love the article mate, having done the trip a few times and know many of the roads around andalucea ( malaga , ronda , jarez , etc ). and your panniers / sadlebags,,, look very practicle while not being too big
Nelson, glad you got the reference point. Also the sun and the fella on the bike was adapted from a drawing by a little known artist by the name of Pabs Picasso. Not bad but I'm sure you'll agree I've improved it and brought it up to date. Cherod, glad you're enjoying it too. The roads down there are fantastic aren't they.
That's a fabulous route Sam! The Alpujarra is stunning, but with everything else you did that day, that's some ride!!
Guess who's coming to lunch. I was well n truly cooking by now. What I needed was a fan that blew at 70 to 80mph. Well will you look at that, that's a stroke of luck, I've got one right here. I headed for Almunecar. As I went past La Herradura two motorcycles speed cops went the other way, followed by a van which just had to be carrying the gear. I knew where they'd come from. The fantastic race track road along the coast, where the local Policia liked to get to know bikers on a one to one basis. Maybe that little repair stop wasn't so bad after all. I thought they deserved a bikers wave. I was grateful they were gone. It meant no problemmo signor, have a nice play. Muchos grassy arse. I pressed this little grey button on the left clip on and unleashed 195 horses from between my legs. Fandabbidoubledozo. After the coast road I headed up to the A348. Also recommended by Pedro. It runs all along the south side of The Parque Nacional de Sierra Nevada. This is how busy it was, both ways. If you zoom in on the previous map you can see how bendy some bits are. At that stop I noticed the different compounds of the rear tyre were clearly visible. As I approached Cadiar I decided it was time for lunch. It was late for me but early for Spain. I'll stop at the first place I come to if... it looks ok. I followed my route, took the right hand turn, there it was. A lovely looking bar restaurant with half a dozen tables set outside beneath a red canopy and a grape vine. Perfect. I parked The Tart next to a Triumph with German plates. I wondered in, nodded to the biker, he nodded and smiled back. There were no free tables outside, darn. The biker was on his own so I asked to join him. This turned out to be a very good move. Normally a German joke is no laughing matter but Juergen and I had a very amusing lunch. He was touring on his own, making the most of the fine Spanish roads. Especially as they'd all been paid for, he assured me, with German Euros. "Nonsense, that can't possibly be true, you can't say that". "Why not?" "Because we know, we've paid for them in Pounds". He saw the funny side of it. We laughed our way through routes, map comparisons and bikes. He complimented me on his British bike which he was very happy with. "Much better und lighter than a BMVeh". I complimented him on German engineering and penalties. Daft, when you consider neither of us had anything to do with any of it. He also told me the route I was going to take though the Coll was closed. I had to go further down. Oh well, I'm here to ride. I recommended him Hotel Balcon in Competa, although I've never stayed there. He was happy because it had an underground car park and a large outdoor swimming pool. An excellent lunch with Juergen. As we parted he insisted on listening to the Termignoni's fire up and ride off, who can blame him? He went West and I went East. Shame.
Cherod, there was no torture, it was all good, except for the built up areas of course, but there weren't many of them.
It was a looong ride. Even longer than I originally meant because of the road closure. However the road over the top heading north turned out to be fabulous. More soon!
Giants On the Hillside? I left the restaurant in a very happy mood and immediately found myself going too fast. The roads were bendy and the tyres weren't hot. Back off a bit and enjoy the ride, there's plenty to come. In fact more than I thought. Juergen had told me my imminent route North was closed. I'll have to go back and do the A337 another time, I bet it's good. I had to go further east to the next road over the Sierra Nevada. Consequently I'd have to go west again when I got to the other side. The battery on my phone needed more charging so I wasn't on satnav or even Shatnav, I was on Samnav. Over the years I have to say Samnav has been pretty good, even though I say it myself. Today was different though. I was enjoying the ride so much I went past not just one but two turns north. That was after the closed road. I realised pretty quickly after Canjayar so I turned around and went back. This, er... detour turned out to be really good. The road between Canjayar and Tices was extraordinary. It's worth zooming into the map at the H marker. It's just funny to look at the shape of the road....and all fantastic tarmac too. It was first gear stuff, I felt like a mountain goat but it was great. You've got to stop, got to stop and take some pictures. Take more pictures. This...is unbelievable. It was just me and the silence, except for the sound of the breeze and soaring birds of prey. It was great to be in the fresh mountain air. I just had to get the Drift camera out and savour it. I'd been meaning to get it out so many times before but there are times when you want to press on and it's time consuming. As well as that, it can get a bit samey with mile after mile of POV bike shots. When you're touring on your own there's no-one else to shoot and no one to shoot you, with a camera or anything else you hope. Hmmm, how do I upload a Vid? I followed the road up and over the top as I descended down the other side I was greeted with a most fabulous view of the valley and the road descending in front of me. Dotted around this valley were windmills, slowly, gracefully all turning at the same speed. Fantastic. Once again I had to stop and look and listen to the sound of silence. When I got down to Abla time was ticking on. If I was going to reach my bed in Ubeda it was time to use up the faster roads. Tuck my knees and elbows in, toes on the footpegs and munch up the miles. Dual carriageways are dull but they do link up the interesting bits quickly. One more gas stop got me up Ubeda and the hotel. I can't ever recall taking a motorbike in a lift before but this hotel had one that dropped down to an underground carpark. A quick shower, change and out for some Tapas in the warm evening then bed. Ubeda at night.
Well thanks very much Webby, glad you're enjoying it. I'll keep it coming but I have to carve out the time. Writing isn't too difficult, trying to write something good takes a little longer. I'm still trying! Just wondering how many people I've got on the pillion now. My top tip...forget riding in the UK, go to Spain, fantastic empty roads.
Do you ever get disappointed when a bend ends? Having resisted the pun about bed in Ubeda, I was up out of the lift onto the cobbled streets. It was a full circle round the town which I didn't mind as the sound of The Italian Tart bounced off the walls in the narrow streets. What's not to like about the sound of Termignoni's in the morning, with a full day of riding ahead on empty roads in ambient temperatures? Heading across the flat planes was very boring. Even some minor country roads were dead straight but it had to be done. There were lots of windmills to be seen en route. Trouble is all the modern ones look exactly the same and future generations are going to find them very difficult to convert to habitable accommodation. As I headed north suddenly the road ran out. No warning, it just finished, almost in mid air on this ridge. Black Tarmac, dotted line....nothing. ................................ Nothing but a scraggy edge and a free ski jumping lesson. A small track led down to another road. As I went by I could see a bridge and a section of road had caved in and was therefore missing. It was like this junction and bridge had been hit by an air strike. Then it was back up to the road and business as usual. It was odd because the rest of the A road was good. Obviously the money had run out because it had clearly been like this for sometime. Where's Juergen and his Euros when you need him? In Greece chucking them down a big dark hole I suppose. I got back up to the road and it was good black Tarmac sweeping away to the right. So I did it because I could, not because I needed to. For some reason I love it even more when I'm cranked over. I put that minute amount of weight into my right shoulder as I twisted my right wrist. The tyres dug in as the angle of lean equalled the lateral G force and I laughed out loud as went through the quickshifter. No clutch, no backing off, just neuurrr, neuurrrr, neuurrrrrr, neuuurrrrrrrr. A spectator could have seen my grin through the dark visor but there were no spectators. Just me....and a quickshifter. Happiness may well have been 'A cigar called Hamlet' but I prefer this kind of smoke.
A line of Orange markers. Heading up the N322 my route took me through Villapalacios. As the village dropped behind me I hit sport mode and began to open up. There on the right were a gaggle of bikes parked outside a restaurant, next to a gasolinera. Perfecto, a bike place. Hit the brakes and fill up both. Parking up next to the other bikes I realised they had British plates. One of the guys came straight across and invited me to join them. How good is that? These four Scots guys were from around Glasgow. It turned out that they too had stayed in Ubeda the night before but we'd managed to just miss each other in the restaurants there. They would be turning up three and a half thousand miles on their trip from Santander through Portugal, down to Morocco then back up through Spain. Nice trip but not forgetting the trudge down from Glasgow to Portsmouth and back. Already in the middle of Spain they were dreading the A34 heading north from Winchester. Being a Southern softie I didn't have to face this and there was much debate about other ways to cut out that whole trip down. What does that tell you about our roads? Bring on Juergen, Frau Merkel and their Euros. We could use them. I didn't even think to take a photo and hadn't with Juergen the previous day either. Idiot, I wish I had. Between them there were a couple of different style Harley's a Multicarbonara and I think it was a GS but not sure. The road was more flat boring stuff so I peeled off and tried to make it interesting. I decided that I won't do that eastern route again. I can't say I'd recommend anything that I found that day until I reached Barajas de Melo at point 'I' on the map. North of there made up for everything. It was fantastic going alongside the Entrepenas Reservoir. Great Tarmac and a mixture of tight and fast bends, wooded with the evening sun. Certainly one of the best roads I've done and worth coming back to. I was thinking I'll have to bring Vince here, he'd love it. Going round bends like this, I'll have to get some video and show himSUDDENLY ! A line of orange markers sticking up in the middle of the road just around a short blind bend. No warning, no signs. Swerve left around them onto the wrong side then sweep back in. I'd let my mind drift. I wasn't 'on it' as much as I should have been, it came out of nowhere and I wasn't ready for it. A reminder, I got away with it. I carried on into the evening sun, slightly slower and more alert. Siguenza is a lovely town, as I approached it I somehow knew that I'd be greeted with a spectacular view. I wasn't disappointed. Burbling over the crest of a hill, there it was spread out before me. Its Castle, which is now a Parador, nestling on the top of the hill. At 120euros a night it was too much for an overnight stay. I cruised back down the hill and opted for hotel/hostal Messon Castilla at a mere 35 euros. It also meant I could just walk along the road and enjoy some red wine and tapas in the evening. The rooms were really nice as were the staff. In Spanglish I asked what time breakfast starts, in Spanish I got the reply. "10". In Spanglish. "No, what time does it start?". "Si, 10". So I looked up the phrase on my phone and then repeated it to her. "Siiiii, a las 10 de la mañana". Finally the slow English guy realised that breakfast actually started... at 10! Not finished, started. That's funny. "Aaaah". It wasn't quite going to work for me. With a mixture of Spanglish and hand signs I let her know I'd be long gone by then, and I was.
Good room, 35 euros. Why pay more? The only downside was The Tart had to stay outside for the night. I locked her up, put the steering lock on and the screamer. In a little place like that she was fine.
