And 23 is Carragher - 2 x 23 day rides for Jamie Carragher

Three Days in Barcelona - Reflections and Plans

2010-12-12T10:40:00.000-08:00

The Rough Side of Life

I had arrived. Six weeks after I had set out from England with a short intermission for my sons wedding. It had been a long trek and apart from three nights in a hostel, I spent the whole time living rough, including the last 5 nights without a sleeping bag.

This guy had made a decent home for himself and even managed a laundry room

I was offered the cost of a hostel in Barcelona by Neil from Madrid, but I didn't see why someone should be paying to get me out of situations I had chosen to be in. It was my test of endurance and mine to overcome. That's not to say I haven't accepted help along the way as the Brachos of Estepona will verify, but that is when there is no other alternative.

The living rough side is an eye opener for myself as homelessness is is an issue close to my heart. There were many homeless in Barcelona and there doesn't seem to be many hide holes for them. I don't know how a homeless person manages to find the will to engage with the day ahead. Creating simple routines is the only way I could do it and I had a certain amount of financial backing to help me through. I would usually be turfed out of any corner I had inhabited by six to seven in the morning and then go for a walk for half an hour before heading to a cafe for ancoffee and a toilet opportunity. Start walking again for a couple of more hours taking advantage of plazza benches just to observe life before heading to the cheapest Internet cafe to spend a couple of hours updating the blog.. Repeat two or three times in the day till mid evening and fill up with alcohol in order to sleep.

Reflections of Spain and the Ride

The one thing that struck me about Spain during this ride was the immenseness of the land and how diverse it is. I went to Alicante once and said I had been to Spain, but that is like going once to Miami and saying you had been to the States.

The changes not only in scenery and culture, but the different languages even makes this a most extraordinary land. And add to that the country of Portugal sandwiched between Spain and the Atlantic. The one thing that is common throughout all the regions I passed through is the warmth of the people. An instinct and desire to assist, which I had already experienced on my Valencia to Liverpool ride. The language I struggled with, especially in the deep south where I not only had trouble understanding but also being understood. I think that was mainly due to my problems understanding causing a lack of confidence in how I structured my sentences. Even Barcelona threw me and especially the Chiunese bar owners who couldn't decipher my cerbetha, then cerveza then cerveca until a Spanish national translated for me. I was totally confused after three days there and lost all confidence in speaking what little Spanish I knew.

The damge reflects the worse weather I encountered. Galacia and Andalucia

All in all it was one absolutely fantastic experience, although due to being stuck in a couple of places I over-ran my budget by two hundred euros. That will take some clawing back before venturing onwards, but the plan is to continue

The Plan

I was playing with the idea of continuing along the coast of the Mediterranean in the New Year and after seeing the Atlas mountains and Morrocco across the Straits of Gibralta, I was convinced.

I haven't worked out the mileage and how long it will take me on this little, but immense moped, but I am planning on two week shunts, increasing to three weeks as the weather warms up and a two month stretch in midsummer. All with a three week spell back home in between.

I intend to pick the ride up again at the end of January and do a two week skip to Genoa. I also intend decreasing the rough sleeping to an 'only when necessary'. I will be using camping facilities as well as the occasional hostel in emergencies.

The bike at the moment is parked in a street under lock and key, awaiting my return. I am hoping that safety in numbers will help it survive, as it is parked amongst a row of mopeds and scooters, with the promise from the Barcelona Reds that they would keep an eye on it. I am also scouring the web to have a spare engine at the ready in case anything fatal happens to the one I have. I think I may have found one already, but just waiting for a response from the advertiser.

The focal point of the Mediterranean ride will be for

UNICEF

The Final Stretch

2010-12-11T07:57:00.000-08:00

I was hoping to tie up with a friend in Valencia for a beer or a coffee when I left Albal. Unfortunately communications went astray and it never happened, but I stopped there anyway for a little walk around the city. A wet drizzly Sunday wasn't the best time to get a feeling for there, so after dawdling till nearly twelve I set about heading for Tarragona. I was still cold and miserable but decided to take a look at the beaches North of Valencia which were all like ghost towns so decided to set off on the N340 as fast as the bike would take me.

I was flying and then I remembered Shanklys bar Salou which I hoped to make a stop at and have a beer.

I hoped really they may have been able to sort me out with a sleeping bag for the night and a warm cardboard box, but alas they had had a bereavement and were in Liverpool.

Half way there my little fairing and headlamp dropped off it's mounting due to the vibrations loosening the mounting nuts so I had a half hour stop to replace nuts and secure everything.

I was still going to call by Shanklys for a photo shot, but the darkness came in fast and it was still damp making visibilty poor as my glasses kept misting up.
I eventually stopped at a bar in Cambrils, where at last I was treated to a succession of tapas with every drink.
I was falling off the stool by eleven, not through alcohol but just tiredness, so I left to find a shelter. I eventually found a place by some offices, but woke with the cold as usual at 2 am. I went for a walk about and at three I found a garage entrance and got myself another couple of hours.

I was awake at 5 and walking around for an hour until the bar reopened at six and I was able to get my fix of coffee and toast.

A quick visit of the beach there which looked nice, even in the gloom of the breaking dawn and then off to Salou.

I found Shanklys fairly quickly near the small beach there and took the photo I wanted and then set off for Tarragona.

Approaching Tarragona I was plagued by my chain

jumping off it's sprocket. It had been doing this for a couple of days now as the chain had stretched so much and I had adjusted the back wheel as far as it would go.

There was only one solution and that was to remove a link. That is easier said than done without the proper tools, but I bludgeoned the link off in an hour with a screw driver and a ratchet spanner.

Chain back on and into Tarragona to clean up. Like much of Spain Tarragona was closed and after a warming coffee and a tostada I set off for the final stretch to Barcelona. The beaches to the east of Tarragona were very nice and clean and I was quite impressed.

Due to the nature of the roads I decided to follow the N340 which runs about a mile from the coast and ignored the roads down to the various locations, until I reached the turn off for Vilanova.

I was glad I did because the road down passed Castell which is as the name suggests is a castle village situated next to a lovely wooded lake. On down to the front at Vilanova where I stopped and made enquiries with the Madrid Reds for info on the Barcelona reds, besides taking a couple of beers.

It was still grey and cool at this point and I wasn't hopeful of a scenic route into Barcelona. However I was proved wrong as the road out, ran along the edge of the cliffs, with only a concrete barrier between myself and the drop below

. However I was proved wrong as the road out ran along the edge of the cliffs with only a concrete barrier between myself and the drop below. The road twisted and wound it's way east and more importantly the sun had decided to show itself for this final 25 kms. I stopped to get these shots shortly before the most embarassing moment I had had on the ride.

I was riding along when I suddenly started feeling quite dizzy and disorientated. I suffer from this condition frequently and it usually finishes with a sudden drop in sugar levels in the body, that leave me totally incapable of standing up.

I felt like I was going to fall off the bike at any moment, even on the straight bits. There was absolutely nowhere I could pull in, with there being no shoulder on the side of the road and I had to continue down to Garaf. As soon as I stopped I was off the bike and searching a supermarket to buy some food and a sweet drink.

All I could find was a Domino pizza outlet and I staggered in shaking terribly. I ordered a pizza, any pizza but then my legs went totally and all I could do was to lie down on the floor. These attacks usually only last for 10 minutes, but the manager got so concerned he immediately called the medics out. I scraped myself off the floor to reassure him I would be OK but he was insistent and wouldn't let me have a pizza until I was seen to. He did let me have a bottle of Fanta though, which I drank in two seconds, which had an immediate impact and I was able to start talking coherently. Alas the medics arrived and immediately started taking blood and measuring my sugar level and blood pressure. Within minutes it was back up to normal and my Pizza duly arrived which I devoured in 5 minutes, a deep fill one at that.

God bless them at Domino. When it came for me to pay they waved the cost. I couldn't let them do that, as I thought they may think I had pulled a dramatic stunt to avoid paying. They insisted but I was more insistant and I paid although I'm not sure I paid for the drink or the full cost. I didn't care as I had paid them eleven euros to get me back running again and all I wanted to do now was enter the city of Barcelona.

It was a slow process getting through the suburbs to the west and avoid the rondas and the gaping tunnel entrance. I eventually finished up on the heights to the North West but managed to find my way back down to sealevel and pick a route in. Not without one final check from the police who pulled alongside me at traffic lights and after ascertaining that I was actually English and wasn't riding with illegal plates asked me if all was well. I nodded and off they went leaving me to ride the last couple of miles with smoke pouring from my exhaust due to overloading the mix with my two stroke oil at the last fill up.

I decided on reaching Placa de España where I would get my bearings before locating the viewing location of the match that night by the Barcelona Reds and arrived there at peak hour on a warm (at last) Barcelona evening, although more fitting would have been the Arc de Triomf

The Derbi FDX (near left) with fellow mopeds and scooters at the Pl de España

I got the directions to two pubs where the game may be watched and having arrived at Michael Collins Irish pub at the Familia de Sagrada found that the venue tonight was to be the Philharmonic at the Carre de Mallorca.

It seemed a fitting venue for the bike to reach and so off I went again racing with all the other mad scooters of Barcelona to arrive there in good time to see the game with Los Lads.

After the game I took up residence around the corner and christened this new home, which I would inhabit until I managed to get a flight out,

Hope Street

The Good, The Fantastic and The Ugly

2010-12-10T09:06:00.000-08:00

The Good

Today was going to be unbelievable for two events that came as a complete surprise.

I had decided to ride cross country to Valencia to miss the Benidorm coast line which I had travelled before and wished to avoid.

I had decided to travel across the Port de la Carasqueta, which at 1024 metres makes it higher than Mount Snowden in North Wales. I rose to this height with the bike from sea level which I think makes it the highest ascent the bike has made.

The views over Alicante where beautiful in the wintry sun of the Mediterranean.

The Fantastic

I continued weaving a path at the side of the Autovia until I came across a small village called Pobla Llarga. It was in the middle of the orange growing area and at first sight was a rural village that was closed for the Saturday afternoon.

I fancied a beer so pulled in at the only bar that appeared open. The bar was the Café Lynx which was run by José Navarro Pérez, who was a big Sinatra fan. He had Sinatra playing as I entered and we got chatting about his singing, but I realised he was about to close at four so I squeezed one more beer in before he shut the doors.

Then entered Paco who immediately started to sing along with Frank and was very good. A couple of more locals entered and Paco exited to return with some backing music for Tom Jones and......some opera songs.
He began a piece of opera which I began to record, but to my disappointment the memory ran out on the camera. All I could do was just listen with tears welling, at how beautiful it was sung. José then joined me on my side of the bar and we sang backing vocals to Paco as he delivered Tom Jones Fall in Love. It was one of those wonderful moments.

El Gran Paco

(Lack of memory spoiled a great video)

Paco continued afterwards with a fantastic dramatic piece I don't know the name of, until I finally cleared enough memory to record him singing Carmen.

Paco sings Carmen

Pepe the owner of the building had joined us and stood a round of drinks up for everyone before I eventually left with the most wonderful afternoons memories of the ride by far. The whole gang were wonderful and I will mention them all by name., Pepe, Paco, Torrentí, Salva, Ramón, Pepe Mano, y José. The whole couple of hours gave me so much joy,

The Gang

The Ugly

I was riding on cloud nine until I was brought to down to earth in one of the small towns entering the Valencia area. I stumbled into a bar for directions in a small town that I can't even remember the name of.
The bar was virtually empty and all I wanted was directions so I stayed by the bar as I took a beer and asked the barman for directions.
He wanted to send me back the way I had come in which was over a level crossing at the edge of the town. I knew that there was no other way out once across the rail line so I was confused as to what he was trying to tell me.
Two guys were sitting at a table and looked the most unlikely of bedfellows, one a young man, well dressed and fresh looking and the other a shady looking character which means nothing in these neck of the woods.

The shady guy was insistent on helping me but was actually telling me nothing except to calm down and was insistent on me joining them for a beer. I eventually decided to calm him down and joined them. He ordered me a beer just as the young man picked up his laptop and left leaving just the two of us. There was a gameof football on the radio and my companion appeared to be straining to listen so I studied my map in the meantime. He then rose swung his bag over his shoulder and offered to take me to the station. I went to the door with him and showed him that I was on a moto and didn't want the train, so off he went. No sooner had I sat down than the barman kindly mentioned that my friend had left with my bag and without paying for the beers.

I raced out and although it was quiet on the street there was absolutely no sign of him at all. I returned to the bar payed for the two beers I had had and jumped on the bike riding around the streets, in a hope he had discarded my clothes and sleeping bag and had just taken my tobacco and glass tankard I had been given by Sergio in Faro. No such luck and I even tried the police to see if anyone had handed it in, or reported it found.

I was upset and stopped for another beer and played my operatic videos off my camera, so as to remember the good part of the day and not allow this incident to spoil my day.

I left eventually when I had recieved no call from the police and managed to get to Albal via the autovia and settled down for a cold night on the tiles in just what I was wearing.

Two stretches of sleep amounting to four hours was all I managed as I woke freezing cold and need to walk around to recover the feeling in my feet. The streets were busy the whole night as the Spanish partied and fortunately that meant the bar was open at seven in the morning for coffee and cheese on toast before riding into Valencia.

It really was a day of, The Good, the Fantastic and the Ugly

Carboneras to Alicante

2010-12-08T02:19:00.000-08:00

I left Carboneras after having breakfast at the best bar there, just as the sun was rising.

I was totally unprepared for what was ahead.

The headlands were golden in the early morning sunlight and seemed to present themselves as a barrier to any fast progress.

I was still warming myself with a cigarette admiring the colours of the sky in the rising sun when it slowly dawned on me (forgive the pun) that this was going to be a challenge for the lil ole Derbi

It took a car that passed me a full five minutes to reach up there and at least 20 minutes for me

As soon as I left the town I was confronted by an enormous climb that actually turned back on itself to wind it´s way round a pointed hill which acted as a stepping stone to the top of the climb.
It was breathtaking getting up there and the road continued in the same vein.

This was big dipper bikers land.

The most scary bit was seeing that the road was supported on these concrete posts that seemed to just sit on the rock face and the road was just a concrete raft sitting on them.

It continued this way until it settled into a more gentle rolling coastline with no beaches, just the gentle cliffs and the curves in the road that made riding a joy.

It went for miles and all the while the headland of Cartagena was acting as a magnet.

The road here was totally deserted except for the occasional vhicle coming the opposite direction

The first point of call was Aguilas where I had hoped to reach the previous evening and I was so relieved I didn´t miss all this in the darkness at the end of the day.

The weather was turning colder with a sharp Northerly wind that came over the top of the hillside to my left and with my old donated basin helmet I had no relief from it.

I reached Aguilas comfortably and went for a warming cup of coffee and sat in the sun outside just to feel the warmth again.

The map showed no coastal route for mopeds so I headed out for Lorca and to pick up the N332 that would bring me into Cartagena.

The road out was a gradual incline and against the wind I was barely moving, but eventually I reached the turn off to pass along another deserted stretch of winding road that took me the 30 odd kilometers to Cartagena.

Even when I thought I had bottomed out 12 kms away it took another steep climb to pass the hills that blocked the coastal approach in for me.

I had been here once before and had difficulty finding the old town and gave up and this occasion was no different as I probed with the moped untill deciding that a night in a hostel in Alicante would be a better option.

The route from Cartagena to Alicante is really quite boring so I won´t give any detail of the ride in except, that it was a welcome relief to get there and remove all my soaked clothes and hang them out.

I like Alicante having stopped there the odd nights on route somewhere else, but the Guinness at €5 turned me off.

The heating in the hostel was no big shakes either and I decided the best way to dry clothes was to wear them so I spent an hour changing various items and walking around to speed up the process.

There was nowhere to securely park the bike either as I had my lock confiscated at the airport, so I decided to park it near the window where there was free internet access and stay up as late as possible to keep an eye on it. I lasted till three in the morning before tirednes resulted in a loss of vision and I couldn´t differentiate one letter from another on the keyboard.

I slept, almost till after check out and was rushed to pack everything and get out before the 11 deadline.
I made the decision to bypass the coast at Benidorm and head up to the hills and a direct route to Valencia.

The route I was taking, I had christened Bikers Alley, as I drove up there one Sunday a few years back and it´s just a race track for every biker in the area to test their courage and wreck there bikes.

A final look back at one of the best biking roads I can ever remember riding

Estepona - Carboneras

2010-12-07T11:24:00.000-08:00

Setting off from Estepona the rain started again, but fortunately not for long and then only a few showers.
The road was the Mediterranean highway and was by and large uninteresting, so I decided to try and find a route through the hills at the back of it. Unfortunately each lane I tried took me up a blind ally which was usually a mud slip with the previous days rain and made staying upright precarious as my back wheel kept giving way. The other amusing bit about these lanes was they highlighted a problem that had followed me throughout the ride. The dogs. The Spanish have a thing about keeping dogs but usually they are kept outside. Everywhere I stopped a dog nearby would start barking and so it went, the whole route, me kickstarting a chain reaction of howling, yapping and barking dogs all pleased to have fulfilled their function. It was no different if I was broken down and pushing the bike. Just the mere presence of a moped/scooter would have them dashing back and forth inside their pens as I tried to tip toe past without disturbing them.

Anyway back to the day. I returned back, disappointed, to the Autovia and passed through Malaga and was delighted to find the beach road that ran, yes right next to the shore line. It was a long straight and flat road that was inter-spersed by the odd roundabout but seemed to run forever. It wasn´t till I left Nierja and the darkness fell that I got the big surprise.
I was suddenly running along the heights of the headland. A twisting winding road that rose and fell and passed through tunnels in the rock as it oused out into the sea, nestling quiet resorts in the inlets below.

The cliffs overlooking Almunecar from the Web as it was dark and I had no power in my battery

I decided to run down to one as it was getting a bit scary on this top road in the darkness. I fell into one resort came out the other side and was totally disoriented as I climbed out, twisted and turned in the darkness only to be looking back where I had been and over the ridge where I couldn't get to.
I risked another sprint up above and eventually dropped down to Almunecar.
I seem to have a nose for the cheapest bar, and if it's empty it will be cheap, and tonight was no different, but first I needed to do a quick scout of the area to find a place to sleep.
Once deciding there were plenty of fresh air hostels, I was back to the bar for quite a few more, for less than a fiver and then off to my quiet little hideaway near the beach.

I picked wrong as I was woken at 1am by the police who had spotted my illegal number plate and subsequently found me behind a parapet of a closed bar. The cop was really nice and we chatted about the ride as his mate checked my passport over the radio. Relieved that I was staying no longer than a night, they wished me goodnight and left me to it.

The following day I climbed back up to the´high´way and off in the direction of Almeria. It was really strange as I came over the last hill and was confronted by the reflection of the sun on thousands of plastic greenhouses. It was difficult to differentiate the sea form the plastic as the light reflected off both.

It was tomatoe growing land and I am sure in the midst of all that was some illegal vegetation being grown.

I stopped at Roquetas de Mar for a liquid lunch and then off to Almeria. I was hoping to reach Aguilas before night but there was a headland, Cabo Gata I wanted to run around first. It was a good ride up there but the road that I thought ran around to San Jose was only a walkers route.

I thought I would be clever and ride what I thought was the path and set off over debris while dodging bolders that had come down from the hillside. It was like a Jeremy Clarkson challenge and I was regretting the attempt as I looked down the sheer drop on my left and dodged the calamities that lay in wait for me. Eventually the path petered out and I had to return bottoming out my forks and wearing out the clutch as I revved the fuck out of the bike.

Back to the road covered in sweat and with my tail between my legs, by the way I had come in.

Cabo Gata

There is a national park after San Jose and there was no indication on my map of a road across so decided to head up to Nijar and over the tops. I missed the road I wanted and finished up down by San Jose that I had avoided two hours ago.

Fortunately the boys from the black stuff were out and I got directions for a route through. It was getting dark and I was sure the road was a false dead end as there was no traffic, just a wilderness. But true to the guys word I suddenly came over headlands, past lighthouses and arrived by an enormous factory next to the town of Carboneras. I am sure they make Carbon there but that´s a guess.

The town centre was not one I liked that much, so I returned to the first bar that I saw while coming into town and had a good night there with a lovely lad who was family and kept the bar going till 11.30 even though he was opening up at 6 in the morning for the workers.
I left, but as I couldn´t find a decent hide hole I decided to just kip in the road between two delivery vans.
Up at 6am and back to the bar to see my mate for an early breakfast

The Bracho Family of Estepona

2010-12-03T11:43:00.000-08:00

I will devote the whole of this page to this wonderful family that run a moto business in Estepona.
I had stood the whole day in Gibraltar on the Monday because of the worse weather I have seen for a day.
I had checked out the hostel and sat it out in the afternoon and the evening in the bars trying to stay dry without success.
I couldn´t find a decent shelter but the rain stopped so I slept under the smallest canopy there is and woke soaked to the skin again as the rain had resumed.
After changing my currency and having a warm and dry breakfast I set off in thew pouring rain.
The route was tedious running the Autovia that runs next to the resorts along this stretch of the Med.
I had a target of Estepona for a coffee and turned off the Autovia when the problems commenced.
I couldn´t get through the gears at all and came to a stop in the middle of an Industrial estate. I saw the moto shop so pushed it up to there in case there was anything I could buy that would solve it. I started to strip the covers off to see if there was a problem with the outer mechanism but couldn´t see anything at all.
It was then that Maria Angeles and her brother Alberto came out to go for lunch. They came and spoke to me abouty the problem and they and I were convinced it was internal and nothing that we could do.
I noticed a British run body repairs and asked them if there was anywhere in the area I could store the bike as I feared I was at the end of th road as regards the ride and they agreed to store it for a month.
I went back to the bike to replace the bits and decided to have one more look. This old guy appeared from nowhere and started to ask questions. I couldn´t understand his dialect very well, but suddenly started gathering up all my stuff and transported the bike my gear and me into the workshop, where he started inspecting the mechanism. This manm turnedm out to be Maria and Albertos retired father Francisco. He agreed it was internal and then suggested we remove the engine and strip it down. If you aren´t familiar with mechanics you wont know how big a job this is.
Meanwhile Maria Angeles had brought some food for a sandwich and tried to convince me if it wasnt eaten it would go to the animals. She was so good, mechanically too and knew more about the individual components of the gearbox than myself
After 7 hours of cleaning the gearbox of a whole lot of debris, the bike was reassembled and ready for the road again. Including new oil and a top up of break fluid.
It was late and perhaps I didnt insist hard enough, but they refused any offer I made to recompense them.
I will do what I can when the ride is over, because, if it wasn´t for them I would be flying home mission failed.
I left them in the dark and headed for the centre where I enjoyed a couple of beers before getting soaked again in a leaky shelter. The following morning I was having my coffee and tosta in the cafe opposite and was telling the bar owner my story and apparently the lived only round the corner

http://www.motosbracho.com/

Ayemento- Gibraltar

2010-11-29T10:42:00.000-08:00

I was up early as the time clock had altered and had my morning caffeine fix before daylight.
I was off in the direction of Sevilla via Huelva.
It was a rather dull journey, but I was expecting problems getting into Huelva due to Autovia routes.
I was right and as I rrived at the river in front of Huelva the only access seemed to be via the autovia.
I was trying to be good and find the alternative and made the mistake of stopping a policeman for directions for an alternative route.
He took one look at the back of the bike and told me I had an illegal number plate and was not allowed to continue.
I argued with him, all in Spanish that as it was legally passed in England that automatically made it legal her.
He wasn't having it and was ready to impound the bike.
I continued arguing but ran out of luck when he asked for my papers which were sitting on the kitchen table in England.
I offered to hacve them faxed out but he insisted on the originals.
Now I don't know whether it was my powers of persuasion or whether he just realised I was aresident of England but he just suddenly changed his tone and told me I could go.
It was a scary moment and has left me very wary of getting near any police again.
I went back to the old bridge which was blocked to traffic and noticed a cycle path that everyone was using so off I went.
Half way across I was stopped by a mr Good Citizen who told me I can't ride my moto over the cycle path. I agreed and continued.
On to Sevilla and the same problems.
I turned into a rough estate before the rivers and autovia ring road and watched as a stream of moped and scooters came from the direction of the centre.
I traced their route and via a couple of bridges and tunnels emerged at the side of the centre.
It was far too busy to contemplate entering so continued out to pick up the coast again to Cadiz.
Again confronted by the autovias I stopped at a bar for directions and Jose Javier and a couple of other guys whose names escape me, I was not only treated to directions but also a burgher to boot.
They were great lads and I was off again.
I made it to Dos Cabezas de San Juan wheere it started to rain heavily.
Into a bar and later onto another on the edge of town.
I was leaving this bar to find somewhere to sleep when the manager stopped me and gave me a loaf of bread and a stick of Morzilla and chorizo sausage.
I found a sheltered place on the industrial estate and was just about to bed down when the security guards pulled up in their car.
I had a good conversation with them and they said they would check I was OK through the night.
Five minutes later they were back with another guy who said he knew a car where I could sleep and they would patrol every 45 minutes. They took me there and as I was having my final cigarette of the day they returned towing a large plastic sheet to cover the bike.
The estate cafe was open early and was very popular with the locals so after my fix and waiting for the rain to ease off I was off to Cadiz.
The rain never eased and became an absolute down pour. I was riding over the moorlands leading down to coast and was getting soaked right through.
I got to a place by the coast, stopped and squelched my way into a flooded bar, where I got my first taste of ajo. Ajo is like a humus with some bread soaked in and some veg. seved hot it's delicios. I decided to just get on with it in spite of it raining in the sea as the Spanish say and set offto Chipona. A ghost town in the winter and made Aberystwyth look like paradise.
On to Cadiz.
I arrived and rode down the long straigght main road leading to the old town.
I parked and hit a bar where I sat for most of the evening until the clothes I was wearing were dry enough to walk around in.
I took a walk around the old town and was delighted with the bars and the singing of regional anthems at some tables.

A good nights sleep and up early to escape on the autovia south to Tarif before the police day shift woke.
The road down was brilliant although cold it was gloriously sunny and hardly any cars.
I was taken completely by surprise when I came over the top of a hill and was confronted by a view of the Atlas mountains and Morocco.
It looked amazing and was the first sight of the continent of Africa.

I rode into Tarif and treated myself to a couple of large beers and a ham and cheese toastie to celbrate.
I left Tarif and then the troubles began again with the bike and the autovias.

The road was a nightmare and at times I tried to be clever and follow a cyclist to find a route only to be led behind the crash barrier of the autovia. I finally came to the conclusion it would be easier I f I just closed my eyes and rode the Autovia into Gibraltar. I quickly found a pub to watch the game and rang the president of the Gibraltar reds, but they were watching oat a pub the other side of town to me and it was too close to kick off to get there in time. I did manage to meet 4 Gibraltan reds though but alas we were suckered by Spurs

I watched the game and booked into a hostel for the night, only to wake to the worst rain I have ever seen.

I stood under an awning for two hours and still finished soaked through from the water bouncing up from the pavements.

After two hours rooted to the spot I decided, buggar this for a game of soldiers and went to the pub where I removed all my wet gear and sat there till most had dried out sufficient enough to go to Morrisons and buy myself some cheap dinner,

I finished with a couple of Spanish bars before locating the only quiet shelter I could find which proved total;ly inadequate against the next belt of rain that engulfed the rock during the night and following day.

10 Days in the Algarve

2010-11-26T01:35:00.000-08:00

The first three days were spent waiting for my flight out, to attend my sons wedding.
The next 7 were spent pushing kicking spitting and cursing as I moved the bike slowly along the coat from agos to the Spanish border.
I arrived in Faro and stayed the night waiting to collect the cylinder head before setting off to Lagos and hopefully get the bike going again.
My hostel had let me down and in the process of finding the alternative I came across the bar Copenhaga owned and run by Sergio.

Sergio was great and a lovely man, as I only asked him directions and he just jumped in his car and took me round there.

The alternative wasn't and I finished up spending a wonderful evening with the locals there watching Portugal thrash Spain. I was taken aback when Sergio came out and presented me with a glass tankard and we became good friends. I spent the night roughing it without a sleeping bag, which was in Lagos, but the following morning I had breakfast at Sergios and collected my cylinder head and left to get the bus back to Lagos

Arrived Lagos and had to hang around waiting for Walter to surface to allow me access to the bike.

I replaced the head and tried to get the bike going without success.
I replaced the condensor and had to have that soldered up by the local Renault garage who did it for free..
It still took me a whole day to get a spark going.
I set off at last on the Saturday heading for Carvoeiro to watch the match. I got it as far as Portimao where it refused to go any further. I finished up pushing it the 12 Km to Carvoeiro but amazingly arrived right on kick off.

Found Sarahs Joker bar where I was treated very well with a few cheapies.

The following day being Sunday I decided there was no point trying to get it going as I wouldn't be able to get parts, so went off to the beach and had a bath and a few hours of sun. I spent the evening at Sarahs bar but on returning to my bike someone had stolen my crash helmet.
I was concerned about sleeoping there but a stray dog had followed me to the bike and as soon as I settled down the dog lay down at my side and stayed the whole night.
The following day I moved down to the front where I stripped the bike down and made an improvised test lamp with a torch and set about testing all components. I got the bike going to rapturous applause from the waiters in the bars one of whom went home and found a spare helmet. Old but legal pudding bowl type.
Off I went again to Faro and met up the following day at Sergio's the bar owner who I had befriended when I returned to Faro.
The morning was heavy rain so I sat it out till it stopped and set off for Spain. 8 kms as far as the bike went where it broke down at Olnao. I spent the evening to discover a wire had stripped in the magneto. The following morning I took it to an auto electrrician and had a new wire soldered. No joy as I tried and so too did every Portugese moped owner to get it running. I tested everything again and then found wo problems. The points must have had a meltdown when it overheated in Sagres and had twisted and were not in line, and the wire was only connected by two thin strands of copper wire. Another night and another trip to the auto electrician. then I was off to Spain.
I arrived in Ayamonte by the short ferry trip across the river at the border and a shelter on the river side awaited me.

Maybe not a Virgen but a Saint none the less

Sines to Sagres and the Finish Line

2010-11-06T01:58:00.000-07:00

Ha'ving spent a good evening with the couple of German engineers at Angelas bar, I commenced the final stretch to Sagres on a sunny morning.
The route is a largely uninteresting stretch, except for the final 30 kms, which travels through the rolling hills of the Parque Natural of SW Portugal.
Rolling hills twisting roads, sunshine and a scarcity of cars made this stretch a bikers paradise.
The moment arrived for me, when after climbing one hill I saw the Atlantic straight ahead of me to the south and also more importantly to the west and the east.
I knew I had made it or at least the bike had.
Down to Sagres and a cheese and ham toasty and a couple of beers to celebrate before heading to the futhermost point of Cabo de Sao Vincente

The problems started again and the bike spluttered to the furthermost tip before eventually kicking into life and acting as a normal bike should behave.
Leaving Sagres to head for Lagos the bike suddenly cut out and I presumed it was the usual plug problem.
I pulled over and removed the plug.
However the engine had overheated and the plug had almost welded itself to the cylinder head and in the process of removing it I managed to remove the thread out of the head too..
I was 12 kms out from Lagos and in spite of a number of British plated cars looking at me struggling, none cared to stop to offer any assistance. Nor did any Portugese either for that matter, although they all tooted their horns, out of sympathy I guess.
There was only one thing left to do and that was to push it to Lagos.
I arrived at 8pm dripping in sweat but managed to find a resting place in the covered market area near the bus station.
I shared this area for three nights with a strange woman who I believed to be a schizophrenic with tourettes.

I asked her the first night if she was Portugese and she immediately started telling me about lizards snakes, rattazinhos and mouses, but I got the feeling she was talking about 'them', the authorities or people who were out to get her. After an hour she told me I was OK as I understood.

I was woken in this covered area in the middle of the night by her, as she shouted at imaginary people.

The following day I saw her on many occasions in the small square in the town, screaming abuse at anyone she passed.

She totally blanked me when she walked pat me for which I am grateful and having said that she didn't scream or rant at me either.

I managed to arrange somewhere to lock the bike up, which cost me 30 Euros and then find the English pub called Fools and Horses to watch the Chelsea game. There were only four of us and we were all supporting the reds. One of my fellow supporters was a scouser called Eddy who had lived there for twenty years or more. After I explained the story of the ride he immediately went and ordered me chicken nuggets and chips with a dip.

It was a good night but the weather had turned and it was back for an early night in the market area with mad Mary.

The following day I asked eddy in the pub to lend me the tools necessary to remove the cylinder head and arranged with Walter whose house the bike was located at, to get the head off before I left for Faro on the Wednesday and the flight hiome. Walter told me Tuesday was a good day so I spent the day walking around Lagos waiting for tools to arrive.

Apart from Mad Mary, theres not a lot happening at this time of the year so I finished up during one of the dry periods, having a kip on the beach.

The weather didn't hold so I finished up back at the Fools and Horses where I met a couple of German lads and proceeded to have a good night there.

I returned to the market and Mad Mary only appeared fleetingly, had a rant at noboby then disappeared.

I wonder where she spent that night as it was the windiest and wettest night I had known during the whole ride

This was Mad Mary giving one of the locals down the banks.
I use the word Mad in the context of her being angry rather than her mental state and hope that doesn't cause anyone any offence

Lisboa to Sines

2010-11-05T11:30:00.000-07:00

.I had travelled in a roundabout way to Santana and was on the way to being re-united with the coast again. The road out from Santana climbed high and you got occasional glimpses of the sea to the right. I saw the sign for Portinho and followed it down to the bottom of the headland. It was a blind alley but one I'm glad I took.

There wasn't much there except for this lovely restaurant, so after taking my pihoto I returned to the top road and in to Setubal.

At the bottom in Portinho there was a set of traffic lights to allow traffic to enter and exit without confronting each other on the narrow road at the bottom of the descent.

Setubal was just visible around the headland as was the spit of land that the ferry sailed to and avoided the longer journey around the inland lake formed behind the spit.

I soon found the ferry and was dismayed to find that it cost 6.50 euros, but to hell with the cost. It was a beautiful sunny afternoon and the sun was boucing off the water as I arrived at the terminal.

Looking back towards Portinho as we sailed across the stretch of water between Setubal and the spit of sand dunes and woods on the other side of the river Sado.

On arriving on the opposite side the bike had cooled and wouldn't start, so I had to wheel it off nad push it up the steep incline of the embarcation access road.

I got it started and it spluttered to life and rode the distance to Sines in no time.

It was getting dark and I wanted to arrive in Sines for sunset but it was pushing it.

I eventually arrived in Sines just as the sun was setting. The sky reflected on the calmness of the ocean leaving the most incredible coloured turqouise sea on the horizon.

I tried to find a vantage point on the road to get a photo, but by the time I had, the colour had gone from the sea, but I was left with the most beautiful sky I had seen.

Sines is the energy hub of Portugal and there were pipelines crisscrossing all over.

I parked in the town centre and was so hungry bought myself a tin of beans. I peeld the lid off and drank the lot in minutes. I was walking around looking for a bar when I stumbled into a black bar. It wasn't till I sat down I was aware I was the only white in there. They were looking at me with a certain amount of curiousity or suspicion, but as I re-ordered the novelty wore off and I was being greeted by new arrivals the same as them.

I had been there a couple of hours when a couple of Energy engineers from Germany entered the bar. They were familiar with the bar as they had worked there quite a lot. I heard them discussing whiskeys, so decided I would offer them the benefit of my knowledge and expertise on the subject and we finished up knocking back several glasses of Famous Grouse.

They left and as I went to follow I realised I was absolutely wrecked for the first time on this ride. I tried to walk back to the bike as I had just left it roadside with all my gear and still hadn't located a sleeping place.
That was sorted for me, when as I went to cross a carpark, I missed the three foot drop at the side and went sprawling onto the gravel, finishing up behind a parked van. I had no energy left to get up, so just curled up and went to sleep.

I woke a couple of hours later and remembered where my bike was so set off to get my sleeping bag and find somewhere a bit more 'private'. I did manage to locate a small back alley that ran behind the shops where there were a couple of houses, so I nestled myself up against somebodys house and fell sound asleep.

I woke the next morning without any rude awakenings from the locals, got myself a coffee and set off for Sagres

Esposende via Oporto to Lisboa

2010-11-03T11:26:00.000-07:00

I left Esposende on another glorious sunny day. Riding past beaches where the waves pounded the shore line and eventually arrived at Oporto. I would have liked to stop here for a few days and explore the city. It looks very interesting with it's cobbled streets and interesting buildings, but the deadline for departure to England for the wedding was more important.

Again signs were in short supply and finding a route out over the only bridge allowed for my moped proved difficult but after following my nose and the suns position fell onto the bridge that would take me south.

The other side was equally difficult as the motorway is the priority for the route signs and it took me some while to find a route through the connurbations to the south of the river and arrive atEspinho.

It was a baking hot day and as I pulled up I realised I was leaking oil from a hole in the clutch cover due to the kick start bolt wearing a hole through the casing. It was the difficulty changing gears that aleted me to it and once more the plastic padding came to the rescue.

A couple of beers there and I was back on the road south following the coast an the rail line to Aveiro. There are two spits of land to the west of Aveirto which look unconnected so I had to start coming inland to pass through Aveiro, however after crossing the river there I found myself heading up a blind alley and finished up at the Northen most point of the southern spit of land with no way out except to return and pick the route up again south away from the beach.

My intended destination for a stop was Figueira de Foz, whiere I arrived at the end of the afternoon, but arriving there got bad feelings about the place. I stopped to quench my thirst and as per usual the bike wouldn't start again. I was parked on the pavement fixing it when an old guy about 80 in a uniform approached asking me for money for parking. He had a badge saying he was the port parking officer and yet we wen't in the port. He pursued me until I gave in and gave him 60 cents in change, which didn't satisfy him, even thouhg it went into his back pocket. He kept on harping about a Euro and chasing other motorists who were stopping to go to the restaurants near the bar. It wasn't just him as while I was fixing the bike I thought this guy had broken into a parked car and was trying to hotwire it. I watched him fiddling under the dashboard and then realised it was a taxi and it was his cab. All perfectly humorous and innocent events but I decided I wasn't happy and would prefer a smaller village for sleeping so headed off to Praia de Vierra.
Leaving Figueira de Foz I missed the bridge that I was permitted to travel over and finished up on the motorway. A car blasted his horn at me within 50 yards and I was ignoring him but he persisted and having got me to stop told me I had lost my trainers off the back of the bike.
I had them under the luggage netting to dry out after the rain in Galicia. I decided it wasn't worth riding back the wrong way on the hard shoulder and continued on the motorway, cross the river and exit the first junction.
I then managed to spend two hours riding around in the dark in a war zone in the sandhillish area to the south.
I took the wrong turn to the coast and finished up wandering around lanes in the pitch black. These lanes kept coming to crossroads which I would guess at and follow the lightest shade of dark in the sky which was the west. I just kept coming round in circles and then suddenly I was deafened as three or four bombers flew low level right above me.
I was wandering around a military air base and these bombers were practising night flights and either the same 4-5 planes were taking off and landing again or there were at least 16 planes that flew directly above me.
It wasn't until I returned to the main road by chance and then found the right way into Vierra that I came across signs to the base whick re-assured me that World War Three hadnt kicked off while I had been away.
Vieira was so small with only a couple of bars and very little in the way of shelter for sleeping. I stopped nonetheless and deposited myself in the one bar that was open. I was so tired tonight that I left there at 11 and just curled up under the trees on a bench in the square and spent the night there.

The following morning, I was back in the bar for my three cups of 60 cent coffee, before chasing the bike round the back alleys to start the bike.Once started I went down to the praia and watched the waves pounding the shore before leaving for Nazare further down the coast. I was low on fuel and was getting a little concerned as the road cut its way through the Parque Natural of the area. The parque is a whole stretch of pine woods and sandhills a bit like Freshfiel Nature Reseve but seems endless, and the road just disappears into the vanishing point of perspectivity. This is an excellent area for anyone who wants to cycle for a couple of weeks as the two lane cycle path runs the whole length of the road and is separated from it by a verge.

I arrived in Nazare. A pleasant small resort with a sweeping beach with a couple of headlands at each end. At one end is a venicular tram up to the top of the cliff where I imagine one can walk out to the point of the cliffs.
Walking was not on my agenda as today was designated a bath day, so off to the beach with my bag and down to the edge where the waves still had enough force to make me rethink about swimming and settle for a stand up bath.
Change of clothes and back for my first sandwich of the ride nad a couple of cups of wonderful cheap coffee.

The next port of call was the beach of Sao Martinho do Porto, a lovely quiet beach that is lagoon like with a narrow entrance that calms the ocean in to a pleasant and safe looking beach for swimming, although I was not in the mood for another bath so soon.

I followed the road on over the headland to Foz do Arehlo before cutting back in to Caldhas da Raihna. situated east of a quiet inlet with what appears to be shallow beaches.

For a small town, Caldhas da Raihna was quite busy and there were roadworks that made escaping difficult.

Once done I passed by the walled town of Olbidos.I would have stopped here and had a look around, but my camera battery was dead and I would have been very frustrated not to record the visit. I decided to continue on to the coast, so I worked my way back to the coast at Lourinha, having missed the turning to Peniche.

I found a bar in the early afternoon sun that was packed by locals most of whom were there with their own motos. One stood out a Zundapp 50cc so I stopped to look and share a drink with them.

They were very welcoming and after a couple of beers I agreed a price of 200 euros for the Zundapp which I will return in February to collect.

Off down to to Ericeira for the night

The road followed over the headlands which concealed small beaches inlaid into the steep cliff faces. It certainly is a stunning coastline and the jewel for me was Ericeira, where I arrived early evening in time to charge my phone and camera at a cafe on the cliff top overlooking the harbour and the setting sun.

This was beach immediately below my bedroom at Ericeira. The bedroom was a small paved square in the open overlooking the harbour and the beach, where I imagine people sit and chat during the day. The cafe where I sat and enjoyed a couple of beers and watched the setting sun while my phone charged away, was just to the left.

I found a bar that put Liverpool v Napoli on for me and there was at least one other semi Liverpool fan who was also a Benfica supporter for the other half.

It was a bad first half brightened up by the second half performance of Stevie that at least had me happy as I went in search of a sleeping area.

The sunset from the cafe terrace.

The followingmorning I awoke to the sound of the ocean below me and waited for the cafe that were so helpul the night before to open. Coffees done I had the easiest of times pushing the bike down the steep road to the beach to get it started. It was also another beautiful Portugese sunny day to set off for Lisboa

I rode down the N247to Sintra where I branched off to visit Cabo Roca. It was a cool morning in the shadows of the headland of the Nacional Parque there. I finally arrived at a typical Cornish landscape and situated there was the lighthouse of Cabo Roca. It was unfortunate that I couldn't stop for more than 10 minutes anywhere due to the difficulty in starting the bike when it cooled down. I took a couple of pictures and then continued around the coast to Cascais, which seemed a pleasant but posie little resort on the mouth of the natural harbour of Lisboa. The road which is a dual carriageway and quite rare for Portugal, follows the water all the way into Lisboa and the bridge is visible for the vast majority of it.

I stopped at a vantage point to get a photo and decide if mopeds were allowed over or whether I would need to catch the ferry. I decided the ferry was the only option as the height of the bridge would have required a days ride to get across. Although it was a hot sunny day by the coast the wind was quite cool and I was riding with both coats on and still felt cold for the most part of the ride. There was really only about two hours of the day in the afternoon when it was comfortable and that was generally more than 800 yards away from the coast. It took what seemed an age to reach the ferry terminal, but I was surprised to find that the ferry was only 1.60 euros.

I thought I would include myself in a picture from the ferry to prove it was me riding

Getting off the other side at Almada I quickly started to follow the sun to get back to the coast which would take me round to Setubal. I came to Costa caprica with some lovely sand stonw cliffs and beach shack cafes and bars but no exit out South. I had to return 10 kms to get back onto the N10 for the direction of Sesimbra and then Setubal.

Santiago to Esposende via Vigo

2010-11-02T13:50:00.000-07:00

Santiago was not my type of town in respect to how I was travelling.
7pm onwards the bars were heaving with respectably dressed people with money. Not really a place for a bedraggled hobo on a moto.
However I was forced to spend some time there while I sorted out getting the bike going again after fuelling up.
I was lucky enought to finish up in a bar run by two men with a combined age of 130 years plus.
Once the bike spluttered into action I was off in a flash and heading back to the coast.
I was riding in the dark again which I had said I wouldn't do on this ride.
Worse was the fog I encountered of the sea that was clinging to the headlands to the South of Santiago.
I eventually arrived at Villagarcia and once I found a shelter was off to the bar.

A view of the bay from the bar

My shelter this night was by a playground right next to the harbour wall.
The street cleaner woke me early and after the usual half hour of pushing the bike to get it firing I was off along the coast to Vigo, via Pontevedra.

Pontevedra was a difficult place to find a way through but I eventually managed to escape the other side and hit the peninsular to the North of Vigo. The peninsular is home to some lovely beaches and views of the bay.
I have always wanted to visit Vigo since a friend told me of their time there, and it lived up to their description.
It's not a particularly posy city and it's people are very warm. I stopped for a couple of beers and was reminded of the difference in costs between town and country when I came to pay.
I left and rode around the bay on a beautiful sunny day. It reminded me of Mulranney on the West of Ireland but with heat and sun.

The southern side of the bay has some lovely beaches that I imagine are a welcome relief after a hot days work in the city. If I ever had to live in a city then Vigo would be the place.

The road wound itself around the headland and along the west facing coastline, before heading back inland to cross the river Miño that divides Spain from Portugal. This was a fantastic feeling to be taking the bike to another country and a new experience of Northern Portugal for myself

I was heading for a small resort called Esposende. Esposende is a small town on the coast lying on a river entrance that is home to a samll Marina. That is all I saw as I arrived in the dark and it took me a while to realise the street I entered was not the main town and that if I left the town and came in the far end I wiould find the shopping centre and a couple of reasonable bars. The one I settled on was cheap with a small glass of beer at 60 cents. Just across the road was a samll grocers where I went to get my daily tin of Sardines at 67 cents.
I decided not to try and start the bike after my evening in the bar and instead pushed it through the town and eventually the front where I found a covered paved area outside some shops and close to a cafe for my morning coffee.
It was dark as I walked to the Marina and couldn't see what lay beyond, but I could hear the roar of the Atlantic as wave after wave belly flopped onto the beach that lay beyonder the river in the distance. Several tiomes in the night I woke and was terrified by this monster that roared beyond the blackness.

The Ride To Santiago

2010-10-30T13:39:00.000-07:00

The weather was foul the day I left for Santiago.
I left a little late as I need tobacco and they weren't open due to a fiesta.
I rode over the heights of Galicia and eventually the rain stopped enough to enjoy the ride.
I arrived in Santiago and as quaint as it is with it's narrow cobbled streets I was not impressed with the touristic side of it.
However the evening it livened up but I felt out of place with my moped and tramplike appearance.
Definitely a place that you need cash for.
I again had problems stating the bike and decided to have a couple of beers at a bar.
The two guys running it had a combined age of 130 years and I somehow felt at home.
I mounted up and headed back to the coastand found a pleasant enough location at.....
I slept again under the cover of a building roof extension right near to the sea.

Three Days Of Rain in Viveiro

2010-10-28T09:23:00.000-07:00

Friday morning and it was stairods

Three days of rain was forecast so have decided to anchor up in Ceeillo next to Viviero and sort out the bike. The best bit of Cerillo is the sleeping area next to the beach. It is the pescalos social club with a covered area on two sides. For some reason my body is breaking down in sympathy with the bike.
I spent the day sorting the bike and was sure I had everything sorted. However I got distracted when putting it all together and finished up not tightening up the magneto. This resulted in breaking the key that holds it tight to the crankshaft. and damaged the slot the key sits in.
It cost me a few bob for plastic cement and a file and wet and dry sandpaper.
After reassembling the problem persisted and in the end I had to cement the magneto cover to the shaft. The bike proved impossible to start but some local kid said he could get it going.
His name was Santi and I was tired of the trouble so left him to it.
It was too late for him and he agreed to return the next day to continue. He knew what he was doing, as I watched him go over the same checks I had done over and over
The weather had really turned bad so I was in no rush and the following day he eventually returned and after much trying he succeeded. Ilater discovered he had reduced the plug gap to an unworkable gap in my mind. The reason it worked was as the plug got hot the gap increased. Later in the ride I think I discovered why the plug was getting so hot and hopefully when I return for part two I will have resolved the problem once and for all.
Later in the evening I had the local kids and those visiting from A Coruña to give a rendering of 'We all dream of a tem of Carraghers. It's a shame the light wasn't good, but at least it shows they tried

They, Santi, Manuel, Jose, Jesus, Carlo, Raquel, Bethlehem Andea(no, not really but that stuck) the rest I'll remember tomorrow. Went to the pub later and some of them turned up with some hot chestnuts and water and searched for me in the pub. It brought tears to my eyes. God bless them.
I was set to leave the next morning, but having lost 3 days decided to skip the coast line and head direct to Santiago.
I was hoping to see a few of my 'friends'but it was a fiesta there and there wasn't many people about.
I asked Santi to come down as I wanted to give him some cash for getting me underway, but I didn't have enough to give him what I wanted. I gave him 10 euros and got his address and will send him another ten as soon as I am sorted.
They really were a great set of kids and would be good to see them in future years when they are adults and travelling themselves.

Ribadeo to Viveiro at a Push

2010-10-27T09:20:00.000-07:00

Across the river from Ribadeo

The morning I woke in Ribadeo was a good feeling evrything had been going well and now I just had to get to Viveiro and be back on schedule. I went for coffee and then headed down to an internet cafe.
I got back to the bike and set off. The grey skies had melted and a strong sun was already in a clear blue sky.
I only rode for 4 kms when the bike began to struggle. I pulled in and got it running but it was poor. I tried to keep it going for another 4 kms until it wouldn't ride no more.
I pushed it to a junction just south of Foz where I was directed to a bike repairers where I bought a new plug cap and a couple of new plugs. It was part breakers and part repairs and I made a half hearted enquiry as to a new engine, but alas he didn't have any.

The bike responded to the new input so off I raced to reached Viveiro.

I travelled over the headlands and eventually arrived at the top of a headland where they were clearing trees, I presumed for the Autovia extension. The one thing it did give me was an unobstructed view over the estuary at Viveiro.

Unfortunately stopping for a picture was a bad decision as the bike only travelled a few yards before cutting out. I was left on a main route with no engine and as my lights are direct, I was invisible in the rapidly fading light.

There was only one thing to do and let the engine turn over without firing till I reached the bottom of the headland.

I stopped where I could and changed the now fouled up plug so I could ride into the town. I mistook the lights to my right as those of Viveiro but they were in fact Casanova.
Now I spent three days there not knowing whether it was called Casanova or Cerillo as the buildings signs suggested.
I still don't know to this day, but I will continue to call it Cerillo.

I arrived in front of a small beach near the port and it was warm enough for people to be sitting out chatting. I got directions to a cash point which was not operational, so had to set off for Viveiro and return to the beach where I had spotted a five star sleeping place with a bar within 20 meters.
It was also a good place to anchor up and deal with the bike as there was good cover and there was rain expected over the weekend.

The building houses the Sociedad de Pescalos (society of fishermen) Some of who I got to know over the next few days.

They told me of their trawler trips to Outer Hebrides and West and North of Ireland.

They were really nice and friendly and came by often to see how I was getting on with the bike.

The following morning the weather turned, but with the bar just across the road there was always a warm place to sit and enjoy the football, even though it was La Liga.

The area I had inhabited was also the smoking and drinking area of the kids in the area and I soon got friendly with them. They were really nice and included visiting kids from A Coruña who were staying at their Grandparents. I also got friendly with a Spanish/French guy who had lived in Switzerland for some years. He was a character who nearly blew my eardrums out when he spoke and begged more than I did. The guy offered to let me stay at his but I preferred this bedroom by the beach.

Stopping some nights in the Hotel CaliViveiro

Picos de Europa and Near Death Experience

2010-10-26T09:55:00.000-07:00

What a great day. Sunshine and 22 degrees, but I was changing plugs too often for my liking.
I had to skip Llanes because the signs were too vague to find the old road. It was the best thing I could have done, as I finished up on the N311 riding through the top half of the Picos de Europa.
The scenery is quite dramatic and stunning. Anyone who likes motorbikes should come here for a ride.
It is a cross between Switzerland, Wales and Spain and bathed in sunshine made it an absolute great diversion, although this morning down some of the deeper gorges, it was freezing fog that cliung to the mountain sides.
I eventually emerged in Gijon and found it too busy to be bothered stopping even the though the bike wanted too.
I did stop briefly to get two tins of Sardines as I hadn´t eaten since the ferry.
The back road to Aviles was easy but again I wasn´t too keen on Aviles so continued on to Soto de Bargo.
The back road came to an abrupt end only 1 km away.
The guy in the cafe told me it was because the road had subsided down into the valley but I would be ok if I squeezed theough the barrier. Keep to the left and I thought he said then keep right at the cross roads.
It was pitch black and having negotiated the 2 yards of remaining road on the left side I headed off pretty quickly. My headlight unfortunately was pointing upwards and I decided in time to push it down to see where I was going. A good move because the cross roads was in fact a whole section of road that was 10 feet lower than it should have been. I stopped in time and found the only passable bit which was on the right of the road. Must learn more Spanish.
The strangest thing then occurred.
The bike stalled and I was off the bike trying to restart it when two wild boar emerged out of the darkness and passed by me only two meters away. It was really scary and I couldn't get back on the bike quick enough.
.I arrived in Soto de Bargo and could quite easily have missed it as it was so small. There was only one bar and that was pretty crowded as Real were playing and was on the TV. I was tired but managed to see out the evening if only for the free tapas that was being shoved under my nose every five minutes. Just across the road was the only accomodation suitable for me. A bus shelter whos back was facing the cold wind of that night. I slept well even though the bench was barely eighteen inches wide. The beauty of finding a shelter near the bar you drink in is that it is generally open the following morning for coffee.
I left after coffee and struggled the bike out of the village/town.
After only a couple of miles it stopped and I struggled to get it going again. It was running so bad I decided to drop down to a picturesque harbour called Cudillero. A bad mistake as it was nestled quite deep in the headland and if I couldn't get the bike running properly there was no way out except up a 1 in 7 hill to the top of the headland.
I reset the timing hoping that was the problem and though it didn't cure the problem it did give me a momentum to climb back to the main road. Then it ran out of fuel, but fortunately only 1 mile away from a service station.
I fuelled up and bought two more spark plugs which seemed to improve the running so off I went, looking for a beach to take a bath in.

I found one just a short distance away and was deserted, so in I
went naked for a good scrub.

　　
The sand on these beaches is very fine and almost like a dust and it was quite strange walking on as your feet tend to sink in a couple of inches.
This beach was Riego Arriba near San Pedro..
The road leading down to it is in a deep valley underneath the motorway.
The motorway or autovia runs across the headlands and is supported on stilts as it spans the valleys

The flyover at San Pedro
It really is a stunning piece of engineering but one can't help wondering if it had been better to tunnel and leave short stretches exposed in the ravines.

After changing I followed the old road that snakes it's way under these flyovers and approached the point where not only was the ride in danger but so too my life.
No exaggeration, I cheated death by 4 inches.
I was doing the back road to Robideo.
It runs through all the valleys of this rugged coastline.
It is for most of the time empty as the motorway skips across all the tops on enormously high flyovers.
I was heading down into a hairpin at the at the back edge of a ravine which is basically a bridge with a crash barrier edging it.
The sign said I had the right of way so I took a good line onto the bridge which was quite narrow.
Hoping to keep my momentum for the uphill bit after the bridge, I was already for sweeping round the right hander when I saw an enormous dump wagon thundering into the bridge. He took the corner with about 6 inches between his back wheel and the barrier on my side leaving me to break as hard as I could to avoid going under his back wheel.The front wheel of the bike hit the wet leaves at the side and skidded.
I eventually stopped with my front wheel under the barrier only 4 inches from a 100 foot drop. If I hadnt of stopped I would have gone over the barrier following the bike as that went under the barrier.
Give the wagon driver his due he eventually stopped on the other side and checked that I had survived. Thumbs up to him and a wave back and off we both went.
I wonder, if I had gone over the side, would he have reported it.
I think I would have just carried on, as I dont think I would have ever been found, for him to face the consequences.
Although that was a close call, the road was one of the best riding roads I have travelled on for a long time.
I followed this route until I eventually arrived in Ribadeo where i landed on a bar with an attached bedroom under the arches

The Beginning. Plymouth to San Vincente D L Barquera

2010-10-25T04:28:00.000-07:00

I arrived at Torquay from Leo another red supporter who lives in Bournemouth. The bike had been left at Garys for a couple of days and after a sandwich I set off in the dark for Dartmouth and an overnight stop.
Before I left I tried to tax the bike but couldn't due to DVLA not recognising the registration or the document number. I knew I would get stopped by the police for no tax but had no option but to continue. The bike was already playing up and it seemed to take forever to get the short distance to the small ferry across into Dartmouth. I was in Dartmouth last year on another ride and knew there was a good shelter there with 24 hour toilets and free showers. 4 pints of Guinness in the pub that is the location for the filming of the Onedin Line and I settled down in my 5 star shelter, only to be woken at 1 am by the police.
Are you not bothering about Road Tax they asked. Amazingly they believed my story even though they found the bike registered to me on their computer. They were so nice they even suggested I slept in the shower area as it was a cold night.
Up early to a blue sky, but yet again I broke down after fuelling up. The problems with a two stroke, with the oil in the petrol, is it seems to sink to the bottom of the tank and straight to the carb. I stripped the carb down and was off and even made it to Plymouth for 11 am for a 4.30 sailing.
It wasn´t long before I was joined by the big boys on their 1000 cc bikes. All of whom seemed quite happy talking to themselves and left me alone.

Leaving Plymouth on a beautiful day for a gentle cruise to Santander

The ferry to Santander was fantastic but sleeping rough was more comfortable than the cabin I had to have and was 50 quid cheaper. However the Bay of Biscay was astonishingly flat and a full moon out made it feel like I was on a fortnights cruise.

There was entertainment too from an Elvis tribute singer and I have to say he sounded pretty authentic , but physically only his waistline was a likeness.

There are only so many times you can walk around the deck of the ferry and I was trying to avoid spending any reserve cash on food as I was expecting to break down often on the route.

It was particurlarly agony the next morning watching everyone tuck into their full English but I soon spotted a few hash browns left overs which I sidled up to and devoured with gusto in case the people came back to the table.

Land was soon in sight and time was spent smoking the Gaulloise that I
bought at the bar and trading them for roll ups off other passengers.

Approaching Santander with the Picos de Europa just visible

It was exciting seeing Spain and knowing the ride was about to begin in earnest. I spent lots of time talking to other people who were making a dash across Spain to their holiday homes or people returning to their native home such as the lad from Lisbon who was returning to his fathers after living in Birmingham for a time.
There were other bikers too just off for a lst ride of the year around the North of Spain.
It took an eternity to arrive at Santander harbour and after returning to the bike we were the last to disembark due to being in the bowels of the boat.
But at last I had got the Derbi back on home land for a great adventure and was so excited at what may be laying in wait for us.
I eventually left the ferry at 13.30 and after stopping for tobacco in Santander and the inevitable plug failures and replacing I was underway.

The day was sunny and warm and it took a while to get out of Santander and onto the coast road. I mentioned the problems of finding the lanes rather than the motorways and today was no different. But i succeeded in the end and finished on a traffic free route along the coast towards Llanes

I was hoping to make Llanes but eventually settled for San Vincente D L Barquera, a small fishing port with a spectacular backdrop of the Picos de Europa.

My first consideration before anything else is to find an area where I can sleep for the night. Tonight was not going to be an exception no matter how spectacular the scenery in the background appeared.

.

You have to agree though that this is one great bedroom location. I woke here with two dogs barking at me, from a distance I add, but they were harmless and were just doing their territorial exploration for the day.

The only disadvantage to this location was that the bar was too far away and so too the toilets that I needed.

A view of the Picos de Europa from the bridge by the quay

This view I photographed the evening before and is so beautiful. It was not the original destination or route for my second days ride but as Llanes proved difficult to reach with the motorway signs I decided to venture into the mountains.

Strikers in France Causes a Delay to the Ride

2010-10-22T00:16:00.001-07:00

Due to industrial action in France the ride schedule was delayed and now begins at Santander 25 th October

The first 23 days From San Sebastian to Portimao in the Algarve

Starting from Santander 25th October

I will be trying to keep to this schedule and reach Portimao for the 10th November
But may finish the first part in Lisbon

25/10 Santander - Llanes 100 km
26/10 LLanes -Aviles 130
27/10 Aviles - Viviero 126
28/10 Viveiro - Foz 152
29/10 Foz - Pontedeume 149
30/10 Pontedeume -Ponteres 84
1/11 Ponteres - Ribeira 156
2/11 Ribeira- Vigo 50

To be updated during the ride
2/11-10/11 Vigo a Lisboa 445 km
Break for Wedding at home

14/11 Lisbon - Portimao

The Appealmobile. God Bless Her

2010-10-18T00:50:00.000-07:00

Deflated on Friday

2010-10-17T10:20:00.000-07:00

Needing a van to transport the bike to Plymouth for the Sunday sailing was frustrating. Not one van in the whole area for hire. I decided to run the bike to get tested in the meantime and got a deflate within 200 yards from home. That I thought would not be a problem as there is a tyre fitters half a mile away, but they didn't stock tubes.
I raced to another shop to get the tube but was too late to have it fitted, so Saturday morniung I had it fitted and set off for the MOT.
It passed with flying colours and was the centre of attention of the 'big biker' fraternity. I rushed home to renew my insurance on line and hit the next snag. On line choices of bike and model didn't include mine so have to wait till Monday morning to renew by phone.
I still have to go to Liverpool for a suit measurement for my sons wedding before I set off so am hoping to get a van Monday morning race to Liverpool and then on to Plymouth, deposit the bike down there and call back on Thursday for the sailing
At last htis looks like it is eventually getting under way.

A Day of Tension, Missed Deadlines and Will it - Won't it's

2010-10-14T16:36:00.000-07:00

Firstly Hicks and Gilett, just do one will you

How can such a little thing as a light bulb cause a two day delay in the start of the ride.

I had to order my 6 volt headlight bulb and with the wonders of technology I could see it was dispatched yesterday.
I waited in all morning and no post arrived. I was definitely in as I was glued to twitter and the court cases.
Suddenly it was 2 pm and no post.
I was in a state of zombie when I happened to go down to check on something in the garage and there was the delivery sitting there. The postman had just left it there, no card no knock.
It was too late to get to the test centre, but thought I would get everything sorted. Shock 2 came when I realised it was the wrong fitting. I managed to adapt the bulb to fit and tested it. Within seconds it had blown. I tried the one I got that causes the engine to stall and that seemed to work now. Starting to feel like the takeover one minute on the next minute off.
So to hell with it I take it to be tested tomorrow and hope for the best.
In the meantime I have to get a van and transport it to Plymouth tomorrow as thats the next departure point to Santander. It leaves on Sunday at 4 so will be able to catch the Derby in a pub before going. I also have to get measured for my sonns wedding suit in Liverpool before heading down there.
I will be leaving the bike in Torquay at a Scouser Tommys forums members house, while I return the van to Leeds and then bus it back down there. I feel I will do more miles in this process than the whole ride. Unfortunately the late departure means I will have to miss San Sebastian and run straight into the ride from Santander on the Monday to pick up the schedule.

As for mopeds and two strokes with magnetos, well....
Never leave the petrol on when parked. Try to run as much out the pipe before switching off. I believe the petrol and oil separate and make starting difficult again.
I remembered on the Ray of Hope putting the two stroke in the tank and then filling it without switching the fuel off on a couple of occasions. It resulted in me having to empty the carburettor before the engine would fire.
And always have a couple of spare plugs available.

What a Day So Far

2010-10-13T05:56:00.000-07:00

LFC win in the High Court, Miners start being pulled out safely and confirmation through trial and error that it was only the size in wattage of my headlight bulb causing problems to the running of the appealmobile.
Unfortunately like LFC and the Chilean miners the successful outcome will only be realised tomorrow when hopefully new lower wattage bulbs arrive.
Frustrating to say the least as I won't make Fridays ferry.
I still have to test it and transport it to Portsmouth before sailing, but at least there is hope on all fronts.

While it may appear I am flogging a dead horse and many people want me to get a reliable bike to do the journey, my argument is there is no challenge in that at all.
The reasoning behind all my rides is to arrive at a goal inspite of challenges that confront me.
I am certainly being challenged at this moment and thats even before starting. However as soon as I am over the Bay of Biscay the real challenge starts. I fully anticipate problems with a twenty year old moped that has seen better days. I would expect problems with any bike. Thats the nature of transport. But it is up to me to get around the circuit by hook or by crook, even if that means abandoning it or pushing it round.

Thats what life is all about no?

Anyway congratulatiuons to LFC and I won't have to worry now about administration or the haemorridging of vital transfer funds from our club.
Now come on Roy and sort the other issues out for me.

An Embarassing Day

2010-10-12T15:23:00.000-07:00

I spent all day stripping the magneto checking all the insulayion and connections over and over.
I finally came to the conclusion that the problem only kicked in when I was changing bulbs.
I think I have put a too high wattage bulb in the headlight, causing a drain on the charge of the mag system.
If that isn't the problem then it must be a short on the headlight.
The main thing that has come out of this is, that the bike runs on 6 volts and to get 6 volt bulbs I have to order them fromWemoto and they won't arrive untill Friday.
Which means a delayed start to the ride.
Just going to check ferries, but if my memory serves me right there is one on Sunday so here's hoping

4 Days and Getting Scary

2010-10-11T14:07:00.000-07:00

Like most things in my life, I get called on to deal with a lot of urgent stuff for other people that seems more important than the things I am doing. That tends to leave little time for myself and as a consequence time disappears and I am suddenly confronted by a big challenge to finalise preparations.
No different than this week and would have been fine, but there was no room for the unexpected.
Having prepared the bike for it's MOT this morning I started her up and immediately blew the rear light and the brake light. Its an old 6 volt magneto charging system that doesn't have a battery. Finding 6 volt bulbs is hard enough, but solving an unexpected problem with an antique foreign electrical system is proving quite difficult.
The one thing about the net is you can become trained in anything within an hour and I am now on my way to a diploma in auto electrical engineering, specialising at the moment in magnetos. God how I wished I'd retained all that knowledge from my physics classes back at Waterloo Grammar all thos years ago. All I need is a voltage regulator and a capacitor and all will be fine. Thats the plan but I need to set off without that so will try to get the lights through the MOT as they are and stay in the day time hours on the ride.
Hope the guarda are not reading.
So tomorrow I need to get really cracking on making this blasted thing work if only for half an hour.

7 Days to Departure

2010-10-08T15:56:00.001-07:00

Time to get down to it.

Because I was dealing with getting the appealmobile mark II back from Belgium I have been a bit slow with dealing with the ride and all it entails.
For instance I srtill need to get the mot done and it is booked in on Monday. I don't anticipate any problems with that but my main concern is still the magneto, which I have tried unsuccessfully to find anyone in the UK that renovates this type.
There is a firm in Alicante called Bradford Ignitions which specialises in my bikes magneto, and although not far from Bradford myself this guy moved to Spain 20 odd years ago. But once over there if it lets me down I'll break off and bus it there with magneto in hand and get it sorted or just buy another moped to continue.

The other aspect is the ferry. Don't book ferries till you know for sure when you are leaving. The ferry I am sailing on is the Brittany Ferries crossing to Santander from Portsmouth. I was originally hoping to go Bilbao, but unfortunately there is no sailing there at the moment.220 pounds it costs which includes 113 gbp for a cabin. You can't book a shared cabin online so I have to phone to do that and hopefully save myself 6o quid which I will spend on the boat during the 24 hour crossing.
That will mean plenty of alcohol as I just checked the weather and it doesn't look to good on Friday and Saturday in the Bay of Biscay.
On arrival in Santander I will have to ride backwards to San Sebastian to commence the ride.
I will stop in a bus shelter east of Bilbao that I stayed in on the Ray of Hope ride. That will leave me a short trip into San Sebastian on Sunday morning for a lunchtime departure. I intend to start from the prom there where I had this photo taken last year on that ride.