Stage 3 - Burgohondo

I started the day apprehensively. My legs were tired - I was getting cramp when trying to stretch the muscles - and I was still a bit saddle sore. Before I set off I went to the greengrocers and bought some more bananas and loads of water. The start of the ride was great, with a few miles of downhill, so at least I got some payback for yesterday's efforts, but I knew it wouldn't last for long and so I made the most of it.

I took the Pedro Bernardo turning off the main road and made the climb up to the village. The climb was very steep in places, but I knew I had all day, and I soon hit a comfortable (albeit slow) rhythm. The village was quite big, considering how high up it was, and I found the Plaza de Toros, which doubled up as a car park. I had a bocadillo de lomo (bacon roll to you and me) for lunch at a bar, and I continued on may way once I was fed and watered.

There was a sharp climb to the top of the first peak - Collado de la Sollano - but I continued going along at my comfortable rhythm, and just kept pedalling away and enjoying the scenery which I have to say was great. The big difference between cycling and driving (apart from the effort involved) is that you get to see much much more, and it's so easy to stop and enjoy the view, and check out anything which looks interesting. There were now hardly any cars on the road, so it felt like I had the place to myself. Whilst the temperature had been hot earlier on, it did get a bit cooler the higher I climbed. There wasn't much wildlife to see, other than small lizards sunning themselves on the rocks, and some quite large birds hovering high up in the sky. I did see a couple of small snakes squashed on the road - roadkill with a difference!

I made it to the Collado de la Sollano, stopped and took a couple of photos, then enjoyed the short, steep descent before beginning the main climb to the top of Puerto de Serranillos at 1575m. This climb went all the way along one side of a valley, and went back along the other side, then doubled back on itself to the peak, and I could see exactly what I had coming up. With about three miles (or half an hour) to go, I was running very low on water, and so had to ration myself. It was so tempting just to finish the lot off.

Reaching the top was a fantastic feeling, as I'd made it without any real difficulty and no mechanical problems. I'd been so worried about my chain snapping again half way up the mountain, in the middle of nowhere and with nobody about. I spent a while enjoying the view, and took some photos, before beginning the descent.

The descent was steep, but didn't have many long straights to build up any speed. There was a fair bit of loose gravel about as well, and not many barriers to prevent a steep drop into the pine forest below, so I had to be sensible and watch my speed most of the time. I mentioned yesterday how heavy my bike is, and I really noticed that on the descents today, and even on the fast descents the bike is a lot slower than it normally is. The fastest I have been on my mountain bike at home is 39.5 mph, which I have tried to beat so many times but just haven't been able to. There was one longish straight near the bottom of the descent, but I only managed to hit 39mph. I'm sure I'd have been in the 40s without the extra weight.

I stopped at the next village, Serranillos, and asked for directions to the shops. I had to go back and take a turning off the main road to take a tiny road, almost a path, into the village. I didn't manage to find the shop but there were two bars in what looked like the main square, so I stopped there.

One thing I love about the Spanish is that they are so loud when they congregate together in a bar. I stopped at a bench between the two bars, and the noise of chattering and arguing was so loud. I could hear a TV on in the background, but there can't have been anyone watching it. I went inside one of the bars and it was about two-thirds full, about 20 people I guess, with a game of what looked like dominos going on. I went up to the bar and asked for some bottles of water. The guy said they had some small bottles, and so I ordered six - two to drink there and then, and two for each of the water bottles on the bike. I was royally ripped off as he wanted 6€ or £5 for them, but I was so desperate that I paid. It wasn't until I got outside that I noticed that they were 330ml bottles and not 500ml, so that was a right con. I won't be going back there in a hurry. But then I'm such an obvious gringo and the guy knew that anyway!

I continued the descent into Burgohondo and found the hostal. Before going in, I wanted to adjust the handlebar height slightly. To do that, I had to remove the bracket for the bar bag, which I did. I fixed the height of the handlebars, but then had a problem putting the bracket back on. It has this cable mechanism which goes under the stem to support it. Unfortunately the cable had unravelled and I couldn't slide this through the hole in the bracket. I lost my rag in the end and gave up, but this now meant that my bar bag would be dropping down for the rest of the trip. Not a big deal, but it's a bit of a pain in the bum. I shall be writing to the Big White Chief at Topeak when I get home.

My room was functional but compact, and had the smallest bathroom I think I've ever been in. So far, each of the hostals has had a 1 metre/3 foot bath, which is really just a glorified shower tray. However, in this bathroom, there was next to no gap between the bath, the loo and the sink. I had a shower and washed my kit. I'm really glad I brought some string and a few pegs with me, as I nearly didn't bother and they have come in so useful so far. I strung up a line outside the window and pegged my gear up to dry overnight.

I'd been in the saddle for over five and a half hours and could tell. It felt like I'd trapped a nerve under my left buttock as I had a bit of a pain there and some numbness in my left leg. And I had become very saddle sore on the right side, so I put on plenty of aloe vera gel. When I looked inside my shorts, I could see what the problem was. The stitching which holds the padding in had come undone, and there seemed to be two types of thread, with one thicker than the other, and it was this thicker nylon-like thread which had come undone and was causing me grief. I trimmed this back, and will try and get some new shorts tomorrow in Ávila, as there aren't any bike shops in Burgohondo.

I went over to the supermarket to buy some water, cereal bars and bananas, before going for a wander. There's not much to see or do in Burgohondo, though there seemed to be quite a community spirit with families sitting outside their homes chatting with neighbours and enjoying the sunset. I found the Plaza de Toros and that was all there seemed to be, so I returned to the hostal and had dinner in the restaurant.



I was the only one in there at first so I watched a bit of the news on TV and read a book. They were still doing the menu del día, so I had a salad starter, a nice steak and an ice cream for dessert, washed down with a couple of glasses of tinto, reflecting on what a great day I'd had.

Stage 2 - Piedralaves

I woke up an hour before the alarm was due to go off, so I got up and sorted through my panniers to try and distribute the weight evenly. I also put some cash, a debit card and my driving license in a pannier, in case my wallet or bar bag gets nicked.

Breakfast comprised four cereal bars, and I set off at about 9:30. I went back into Brunete to see if anywhere was open for breakfast (no) and to take some pics in daylight.

I was apprehensive about the route as today's wasn't the one from the book. I had to work out my own route as the main road in the book had been uppgraded to a motorway. I headed south to Navalcarnero, then west to Piedralaves. The road to Navalcarnero was pretty flat, so it was pretty easy going and I really enjoyed cycling through the Spanish countryside on such a glorious day.

The roads now were fast, single carriageways with a mini hard shoulder. Most of these were wide enough to cycle on, but they did narrow at times, and occasionally disappeared altogether when there was a bridge for example. In the UK I would think twice about cycling along these roads, but there really were very few cars on the road, and I found the drivers to be considerate, giving plenty of room when overtaking me. There obviously isn't a Spanish equivalent of Jeremy Clarkson.

I stopped off at Villa del Prado for lunch. This was a lovely old pueblo with a Plaza Mayor, and an old church. It seemed that the Sunday service had recently finished, as there were lots of (mainly old) people milling around the church in the shade. I decided to have lunch in a traditional bar, which looked a little bit intimidating from the outside for a guiri, or tourist, like me. It was just like a local bar inside, and I ordered a tortilla espanola and a small beer, which came to 3.70 €. The tortilla was fantastic, nice and soggy in the middle. I took some photos of the Plaza Mayor before continuing on my way.

As soon as I left Villa del Prado, the road went up into the hills. There were lots of long, slow drags interspersed with sharp climbs, and in the hot weather it was a long hard slog. Because the route was not in the book, I had no real idea of the elevation profile. After each climb I was hoping for a nice descent, but there weren't very many. The views from the higher ground were pretty good though. One thing I was starting to notice is that my bike was so heavy that I couldn't freewheel on the flat, or even on very slight descents. The bike weighed a ton, but I did need all of the gear in my panniers.

I didn't pass many cars on the roads, presumably because it was siesta time on a Sunday. There were no shops open in the villages I passed through, and there were no petrol stations either, so I started to run low on water. It was now approaching 4pm and I pulled off the main road to go through Cadalso de los Vitrios, where a bar was open. They didn't sell bottles of water, but there was a machine outside which I fed with all my change. The machine also had cans of Aquarius, a drink I hadn't seen before. It was a sports drink, with mineral salts amongst other things. Given the amount I had been sweating, I bought a can and it tasted really good, so I bought another one. I had a nice rest in the shade, drinking and watching the world go by.

Back in the saddle, I continued on my way, still struggling up some climbs, and starting to worry about tomorrow when there will be some real climbing to do. I started playing psychological games to try and make things a bit easier, telling myself that there would be a huge climb round the next bend, and that Piedralaves was a few km further than the signs said. Unfortunately, the climbs continued, but I eventually struggled into Piedralaves.





As I'd predicted, the hostal was at the far end of town. I checked in, and Paco took my bike for safe keeping. In the bar they were showing the real Vuelta, with about 10km to go, so I went up to my room, switched the TV on and watched the end of the stage.

I showered and changed, then washed my kit. Talking of kit, I'd taken two cycling jerseys (I didn't want to wear the charity shirt every day) and one pair of cycling shorts. For the evenings I had one t-shirt and one pair of shorts.

I had a nap, then popped over the road to buy some bottles of water, then had dinner in the hostal. Piedralaves is a small town and there didn't look to be any restaurants in walking distance. There wasn't much on the menu, so I ended up having pollo al ajillo and patatas bravas. The latter turned out to be chips and ketchup, and at 6€ they saw me coming!

I went to bed looking forward to, but dreading, the next day's ride. I was starting to get saddle sore and ached a lot.

Stage 1 - Brunete

Today was always going to be a marathon: get to Gatwick by public transport for a
9:30 am flight to Barajas Airport in Madrid, then once through passports/customs/baggage assemble my bike - assuming it doesn't get damaged - and cycle the 30 or so miles to Brunete before dark.

I had to arrive at Gatwick at least two hours before departure because I had the bike box, so the alarm was set for 4am. I was awake anyway. It's always the way when I'm travelling the next day, and have an early start... I can never get to sleep straight away and, when I do manage to nod off, I keep waking up at regular intervals. I had a shower and got dressed, then drove my car to the local station. My luggage comprised my mountain bike in a cardboard bike box (given to me by my local bike shop, the kind used to ship new bikes); a 65 litre backpack containing two panniers and a handlebar bag; and a small backpack as my hand luggage for the flight. I got the train OK, and it was surprisingly busy for that time of the morning. The Circle Line was closed for engineering works, so I changed at Stratford and got the Central Line to Oxford Circus, then the Victoria Line to Victoria. I lugged my bike up onto the main concourse and across to the Gatwick Express. The bike box was quite heavy, and awkward to manoevre, so I had to stop a couple of times. When we arrived at Gatwick, I couldn't see any trolleys so carried my gear over to the desk and checked in.

I booked the flight with Easyjet, as the cost of transporting the bike was less than £40 return, very reasonable. There was the usual scrum for seats, and I just missed out on one of the emergency exit seats with the extra leg room. The flight was pretty boring, and I spent the two hours just reading the paper and a magazine. At Barajas I grabbed a trolley and waited for my bike box to come through. As I expected, it came through last and, quite worryingly had been knocked about a bit, with a bit of a hole in one side.

There's a left luggage office outside Terminal 1 at Barajas, so I pushed the trolley round the back, where it was shady, and began setting up my bike. Nothing appeared to be damaged, though one of the bolts holding the rear mech in place wouldn't tighten. I swapped the bolts over, and the problem was definitely the thread on the frame. I didn't have much option other than to screw it in as best I could and hope for the best; the back wheel sits on top of the bolts, so that will hopefully hold them in place. Once my bike was fully assembled, I checked the bike box containing the pipe lagging and bubble wrap used to protect my bike, plus the empty backpacks and my jeans. At about 3:30, and after taking a few photos, I set off.

My directions for getting out of the airport were spot-on, courtesy of Google Maps. I hadn't eaten any lunch so stopped at the petrol station just outside the airport and bought a couple of Mars bars, and before I knew it I was cycling down Calle de Alcalá, which would take me right through to the Madrid city centre. It was boiling hot - 30° according to one of those digital displays you see on top of big buildings - so I decided to stop and get some water and some bananas, as it was going to be important to keep eating and drinking throughout my ride. I found a small supermarket and stopped outside on the pavement locking my bike to a lamp post. I bought a big bottle of water and a bunch of bananas, then filled my bottles and tied the carrier bag with the bananas in to the pannier rack, before continuing on my way. At the bottom of the hill was the Plaza de Toros de Las Ventas, Madrid's bullring. I don't personally agree with bullfighting, but the Madrid bullring is a spectacular building, its architecture heavily influenced by the Moors .

I pulled off the main road and cycled onto the concourse, and went to get my camera out of my bar bag. To my horror, I'd left the bar bag either in the supermarket, or worse, on the pavement outside. Besides the camera, my bar bag contained all my money and cards, my passport, my phone and all the directions for the trip. I immediately turned my bike round and headed up the hill as quickly as I could back to the supermarket. I couldn't see the bar bag outside so went inside. The cashier I had seen wasn't serving anyone and smiled when she saw me, pulling out my bar bag from under the counter. Phew! Was I relieved! "Gracias, te quiero!"I told her "Thanks, I love you!". I had a chat with the security guard outside, and he told me that he was a cyclist himself. He asked me where I was going, so I told him the route. I couldn't quite make out whether he was pretty impressed, or whether he thought I was completely insane.

I went off back down the hill to the bull ring, took some photos, and then carried ongoing... along Gran Vía (centenary this year), left at Plaza de Espana, across to the River Manzanares and then through the Casa de Campo. I know my way through the Madrid city centre, so didn't need to look at my directions. The traffic was quiter that I'd expected, though on reflection this was siesta time on a Saturday. Casa de Campo is like a bigger version of London's Hyde Park, complete with lake, zoo and funfair. It has a number of roads going through it, many of which are closed to traffic, so great for cycling along. It's also an obvious pick-up point for prostitutes, and one did shout after me, but I just smiled to myself and kept going.

Once through Casa de Campo, I had no choice but to cycle along a couple of busy main roads to get out of Madrid. The roads were indeed fast dual carriageways, with a small hard shoulder to cycle along. As I was pulling off the roundabout, I accelerated quite hard to change lanes. At first I thought my chain had come off, but my heart sank when I looked down to see that it had snapped.

I pulled off to the side of the roundabout, took off my panniers and went to fix my chain. I'd only bought it a few months ago and had probably only done three or four hundred miles on it. Fortunately, I'd bought a spare 'Quick Link' for it and so was able to fix it quite easily. However, I'd only brought the one spare link with me, so if the chain broke again before I made it to a bike shop and bought a new chain, then I'd be buggered; I knew there were no bike shops until Ávila, so I would have to chance it, and try to avoid any more sharp accelerations. I resumed my journey, and before long I was in Brunete. The main roundabout as you approach has Brunete spelt out in the style of Hollywood (and unfortunately Basildon!).

I had booked a series of hostals - privately run hotels which typically cost 30€ to 35€ per night for a single room with an en-suite. I found the hostal and went inside. The woman seemed surprised that I was on my own, telling me that I had reserved a 'doble' at 70€ for the night and not the single room for 35€. I know that my Spanish isn't that great, but there's no way that I had asked for a double room. She went and got somebody else and they insisted that I'd booked the double room. We haggled, and agreed on me having the room for 45€. The room was in a building just around the corner. The guy took me first to the patio, away from the road, where I locked up my bike, and then showed me to my room, which wasn't at all bad.

I showered, washed my kit, and then popped over the road to the supermarket to buy some water and cereal bars for the next morning, as I knew that the Spanish don't really do breakfast, and also that not many places would be open the following day.

By now it was getting dark, so I wandered off into the town centre. Most Spanish towns have a main square, or Plaza Mayor, where people gather at fiesta time. Tonight, Brunete was having a mediaeval evening in the Plaza Mayor, with a market and people dressed in costume. The restaurants I went to were all busy, with no spare tables on the pavement. The atmosphere was wonderful: there were groups of young kids playing nicely together, with the older kids keeping an eye on them; small groups of teenagers were wandering around, chattering away; the parents and grandparents were sat around the tables talking very loudly as the Spanish do, and so quickly that I had no chance of having the first clue what they were talking about!

A table became available, so I sat myself down and a waiter came cleared the table and took my order of chuletas de cordero, or lamb cutlets and a beer. One thing I love about eating out in Spain is that the waiter will often give you a tapa, or small portion of food, whilst you are waiting. Tonight the waiter brought me a smallish plate of calamari, which were gratefully received and quickly eaten, as I was absolutely starving. Then my chuletas arrived - about a dozen of them with some chips - and they were absolutely gorgeous, so succulent! Once I'd finished, I headed back to the hostal to get some sleep ahead of tomorrow's ride.

That's it for training rides!

I've done three rides the last three days: 24 miles on Friday, 34 miles yesterday and 54 miles today. (I don't know what's so special about number 4, it just happened that way!) Today was probably the toughest ride I've done as it was very windy. Just cycling along the flat straight by the reservoir, I had to pedal as hard as I could to maintain 10 mph, lugging 8 kg of water in my panniers. The wind was particularly bad on the open ground by Little Baddow, so my average speed of 12.3 mph was pretty respectable. I just hope it's not too windy up in the mountains when I get to Spain. On the plus side, I had a nice slice of coffee and walnut cake at the Paper Mill Lock tea room, and a lovely chicken club sandwich at the General's Arms. I think I've got my eating and drinking sorted now. Whilst it was hard work today, I could quite easily have cycled another 15-20 miles.

So no more training rides - today's ride is hopefully on a par with the non-mountain stages on my route. I'm going to box my bike up tomorrow, as I will have a busy week at work, and might not get enough time. If I can, I'll go out for a couple of evening rides on my bike with the curly bars, just to keep the legs ticking over.

The Vuelta A España started yesterday, so I shall be watching that. Mark Cavendish is in the red jersey after two stages.

Nightmare

I've been out for a couple of rides this week, but have been limited by the atrocious weather.

I had a bit of a nightmare with my route. About a week ago I started writing up the directions for each stage, so that I don't keep having to stop to get the book or map out. It soon became apparent that the book is very out of date (written in 2003 and updated in 2006). There has been a massive road building programme in Spain over the last few years, and I found that the road used in the book to get out of Madrid has now been turned into a motorway. There are also other places which were not suitable for cyclists, so I've therefore spent loads of time over the past week poring over paper maps, and Google maps/satellite/streetview, putting together a revised route, and I'm now a lot happier with it. I've also googled all of the bike shops en-route in case I get any mechanical problems which I can't fix myself.

My bike has been making an intermittent clicking noise ever since I had it serviced earlier in the year which has been steadily getting worse, driving me nuts. It sounded like the noise was coming from the front mech, but adjusting this didn't work. I'd already taken it back to the shop once and they adjusted it, which seemed to fix it for a while, but I took it back again yesterday and they had a proper look at it, and found that the clicking noise was actually coming from the seat clamp, and was resonating through the frame. They've sorted this so that's hopefully put an end to the clicking noise.

I'm hoping to get out for a ride today, but it's very grey outside so I'll wait to see if it blows over. The forecast is for rain all day today, but good from tomorrow through to Monday, so I'm aiming to get plenty of miles in before I go back to work on Tuesday.

Back from holiday

We had a great break in Lisbon and did loads of walking - we must have walked several miles each day. Lisbon is very hilly, and the pavements and roads in the city centre are all cobbles, so my legs - and my calves in particular - still ache a bit.

Yesterday I went out for my first ride for a week and a half. Only a short one - a lap of the reservoir - but I did load up my panniers with eight litres of water which, I seem to recall from my schoolboy science lessons, is the equivalent of eight kilos in weight, which should more than reflect the weight of my panniers once I'm in Spain. Today I did a longer, 23 mile circuit.

The BBC weather forecast for the next few days is heavy rain, but they have been very unreliable recently and I hope that they've got it wrong again as I'd like to get over to Paper Mill Lock this weekend to have a few climbs up North Hill, and try another of the cakes in the tea shop.

No cycling...

The weather's been wet this week, and I had a couple of nights out too, so I didn't get to go out for a ride. It rained again yesterday, and today I go on holiday for a few days. I will be back on Thursday, and as I'm on two weeks leave, I should be able to do a lot more cycling from then.