Leaving Funky Hostel: Cordoba to Puerto Gentil.

August 28, 2015

It was late, two o'clock when I get to bed and I'm back out of bed again at eight, not having had much of a night's sleep. Then before breakfast on the roof-terrace, I've to go shopping for muesli and yogurt. And with this and that, I don't get on the road until half ten.

The riverfront is only a street from the hostel, where I cross Miraflores bridge and turn right the other side, expecting to pick up a road west toward Sevilla. Then having rounded a roundabout, there's a large Lidl on the right. There, as well as food, I buy cycling-shorts because the loose fitting knee-length shorts that I've been wearing, are a touch too warm with the bottom edge down over the knee causing irritation on each pedal-stoke, when they retract up over the knee rubbing and chaffing sweaty skin.

I am in LIdl longer than intended; it being the Summer holidays it is full of families with children making it hard getting at what I want, because most of the aisles have traffic-jams going on in them; people with shopping trollies with one or two children blocking off any available space to get pass. Then a long queue at the check-out.

The wide dual-carriageway onward, the one toward Sevilla become a motorway on from a roundabout; whereupon, I've to turn back on myself and the only available road I see that can be cycled on, is N325 toward Granada, parallel with a motorway around the south of the city until striking off southeast.

It's already thirty-five degrees and climbing. The undulating hills are no longer golden with harvest aftermath stubble, but dusty light brown, having been broken up, cultivated and barley sown. There is one turn off, to a place on the sign called "Fernan Nunaez"; which is on the map, though this road is not. It isn't much more than a metalled farm track meandering off on the right across the fence-less brown farmland to disappear through a gap between two cultivated hillocks.

At Espejo, a white village crowning a hilltop with a steep climb approach, the surrounding countryside now morphed to round hills striped with rows of olive-trees, I turn right upon A307 toward Motilla, the first few kilometres being a steady downhill away from Espejo. I continue until coming to a eucalyptus gross running off to the left of the road in a hollow between two olive-grove hills. Here I wheel the bike into the shade and lunch and as I sit, notice how few cars pass on the road this time of day. Seems to be siesta time.

My legs are feeling like concrete today, whether the lack of sleep or whatever. Once I've finished eating, I open my book, but it's hard keeping my eyes open. I stretch out from the tree I'm sat against and lay out upon the whitish fallen eucalyptus leaves and soon sleep.

Later approaching dusk, a stiff southerly subdues the sun with a vial of rain cloud and I'm hit with crosswind upon the long steady climb away from the town of Puerto Gentil. At the same time the chain suddenly slips upon one of the middle sprockets. I think it's a one off, but the chain has begun slipping repeatedly. I change gear to another, but it soon slips the same. Seems the cassette and chain are worn to the point that they need renewing. I change to the biggest sprocket with less wear to climb out the hill and ride a few kilometres more, seeing nothing but olive-groves to the side, but come to a track which I turn off upon. The track leads well away from the road into a forest of old olive trees.

I push the bike off the track about a couple of hundred metres to a level spot without embedded stones protruding. Putting up the tent I peg all the stabilising guys in case the wind gets strong.

Today's ride: 89 km (55 miles)
Total: 9,628 km (5,979 miles)

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