Ólvega

October 2, 2023

We’re up early today, around six. For one, Rachael’s had a terrible night for some reason and thinks she’d like to get an early start so we can get to our destination early and she can crash as soon as we arrive. For another, we want to raid the kitchen area and be out of the way before our host arrives. We’ve got stuff in the fridge and Rachael wants to use the microwave to heat some instant coffee before she arrives, because we didn’t get explicit permission to use the space because of the language barrier.

The hostal doesn’t serve breakfast and there’s nothing in the room for me, so I head out at seven to the bar a few blocks away for coffee and a snack of some sort. It’s dark and pretty chilly when I step out, and the streets are all but empty. And the bar is dark when I get there too, in spite of it’s posted 7 AM opening time. The sign in the window explains why:

An opportunity to learn a few more Castilian words.

Nothing in sight is open so I head back to the room nd Rachael finds another allegedly open bar a six minute walk away so I grab the Pendleton for warmth this time and head over. This place really is open, and when I return to the hostal a slice of tortilla and a second coffee later I stop to admire the city in the morning light before going back upstairs.

Tarazona is an attractive small town. Now if they can just do something about their water supply.

Nothing ever goes as fast as we expect, and it’s well after nine already when we’re on the street packing up to go. It’s due to be a hot day with a significant climb and Rachael’s very keen to finally get started, so I suppress the thought that’s been in the back of my mind: since we’re only three blocks away from a small bike shop that looks credible because there’s a Shimano sticker on the door and a couple of high-class jerseys in the window and posted hours claiming they’ll be open at 9:30, we really should stay around long enough to see if they’ll look at my gears that have started skipping badly in just the last few days.

So I keep these thoughts to myself and we start riding out of town. It’s only a three day ride to larger Calatayud where we’ll stay for four nights, so I’ll just live with the problem and deal with it then.

Leaving Tarazona (and did anyone pick up on the mystery band for the video music for yesterday’s ride in?). Also, note the large jug of water the woman passing by is toting. It was an inconvenience for us, but I’m sure the Tarazonans are sick of (and from) their polluted water issue.

We’ve only gone two blocks and my gears are slipping badly in their climbing gears and it’s obvious that we should stop while we have such a convenient chance. Rachael agrees, and after a one block detour I’m staring in the window coveting one of the bike jerseys and wondering if I’ll be lucky enough to have my bike adjusted and score that shirt both.

I’m half lucky, the critical half. Five minutes later and five euros poorer were on our way again, sans chemise but with the gears in fine working order. I pantomimed about the shirt as I had the issue with my bike (he spoke no English), but he smiled, shook his head, and indicated that it was his. He probably rode it in a stage win somewhere not long ago.

Great little shop, not even listed on the map. We stumbled across it by accident yesterday.

Today’s is one of the most challenging stages of our not-too-challenging tour, lifting us 2,000’ over the next twenty miles to the small town of Ólvega. In this heat especially it’s one of the stages I’ve been worried about, but fortunately this is one of my good days and as long as we keep a non-aggressive pace I do just fine. It’s a mixed ride though. It’s quite scenic as we climb up and around the massive Moncayo Range that’s been dominating the skyline, but about half of it’s on a minor truck route so it’s busier and more stressful than we’d like. There are definitely quieter routes south available, but they involve much more climbing than I think I should be taking on.

Climbing away from Tarazona. We’ve got a variety of road conditions today. This one’s shoulderless but essentially carless too so it’s fine. For the rest we’re either on a beautiful, slightly distressed minor farm road or a regional highway with a good shoulder most of the way. They all have one thing in common though - they’re all uphill.

At the top of the first long climb, we turn right and get a brief respite - the road’s much quieter and we level off and even drop for a short way.

From a distance I was puzzled by the black smears that look like they could be charred. It’s just vineyards though.

New province! I could say a bit about Spain’s subdivisions. There are 17 autonomous regions (La Rioja, Navarra, etc) subdivided into fifty provinces. Soria’s a province, our sixth so far of this tour. Sometime I should check the map, but I think if next year’s plan holds we’ll have visited all of the autonomous regions of the country and possibly even all 50 provinces. We’ll at least be close.

An aging caribou advances into Aragón (or so he thinks).

Oh, I was wrong! We’re not in Aragón! We’re just dipping our wheels into Castille y Leon, the huge district that covers much of central Spain. I hadn’t realized it was on our itinerary this year.

Video sound track: Brownie Eyes, by Clifford Brown

When we arrive in Ólvega and check in to our four star modern hotel it’s just turning one and hot enough by now that we’re more than ready to get off the street. I’m glad when I check in to find that our room is ready, we can just take the bikes up with us in the elevator, lunch service begins in a half hour, and the water here is fine to drink. Good, because we both need showers since we didn’t feel comfortable taking one in contaminated Tarazona.

I learned all this primarily by pantomime and a few common words, because neither of the women at the desk speak English at all; and neither does our server in the restaurant. We’re getting pretty well off the tourist trail here.

Ólvega is a small, quiet place, in a high cultivated plateau surrounded by hills in most directions but by massive Montayo to the south. There’s not a great deal in town to see, but within a few blocks you can be out of it walking on unpaved roads or trails and climbing past fields of maturing sunflowers into the surrounding hills. Which we both do after napping and evading the heat for a few hours. I head west and get beautiful views back across town and to the mountain to the east, and Rachael goes the opposite direction and ends up at a cave hidden in the forested foothills. It’s an excellent evening for both of us, with me starting first and returning about a half hour before the sunset that Rachael’s out long enough to admire.

No captions though, because it’s time to ride. Form your own conclusions.

Scott’s walk