Up and away, nice and early. Making our way to a place called Valdepeňas. More views to die for. Fields and fields of olive trees. All planted out like soldiers. Little villages of white-washed houses nailed to the sides of steep hills looking as if the're grou7ped together for safety.
SO MANY OLIVES, SO FEW MARTINIS
We stopped in a town, along the way, to find some lunch. It was a busy town and the streets were cobbled, as usual. We stopped in traffic and all of a sudden, there was a rumpus behind me. I looked in my mirrors and poor Bill was on his side again! I blew my horn to stop Henry and got off to help Bill. A crowd had gathered and Bill, who was a little stunned and was in the arms of a beautiful young woman. No wonder he was stunned! Several people were collecting the various tins of food that had spilled from his luggage and were discussing what "corned beef" was. We got his bike upright and parked up and let Bill get up in his own time.
I thought that about 45 minutes would suit him but he was back on his feet in no time at all. No permanent damage done although, he had bruised his ribs a little. We dusted him off and decided to get ourselves a coffee and a sandwich.
I thought that about 45 minutes would suit him but he was back on his feet in no time at all. No permanent damage done although, he had bruised his ribs a little. We dusted him off and decided to get ourselves a coffee and a sandwich.
COOLING DOWN
We finished lunch and soon got back on track. We were making good progress up the motorway, with me riding at the back, when a car passed me and the amount of gesticulating and pointing told me that the old luggage problem was back! We were just entering a long tunnel so there was nothing to do but carry on. The other side of the tunnel, I went to the front and then pulled over onto the hard shoulder. We examined the problem and lashed it up enough to get off at the next junction.
We found some shade and decided that radical surgery was the only way out of this mess. The rear seat was removed. The top box was removed from the rack and bolted to the brackets for the rear seat. The broken rack was mended with 3 metres of washing line and 24 cable ties. The panniers that had come adrift were reattached to the rack. The rear light and indicator assembly was cable tied to the bottom of the rack. Job done! You know you’re getting old when the Pit Crew begin to look so old.
We found some shade and decided that radical surgery was the only way out of this mess. The rear seat was removed. The top box was removed from the rack and bolted to the brackets for the rear seat. The broken rack was mended with 3 metres of washing line and 24 cable ties. The panniers that had come adrift were reattached to the rack. The rear light and indicator assembly was cable tied to the bottom of the rack. Job done! You know you’re getting old when the Pit Crew begin to look so old.
THE OLDEST APPRENTICE IN TOWN
We had a site looked out from the book but, try as we may, we couldn’t find it. It was supposed to be right on top of one of the junctions on the Motorway adjacent to a large “Angel of the North” type statue. We had all the right landmarks but just couldn’t find the site. Then, all of a sudden, there it was. Behind locked gates. Bearing in mind that all we needed was a flat piece of grass / ground, it did cross my mind to see if we could find another way in but we decided to see if we could find an alternative instead.
Back into the town, down a lovely avenue which was lined with giant amphora, the large terra cotta vessels that they use to store wine and olive oil, although not at the same time. These were huge, some 3 metres tall. It was whilst admiring these that I failed to spot the speed bump.
Twang!
That’s when it happened….. again…..
My luggage problem had reappeared. I had just about had enough. I was all for calling the A.A. and calling it quits! Henry prevailed, yet again and more cable ties and string soon had me back on the road again. We decided to head back to the motorway and look out one of the many wagon drivers lodge type hotels for the night. We were so tired that we plumped for the first one we came across. We ended up with two twin rooms. Bill and I shared and Henry went in the other.
We ate in the attached restaurant / bar. Another mistake! Pollo & Patata Frito. Chicken and chips, right?
Wrong.
Recipe:
Take two or three scabby chicken portions out of the cat’s bowl. Attack them with a meat cleaver snapping them into bite sized pieces leaving shards of bone that can pierce gums. Add large one cup of very roughly chopped garlic. Add to this two or three very small new potatoes chopped to the size of rice grains. Fry the lot in some stale olive oil. Slop-up onto three plates. Go home for the night.
On the good side, the beer was cold and the bread wasn’t stale.
STATSISTICS - DAY 11
264 miles Ronda - Valdepenas
2295 miles in total
Average 209 miles per day
Back into the town, down a lovely avenue which was lined with giant amphora, the large terra cotta vessels that they use to store wine and olive oil, although not at the same time. These were huge, some 3 metres tall. It was whilst admiring these that I failed to spot the speed bump.
Twang!
That’s when it happened….. again…..
My luggage problem had reappeared. I had just about had enough. I was all for calling the A.A. and calling it quits! Henry prevailed, yet again and more cable ties and string soon had me back on the road again. We decided to head back to the motorway and look out one of the many wagon drivers lodge type hotels for the night. We were so tired that we plumped for the first one we came across. We ended up with two twin rooms. Bill and I shared and Henry went in the other.
We ate in the attached restaurant / bar. Another mistake! Pollo & Patata Frito. Chicken and chips, right?
Wrong.
Recipe:
Take two or three scabby chicken portions out of the cat’s bowl. Attack them with a meat cleaver snapping them into bite sized pieces leaving shards of bone that can pierce gums. Add large one cup of very roughly chopped garlic. Add to this two or three very small new potatoes chopped to the size of rice grains. Fry the lot in some stale olive oil. Slop-up onto three plates. Go home for the night.
On the good side, the beer was cold and the bread wasn’t stale.
STATSISTICS - DAY 11
264 miles Ronda - Valdepenas
2295 miles in total
Average 209 miles per day
