We woke early – again. Broke camp and got some coffee on the go. We were soon all packed up and waiting at the gates for the curfew to end. There was no breakfast to be had on site, The best bet was to go into the local town, Miranda Del Castinar, and find somewhere.
MIRANDA DEL CASTINAR
A-SITTIN' IN THE SHADE
And, before you ask, yes – the sky was that colour. Then, as we sat and waited, along came an old fella with a pack mule. It was nice to see that someone was loaded up more that I was.
"HEY SENIOR, I USED TO HAVE ONE OF THOSE"
NICE ASS
The cafe opened and we went in for coffee and croisants for breakfast.
BREAKFAST IS SERVED
We had a long ride ahead of us and they wouldn’t involve dual carriageways so, we knew we needed to get some miles in. Henry's Camping Bible didn't show any sites between here and Ayomonte so it was a choice of slog on or camp rough and as it was just possible to make Ayomonte on the Spainish / Portugese border before nightfall, we decided to go for it. This would mean that Henry would be in the arms of his belovėd before the day ended. We agreed a route and, after finding a petrol station (down one mountain and up another) we set off. We hadn’t travelled more that 30 minutes when we reached the top of a mountain called Portillo. The scenery was breathtaking and it was a photo opportunity.
PORTILLO MOUNTAIN
ON THE TOP
"WHERE'S ME BIKE GONE?"
YOURS TRULY
Back on the bikes and down the other side of the mountain. The hair-pins were so sharp, I swear I could have “high fived” Henry or Bill as we passed each other.
ANOTHER HAIRPINWe rode on and on with a break every now and then until lunch beckoned. We stopped in a village and relieved the local shop of some bread, cheese, ham and tomatoes, followed by melon. It tasted very good, I have to say.
LUNCH IN THE SHADE
On we went. As the land flattened out, the roads became better and better. The surface was like a Grand Prix circuit. And the bends, well the only way I can describe it is to say that UK bend design seems to be based on a French Curve. That is to say that you never know if the bend is going to tighten up on you or open out. These bends had been drawn with a compass. Once you had set yourself for the bend, you could push yourself all the way round on the throttle. Even with all the luggage on board, I was really enjoying myself. It went on for mile after mile. It was really enjoyable.
I was leading and I thought “To hell with it, let’s have a little fun” so I began to open up a bit more and really enjoy the road. I needed to concentrate hard on the road ahead so didn’t spend much time looking behind. I knew that I had stepped up the pace a good peg or two but, there were no junctions for anyone to get lost at so, onwards! When I came to an obvious resting place I could pull over and wait there for the others to catch up.
After about 10 minutes of this, I looked in my mirror and all I could see was Smokey Bill, right up my chuff!
How the mighty are fallen! Sorry Bill, I should have known better.
We stopped for fuel again and dipped the oil. Another pint or two for Bill. Then, on we went.
We were heading south towards the coast and the coastal Motorway that goes into Portugal. We could fork off right at some point and cut the corner. We found our turning and off we went.
That’s when it really happened…..
We had about 24 miles to go to Ayomonte. Henry overtook me and flagged me down. My luggage rack had broken and everything was about to fall off! We decided that the only thing to do at this stage was off load as much as we could onto the other bikes and secure the rest up on mine as best as we could and then limp the last 24 miles.
Both of my detachable side panniers went onto Henry’s bike. My top-box and associated luggage went onto my back seat with the help of a ratchet strap (I was certainly glad I packed that!). My large bag that was on my back seat was moved to Bill’s bike.
The light was fading as we set off. I was wedged between my tank bag and the top-box, like sitting between the two humps of a camel and perched on the unsprung point of my single saddle. I still don’t know how I got on, Or off again for that matter. The fastest I felt comfortable doing was 40 m.p.h. We soon finished the “cutting of the corner” and had to join the Motorway for the last 20 miles. That was hairy. The orange sun was setting in front of us and little did we know that my bag that Bill was carrying had slipped down and was covering his back light. Anyone approaching this slow trio from behind would be blinded by the sun and could very easilly ended in disaster for us all.
I was leading and I thought “To hell with it, let’s have a little fun” so I began to open up a bit more and really enjoy the road. I needed to concentrate hard on the road ahead so didn’t spend much time looking behind. I knew that I had stepped up the pace a good peg or two but, there were no junctions for anyone to get lost at so, onwards! When I came to an obvious resting place I could pull over and wait there for the others to catch up.
After about 10 minutes of this, I looked in my mirror and all I could see was Smokey Bill, right up my chuff!
How the mighty are fallen! Sorry Bill, I should have known better.
We stopped for fuel again and dipped the oil. Another pint or two for Bill. Then, on we went.
We were heading south towards the coast and the coastal Motorway that goes into Portugal. We could fork off right at some point and cut the corner. We found our turning and off we went.
That’s when it really happened…..
We had about 24 miles to go to Ayomonte. Henry overtook me and flagged me down. My luggage rack had broken and everything was about to fall off! We decided that the only thing to do at this stage was off load as much as we could onto the other bikes and secure the rest up on mine as best as we could and then limp the last 24 miles.
Both of my detachable side panniers went onto Henry’s bike. My top-box and associated luggage went onto my back seat with the help of a ratchet strap (I was certainly glad I packed that!). My large bag that was on my back seat was moved to Bill’s bike.
The light was fading as we set off. I was wedged between my tank bag and the top-box, like sitting between the two humps of a camel and perched on the unsprung point of my single saddle. I still don’t know how I got on, Or off again for that matter. The fastest I felt comfortable doing was 40 m.p.h. We soon finished the “cutting of the corner” and had to join the Motorway for the last 20 miles. That was hairy. The orange sun was setting in front of us and little did we know that my bag that Bill was carrying had slipped down and was covering his back light. Anyone approaching this slow trio from behind would be blinded by the sun and could very easilly ended in disaster for us all.
But as we turned off the Motorway in Ayomonte, we saw Lesley and her friend Jan on the side of the road. They led the way to the apartment via a road with speed bumps every 50 yards. Ten minutes later we were all holding a beer as I stood waiting for the circulation to come back to my groin.
NOTE THE ANGLE OF THE RACK
HENRY, THE PACK MULE
See what happens on the same day that I make fun of an overloaded donkey?
All in all, and interesting ride.
The ladies had laid on a lovely spread and lashings of beer and wine. We sat and told tales of the travels thus far, until the small hours.
No tents tonight! Bill and I rolled out our bed rolls in the lounge while Henry had a soft bed with Lesley.
STATSISTICS - DAY 6
350 miles Miranda De Castena - Ayomonte
1392 miles in total
Average 232 miles per day
