A Quiet Sunday.

I awoke this morning after a somewhat restless night (thanks mainly to the plank that passes for a bed in this establishment) to find that the cloud had descend practically to my room - only the lower part of the hill outside my window was visible, the top shrouded, not in mist but thick grey stuff.

The cloud saved me any great decisions about my plans for the day - I would head south and see if migratory birds know what they are doing. But first breakfast - competing with a busload of pensioners who haven't been fed for a week (at least that was how it appeared) ensured I got the short end of a not very long stick and although I felt a bit cheated, the food I did have was not something to cause me regret for the lack of more.

Apparently birds do know what they are about, as I headed south the weather warmed and the cloud lifted until I could see real, blue sky in a south easterly direction.There was mile after mile of twisties, followed by many miles of great fast sweepers with virtually zero traffic. It is almost impossible to overstate just how great these roads are for a motorcyclist.

Initially I saw millions of olive trees, all in flower ( I pity the poor sod who suffers from a problem with olive pollen), these later disappeared and orchards of a fruit I think might have been apricot, became abundant. I stopped for refreshment by a spectacular lake/reservoir, the Embalse de Negratin where I encountered a couple of Spanish bikers. They spoke not a word of English but bikes must be a jolly good Babelfish because we seemed to understand each other very well. One of them had, only a few days before, returned from a mammoth trip to North Cape via the Baltic States Russia and Finland, returning via Scandinavia. I asked him how long his trip had taken - expecting an answer in weeks or even a month or two but he said it was done in 17 days. His phone was full of photos of his trip so he had at least stopped somewhere apart from petrol stations.

They were really nice guys and insisted on buying my drink and trying to persuade me to stop longer and ride with them for a while. I was tempted but they were headed north and so I regretfully said cheerio and continued for a little longer in a southerly direction. In a town called Baza, I weighed the benefits of making a bit of a dash for the coast or returning northwards by circumnavigating the natural park (The terms National Park and Natural Park are similar but not interchangeable - I am pretty sure they are different things - although the maps show them in a similar fashion and the posted signs and rules seem similar). The latter route won the toss, as I reckoned if it was to be a grey day  on the morrow, I would go to the coast anyway and I do so enjoy these mountain roads.

The road I took northwards was an absolute delight - it was not edged in green on my Michelin map but if I had mapped it, it would have been double edged in green for interest and beauty. It afforded views over a wild and rugged landscape and as it climbed higher ( I passed 1800 metres at one point), the temperature dropped to 8 degrees and I could see snow in a number of gullies here and there on the hillside above me. I did not totally lose the sun until mid afternoon when it deserted me and I was again riding under complete cloud cover.

Arriving back at the hotel, I found a new receptionist - a nice lad called Alberto, himself an enthusiastic  biker who was keen to show me on my map various routes I could take here and there. He did his best to persuade me to try a fantastic route off-road in the park but, as some of you know, I have ruled out that stuff these days. and as even some of the tarmac roads I have taken have been very lonely,  it was not too difficult to thank him for the notion but also to say "No thanks".

A few more pics - courtesy iPad tethering