After last summers long trip to the USA we though a short trip to north Spain, the Picos and Galacia was a good idea, followed by a spell in the Duro valley near Porto.
The trip got off to a bad start just leaving St Helens, due to a large trafic jam that I could not filter through (the XJR was severely laden including side panniers due to the Ducati not being a bike to put anything on) we managed to lose each other twice on the way out. And for some reason I also managed to take 2 more wrong turns on the way to the A49.
After a long, and cold, run down the Welsh borders it was a long boring blat from Bristol to Plymouth to see my brother and then catch the ferry.
When we last visited Spain in August 2008 it was hot, so hot we had got as far as Tarragon and then turned north again. This time I was prepared, I was wearing my Hood Jeans and Buffalo Mistral jacket.
It was raining as we left the ferry.
We stopped over night in Poo, cue lots of jokes.
Next morning it was raining, again, so we scrapped plans to head up into the Picos until later and headed west. As it was late May, every where was either shut or just starting to get ready for the season. Campsites and beaches were deserted, might have been something to do with the rain.
The third morning greeted us with more rain as we headed to Santiago, nice little town that has a lot of religious people walking to it. And is proud of its annual rain fall.
As we were staying with a Couchsurfer we spent some time on the net doing weather checks. It was bad week to be in northern Spain, or anywhere north of Lisbon.
So, after three days of rain in north
Spain we decided to head south where at least it promised to be
warmer. The Algarve seemed a good bet. We canceld our next Couchsurf
near Porto, as it would have meant hanging around the north for three
days, and set off for warmer climes.
After a short spell on the toll roads to Porto we tried the IC (free stuff), tolls are *very* expensive in Portugal (and so is the petrol).
We then got shafted by an IC that became an IP with no warning and failed to collect a poorly signed ticket. That cost 20euros per bike for 5 km.
I must confess to going all "British" at the toll booth and was a touch "narky" shall we say. Had it been in France I reckon I could have sweet talked the 2 young ladies into just 1 excess charge, but it seemed "rules were rules" and it was all my fault for not spotting the (to them) obvious signs. A picture of a man who appeared to be putting in a credit card (which apparently is a ticket). I'll also add there was no booth/gantry type construct or barrier to indicate anything either.
Back on the non toll roads, following the poor signs while dodging pot holes was a pain in the arse. Also as we went down the Atlantic coast nothing looked inviting so we headed off towards Lisbon.
Another pot hole strewn town. One thing the Portugese are really bad at signing is hotels, they may give a general direction towards one , but then leave it at that. After an hour of fruitless searching we headed over the bridge and finally found one in some shithole that charged 96euros for
a double (long day, tired). The town was full of dog shit and rubbish, no one seemed to care.
The roads to Faro where somewhat better, but still places did not look clean or cared for. We stopped near Faro at a campsite in Fuetsa, cheap , but another uncared for shit covered mess. A lot of Brits inhabited the site long term and one couple leant us a table and chairs to save us sitting in the sand.
We went into Faro for the day, sorry just not impressed. No effort seems to be made (although beach was nice enough). I'd say they are a 3rd world nation trying to be 2nd world.
After three days we gave up and went back to Spain, what a very pleasant place that is in comparison.
Although it rained as far as Seville, it was at least warm rain. We wanted to go to Gibraltar, but not too close and chose to stop at a nice little place called Tarifa. 8 miles from Africa. We sat on the beach staring at the mountains.
Once we had the compulsory visit to Gibraltar out of the way and had walked up the rock, down the far side and back into town, we collected the bike and filled it with petrol. 85.5p/litre ! I remember when that was expensive.
Next day, there was only 1 thing to do. Ride into Tarifa, dump the XJR on the quay side, hop a ferry a spend the day in Morocco. What a hoot, we chose to do a tour because it was 56 euros when a standard return was 55.80. It included lunch, coach trip, tour guide, camel rides, snake charmers and a visit to the Kasbah. Well worth every penny.
Once we had passed Seville the warm weather had kicked in, so we hung around Tarifa as long as we could before heading north again through mid Spain. We headed north on some marvellous, clear well surfaced roads, via Cordoba a beautiful city that is worth a longer visit then onwards into the Sierra De Gredos. The mountain passes were stunning to see and ride. After a stop at Avila ( *not* worth a visit ) we finally headed into the Picos from the largely unused south side road which we had to ourselves.
The crossing back from Santander was a touch rough, Jean was not a happy bunny, and I was bored. We have both decided we would rather ride through France than be arsed with the long crossing again.
A trip that started badly in many ways
was rescued by reverting to out normal long haul type trip. And at
least we the sun is out now.