Day 9: South, but not really south

It's amazing how the Camino culture changes once you go south of the N120 highway. All of a sudden, the bone-whote churches with their fancy belltowers give way to squat, red-roof building that would seem more at home in Soria. Further to the south, the buildings seem tougher, stronger, built to last and if they fall down, that's that.


After a bit of futzing around in Arlanzón, we hit the Vía Verde de la Sierra de la Demanda, and start riding between the two most westerly edges of the Sierra de la Demanda, which must be one of the least-visited areas of Spain -- and somewhat unfairly, too, considering that it's one of the few areas in Spain where you could seriously forget that other people exist. There is nothing here except the sound of the breeze raking through the pine and oak forests in the lower reaches of the Arlanzón Valley.

I'd originally though about doing the entire Vía Verde all the way up to Barbadillo de los Herreros, but the truth is, I was starting to face by about 4:00 pm. Going uphill for four hours is taxing, even if the incline is fairly small, but when the bike's got all those bags on it, and with the loose gravel on the surface of the road, it made for particularly tough going.



The VV Sierra de la Demanda is pretty well organized, so it feels a bit churlish to complain about the two points that did give me trouble -- both of which were extremely steep uphill climbs over what were the disused (and, I suppose, caved-in) tunnels at Km 10 and Km 31. I know that the costs of rebuilding these tunnels must be exorbitants, but I'm not sure that making people perform some kind of hands-and-knees crawl up a hill with a 20% grade is not a solution, either. If I'd had more of a sense of humour about it I could have looked at it like something that they'd make you do on one of those wacko Japanese game shows. But it just seemed unfairly dangerous. I stopped biking two hours ago, and my Achilles tendons are still screaming. When I got to the Puerto del Manquillo mountain pass (1400 metres....the highest point in the trip, methinks), it didn't take much prompting to get me to take to the highway and bomb down the final 5km to Riocavado, rather than spend another hour fighting the gravel on the Vía Verde. And what a delicious downhill it was! When you're going downhill so quickly that the dogs can't even be bothered to bark...that's amore.


Now I'm Salas de los Infantes, which seems to be one of the few towns along the way that doesn't have a Chinese restaurant. Being that it's Monday, there isn't a lot open...but boy, a good beef with green peppers would go down a treat.......

Pushing

There comes a time in every bike trip when continuing becomes less and less a question of will, and more and more a question of just putting your head down and getting on with it. Today was one of those days. Had we ridden yesterday rather than stopping in Haro, we would have had a lovely, wind-free day to head westward towards Aranjuez. No such luck. Windows of good weather tend to be very short at this time of year, and by the time we got started this morning, heading down to Santo Domingo de la Calzada to meet up with Julián (right), the wind had picked up, the clouds had moved in and the time to get upset about the weather had long gone. There was no other option except to keep moving westward as best we could.


And keep going and keep going and keep going. Even though it took an hour to cover the stretch between Santo Domingo and Grañón, which is just a couple of kilometres. Even though the skies opened up outside of Belorado and the rain fell horizontally, cold and icy, like having someone push handfuls of thumbtacks into your face. Even though hail (yes, again) provides you with a highly unusual but still good reason for wearing a helmet.

And there's nothing you can do but keep pushing on, really. Because what else are you going to do? You can't give up. You can't pack it in. You have a job to do and the only thing that you have to is keep going. Tears solve nothing (though it helps get rid of the rage and frustration at not being able to do more). You just keep moving and remember that you're not going to reach a bed, a hot meal, a place to change into dry clothing if you sit at the edge of the road and cry.

DAYS 2 and 3: 445+802+780 = one very surprised cyclist!!

Your mind does some really strange stuff when you're on a bike. First of all, you're thinking, nah, thirteen kilometres really isn't all that much. We can knock that off and be having coffee by 4:00 p.m. Of course, you think that because you're 500 metres above sea level, but the cloud cover is somewhere around 600 metres and the snow limit is hovering somewhere between 650 and 800, so you really don't have much of a chance to see the challenge right in front of you. So you keep plugging on. And then your brain starts doing strange things. It starts bringing back old arguments that you had in high school. Then you find yourself chanting old songs like "Once I was the King of Spaaa-aiin..." at the top of your lungs because the odds of anyone being within earshot at minimal at best. There's so little traffic going up the side of the mountain that you end up stopping every car going up and asking the driver how much further there is between wherever here is and the next mountain pass. Then you start repeating the seven times tables, having an argument with an ex-boyfriend who's seven thousand miles away. Then the top of the mountain comes. Smile! You are in Spain! There are clumps of snow the size of small boulders on the side of the road but the chunks of salt haven't dissolved, and somehow that makes you feel better, even if your shoes are totally squishy from having absorbed so much water.

This is what it's like to climb a very snowy, very isolated mountain.

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Considering we've had to do three mountain passes in three days, I don't feel that bad. Part of that may have to do with the fact that I did so much training on the treadmill before leaving that walking up roads with a 6% or 7% grade doesn't feel that weird (although when you're on a treadmill you don't have to push a bike alongside you.) The snow is strange, though. It's that strange sense of isolation that snow gives you, which makes you feel like you'll come face to face with some emaciated being hissing "My treeeaaasssuuuuuuuuuuree....." at any moment.

We've had it all over the last two days: Snow, sleet, rain, hail...it's been wild. The weather forecast has been crazy but it's supposed to get somewhat warmer over the next two days.

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We're staying in the new Pilgrims' hostel in Pamplona, and I gotta tell you, it is a work of art. It's gorgeous - situated in the old Jesuit monastery, it's got capacity for 100 pilgrims, a huge kitchen, free washing machines and dryers for €1 a shot, huge hot showers, and an art gallery. The local council has done a marvellous job of converting the building, and I'm actually looking forward to staying there tonight, rather than just crashing and being up and moving at some ungodly hour. Oh, and the refuge has put restrictions on when you can leave in the mornings, too - the doors don't open until 6:30AM, so with any luck that'll put the kibosh on pilgims crashing and bouncing around at 5:30 AM to be the first out the door.

Over the top

We'd checked the weather forecast before setting out from San Sebastián and the prediction was that we wouldn't have snow below 800 metres. Given that we were so far inland, however, there was no way of knowing how accurate that prediction was going to be

After taking the train down to Andoain (got caught out by the fact that Easter Monday is a holiday in Euskadi) and hit the Vía Verde del Plazaola. I'd already been up there a few days previous, on Maundy Thursday, when the weather was still relatively warm and sunny, and while the weather didn't hold out, the ride was still beautiful and, once you get a few kilometres out of Andoain, wonderfully deserted.

Wonderfully...in a way: the rivers of the region were still swollen with the run-off from the weekend's rain and snow, and it was a bit unnerving to get within a couple of metres of the rushing water. Eventually, after fifteen kilometres, the trail rises enough that the river becomes a constant companion, but not one that would threaten to wipe out the trail.

The problem was that the higher we went, the further up into the clouds we got, hence the snow. It didn't really become a problem until we got to the overpass of the A15 highway and the town of Leitza -- again, with almost of all of its restaurants and shops closed because of Easter Monday, but we did find a place ot have coffee and sandwiches, and people who could give us directions.

And that was the problem. To get from Leitza to Lekunberri, you've got two options. The first is to continue along the Vía Verde, taking the tunnels, including the Uitzi (pronounced WEE-tsi) tunnel, which is almost three kilometres long but subject to floody during rainy periods. The second, which was physically tougher but arguably safer in cold weather, was to take to the highway over the Uitzi Pass. The pass didn't have a lot of traffic, given that it was Easter Monday, but with knee-deep snow and a 6% grade in front of us, it was like having to decide between dying from too much sex and dying from having drunk too much Bailey's Irish Cream.

There comes a time when you realize that pushing a bike isn't as wimpy as it might seem. And when the temperature barely hovers above freezing, your bike's packed to the hilt and and your only other option may involve ending up knee-deep in water, pushing really doesn't seem like such an imposition.

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"Of course the Uitzi tunnel is fine," Íñigo harrumphed with more than a hint of frustration. "I went up there this summer with some heavy equipment and a dozen or so friends and we cleaned it up and fixed it ourselves."

In addition to being a construction worker and the manager of Camping Aralar, which his parents founded over thirty years ago, Íñigo is the secretary of his local Vía Verde association. He remains optimisticallly skeptical about the future of the Vía Verde del Plazaola: while Navarra is working to increase the number of tourists who visit, local residents get the feeling that the Diputación Foral, the regional government, are reluctant to invest money in the north of the area because the people there consider themselves to be more Basque than Navarrese.

Whatever. What I do know is this: the train line extends all the way down into Pamplona itself (I heard from more than one mountain biker that you can ride all the way down to Pamplona provided you're prepped for offroad riding), and there's the possibility of getting land back to re-establish its former connection with San Sebastian, to the north. Why didn't the Fundación de Vías Verdes work harder to get the entire rail line converted, instead of one chunk that only measures 40 km? If you'd like to show your support for extending the line, write the Plazaola people at info@plazaola.org. They'd be glad to hear from you.

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How cold is it out there? Not cold enough to freeze (you can see in this video that the snow had turned to rain by 4PM: http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=fpCBPebqt_U). But it's cold enough that the difference between the ambient temperature outside and the central heating inside our room is creating so much condensation that it's actually raining inside the room.

Day 1: Donosti-San Sebastian (23.8) km

Well, we did it. It was touch-and-go for a while there, especially when the hail started bouncing down at 8:50 AM, coating the cars in the parking lot with little white balls. But in the end, it wasn't bad. The original path that we were going to take, which would have taken us around the coast, was way too soggy and wet to do properly (I've got a bike with at least 15 kg of gear on it, and I didn't want a repeat of last year, when I ended up having to dig the bike out of clay and mud on two different places.)

(Here's the video which shows the hail: http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=CRCeBKpbLe4)

We took the GI-3440 for its entire length, right up from sea level to the Jaizkibel Pass (445m ASL) and it wasn't as icy and snowy as I thought it would be, though it was a wee bit nippy coming down (not helped by having wet feet!) But the payoff was that it was absolutely GORGEOUS. The cold helped clear the humidity out of the air and you could see deep into the Pyrenees, all sugar-and-snow coated like something out of a Christmas card. I only wish that I hadn't left my reflex camera at Stu and Jools's place, because it would have made for some stunning black and white shots. Oh well. Just have to live with only having the digital pix.

The descent wasn't as scary as I thought it would be. I'm not a a big fan of speed and tend to burn my brakes on almost every downhill that I do, but in the end, it was actually kind of cool, especially since the pavement was still bare and you could see the places where the Basque cycling fans had painted the names of their favourite cyclists two or three years ago, when the Vuelta went up Jaizkibel: (Iban) MAYO, (Floyd) LANDIS, (Haimar) ZUBELDIA...it was kind of like standing in the shadows of giants. (Or at least their tire tracks.)

So tomorrow we have to take the train to Andoain and then ride the Vía Verde to Lekunberri. The weather office is forecasting slightly warmer temperatures for the rest of the week, and it should be back up to about 16º-18ºc by the time we hit La Rioja next weekend. About time!

Up and at 'em........

Tuesday morning, 6:12 AM. The bags are all packed and it's still dark outside. Nothing to do now except jump in the shower and get going.

More later, when I make it up to Ordizia....

Should have kept my mouth shut

So Andrew and I were talking the other night, and the subject of the weather and camping over the weekend came up, and I made light of the fact that the weather forecast for this coming weekend (March 21st to 23rd) forecast 100% precipitation in and around the coast between San Sebastián and Irún. I even went so far as to look at the isobar patterns online to see how bad it was going to be. And I thought, Naaaaaaahhhh....at best, it'll be a little bit of spit here and there, maybe a couple of cold fronts coming through every so often and maybe we'll get a good lashing for fifteen minutes and then we'll be all right.

I should have kept my mouth shut. The weather forecast for the weekend now shows 100% possibility of precipitation for Friday, Saturday AND Sunday (so much for camping) and the winds might max out at 40 km/h on Sunday...right as we're supposed to be going around those wonderful coastal roads between Irún and Pasaia Donibane. I'm hoping that the weather forecasters are erring on the side of caution. Meanwhile, I've written the youth hostels in Irún to see if we can get accommodation. Just in case.......

Thirty-six hours to go....and the jitters have begun!

Started keeping a video diary of everything that was going on today... As you can see from this, the first installment, the reality is starting to hit home....!

http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=NJZUC8fP-Ag

Tomorrow's installment: How (NOT) to pack your bags for a trip.

She who moves her legs moves her heart

I love YouTube. Pseudo-techno-geeks like me think that this stuff of being able to put videos up on the internet is a fabulous idea, and while I know that a lot of people are ready to dismiss YouTube as being a source of dross and idiocy, there's one channel, in particular, that's worth pointing out.

The Fundación de Ferrocarriles Españoles (http://www.ffe.es/) is the main body behind the development of greenways in Spain, and two years ago, they started broadcasting mini-documentaries about the various greenways dotted around Spain. Some of the Vías Verdes aren't very long; some take various days to ride. But almost all of them are gorgeous, and even if you don't speak Spanish, these wonderfully made mini-documentaries are a delight to watch.

So here, in the order that we're going to be doing them, are the Televisión Española- FFE videos of the Vías Verdes that we're going to do. Unfortunately, we don't have online links of all the Vías Verdes that we're going to (they haven't yet posted the videos for VV Sierra de la Demanda or the VV Tajuña), but the ones that you'll see here are just stunning.

Enjoy!

VÍA VERDE DEL PLAZAOLA (March 24th)- Starting from Andoain and riding inland towards Lekunberri:
http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=tGJnWvI4A3s&feature=user

VÍA VERDE DEL RIÓ OJA (March 30th) - Starting from Haro and riding as far as Santo Domingo de la Calzada (be patient, the video doesn't load particularly well):
http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=E96pvF89f1g&feature=user

VÍA VERDE DEL ACEITE (April 16th) - This is the eastern end of the Vía Verde de la Subbética, listed below:
Part One: http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=1ozIc5Yow9E
Part Two: http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=YIYi5V33qEA

VÍA VERDE DE LA SUBBÉTICA (April 16th and 17th) - Let's agitate to get the route completed all the way through to Puente Genil! Keep an eye open for the town that's in the background at the 3:10 minute mark - that's Luque, where we're going to be staying the night of April 17th.
Part One: http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=ycIYdMpJMUM&feature=user
Part Two: http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=uLIhLp-x230&feature=user

VÍA VERDE DE LA SIERRA (April 20th) - We won't be doing this entire Vía Verde, just going as far as Coripe before climbing and backing around to go to Ronda via the Roman settlement of Acinipo. But this video gives you an idea of how stunning the scenery is around the eastern part of Seville province; we'll be coming in from the east, through the mountains and around Zaframagón.
http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=lKvrWs3yu5I

Big grins all around

There's a new moon tonight, and while I don't want to sound like a broken record (but what the hell! It's my blog), it's almost here. We set out on the morning after the next new moon, and I'm SO ready to go.

I got the last of the clothing last night. Salomon sent some really lovely gear last week, including some great, windproof trousers, but since I don't really want to (uh....how should I put this.....) cause irritation to my girly bits with cotton underwear under the trousers, I bought two pairs of Pearl Izumi liner culottes, which are easily washable and very lightweight. I'm kind of spoilt for choice, really, since I have a wide range of clothing for all seasons now. (And after the cold snap we suffered yesterday - temperatures went down 13 degrees in one day - I'm a lot more aware of the need to pack carefully for any weather contingencies.)

Rather than make a run back into Madrid halfway through the trip, during our rest day in Aranjuez, I've asked a friend of a friend to hold onto some stuff that I can pick up when I get down there on April 6th. I figure that that's what people who go on longer adventure trips do - they keep stashes of food and equipment along the way so that they don't have to haul everything along at once. The package will include the notes and material for Castilla - La Mancha and Andalusia, the second half of the labels to mark the route (I'm still concerned about how much 5,000 labels weigh) and a stock of personal items, like samples of toothpaste, shampoo and liquid laundry detergent. I know it hardly counts as a stash on the side of Everest, but I'd rather do that, rather than haul it all along at once.

What's left to get? Video camera, extra rechargeable batteries, a couple of new bras and a download of the video editing software. I don't think I'll be able to put the mini-documentaries up on the internet until after I get back, but I'd rather get as much of it sorted as I can before I go.