Things go bad in Andalucia

Well we know it's been ages since we got back from our trip to Spain, and although we've had the time, we haven’t had the inclination to remember it in detail enough to post something. The pictures are loaded though so here are a few for those of you who wish to see them.

Here's Chris grimacing at the top of a small pass on the second day as by now the hunger pangs had started to set. Getting food was a big problem for us, as the shops would close for siesta, and when they were open they were often indistinguishable from a normal house.



This was especially true in a hill village called Bayarcal. We had been looking forward to a proper bed as we rode up the hill and something to eat, however the hotel had no rooms and there was no sign of a shop. Vonny went into the bar of the hotel and pointed to the line in the phrase book that said 'does anyone here speak English’, which the barman proceeded to shout out to the patrons. The answer was a resounding ‘no’, so Vonny returned to the bikes, explained the situation, and uttered those immortal words "we’re in survival mode now".
We were fortunate that the barman turned out to be a decent guy, recognising the predicament we were in and making sure we had food and beer. That night we had a camp with a view - on an outcrop above the road entering the village.



Part of the problem was that we both had colds, and Vonny’s was worst for the day we went up and over the pass that would allow us access to the north of the Sierra Nevadas.



The descent down the other side involved loosing about 1000m of altitude over the course of 12km, and it was very cold in the mountains, so we wrapped up warm. Some people forgot to coordinate their outfits before they left home.



At the bottom it was nice and warm, and the village was backed by this impressive Moorish castle.



When we could get food healthy eating didn't get so much as an afterthought as we were doing so much riding that no matter what we ate or drank, we lost weight. Here's Vonny putting on a burst of speed to knock off a few more inches.



We had another pass to climb before we reached Granada, which by now was a destination we were desperate to reach. We weren't looking forward to the hill, but suprisingly it turnd out to be the best day we had. The route was scenic and quiet, and the incline gentle.



Like all visitors to Granada we had to visit the Alhambra , and the luxuriousness of the place was every bit as impressive as we had been told it would be.





During the first stage of the journey we had considered giving up on the cycling when we got to Granada, but after a few nights of sleeping in a decent bed we were revitalised and decided to keep going. Thinking the worst was behind us we were horrified to discover that it was a public holiday and all the shops would be closed. The hunger pains returned, but the great views helped to keep our minds off them.



Luckily we stumbled upon a village with a large population of Brits, not that we wanted to see them. The local restaurant had an english menu, so we ordered a huge meal and prepared ourselves for what was an extremely cold and uncomfortable night sleeping by a small stream.

Approaching the end of our journey we decide to pace ourselves a little slower for the last few, and on one occasion even stopped for a quick snooze in the sun.



It was great to have our sleeping bags and tent dry, which helped make our last night of camping the best, along with ample supplies of food and wine. The location amongst cork oaks and pines in a national park was flat, dry and well situated for the evening sun. It was also very popular with the local wild boar who rooted around our tent during the night. We had seen some on the back of a trailer in Bayarcal and thought they looked pretty vicious, hence we didn't sleep well knowing that there were mere microns of nylon between us and them.

The lack of sleep didn't matter much however as we only had to ride uphill for 10 minutes the next morning before descending 900m to Malaga where we were booked into a hostel which was rated number 2 in the world at the time by the Hostelworld website. We figured part of the reason it was so popular, aside from the luxury bathrooms, was the laid back kiwi bloke who ran the place, making sure everything worked properly.

The next day we took a trip to the local flea market, and the botanic gardens. It was nice to just chill out and take things easy, after what had been a particularly taxing week.



In retrospect it seems inevitable that after so much travelling something would go wrong for us, although of course there were some good times as well. It certainly hasn't put us off cycle touring, as when we were riding we weren't having to worry about the problems that made the journey so frustrating. Ironically a visit to Spain, beloved of so many Brits, was the very thing that gave us the culture shock that so many people - probably including ourselves, travel for.