March 29, 2023
Day 28: Tavira to Islantilla
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It's beginning to sink in that we really are South. The oranges, palms, and strange flowers, and even cactus everywhere were certainly a clue. But it took the rough earthen tiles in the hotel, and fishing boat parked in the water right outside to alert my sluggish brain to the fact that this really isn't Kansas anymore/
Our brains may be picking up on some things, but the idea of not falling for the allure of EV1 is still percolating. We read the Classens for this area and found that they had started on 125 and only switched to EV1 later on, switching back again, I think. We came to a bunch of EV 1 signage, bolstered by "Ecovia Litoral" claptrap, and I mentioned the Classens' experience to Dodie. But she remained hypnotised and took the bait.
As usual, when you take the bait, you get a short stretch of usable road, after which it's a push in the gravel. This time it was 10 km. There is nothing like a brisk 10 km push through gravel to start the day!
I was attracted to the Seville area because of the famous oranges. Of course we have been among many oranges for half of Portugal, but the size of orchards is definitely increasing. Also, while further north the trees just seemed filled with oranges, here there is an increasing proportion of blossom, with the resulting heavy (heavenly) scent.
Aside from oranges and lemons, we are keenly aware of other possible fruits, especially any that might stray near the bike path. That's how we "discovered" the loquat the other day. Today we definitely saw kumquat, but it was too distant to sample. And then there was the fruit shown below. It was on a loaded tree, like loquat, but it was not that. Tasted tangy and fruity.
Fruit research came on hard times as we passed a km or so of prickly pear cactus. I stopped and collected one fruit (getting jabbed by only one giant thorn) and announced to Dodie that it seemed edible and I was going to bite it. She said no, she thought you had to cook them. So I shoved the fruit in my bag. Soon though I was suffering twinges and jabs in my hands, which I localized to little thorn like hairs that came from the fruit. Later research revealed that these are called "glochids". You have to burn these off before eating, and you only collect prickly pear with heavy gloves! Had I bitten that thing, there were have been (even more) tears for a long time!
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In the photo below you can see that the road included broad red cycleway on either side. As we passed along this, we encountered a local cyclist who asked about our route. He had some good suggestions for getting into or out of Seville. I commented to him that cycling without a shirt in the Portuguese sun was drying out his skin. He shrugged this off, saying this is what his wife is always saying. I am getting Dodie to put sunscreen on my nose now, and I find my lips are cracked and painful. For the first time, I am asking for "chap stick". The sun here really is quite intense. However in honour of our topless confidant, I did take off my windbreaker!
Crossing from Portugal into Spain in our case involved crossing the Rio Guadianna on a ferry. On the other side is the fairly large and good looking town Ayamonte.
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Here begins what turned out to be the major story of the day for us. As often happens, trouble begins with a feeling of insecurity. In this case it was Dodie, expressing insecurity with the front end of her bike. At first she thought it could be low tire pressure in the front, but I poo poo'd this, adding about 10 psi to help keep her quiet. Then she wondered if her brakes were dragging. You are right if you guessed this was also poo poo'd. But I did lift the front and gave the wheel a spin, to show how freely it would rotate. But wait, there was far too much play in that wheel. The bearing was too loose.
What to do now? Dodie immediately refused to ride the bike any further, citing Mexico crashing and fears the wheel would fall off. I was less concerned, claiming it wasn't really all that bad, and that there was a "70%" chance I could adjust it acceptably. My confidence in the adjustment was based on the "secret" knowledge that rather than bring a proper pedal wrench for removing pedals at the airport, I had brought a "lame" for the purpose 15mm cone wrench. So by this miracle, I theoretically had a cone wrench.
Sending Dodie into the post office to buy stamps, I set about the adjustment, only to find that the darn wrench was the wrong size for the cone. So, Google Maps pointed us to the bike shop and off we went. We arrived there at 1:20, only to find that they, like every other shop of import in Spain, closed for Siesta, 1:30 -5:00, and these guys must have been extra sleepy, because they were already closed!
Now what? We surely could not wait until 5 and still make our booking 20 km further down the road. But I had a further cuckoo idea (one of a couple more still to come). Maybe all the hype about thin cone wrenches was overblown, and nice thin regular wrench of the right size could still do it?
This led us to seek out the local "dollar store" here correctly called the Chinese store, for some smaller wrenches. The store was called Mega Ayamonte, and it was bigger than one might think. They did have some nice bike tools and accessories, but I went to the hardware section, emerging with wrenches of the right size, but too thick? Yes, too thick. So, did I give up? What do you think?
I speculated that even if I could not hold the cone on one side so as to free it from its lock nut, I could force cone and nut down the threaded axle by holding the lock nut on the other side and tightening lock nut and cone on this side at once. No idea what I am talking about? That's reasonable, because not only did it not work, but now I could not 100% guarantee that the whole assembly would not catastrophically loosen, down the road.
Dodie did have one idea at this point - swap wheels with me, so I could be the one to crash. In fact, it's not that crazy, because I think I could be more able to control a catastrophic failure. But... naw, and I don't think she would have really gone for the plan.
With the store being a dollar store , the language barrier, and all, I did not even try to return the tools I had just bought. But I brought them in, tried to explain, and just gave them the tools back. They understood enough to throw me a few chocolate bars in exchange. Nice touch. Also, I kept the adjustable wrench, because I only have abut 10 of these at home, from similar situations over the years!
Next step? We found a bench near the bike shop and settled in for the long wait. Phoned the hotel too, and told them it could be real late.
Leaving Dodie at the bench, I set off to find the church. It was closed. I seem to remember churches being commonly closed in Spain? A few photos of the very quaint city streets, and I was back.
But wait, before 4:30 Dodie spied activity at the bike shop! In we went, and whopped off the wheel, to explain the problem to the mechanic. Oh, to be surrounded by appropriate tools, as he was! He did not settle for just adjusting the cone, but rather pulled the ball bearings out, cleaned and greased the races, and put new balls in. As you can see in the photo, he was not much pleased by what he found inside. The balls were completely worn out, not even all of the same size still. Dodie had done this mischief in not even, ok, maybe 30,000 km of riding this bike! Clearly when we get back there is a new hub in its future!
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Remember yesterday I was musing about the change for tradespeople from the goofy Citroen trucks to rather spiffy mini vans? Today I noticed that the actual Citroen replacement is called the Citroen Berlingo, but there are dozens of other models.
Now we set out in earnest for our hotel, and found ourselves passing through more extensive orange groves than we had yet encountered. In addition, the earth here was a unique reddish colour, making for an interesting region overall.
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In booking our hotel in Islantilla, Dodie was dealing with little more than a dot on her map. And the "Ilunion Hotel and Spa" was a dot of a Booking listing. But wow, Islantilla is full of giant buildings and hotels, and our hotel is a monster on its own. There is so much empty interior space! I went off to find our room, hiked for a while, and did not even find the elevators. Later, having attained the second floor, long and empty corridors stood between us and our room.
The hotel offered a buffet supper, which sounded good to us after our stressful cone wrench adventure. We soon made our way down to floor zero and launched the long hike to the dining room. We were shown to a table, and I went for a walk to visit the various foods that were on offer. After doing the circuit I arrived back at our table and took my seat, empty handed. I wanted to rest up for a bit before heading back out into the infinite spaces that comprise the dining area. I think I have been in some big hotels, like in Los Vegas maybe, and surely they were bigger than this, but this does give more the impression of cavalier use (or disuse) of space.
Today's ride: 59 km (37 miles)
Total: 1,087 km (675 miles)
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1 year ago
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I sent an email to address Scott gave me, but not sure you're getting your emails. My gmail is susanlongcarpenter
1 year ago
Glad that Dodie has fully recovered from her cold and you seem to be over it by now, too!
Carry on! We might be following in your footsteps some day...
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