Vuelta a Espana

Day Seven

Because I am now on the 'flat' desert like, plains of Spain I always had intended to do high mileage on this stretch and catch up on my schedule. The aim was Zomora but I failed by 40 k’s. The road now stretches away into the distance very slightly undulating, with huge open fields on either side but it was the wind in my face that ‘done me in’. I got off my bike to give me a break at about 7 pm and just could not get back on I was so tired. Luckily, there was a ruined barn at the side of the road so put the tent up in the lee of it. By 9 had reported into ‘wife control’ and quick boil-in-the-bag meal and went to bed, no surprise, I was soon asleep.

Day Eight

Now when camping in a hot country a good idea is to get up fairly early and get a couple off K’s in, before the sun gets too high. Well, its passed 9 am and I am aware of the most ridiculous heat on my tent. It is boiling hot which does not make a great start to the day having to pack away the tent and muttering to myself about ‘sleeping in’. If only that was the only problem, jumping on the bike I soon realised that the back tyre was flat. The road had nowhere even to lean my bike, so I walked it to the next village. What I needed was - shade, plenty of water, and a bench. Amazingly that is what I got. The village had a small football pitch in a park and that was being watered. Next to it was a game court, sorry I don’t know what the game is called but the court consists of two large walls about 30 feet tall players alternately hit the ball against the wall, looked like an outdoor version of squash. Well anyway, a young lad was practising on it and soon got me right about a hidden water tap at the entrance to the park. That, however, was the only good point about the day. I did not check the tube before putting it on the bike and had great difficulty in keeping the tyre inflated, I found 5 punctures! I would ride about 5 ks and tyre would go flat. Eventually got fed up with it a tried to put a patch on the other (punctured) inner tube but that was just as bad as the hole was right next to the value and could not get the bloody patch to stick. Having to constantly pump up the tyre - the heat - nowhere to lean the bike - it was becoming a nightmare. What was certain was the schedule was now right out of the window. Surprisingly, for me, it brought me a inner calmness. It was something I had to just get on with. I now needed a new back tyre as riding it semi-flat had now put splits in the wall.

It was a long 30 kms to Zamora. Worse, was that Zamora was a fairly large city, so the suburbs and industrial estates seemed never to end. Eventually, I arrived at one of these out of town shopping places. Large car park in the middle and the usual large shops around the edge - you know the sort McDonald’s, Furniture shops with permanent sales etc. Every kind of shop one needs except of course a bike shop. Anyway, McDonald’s was calling me. I went over there and outside were about four teenage kids - all on BMX bikes, one of the lads had a puncture. I was going to speak to them when they spoke to me first (not a communal language between us) Soon established they needed a pump - but mine was no good as the valve end was not right for a BMX. I asked about where Decathlon was (the billboards coming into town indicated one was in Zomara) and was told they were now going there as well. So it was that the most unusual convoy went off to seek Decathlon. Amazing it was only about 2 km’s away. So, I got a new tyre, two new inner tubes and a host of cycle clothes that was in the sale bin. Soon had everything in full working order - a great relief. Now off to find somewhere to sleep.

I stopped and asked a busker where a hotel was - he very kindly drew me a map which equalled his confusing verbal instructions

The old town of Zamora is on a hill and the church stood proud over the whole area so that was a good beacon for me. I knew there was a Pilgrims hostel nearby. Could I find it? - I could not - up and down the narrow streets of the old town I went - not a sign. Having passed a busker playing flamingo on a guitar about 6 times - on the seventh time I saw he has stopped for a rest. I asked him if there was a hostel nearby. He had no English, so drew me a map - and amazingly (have a look at the map) I found an ideal place. The hostel was in a large block of flats - they allowed me to keep my bike in the room - which was again off excellent value. I later hit the ancient town of Zamora on a Friday night. Soon I discovered there was a small festival going on in the main square. Watching the cider sellers pouring out their drinks, which they did by holding the bottle above their heads and pouring it into a glass without looking at it. There was lots of strangely dressed people in medieval costume and a strange version of bagpipes. Early in the evening there was possession to church which also was weirdly medieval.

Day Nine

Woke up to heavy rain. Up until my arrival, the area was in drought! I very reluctantly packed up my kit and headed south. The journey out of the city was horrible, again all roads lead to motorways and underpasses. Finally, got out into the country having gone up a long incline, and saw the road disappearing into the black murkiness - nope, this was just too exposed for me. Decided to head back into the old town and get a bus to Salamanca. Cost me 6 Euros (including the bike) and there was nothing more pleasing than sitting there with the wind and rain beating against the bus windows. The plus side, I was missing yet again, that horrible suburban industrial wasteland that surrounds all large towns.

Salamanca is an ancient university town, and I was well impressed with it. The main old town area was car free, there were lots of tourists which suited me fine as I predicted less of a language problem. Got into the Hostel Revolution which was only about 50 metres from the main square. Also had a room with a balcony, the room had all the facilities, there was even a kitchen available downstairs. It quite simply got all the ticks - 5 star as far as I was concerned. Had a walk around the town and quickly concluded that despite the bus ride nearly getting me back on schedule I would book in for another day and spend tomorrow getting to know this city. Stuff schedules!

I was very impressed with this beautiful city, accommodation was equally good. So, I stayed another day.

Day Ten

A day off - its been 6 days of cycling so why not? Had therefore, an enjoyable day mooching around the town centre. Went up the tower of the main church etc and did all the usual things. What was noticeable was the change in the weather, now very showery. Wife control had warned me of impending doom and gloom heading for Southern Spain. When watching the news that night tomorrow was to be heavy rain and strong winds. While I have sounded off about what a nice place Salamanca is and the predicted bad weather, I still decided to move on to Bejar. The compromise was that I would go there by bus.

Day Eleven

Well at least the weather forecast was right, its a heavy drizzle, cold and windy. So, it's a bus ride to Bejar. This should have been a one-hour journey but the bus broke down. We waited 40 mins for a replacement but still arrived in Bejar just after 3 pm. By now the rain had stopped so decided to bike out of town and try and get some K’s in before the evening. Not a great success as I ended up on the hard shoulder of the motorway and had to turn back onto the oncoming traffic, eventually got on the right road, when the rain came in bucket loads. I decided to turn back all the way (uphill) to Bejar again. Bejar was not a particularly pretty town, the awful weather probably did not help. I eventually found a room in a bar/hotel (60 Euros, very expensive for me!) The owners then closed for the night (including the bar) and I was left in the whole building by myself. They did leave me with a key for the back door. A good room though set up to a good standard - even had the chocolate on my pillow. I brought in some eats and watched the riots going on in Madrid. During the night the metal shutters banged and crashed, and I could hear things being blown about in the street, there was a big storm going on out there. Hope it was going to blow itself out. I had decided now, enough of buses - no matter what it's like, its bike-time tomorrow.

Salamanca is a town I would go back to