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!
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