It’s all coming back to me …

Spain … and relax. It feels as though, with every kilometre travelled, the stress and strains of our life have peeled off us like stripping an onion. The route over the Pyrenees (through the Tunnel du Somport) was easy with Doris’s 3.0 litre engine purring gently away. It was an inspired route choice. Not particularly high, but with a lovely winding road through sharp, wooded hills and pointy purple peaks, it made for fabulous driving. When we hit Spain everything changed. The damp hills turned barren and arid, the trees replaced with hard sand and tufty grass. The difference was extraordinary. 

inspire route choice

We stopped twice on the way to Valencia. First at Huesca, an unattractive, industrial town with more flats than finesse. We walked into the centre, which was old but lacking anything worth seeing, had a beer in the square and came back again. Second was at Teruel, which was much more our thing. The Spanish aire was competent but was two miles from the hilly centre. We put on our walking shoes and found a lovely hill-top old town with lots to gawp at, including a wonderful footbridge over one of the surrounding gorges. That night it rained like the end of the world, so much so our crocs washed away … or they were stolen, which was probably more likely – so much of what we’ve seen so far just looks poor. We both ran in the morning and then headed for Valencia.

we liked Teruel

It’s not an attractive route, but the motorway is free and nobody minds you pottering along at 70 kph to get the best fuel economy (currently over 26 mph and destined to rise a bit, which is pleasing). We filled our time staring blankly, but contentedly, at the unchanging sandy-moon landscape, listening to our latest Jack Reacher audiobook … which, like the previous ones we managed, is so much better than the print version. An American. Jeff Harding, narrates them all and he gets the best out of the prose, always finding humour often when there isn’t any. It certainly gets you through the hours.

intent on Jack Reacher

We made Valencia, Spain’s third largest city and biggest port in the Med, yesterday lunchtime. We set up Doris, who has reminded us why we love her so much, and then took the metro into the city. The guides don’t do the city justice. It’s full of old, middle aged and art deco mansions, flats and houses. There’s plenty to see and, what with yesterday a bank holiday, plenty of people to sit back and observe. Fabulous. And then this morning we cycled to the Med, found an attractive, purpose built resort (el Port de Sagunt) based around a twisty marina, had lunch and cycled back again. I’m penning this as C packs our stuff for the ferry to Ibiza this evening. It’s surprising how much gear you can squeeze into four saddlebags – including our wedding clothes.

 

we made it to the Med

I’ll call it a day here. Next will be post Ibiza where, hopefully, I won’t have got rip-roaringly drunk and fallen into the cake. Mind you, there is a first time for everything.

Stay safe.