tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29349169066124176482009-10-14T14:06:16.523+01:00(motorcycle + camera + 10 days) - plans = ?muppixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02538635620279302929noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934916906612417648.post-46710128126205705022009-09-06T23:20:00.001+01:002009-10-01T23:02:44.864+01:00

After my fuel stop in Espinilla I carry on south to Aguillar de Campoo, which is as far South as I’ll be going today. The roads here are open, and for the first time I enjoy 3 figure speeds on a completely straight stretch about 3 km long. This is what I imagine central Spain to be like, dusty and hot, with the vanishing point of the road as vague as the horizon in a shimmer of heat. 37 degrees,

muppixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02538635620279302929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934916906612417648.post-19244805437003615632009-09-06T15:35:00.001+01:002009-09-14T20:02:14.357+01:00

I stop for fuel near Espinilla and get a decent thankful – the attendant knows his craft. Making use of the petrol station’s shade I decide to try a can of Kas Limon, a lemony drink that’s not too fizzy and hits the spot perfectly.It’s hot down here on the plain, but not as hot as it has been coming through the westerly corner of the Parque Natural Saja Besaya – 33 degrees at one point. More free

muppixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02538635620279302929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934916906612417648.post-29867078847453053252009-09-06T12:00:00.004+01:002009-09-14T20:02:14.358+01:00

I wake up late morning and make tea on the stove, which at first fires up OK but then cuts out and resists all attempts to ignite the seemingly inert gas. The jet is taken out and cleaned but to no avail. Its then that I notice the On and Off lettering on opposite sides of the neck of the pump, something I had seen before but had ignored at the time because there’s no obvious control nearby to

muppixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02538635620279302929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934916906612417648.post-35904005072901483172009-09-05T21:55:00.003+01:002009-09-14T20:02:14.358+01:00

Wake up at 09:00, get a good shower. As a rule, I like any campsite which provides facilities for washing small companion animals. The men’s room at this one provides just such a contraption, rather like a bidet with fold-up metal grille, which is presumably useful in retaining the cat or dog undergoing treatment. A tap, mounted safely several feet above the porcelain device so as to be out of

muppixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02538635620279302929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934916906612417648.post-56283879800034344542009-09-04T18:00:00.007+01:002009-09-29T23:27:18.878+01:00

Replete with food and fuel I leave on LE331 and head north-east to Embalse del Porma, a huge lake with a very impressive dam at one end. The well surfaced, empty road skirts the outside of the lake, passing through tunnels and over small viaducts where the sides become too steep to support a road unaided. A bit further on, signs for road works warn of another gravelly stretch to come, but

muppixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02538635620279302929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934916906612417648.post-18626746414878796682009-09-04T15:00:00.003+01:002009-10-14T14:05:53.300+01:00

I rise at 09:30 and take down the tent, much to the delight of a pair of Robins, who dart about the place and peck at insects uncovered by the removal of my ground sheet. Saying goodbye to Helena and Papa, I give her the bar of chocolate which hasn’t melted since I received it as a free gift from the supermarket some days ago. Next week they will pack up the campsite for the season and head back

muppixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02538635620279302929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934916906612417648.post-25040288716035052402009-09-03T23:45:00.001+01:002009-09-14T20:02:14.358+01:00

Having decided to spend another day at Mirantes, I left the campsite at 11:00 to find fuel at Magdalena and enjoy a day of riding without luggage. But first some breakfast, and I find a small bar on the edge of town. The scene is typical of a traveller’s dread as I enter the dimly lit bar from a street of bright sunshine; the large bartender with pot-marked features stops polishing glasses and

muppixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02538635620279302929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934916906612417648.post-43422034797225056332009-09-03T18:43:00.004+01:002009-09-14T20:02:14.359+01:00

The view from the tent in the morning of September 2nd was everything I imagined it to be – the sleepy town waking up as the sun rose behind my tent, illuminating the mountains on the other side gradually until the ever moving border between shade and warm sunlight bathes the town in a warm glow. Although the builders working on the roof of what would probably be another hotel next to the

muppixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02538635620279302929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934916906612417648.post-62622686709141715712009-09-02T20:47:00.003+01:002009-09-14T20:02:14.359+01:00

In hindsight, my first campsite at Arenal de Moris on the north coast just east of Gijon wasn’t all that great. The owners had placed me at what turned out to be a busy intersection between the rest of the tents (few), the hired chalets (about a dozen) and the caravans (many). The Spanish gather to eat very late in the day, and at 20:00 the evening meal was announced by a car horn, which was

muppixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02538635620279302929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934916906612417648.post-5741413860879334382009-09-01T21:01:00.002+01:002009-09-14T20:02:14.359+01:00

Today has been a day of superlatives. The most amazing roads I've ridden to date, the most spectacular scenery. The craziest Spanish driving, the nearest miss. The most idyllic campsite.It's also been a very long day and I've just finished dinner, so I'm going to leave the laptop in my panniers and concentrate on the 1 liter bottle of San Miguel while the sun goes down over a village whose name I

muppixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02538635620279302929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934916906612417648.post-58544025416324575172009-08-31T18:45:00.001+01:002009-09-14T20:02:14.359+01:00

The best way to describe the scene on the car deck of the Pont Aven is utter chaos, at least as far as the bikes are concerned. When we arrived everybody unloaded as soon as they pulled up, so it was a gradual process from the start of the 4 lines to the end, but this morning was truly a free-for-all. I didn’t even try to get to my GS, instead chatting to some seasoned travelers about what lay

muppixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02538635620279302929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934916906612417648.post-67579102741387272009-08-31T18:14:00.003+01:002009-09-14T20:02:14.359+01:00

The 103 mile ride from Goathurst to Plymouth was predictably slow and rather damp. Traffic on Somerset and Devon roads travels in lethargic clumps of 8-10 cars, all trying to get past the lead car, which in most cases was towing a caravan and / or being driven by somebody whom had spent their entire lives being rushed about and was now determined to make up for it. Endless 30 and 40 mph limit

muppixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02538635620279302929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934916906612417648.post-73273486509695864772009-08-30T16:24:00.002+01:002009-09-14T20:02:14.360+01:00

Well, here I am, aboard the good ship Pont Aven in Plymouth. We're not yet underway so I'm taking advantage of the still free 3G connection to let y'all know that the wedding was splendid and a fabulous time was had by all assembled. I'll post some pictures as soon as I find a decent WiFi uplink in Spain.The engines are humming louder now and somebody has just yanked the fog-horn, so I'd best

muppixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02538635620279302929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934916906612417648.post-69503448691619430492009-08-30T12:00:00.005+01:002009-10-01T23:13:45.132+01:00

Now, where was I? Aah, yes ... The night at Blackmore Farm was comfortable and restful, the breakfast of Somerset Smokies divine. Ann and Ian Dyer gave me a small booklet which they'd put together to answer some of the questions they must be frequently asked about their property, and it made very interesting reading. From memory, (I don't have the booklet to hand right now) Blackmore Farm is

muppixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02538635620279302929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934916906612417648.post-56889032598348905322009-08-28T23:05:00.005+01:002009-09-14T20:02:14.360+01:00

Our dear friends Emily and Ben are to tie the knot at St Michael's Church in Enmore tomorrow. Nicky and I are fortunate enough to have been invited as guests of the wedding and the subsequent reception at Halswell House in Goathurst. This fits in rather well with my sailing from Plymouth on Sunday, so rather than offer myself to the demons of motorway traffic before the wedding I choose to ride

muppixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02538635620279302929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934916906612417648.post-54914217813720426882009-08-21T16:27:00.008+01:002009-09-14T20:01:43.125+01:00

I've only been in Spain once before on the bike. Back in 2001, about a dozen devotees of a certain model of Suzuki motorcycle rented a villa in southern France over a three week period. Keen to be different, Sash and I took the boat to Bilbao and then crossed the Pyrenees while everybody else rode down through France.I've fond memories of that holiday and of our trip through northern Spain and

muppixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02538635620279302929noreply@blogger.com2