Camino El Cid…
Thursday 10 October
We left Zaragoza fairly late at 11am. After last night it was hard to get going this morning. Luckily our train to Ariza wasn’t until 2pm which gave us enough time to go do food shopping for lunch and tonight just in case we find ourselves in a difficult situation with no access to shopping.
There was a fair bit of apprehension. We knew that we were about to go into a fairly remote area with many kilometres between each town. If we weren’t too concerned when we took off, the train trip certainly demonstrated how vast, dry and mountainous the areas were between towns. We were really venturing into terrain we had not previously been. Being ripped off by the ticket master left a bit of a bitter taste in our mouth. Perhaps he decided that we deserved to pay an extra 15 euros just because we asked him if we could speak English. He didn’t respond very well to the proposal. It was the ticket lady on the train who told us that we shouldn’t have paid as much as we did for the children. She on the other hand was very helpful and relaxed. She made sure we had enough time to get on and off the train.
On arrival to Ariza at 3:30pm we decided we would ride to the next town so we had less kms to do tomorrow. We were ready to sleep under the stars which we were all very excited about. At 5pm we started seeking out our place and found a nice area between two fields someway off the very quiet road that is hardly used.
Our landing spot in Castile y Léon happened to have a pile of hay that they boys flattened out and turned into a mattress that the tarp was laid over so we could sleep in our sleeping bags. While the boys prepared the communal flatbed, Lisa cooked using the wild thyme. It was growing everywhere. We managed to eat dinner and desert shortly after the sun went down and were in our beds to watch the night sky movie, we put ourselves to bed thinking of George Melies and Voyage dans La Lune, as we contemplated the shape and expression of the almost full moon’s face. What a fantastic way to end the day. Under the stars and an almost full moon in total silence in the middle of what could be a desert, but certainly in the middle of no where – together.
Friday 11 October
Today was a day of climbing. Although we were already at some 750 metres above sea level, by the end of the day we were at 1200 metres. Once at the top we could see the mountains that earlier in the day seemed very high. They seemed like a bump in the landscape below.
We left Santa Maria de Heurte after being stamped at the local monastery and refilling our water bottles at the local fountain. For lunch we stopped at the small local super market where we were told by a local that we had to be careful with the cold weather that was coming our way from Monday. Apparently it is going to come down to zero during the night from Monday night. Although we have the material and clothes for that, we need to start preparing for it. We had lunch in a park where Lisa took the opportunity to wash the dirty dishes from last night’s dinner.
With cramps, period pain, up hills and head wind. It was a difficult day. Although there were hopes that we would be able to sleep under the stars again tonight, that all changed and a shower was needed. The constant wind was unbearably fatiguing. The landscape although was incredible. Red, green, dry, quiet, giving, cavernous.
We ended up stopping for a snack in Sagides earlier than expected because we just didn’t have it in us. The wind the uphills just drained every last bit of energy left. We ate everything we had left. Bread, chocolate, sandwich, tuna and left over dinner from last night. And we helped ourselves to the fallen walnuts on the roadside and in the grass. Delicious. We finished the day with a 6km descent into Medinaceli where we were able to find accomodation for the night. It seems to be a constant negotiation with accomodation. The first place we tried, the woman took one look at us from her window above and through the camera at the door and decided we could go look elsewhere. We eventually found accommodation at a service station come restaurant/bar and made another of those camp site dinners indoors. Despite trying to get to bed early, it seems impossible. The boys were all in bed by 10pm. With newly rearranged bags ready for the cold front.
Saturday 12 October
We packed our bags and within the hour were back on our bikes for the first steep ascent to the old town of Medinaceli. A charismatic ancient city founded by the Romans that only thrives today thanks to tourism. It’s ancient Roman arch, mosaic floor, medieval fridge, etc. On our way out of the alcala (a word we learnt today meaning citadel in Arab), one woman came up to us and said she saw us yesterday in Arcos de Jalon. Another woman wished us buen Camiño (we have been on the Camiño Del Cid since we left Zaragosa).
We left and started making our way to Sigüenza. The wonderful thing there is about riding in these places is the sense of freedom because there are hardly any cars, the eagles soaring overhead and the almost silence.
We went on to Sigüenza, Castile La Mancha, where there was a great deal of activity given the national day celebrations. It mainly consisted of people eating and drinking although we did see two large tourist groups. The whole of Europe, irrespective of where you go, seems to be swarming with tourists. A playground for adults.
We got to the supermarket we were hoping would be open but it was closed which meant that we spent the next hour reconsidering our next moves because tomorrow being Sunday, all shops are also closed. After finding a small patisserie and a Chinese operated corner store for some reliable canned vegetables and rice, we decided we had enough to ride out, do another round of wild camping which is so great here in Spain, and get some croissants for tomorrow morning before we head to the station.
The climb out of Sigüenza was an unforgiving, end of the day, the constant wind and a good 8% climb for at least 5kms. We rode until we started to get close to the national park located on the left. We veered to the right, down a dirt track and there found home for the night. A beautiful spot surrounded by mountains.
We were right up high on the mountain top snuggled in amongst a few shrubs and one somewhat larger tree. Like most places in Europe, although you’re in these natural places you can still hear the cars on the roads and aeroplanes. We were all somewhat sad because we realised that this would be one of our last camping moments in the wild in the northern part of Spain. If we get to do this again it won’t be until Granada.
Sunday 13 October
What a stressful morning. The stress started in the very early hours of the night when we were woken up by a very strange wind that came in waves, like someone was dishing it out of their hands. We then realised that there was lightning on the horizon. Xavier got out to put some extra pegs in for the tent to resist the wind better but then started to panic about the friction being created by the wind and the tarp and that we could attract the lightning given the exposed terrain. We decided that the bikes were too close to the tent so we got out again in the howling, lashing wind and moved the bikes, we checked where the lightning was and given the direction of the wind, we realised we were right in its path. Lisa gathered the aluminium plates that we ate out of for dinner which she had left out in the open in case there might be some rain and put them under a bush in the hope that they wouldn’t attract the lightning when it came over. As we were rushing back to the tent, it started raining. We got into the tent and felt relief that there was rain to unload the energy that could have been stored in our tent. We lied awake for another half an hour listening and watching the lightning and were so very relieved when we saw that the lightning was further away than what we thought. We were finally able to sleep to the sound of the rain.
We were awake however before sunrise to make sure that we would be able to catch they train from Jadraque, which was a 30km ride from where we were, to the city of Alcala de Henares. Waking up before sunrise isn’t too difficult here however because the sun only shows itself after 8:30am. Despite waking up early, we still only managed to leave at 9:20am and then had to pedal intensely for an hour and a half to make sure we would be able to get to the station in time, especially given that we had a 100 metre climb over 6 kilometres to do just before reaching the town of Jadraqué.
About 3kms out of the town, a black car stopped ahead. The driver got out to flag us down. He wanted us to know that there was a road block ahead because there were lots of ‘toros’ and that if we wanted to get by them, all we had to do was just ride as fast as possible as a group! Sure no sweat! Lisa had flash backs to when she was in Toledo in her early twenties and found herself surrounded by black bulls while wearing a red wind jacket! There was nothing she could do back then except to continue walking slowly and calmly and praying to the gods that she wouldn’t upset any of them and they would just keep chewing grass. The only upside this time around was that we were all on bikes and on a road. We all took a deep breathe. Arsène started his nervous mutterings which scared his brothers so we had to insist that he just shut up. Riding down we saw the ‘Guardia civil’ blocking a road and then as we got into the town a few more things started to fall into place. The biggest give away was the poster advertising the bullfight at 5pm. That also explained the ‘bush bashing’ vibe we got with all these cars and jeeps that looked like they had been battered by bulls on several occasions, all heading out to the closed road. There was a clear sense of adrenalin pumping through the veins of the predominately younger male population while the elderly men and women were all in the bakery doing their shopping for the day as did we, which is where we saw the poster. Eventually we made our way to the station and caught the train to Alcala de Henares.
Little did we know but we arrived on the day of the biggest festival in town. The entire town was turned into a fiesta with food, drinks, performances, stalls, demonstrations, everything. We stuck around for a little and finally got to buy the boys the bum bags they had been dreaming of for a while. We visited the historic sites of the old town, which is a UNESCO world heritage site, before heading back to the hotel we booked. We each enjoyed a nice shower, a simple dinner of cheese, Jamon, chorizo, paté, fruit and ice cream in the local park that was lined with pine trees that reminded us so much of Rome, before a good night’s sleep. The boys collected pine cones to mine nuts out of. So wonderful to be able to feed yourself off the street. A sentiment no doubt shared by the man with the hessian bag which he was filling with pine cones.
Monday 14 October
As we were having breakfast, the news showed footage of protests that have broken out in Barcelona because of the Supreme Court of Spain’s decision to sentence nine of the Catalan Independence leaders. We thought of Marc and the beautiful lights in heaven that Léon saw on El Bruc.
We left Alcala de Henares this birthplace of Cervantes and made our way by train into Madrid which we decided was too dangerous to do on bike. Good thing we did that because we also realised that unlike Barcelona the drivers in Madrid are less tolerant of bicycles. While certainly not as bad as Sydney, there is a sense that you’re in the way and that because you don’t have an engine, you don’t have a right to travel. It is a marked psychological change from Barcelona where people simply accepted that bikes are as valid a mode of transport as any other and if there is room for others there is also room for bikes. If the Italians can do it, anyone can do it. And, the Italians like the Catalonians do it really well. Madrid seems so much more conservative and ‘old’ than Barcelona.
After having to negotiate the frustration of several taxi drivers and others we made it to the parochial of San Sebastián where Lisa went in to get our Santiago de Compostela passports stamped and signed. A conversation was started and Lisa explained our trip so far to the priest. In return the priest asked Lisa to pray for him on arrival to Santiago de Compostela which Lisa promised to do. Along with lighting the candle from the priest in Ulm, this will also be done. Xavier was right – this is like an endurance performance piece carrying the wishes of others to our final destination.
We made our way to the hotel via some sights of significance and then had to deal with another very difficult relational moment between children and parents. Lisa was absolutely exhausted. Xavier had the patience and energy to explain what wasn’t working and why. As Xavier pointed out, one thing that we didn’t consider at all before embarking upon this trip was the human dimension. Being 24/7 together. Having academic expectations as well as dealing with the personal hormonal growth for the boys and for Lisa. The boys continue to do nothing as far as school work is concerned and resist, although we are very conscious that they are also learning an enormous amount of things, yet not meeting our expectations to try and process and contemplate the new things they are seeing. Maybe they are and we just need to relax and go with it. Xavier went to dinner with the boys and Lisa went to bed.
Tuesday 15 October
We woke up this morning in no great rush, got dressed and made our way to breakfast.
After a quick trip back to the hotel room we made our way to the Prado museum where we spent most of our day. While we find Madrid to be somewhat bland although with beautiful gardens, the Prado is exceptional on various levels. From the diversity of painters to the quality of the sculptures, If there was one criticism about the exhibition design would be the lighting. It was very difficult to appreciate the detail up close and it was only when standing in the middle of the room that you felt the lighting was balanced. Perhaps a way of keeping people at bay but there are certain paintings like the Bosche that are impossible to appreciate from a distance. Lisa was underwhelmed by the Goyas except for the black series where she had a certain malaise on entering the room but by far the strongest response was to the stoning of St Stephen with St. Paul watching helplessly in the background. The ignorant angry faces of the stoners and the angelic face of the victim pleading god to not judge them for their wrong doing was incredibly powerful. Lisa identified her rage in these faces and was at once petrified by its realisation and deeply ashamed for being able to identify with that rage and not that of the saint. The three ages of women was a reminder of where Lisa and Xavier were at. The passing of time. Spent youth and closeness to an approaching death. The widow in the windy plains confronted by her husband’s coffin. The glorious alabaster sculpture. The insight into the human soul and mystic mastery to capture Lazarus’ face coming back from death in the painterly medium was grounding. The paintings on copper so rich. There was so much. Tintoretto, the Flemish, Dürer, Velasquez. Such magic. How lucky we are to have access to such mastery.
Strolling back to the hotel, we were overcome by a moment of panic, then denial, then desperation. As we walked up the street, simultaneously chatting and looking, we all realised that none of us could see our bikes anymore. They weren’t where we left them. We all started walking faster and faster towards the hotel. We ran and swore simultaneously then all stood around the tree we know we had tied our bikes to in disbelief.
We stepped inside and the expressions on our faces immediately triggered the lady behind the counter to ask us whether we were the ones with the bikes to which we all emphatically answered “Si!”. Within a few seconds three other guys came in and we were told that someone had called the police and the police were about to take them away. Instead the two guys cut the lock of one of the bikes freeing up all the bikes and told the police they would put them in the garage. We were so very grateful for them having done that but somewhat annoyed that the person behind the counter yesterday told us that it was perfectly fine to leave them parked out the front of the hotel. As it turns out it’s actually illegal. Luckily these quick thinking guys were able to cut the lock because otherwise the police would have charged us 150 euros to recuperate each bike from god knows which depot. Somewhat gutted but deeply and greatly relieved, we went back up to the room to come down from the stress of the moment. We couldn’t imagine what it would be like to loose these bikes now that we have done over 3000kms with them and that’s only in Europe, not counting Japan and Taiwan.
In no time, we got on our bikes and went for a final spin around town to check out a few other bits and pieces. We came across the Glass Palace, Plaza Mayor, nice gardens, including a fabulous bronze sculpture of a fallen angel, concrete pilars with Goya quotes in an area obscured by trees and strewn with used condoms. Xavier appreciated the layout of Madrid but we all agreed that it lacked a great deal of charm.
We went back to the hotel, collected our dirty clothes went to the laundromat and then for a tasty but disappointingly thin dinner while a large scale protest took place outside accusing politicians of stealing peoples pensions. After some chocolate and caramel churros to satisfy the wanting, we went back to the hotel to pack our bags and get ready for the next two days which will take us to Toledo.
Yesterday we found out at the train station that we weren’t able to catch a train from Madrid to Toledo with bikes so we have to leg it. We did find out that we have to go to Aranjuez which is another 50kms from Toledo to catch the train with the bikes to Granada, so all up its a three day stint.
Wednesday 16 October
This morning we woke up and it was still dark outside even though it was 8am. We went downstairs had breakfast and then took our bags down, dressed and mounted the bikes for a 50 kms trip out of Madrid. It seemed to take ages to get out of Madrid but it was only when we had about 40kms left to Toledo did we feel like we were back on the open roads we had become used to in Spain. The drivers all of a sudden changed and became exemplary again. We’re still so amazed by these big semi trailers that go on the other side of the road to give you distance or if there is on coming traffic, they simply slow down and wait. It really is fantastically amazing and we’re so pleased that there are drivers like that in the world. It alll of a sudden becomes possible for other cities. Spain has so much to offer the rest of the world when it comes to driver courtesy for all road users including pedestrians.
Despite the wind challenging us again, we decided that we would ride to Toledo because we pretty much had a soft 30km descent meaning that we could arrive just before sunset, which we wanted to do because it was so cold today we hardly warmed up. Today was the first day that we were actually cold while riding. Just as we were leaving Madrid we had to stop and put on an extra layer. We needed leggings and a long sleeve top as well as a jumper.
The ride was smooth until after we did the shopping for dinner tonight and then found ourselves on a sandy track amongst a very old olive tree grove meaning that we had to push these heavy bikes through sand. Not easy and very slow. We eventually made it on to dirt track again and then eventually sealed road. At that point we were almost at our campground in Toledo. Next to one of the mythic rivers of Europe – the Tagus river. As we rode in we could see Toledo perched up proud on the mountain. Even from a distance it oozes so much charm. The biggest disappointment in Spain, as in Italy, has been the tonnes and tonnes of rubbish we have encountered by the roadside. Tyres, plastic bottles, aluminium cans, shoes, clothes, broken plastics, glass – everything you could possibly imagine. How did it get so bad? The state of rubbish on land and in water. Thousands of kilometres, tonnes of rubbish. Is this the peak? Will we change at this point? Leaving Madrid and going through the southern once upon a time industrialised suburbs, including Fuenlabrada which Lisa recognised as the place she stayed with Suzie when she last came to Madrid in 1996, was not a promising site. Rubbish and clothes thrown haphazardly on the streets surrounding industrial areas. It was so desolate, so trashy with the hot, quick, cheap and dirty hotel to go by the roadside, bringing down any sense of human dignity with it.
Thursday 17 October
After such a late night to bed last night we slept in and woke up with the leisurely Spanish sun although it was somewhat overcast and sprinkled during breakfast and on our way into Toledo – This mythical city where scholars translated scientific, astronomical, philosophical, medical works from classical Arab to Latin, and Hebrew. Standing in front of the Visigoth column was like standing in front of a frozen time warp. In front of an alien, difficult to understand. The sanctity of the dedicated room for El Greco’s painting, L’Enterrement du comte d’Orgaz heightened an already sentimental moment. Xavier’s mother loved this painting. Lisa noticed the stoning of St Stephan in the bottom left hand corner.
We’re starting to fatigue especially with the kids who have entered that age of ignorant resistance. They spent the whole day walking around Toledo with their eyes covered by their hoodies. Leading one another around. When asked what Toledo felt like, they just looked dumbfounded at what was to them a ridiculous question. How fabulous it would have been to be able to tell a story about what the textures felt like, explain how certain sounds rebounded of particular surfaces. How the breeze carried through certain parts, from which directions, what the buildings smelt like, what the air tasted like.
We’ve really pushed the limits of our family bond and not sure where or what it will lead to when we get back to our normal routine. So much has been said and done that can never be taken back but will forever be seared into our memories.
We had a nice lunch in a restaurant that a lady told us about as we were strolling. She must have been the mother of the restauranteur trying to get people in the centre of town to head off the beaten track a little. We were happy to oblige.
Friday 18 October
This morning we left Toledo and had a nice ride around and above Toledo where we could see just how protected the city is by water. Quickly it changed and we could have been on a film set for some dirty, dingy, drug deal or human torture semi industrial semi rural area. It went on for a few kilometres under bridges through decrepit roadways and then finally a road with bike lane which we rode for some 20 kms before we stopped for lunch in a park where we observed a group of elderly Spanish men gather and disperse chatting passionately. Then the classic moment – a wife screams out at her husband from across the road and gesticulates in a particular way that makes him rise with head hanging down and slowly makes his way over like a boy of 8 years old being told to come home by his mother. We continued our way and instead of only having 35 kms left to do, it turned into 50. Roads closed. Passages blocked by unhelpful and agro private contractors putting us out- and off track – just because they could. We eventually made it to Aranjuez where we did the shopping and headed for the campground which we were lucky to find a spot in given it’s the weekend and Halloween fever has already taken over. The temperature seems to have warmed up ever so slightly so not surprising that people are making the most of what probably feels like an Indian summer.
Grandiose estates that lay desolate. Urbanised areas that have been dealt a death blow. Outside of the big cities Spain really does feel like it is barren, vast, lonely, unloved, forgotten.
Saturday 19 October
The day started with packing up the tents to the sound of hot air balloons firing up overhead. A lazy start to the day with a slow stroll to the markets in Aranjuez before going to the train station in preparation for our longest trip so far that will take us to the south of Spain. As we were making our sandwiches outside the train station and only seated some 200 metres from our bikes we noticed two guys go up to Lisa’s bike. They started off just by looking at the bikes and baggage as many people have done. We were also waiting for them to toot the horn which again many people have done but then we noticed one guy started trying to remove the mobile phone from the lock on the handle bar. Lisa shouted out with an Italian ‘oh!’ They looked over and waving her knife Lisa said ’non toccar’. They then tried to tell us that they thought the phone was left by someone and they were going to take it inside to see if anyone forgot it. Still waving her knife Lisa said ‘Todo bien’. They went into their office. We intentionally bought the most expensive jamon today to understand the rage about Spanish prosciutto.
A few moments later and as we were eating our sandwiches on the same bench a guy shows up on his Vespa and from the moment he arrived he kept looking at us every 15 seconds. We kept eating, he kept looking. Perhaps he thought we were going to steal his Vespa or who knows what but there was a certain fear oozing from the guy that was distressing. Why so much fear? We then realised that he wasn’t the only one looking at us strangely. The people who parked their car across from us occasionally turned to look at us. It was almost worth playing a game of ‘freeze’. Xavier and Lisa then flowed into a discussion about fear and how there was a real sense that people fear a lot here. Unlike the Italians who just go for it and if it works it works and if not, at least they tried. Here, it’s almost like don’t try, don’t contemplate if its beyond a particular boundary.
We eventually made our way into the station and eventually onto the train, only to be told by a fat train controller that there were only three bikes allowed. We just ignored him and kept going because we certainly weren’t going to split in two parties over two days because there’s only one train per day. What’s more and just like in Italy, they’re happy to sell you the tickets but then not happy for you to board the train. After 5 minutes we managed to have enough room for 5 bikes and our luggage. As per usual, we took our bags off our bikes. Put the bags in the luggage area and the bikes in the bike area. There was ample room.
Arrival into quiet Alcazar de San Juan. The only action was the passing of an empty cargo train which replaced at least two or three semi trailers on the road.
We waited another two hours for our train to Córdoba and then it all went pear shaped. As the train was pulling in we were keeping an eye open for the bike symbol on the carriages. None of us saw any and the doorways didn’t seem like they were accomodating bicycles. At which point the panic kicked in. We had one guy come up and tell us it’s not possible, then another in a suit dimissingly saying no bikes on the train. Then the security guard saying we couldn’t get on the train. Lisa pulled out the tickets and started waving them saying “Yes, we were told we could go to Córdoba tonight on this very train”. With all these men pounding on Lisa saying ‘no’ and then walking away, Lisa lost it and screamed out to everyone on the platform because they had by this stage all gathered to see what was going on and holding up the train. “Does anyone speak English? Français? Italiano? Can someone please explain how we get to Córdoba tonight?” Lisa shouted out to the crowd. One lady passenger on the train then came out and was explaining that the guy who sold us the tickets got it all wrong and that we’re not allowed on this train because it’s a long distance train not a medium distance train. In the noise of the moment there was only one softly spoken cleaning lady who approached Lisa and whispered in French into her ear. She told her that there was a train departing later tonight to Jaén at 9:30pm and from Jaén we could catch another train to Córdoba and arrive at close to midnight.
Another man standing by this lady’s side said “Come with me and we will get you to Córdoba as soon as possible”. The crowd dispersed and we finally got to the ticket office where we were basically told there was a maximum of three bikes on every medium distance train, although it’s not mentioned anywhere. As we explained, we caught a train from Zaragosa to Alcala de Henares and had no issues. The woman in Zaragosa was actually even fabulously patient and generous with us telling us to take our time and then giving us some tips on tickets for the next time round because we had been ripped off. Likewise from Alacala to Madrid. He insisted there were only three bikes allowed then suggested that we split up and two of us go tonight and three of us go tomorrow. “No way José!” said Lisa. We are not splitting up the family. After going on for another 20 minutes we finally agreed that we would go at 11am tomorrow morning with three bikes as they are and the other two folded up. It took us an entire hour to understand that two bikes had to be packaged up and only a maximum of three as they are. He charged us an extra 18 euros for the trip we did from Aranjuez to Alcázar de San Juan, even though the guy we bought the tickets from his morning said there was no charge for the bikes. Such inconsistant messaging. After this drama all dealt with in Spanish because they refused to speak English and weren’t too hot on the idea of speaking any other language except Spanish ‘because we are in Spain’, we then had the next issue – where the hell were we going to sleep toinight? Just outside the train station there was a hostel. We went to it and it was totally desolate. We tried another. There was no answer to the ring on the doorbell. We tried another they were full. We got on the phone and called the others we hadn’t visited and ended up in another expensive, dirty, dodgy hotel where the bed sheets hadn’t even been changed and the empty beer bottle from the previous occupants were still lying around. We didn’t even want to have a shower. The perfect bed bug place so we all slept in our sleeping bags. That is, when we could sleep and weren’t woken up by the rowdy groups of people coming back in the early hours or the guy next door with the giggling girl. We all agreed that we preferred our tent.
We spent the rest of the evening researching our travel options given the little time we had remaining and the fairly long distances we still had to do. It was decided that we would go to Córdoba tomorrow stay there overnight at the camping ground, visit the next day then come back to Jaén for the night and the following morning we would start riding from Jaen to Granada which is going to be tough particularly on the first day because we climb from 400 to about 1200. We need to be in Granada on the evening of the 23rd because we have tickets for the Alahambra the next morning at 9am.