfavourable side of solo cycle-touring.
The tent was dry, there not being the now usual chill in the air. Instead it was a morning were dirty grey cloud loomed low, with the sun making the odd weak glimpse through haze, but was as quickly blocked out again by fast moving cloud like billowing smoke. And also at times it would poke slant shafts of light into the valley with hills silhouetted in hues of grey ahead of me.
It showed signs of only being a grey prelude to yet another warm sunny day, but on reaching Allaiman at around eleven o'clock, it had grown duller, and was even looking like rain.
Picture the scenario: three cyclists ride into a busy town in midmorning; not on toward hungry, but they will be as they don't have any food in their panniers and so need to stock-up before cycling on. It's a town with a market, Mercado Central, here in Spain. They find a wall to lean the bikes against, and one remains to watch them in case of theft, while the others saunter off in the hustle and bustle to shop. This is the point where I come in. I had ridden into town, not having seen a supermercado as yet but, soon came to the busy Mercado Central, with crowed streets lined with stalls; and also an inside market. There's fruit, veg, cheeses and bread, just about everything in fact. But I cannot leave the bike unattended, nor is it practical to push it through the hordes of shoppers, especially with the heavily laden trailer. My predicament was therefore to find a place where everything could be bough while the bike is left unatended, but at close range and seen with a reassuring glance of the eye.
I rode around and around. I then asked a matronly lady, but before she could explain the whereabouts of a Autoservicio (a small shop and nothing to do with cars), a van had pulled up and it's driver hopped out, a kindly grey-haired man, receding on top and wearing glasses. "Adonde vas?" he inquired of me. I began to answer but stop and with an air of confusion, take up the map to see the name of the next town. The woman asked where Is from and when I answer, the man cried out "en bici!" "Si" I confirmed and the woman raises her eyes in disbelieve. The van-driver then went on to say, that he has a friend that cycled to Rome, which made my claim of having cycled from Ireland more believable in the woman's eyes.
I didn't find the shop the woman directed me to and so I cycled around more, along narrow streets, then out into a large plaza, by which time I thought it's time to ask someone. I drew level with a young woman and ask. She paused a moment in thought then replied: "mira! Mande derecho" (turn right at the corner of the plaza) "pue, mande el primer esquerda. Alla esta un Consum" (which is a chain).
I bough everything for the day and then sat outside on a bench with my usual treat, a cold beer. The sun was shining as I rode out of town towards a place called Yehco, and after about ten kilometres, I found a tree to lunch under. There was pine plantation all around with good camping possibilities, but it was still too early to stop.
The trees came to an abrupt end though sometime around four o'clock. If I had known, I would have stopped earlier as ahead was a long stretch of what appeared barren plain, though it was largely cultivated and freshly sown cereal land. Though it's a wonder anything grows at all here as the soil is stony and unhealthy looking: more orange than the rich dark brown colour associated with good arable land. And further on there were rows of vines, continuing and sloping up the rocky ridges off at the side.
Before long Yehco came into view, a built-up hill ahead, with the most distinctive feature being a white dome; perhaps a temple. The town wasn't so straightforward to ride past, and I spent much time riding up steep streets in vain looking for the way through, descending again with the rear-brake squealing. Then on the flat as I braked, I felt a give and when I pulled the brake-lever again there was a walloping thump, the rear-brake cable had snapped. My moral takes an instant battering and I'm anxious to know how I'll manage braking on future steep descends until I reach a bike-shop, as I've no spare cable.
Just then I saw the sign for Pinoso, the next town. I rode out of Yehco on a flat road along the valley, glad as I reckoned I'd spent enough time there just looking to get out. My intention to keep going until I come upon a wild campsite, and tomorrow reach Murcia, where I'll get a cable.
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