To Águilas

March 18, 2024

With a longer, hotter day ahead we plan an early start and are down at the hotel’s barlike restaurant when it opens at seven. We’re the only ones there at first, save for a guy outside ordering a coffee through the walk-up window. Breakfast selections are limited and not particularly appealing but we make do. We each order an empanada so dense it goes down like a brick, and we each get a second pastry. And coffee of course.

Five minutes later the place is overrun when about twenty guys come in at once. They’re all outfitted in working man’s garb and appear to be here for a quick fix before the start of their shift. It’s a bit of a madhouse.

Rachael realizes she’s chilly and heads back up to the room for a sweater. While she’s away one of the workers, a person with dwarfism who can’t be much over four feet tall, comes over to our table with his cafe con leche and sets it on our table, moving Rachael’s plate to the side to make room for his drink. I think he must have targeted our table because it’s one of the lowest to the ground. As it is, his shoulders barely come up to its level.

Rachael comes back down, we give each other a quick glance and then she pulls her plate and coffee over to the other side of the table and starts working on her empanada. It’s boisteous enough that it’s not a very relaxing place to eat or hang out though, so as soon as she finishes her coffee she heads up to the room. I’m still working on mine, but within the next two minutes suddenly the entire work crew dissipates as abruptly as it entered, and I’ve got the room to myself again. So I settle in, have a second coffee, and read the news.

We plan on being out the door by 8:30, which is good because it helps us make it by nine, about as early as we ever get underway. It’s already warm enough that we don’t need my extra layers, but I wear my Bike Gallery jersey anyway to keep my sunburned arms covered.

Perfectly acceptable, but we’d probably hope for something with more character next time.

We’ve got 35 miles ahead of us, but I think of it as a 25 mile ride with a ten mile coast at the end. After twenty generally flat miles we face a five mile climb over the range between this valley and the coast, but once we’re at the top our work for the day is pretty much done as we drop 1,800’.

Most of the first twenty miles are easy going as we continue biking southwest through this broad, heavily cultivated upland valley. We’re past the citrus orchards now and the olive groves that followed them and are now biking past fields planted with presumably more drought-tolerant crops - onions, artichokes, and a variety of brassicas. A few miles after leaving our hotel we turn off onto the first of the very quiet farm roads that we’ll follow for the next fifteen miles. There are a few brief scares when we lose the pavement - twice for short stretches where the pavement’s been worn through or washed away where it crosses the low point of a seasonal creek - and once when we come to a road closure for a construction project. And it’s a real closure, as we discover when we approach the work crew and see the deep, wide trench that’s completely severed the road. Fortunately the detour to reach the other side of the trench isn’t too long or difficult, adding maybe a half mile to the day.

Looking across to Totana, the nearest town to our hotel.

A good chunk of today’s ride was on pleasant, empty roads like this.

Occasionally we came to spots like this where the pavement disappeared, but never for long enough to matter.

The day is heating up well, although we’re kept cool by the modest headwind we’re biking into. It’s too hot once you stop though unless you’ve found the rare patch of shade, so when I stop for a few photos Rachael just keeps going. I won’t see her again other than as a marker on the Garmin until I catch up with her waiting for me at the top of our five mile climb.

There are a few things that hold me back though, and bit by bit I eventually lag about a mile behind her.

Makes me think of the Anna Karenina principle: All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. Applies to ruins too.

The valley is quite colorful now. I imagine this must be one of the best times of year to experience it.

The view north to Lorca, a significant city with a Moorish heritage. It’s a place I’d be happy to see some day.

Lorca and its moorish castle, parts of which date back to at least the ninth century.

By the time I come to the base of the climb the day is heating up nicely. I stop in the shade of a tree long enough to shed my outer layer and guzzle a half bottle of water, and then start climbing. In general it’s not bad, staying in the 3-5% range much of the way; but it definitely has its moments.

About half way up, looking back toward the broad sprawl of Lorca.

Near the top the climb stiffens up, but it’s never too bad. We’ve done well to make it to the top by roughly noon, before the hottest part of the day.

Her turn to claim some credit. Well earned, Rocky!

Our work is essentially done now, but the ten mile descent isn’t the great fun I’d anticipated. We’re on a four lane divided highway most of the way, and there’s just enough traffic that it doesn’t feel safe to take one of the lanes with its smoother surface. Instead we’re on the coarser shoulder the whole way - paved, but just a little too narrow for comfort as we’re crowded between railings and concrete barriers on the right and a rumble strip on the other. These aren’t conditions where you can just relax and let fly.

Going down! Actually, if the shoulder were this wide the whole way it would be just fine but it gets pinched down later.

The view toward the coast, though we won’t see the water for another six or seven miles.

After getting stressed out from too many miles on the shoulder, I pulled us off onto a service road for a break. It didn’t work well though, as first the pavement ended and then so did the road itself without a gap through to get back onto the highway again.. It was a challenge lifting the bikes over the railing. I really should start getting some upper body training into the routine, I’m reminded.

Video sound track: Dolomites Dance, by Ralph Towner

We arrive in Águilas around 1:30 and attempt to head straight for a well-reviewed restaurant we’ve identified. Unfortunately we can’t seem to find it even though we keep being just a few hundred yards away - so eventually we get frustrated and give up on that idea and head to the waterfront. There’s always a place to get a meal there.

Ho, hum. Another day, another lunch by the sea.

Afterwards we try to get in touch with our host so she’ll meet us at the apartment we’ve booked for the next few nights. She’s given us two numbers to try - her friend, who doesn’t answer her phone - and one for herself, but that number is no good either. We’re starting to get anxious, but without knowing what else to do we bike over to the apartment. There’s nothing there indicating that there’s lodging though, so as a last resort we look up the booking confirmation and find her phone number. She was so close - eight of the nine digits in the phone number she gave were correct, which is really pretty good! She doesn’t speak any English at all when we call her up, but she’s expecting us and says (I think) that she’ll be here in five minutes.

She’s not, but her son is and lets us in and briefly orients us before quickly dashing off. The place looks great though, and we’re happy to just relax for the next two hours until it’s time to go find some pistachio gelato and check out the waterfront.

On the eastern half of the waterfront. It’s like Benidorm in a way, with the town cut in half (by this hill and castle, in this case) and with a beach at both ends. This one doesn’t come with a crowd of beefy Brits though.

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Today's ride: 37 miles (60 km)
Total: 275 miles (443 km)

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