I am so pleased we didn’t rush this bit.
Despite our repeated (bordering on desperate) requests for salad last night, we were presented with a plate of all things fried, with some extra fried things plonked on top and a small dish of what tasted like Heinz tomato soup as a garnish.
Breakfast was a similar affair. I am sure our Spanish has at least remained the same if not improved over the last few weeks ..and definitely not slipped backwards, so we were both surprised by the large plate of bread we definitely didn’t ask for. Undeterred (it takes a lot more than a random baguette to confuse us!) we packed up our bikes and headed for the hills.
I think we can call them hills now, 600 meter climbs are nothing to us, we eat those for breakfast. The heat on the other hand is still not something we are used to. Fortunately the weather forecast was out of sync by a couple of hours today and by the time we had finished our obligatory “why is that making a funny noise?” bike faff the sky had clouded over (today’s faff was brought to you by missing chainring bolts).
As we pedalled up the forest path, we came across a number of well appointed picnic tables and BBQs, a tidy stock of fire wood ready for use, a natural spring fit for drinking and if we were really lucky, some kind hearted individual had left us a drinking receptical. The height of the tables left the Serlock Holmes part of my brain convinced that hobbits would happily live here, if they existed of course.
As we near the end of our mission I will confess that I am still not a fan of Lycra. I have a bit of a phobia of old men wearing Lycra (one I have been forced to face on many occasions over the last few weeks). After 625 miles in the saddle I feel qualified to tell you that Lycra is uncomfortable to wear, very, very unpleasant to look at and just not cool. Padded shorts, yes. Matching Lycra outfits, no.