Monday, May 21, 2012
11:51 AM Arizona, 7:51 Spain
My eyes open early and it is time to pack up and head toward Santo Domingo de la Calzada. Actually I’m hoping to get further then that. My bike is locked up with that of a couple of German riders who ask me how far I’m riding today to which I answer “Who Knows!” I ask him the same question and he answers the same, then tells me he and his friend plan to ride 80 to 100 Km a day. With the freaking mountains I’m lucky to get in 50, but what the hell. It is cold as hell today and the wind is whistling down the street. I spot at a bank to get some money and pray it works, which it does. I follow the yellow arrows and of course head uphill and uphill. Therefore, I thought I was out of the mountains but it appears that I am not nor will I be for another two days. The wind is blowing like mad and I struggle against it. I give up and walk as I can do that as fast as ride. I’m passed by some of those who stayed at the Albergue last night.
The wind does not let up nor do the hills. On the downhill runs, I pass walking pilgrims who later pass me on the uphill, and there are lots of them. It seems to me that yet again I have been doing more walking then riding which is really getting old. Again I wonder where Lisa is and how she is fairing. The road goes on and so do the hills along with the wind. I’m ready to quite this and head back to England. The temperature surely is not above 50 or so, the wind blows without stop, and every so often the rain needs to remind me it is still there. There are times that riding is possible and others, especially on the uphill grade, it is not. A local fellow comes out from a side road and has the need of stop me for a little conversation. Basically to tell me I have too much stuff on my bike and I’m too old to be doing this. I smile and think to myself you got nothing better to do buddy.
I am having problems with one of my rear panniers, which keeps coming, lose and falling off the bike. It has fallen off a couple of times but today it falls and hooks into the derailleur which breaks off from the bike. This means that I can no longer ride and am in the middle of nowhere. At this point I am ready to throw the bike and all to the side of the road walk to the nearest bus/train and head home. Of course a little voice inside lets me know this will not happen. I start to walk round a corner only to find the road flooded with water. I trudge through the water my sandals and bike filing with rocks and mud. Ahead is more mud which attempts to suck the sandals off my feet and bogs down the bike. This little problem lasts for at least a mile until I can finally wash out my sandals in a puddle. Of course this is all uphill with little respite from the wind. In the middle of the mud walk it begins to rain during which I’m over taken by another cyclist. He is telling me something in Spanish which I finally figure out me wants me to move off the not mud part of the road so is friend, who is pulling a trailer, can go by. I swear that the next freaking train station I am out of these freaking mountains, rain, wind and mud. My head is telling me that either Lisa has dumped her bike and is now on the way to Madrid or walking. I have not had access to internet so I don’t know where she is or how she is.
I have been alone for most of the day with the occasional pilgrim passing me by. There is a lot of time to think, but probably not in the best of moods to follow thru on any of the plans. Three fellow pilgrims from Denmark walk with me until we reach the next town. We find arrows pointing toward an Albergue which we all hope has room for us. We are told that there is only one bed left. The three from Denmark are willing to move on to the next stop but when the inn keeper finds out I have a bike we all move on. There is a bed and breakfast for them to stay at and I opt to continue on to Santo Domingo de la Calzada. I’m lucky in that I can coast most of the way down to the town. The first Albergue is full so I try the next down the road. Upon entering, I find that one of the volunteers is from Michigan and the other is from Minorca. Looking around I see that this is one of the nicest Albergues I have stayed in so far. I ask if there is a bike shop and the volunteer from Minorca takes me there to see if my bike is fixable. The bike shop guy does all kinds of head shaking after which I’m told to come back at 7 PM. The bike shop owner says that Specialized is not a common bike in Spain so he will have to try to get another part to fit. Great this is going to cost me an arm and a leg I am thinking as we head back to the Albergue.
Back at the Albergue there is a fellow who tends people’s feet for free. He is there daily in the morning before the pilgrims leave and in the afternoon when they arrive. He is not a doctor or nurse but someone who has learned how to tend to blisters and the like. My ankle has been giving me quite a problem today so I sit and ask him if he has something to wrap it with. He makes me put my foot up which is full of he works on it a bit then tells to go clean up and come back. I’m too embarrassed to go back so I wait until he leaves before I hobble down the stairs to find a market to buy dinner. I find myself being a little boy again not wanting to face this person because I had dirty feet. I’d rather be in pain then ask for help again. How silly is that? After shower, dinner and resting a bit it is time to see if my bike can be fixed. The head shaking fellow has fixed the bike and charges me 78 euro for the work. My derailleur broke in England and the person who fixed it only charged me 30 pounds but, the bike is fixed and I will be on my way tomorrow. After studying the maps, it looks like two more days of mountains before I reach a town with a train station. Behind me are 213 Km and head are 300 of which at least are 100 are still in the mountains. My bike is getting beat up on the large stone, and rut filled trails of the Camion. I have been warned to stay off the “highways” as they are quite busy. Tomorrow I will return to riding the highways and when I reach Burgos I’ll decide whether or not to pack it in and return to England or at least France.
Buen Camino!
No comments:
Post a Comment