Buscando el sol: Back to Spain

Last night the Évora pousada was invaded by a coach load of ancient Americans, none of whom I asked, could remember where they had come from that morning. By dint of referring to stacks of papers they carried, they were able to tell me eventually - it was a place called Vilamoura in the far south of Portugal. They had stopped somewhere en-route… but what they did know was that tonight they were going to celebrate Henry's birthday. I forebore to ask how old Henry was but it couldn't have been a lot less than 90. And boy did they celebrate. I went to bed with the sounds of the party loud in my ears - almost as loud as the clattering of the shutters next morning as they were assailed by gusts of wind and rain. Yuk!

Fortunately the cloud soon became broken and eventually disappeared except for fluffy white bits. The temperature which had started out at 12 degrees also rose to 23 or so during my ride. The road at first was through rolling countryside covered in cork trees and these persisted after I entered Spain near Valencia de Alcántara. North of Caceres, the road passed through a huge expanse of rather flat but beautiful countryside called Los Llanos de Cáceres, which is a protected zone for birds. It somewhat reminded me of Patagonia especially with distant hills marking the horizon like the Andes did in Patagonia and a very strong wind trying to blow me sideways off the road.

The best part of the ride today was between Plasencia and where I am now (in yet another Parador in Navarredonda de Gredos). This road rose gently and ran along the lower slopes of the Sierra de Gredos, affording views over the very flat countryside to the south, to more sierras in the distance. It passed through several very pretty villages which, like the road were in beautiful condition. I suspect that reflects the money that comes in from weekenders and holiday makers from Madrid which is not too far away and also farming, for there were quite rich looking farmlands on the lower slopes. Turning north from Arenas de San Pedro, the road rose steeply (and I am now at around 1500 meters) through pine forests cut by ravines, some having rivers and one with a lovely waterfall visible from the road. Th scent of the pinewoods was strong here but intermingled with wild sage or something that I had also smelt for much of today's journey when outside the towns.

I am now ensconced in the cheapest and best placed parador yet in terms of scenery. My bedroom window looks out over pinewoods to peaks still having snow in the gullies. It is a large place, with 74 rooms built somewhat in the style of a hunting lodge. It seems quiet now but I bet it livens up at weekends.