a kid in a candy store

a dummy spit to remember

Spain is a maze of toll roads, each charging odd amounts and offering a dizzying array of payment options. To simplify the payment process, we had been taking turns to pay for all the bikes at once. When it came to Gary's turn just outside Tarifa, we all moved past the boom gate in an orderly manner - until it was Gary's bike. The boom gate stubbornly refused to move for him, and a lengthy tailback of impatient vehicles began to form behind him. Gary tried coins, notes, visa and swearing; all to no effect. As his temper mounted, the stress became evident in his voice over the intercom. Ty, James and I took this as an implied invitation to offer helpful advice and tip him completely over the edge. As Gary approached meltdown, Ty suggested that Gary move the microphone away from his face so that he could spit the dummy better. That did it, and a complete emotional breakdown ensued.

snow surprise

After falling into bed at close to 3am last night, it was a pretty slow and shaky start this morning. The alarm went off at 5:45am (our usual start time) but was beaten into submission for another hour or two.

Coffee + breakfast + coffee had us nearly ready to face the day, and we motored out in search of Granada.

An hour or so down the motorway saw us feeling peckish and we exited towards a small town off to the left. Boasting a couple of streets with rusty facades and geriatric mariachis, it lacked only tumbleweed in the main street to complete the stereotype.

A helpful petrol station attendant directed us over the road to a decrepit structure that had a single sign hanging at at precarious angle that alleged it was a bar. When we pushed through the heavy door into the dim interior we found a lovely friendly little restaurant that was nearly at capacity with customers. Surely the entire population of the town (all twenty of them) must have been inside. The vibe was great, with busy staff and welcoming smiles from nearby customers.

English was not an option in this establishment, so I simply pointed at the guy next to me and said "I'll have what he has ordered". This resulted in a generous serving of Iberico ham with fresh crunchy bread warm from the oven and a delicious provolone cheese. Topped wit cracked pepper and eaten by hand, it was absolutely delicious.

Ty and James were still deliberating the menu, when the chef popped out of the kitchen with an enormous plate of seafood paella. This is obviously the crowd favourite, but they both managed to secure a plate and it was four happy campers sitting around the table for an hour or so.

Light entertainment was provided by Gary midway through the meal, when he managed to confuse his caballeros with his senoras. Both doors were in full view of everyone in the restaurant and there was a collective bated breath as Gary paused between the doors looking from one to the other. He glanced back at our table for guidance, whereupon James said 'caballeros' - and Ty just as firmly said 'senoras'. It's fair to say that Gary learned a valuable (but embarrassing) lesson about not trusting Ty today.

The motorway to Granada traverses a smallish mountain range that had been threatening rain since lunchtime, but we were astonished to come through several passes to find ourselves amidst snow capped peaks and being pelted with small hailstones. The contrast with the sunny morning weather was extreme, so we exited the motorway to enjoy it fully. Moving first to small village road, then eventually open fields, the scenery was delightful. One of the villages had streets so narrow that the bikes barely fitted between buildings, and streams of water cascading down the steep cobblestones made for an interesting ride.

In previous blogs we have commented that Granada was one of our favourite places on the planet. Of course, we meant Granada in Nicaragua. Granada in Spain is also delightful though, with a myriad of small squares each lined with restaurants and small bars. Service is relaxed and informal, with conversations shouted across and between tables. Pasta and beer make a great combination, and a fitting end to an enjoyable day.

Tomorrow is the last 'easy' day on our trip. All things going well, we will board the ferry at Tarifa towards lunchtime and should be in Tangier, Morocco in time for dinner.

It wasn't me, I swear

Enroute to Alicante

Maintenance woes

Well, we are officially a day behind schedule after discovering a major risk on Ty's bike.

Whilst working on fixing the carburettor, he observed some very significant movement near the back wheel. The entire rear wheel was wobbling precariously and metal shavings were all over the swing arm. His rear wheel bearings had disintegrated completely and the whole assembly could have collapsed at any time.

It was a bit chilling, given that we had spent much of the day tearing through twisty mountain roads with huge potential for catastrophe.

Toll Avoidance

There is something magical about breaking camp in the pre-dawn and then riding through the mist until day breaks. The light grows from deep shadow into soft purple hues, with fields and hillsides slowly taking shape around you.

With three hundred kilometres to cover today, we broke the back before 8am and stopped for breakfast at a roadside diner. With full bellies and time to spare, we were ready for a fun diversion.

Occasionally Gary's tight fisted parsimony pays off big time. In an effort to avoid his incessant whinging about toll fees, we exited the motorway just prior to the little town of St Joan.

This led us through some of the best mountain riding I have experienced, with perfectly smooth tarmac and an endless procession of tight twisting corners hugging the mountainside. It is obviously the local biker's playground, with literally dozens of bike riders out with precisely the same intention of scraping corner after corner.