Port...

Another day of hairpin bends through stunning countryside. A few snakes slither into the undergrowth, and then we come across an enormous one, dead on the road. The predominant colour in the fields is the golden yellow of broom and big daisies. A few cork oaks and cherry trees interrupt the olives, and the smell of pine and rosemary fills the air. We pass our first touring cyclists! They have quite thin wheels, so we don't know how they manage with all the village cobbles. Every roundabout now is a mini-vineyard.
We are heading south again now and in the final 10 miles we drop 2000 feet, with bend after bend providing stunning views into the vineyards of the Douro valley. Only a few cars pass.



If we were fitter we would have turned around and cycled back to the top to do it all again - one of the most fabulous roads we have ever ridden. At the bottom, on a picturesque bend in the river, we stop in Pinhão (on more cobbles!) outside the hotel recommended by Lonely Planet. The lady from the bar next door spots us and waves me over. "Ha um quarto?" I try, and sure enough she has a cosy room to let, overlooking the river, for a lot less than the hotel next door advertises. Our bikes are safely stowed in the kitchen.
We have a stroll through the town, and find the metal bridge we will use tomorrow to cross the Douro, and then inspect the charming little railway station, decorated with tiled pictures of local scenes (a bit different to the Pinhoe Station in Exeter).



Dinner at the bar where we have our room is a very local affair. There is no choice, starting with a glass of port and dish of olives, a second course of pork marinated in port, with pork and bean cassoulet, followed by honey cake soaked in port, washed down with a fine bottle of the local red. We have no trouble sleeping!
We can now take a river side route all the way west, over the next two days, into Porto, and the Atlantic coast.



Miles to date:- 488

Location: Macedo to Pinhão

Round the bend...

A very old granny has been left in charge of our Miranda hotel, as it it a Sunday when her daughter has a day off. Granny only speaks Portuguese and probably the very local "Mirandes" language. She thinks we are French and tells the her daughter, this too. When we try out our Portuguese for the first time in a local bar, asking for a beer, we are brought a cup of tea. We will have to try harder.
There are the remains of a big castle that blew up in the C18 , killing 400 people!


The old houses are all cleanly white painted, with enormous exposed stone lintels over windows and carved doors. Very quaint.
We are an hour early for breakfast, as we now discover that Portugal is an hour behind Spain! A walk round the town and a coffee in an early-opening cafe fill the time.
There is no road near the Douro river now as it enters a ravine so we head north west along a road shown on the map as very wiggly and with a green edge to show it is very scenic. It is indeed breathtaking as 30 miles of hairpin bends take us up and down into deep valleys lined with olive groves. Only a hand full of cars share the sweeping views with us. In the 2 tiny villages where we stop for a cold drink and to refill our water bottles, the lady bartenders both speak French, which means we can give up our struggle with Portuguese for now. Lovely as these villages are, their cobbled streets are very uncomfortable for tired cyclists.
Most Spaniards seem to eat their evening meal after 9pm, not good for starving cyclists. In Spain, we managed well on tapas being available early evening. We are not sure what Portugal has to offer as
yet, but in our trawl of bars and cafés for early eating, we find many still allow smoking inside! Spain was like this some time ago, but has now tackled the problem, hopefully Portugal will soon follow.


Miles to date:- 425

Location:Miranda do Douro to Macedo

Into Portugal!...

Toro has a fixation with bullfighting, from the stone bulls carved onto medieval colonnades, to the live Saturday bullfight on TV screens in the tapas bars.



Apart from that it is a fabulous place, encircled by two walls, enclosing a warren of twisty streets, where ancient doors are embellished with ornate carvings and knockers, and not a tourist in sight.
Next morning there is still a head wind at first, but this disappears as we gain height into the hills alongside the Douro. Wild lavender in full flower competes with roses in the tiny fields, then it turns into a Dartmoor landscape of granite field boundaries and monolithic slabs.
The Douro has carved a deep ravine through the granite plateau, now a Natural Park. We finally sweep down to cross it on a reservoir dam, as we enter Portugal. High on the cliff in front is our first Portuguese town, Miranda do Douro.



Having just mastered rudimentary Spanish, we are now grappling with a whole new set of words, where no one speaks English! "Nâo" = no, and "Sim" = yes, is about all we can manage, but this does not prevent us booking into the best room in town, the balcony overlooking a dramatic bend in the river, with the Cathedral on a nearby bluff.



Miles to date:- 364

Location:Toro to Miranda do Doura

Towards the Douro...

Ampudia is the most attractive village of the trip to date, with the entire ancient main street colonnaded on both sides, one side with timber pillars, the other with stone.



It also has a castle and 2 fine churches. The local restauranteurs tell us the 25 C+ temperature we are enjoying is not usual. Our WS hosts (just north of Valladolid) say the same,and the forecast is similar for days to come. Our host, Hector, is away, but has arranged for his friends to meet us and take us to his house, where we can stay in his absence - so kind of them all!
Our evening stroll into the countryside takes us past large fields of young cereal crops, which are being irrigated by a complex system of channels from a stream. There are a few vineyards too, and as we head into the Douro valley tomorrow we expect to see many more in this famous Port wine area.
A fire engine rushes past to quench a fire causing a tower of smoke nearby. Our neighbour says it is probably from a cigarette. They soon have it under control.
From Valladolid we are now heading west. Everyone in Tordesillas is out in the town centre this Saturday morning to join in a flamenco festival with loud music and all the ladies dressed in their flamboyant vibrant dancing dresses. The blokes haven't made much of an effort. There are now acres of vineyards and every large building is a Bodega.
The road is straight, empty and undulating but into a scorching headwind. We even have to pedal down hill! So we call it a day at the gorgeous old town of Toro. Surrounded by a city wall it is thankfully out of the wind and the narrow twisty streets are shady. The view is amazing, across the plains below including our first view of the Douro river with a Roman bridge spanning it.



Miles to date:- 309
Identified bird count to date:- 51

Location:Palencia to Toro

Pilgrims and nightingales...

We are sticking to the canal route as it is so peaceful and picturesque, including an old aqueduct to cross a river.



A chorus of Nightingales, Golden Oriels and Cuckoos continue throughout the day. We detour off the canal occasionally, to visit ancient villages, heading for the centre churches. Osorno has a good little supermarket and 6 stork nests, with storks insitu, on their church. This is outdone by Amusco with their 11 stork medieval church. Fomista is on the Santiago de Compostella route, and we counted at least 30 pilgrims (mostly limping) pass as we ate our lunch in the shade.
The handsome cathedral city of Palencia has lots of tapas bars and free wifi, so we can blog.


Miles to date:- 214

Location:Herrera de Pisuerga to Palencia

Horses, snow and storks...

Tuesday morning, Jose kindly leads us on his bike route to work, and shows us how to get onto the Route National 611, which we follow up into the hills for 50 miles. It has been superseded by a motorway, and so is now very quiet. We gain height along a beautiful wooded valley, dotted with farms and cows jangling the bells round their necks.
By 800 metres we are approaching the town of Reinosa, surrounded by snow topped mountains, then take a small, empty, flat road for the last ten miles to the tiny farming hamlet of Abiado. Climbing a final hill, storks flap overhead and foals on the road are chased away by a billy goat protecting a kid. A local farmer drives past holding the reins of a very large horse through his side window.
Our Warm Shower hosts are Marta, Icar and beautiful baby Noa who live in a restored stone cottage at the top of the village. Chatting with 2 local school girls whom Marta is teaching English, we are surprised to find these sisters holiday each year in Nerja, (near Malaga) where we have English friends. We finish the day with a walk up the hill behind the house, under the imposing Sierra de Cordel. Icar tells us there are Wolves and Bear here!
We throw open the shutters in the morning to an idyll. Tiny fields surrounded by stone walls keep in brown cows and their tiny calfs, and a sliver of mist lies in the valley bottom under blue skies. Breakfast is a feast - home made yoghurt and bread, local honey, porridge and fruit, then we take the cycle path back to Reinosa, (past the Billy goat again). We pause in a wood to note the source of the great River Ebro, which in 2007 we followed all the way to the Med.
An easy undulating ride south follows, still on our quiet N611, never without a bird overhead, either stork, vulture, harrier or the ubiquitous red and black kites. Mike is in birding heaven.
At Alar del Rey we join the sandy track alongside the Canal de Castille for a peaceful pedal past locks, ancient stone bridges and mainly derelict lock-keepers cottages.



The campsite at Herra de Pisquera has closed, so we take a room at a very friendly Hostelry, with a balcony overlooking the river, and take advantage of the endless hot water and sunshine to wash some clothes. Even our bikes are given their own secure room. All this pampering for 36 euros.


Miles to date: 158

Location:Santander to Herrera de Pisuerga

Matador at dawn...

A dawn chorus departure Sunday morning sees us startle a deer and a bunch of bunnies as we pass over Haldon hill at 7.30. Bizarrely, a man dressed as a matador is thumbing a lift?! Eating our picnic lunch on Plymouth Hoe, we watch the Pont Aven sail into The Sound. It has taken some getting used to fully laden bikes again.
I've 2 panniers totalling 13kg and Mike the same plus a 3kg tent.
The other passengers queuing for the ferry are caravanners, and lots of middle-aged friendly motorcyclists.
Eighteen very calm hours to Santander, then time to sightsee the cathedral and city centre and take on provisions.


Then off to meet our first ever Spanish "Warm Shower" host, Jose. He collects us from in front of the Casino to guide us the short distance to his home.


Miles to date:- 48

Location:Santander