Month: May 2019

Vía Verde de la Val de Zafán

Since I started quite late, I didn’t get too far the first day. The route would be through Via Verde de la Val de Zafán, an old, deactivated railway between Alcañiz and Tortosa. It totals almost 100 km and starts with a gentle climb, though it is 15 km long. I’d do 10 before it was time to turn in for the night. The campsite was an old favorite: an olive tree grove.

The next morning I’d arrive at the Equinox tunnel, so named because at the equinoxes, there’s a time where the sun shines right through its 2.2 km. The are a bunch of scary warnings not to go inside and the official path goes around the hill. After googling a bit, it turns out the big problem is a lack of light and loose gravel i.e. a tripping hazard. I can handle that, so I went in.

The route is peppered with abandoned stations. I’m glad I was well stocked up on food and water, because it’s almost 100 km of nothing, since most of the towns are quite a bit away from their stations and almost every station is abandoned. There are only two exceptions, which have been converted to hostels. The first of those was quite weird. The door was open and there’s was a sign informing people there was a single hour for each of breakfast, lunch and dinner. No one was there and there were no cameras on the bar. I’m no thief, but anyone could clean that place up with no consequence.

At first it felt like this would be good cycling, but the scenery wouldn’t be very interesting. The main reason why it would be good cycling is simply because bikes and trains have one thing in common: their power to weight ratio sucks. That makes people plan for gentle slopes and they’re not shy about blasting mountains to get them.

Luckily, as the railway started going through river valleys, the scenery would get interesting.

Yes, I was hanging a towel out to dry.

After another long climb, there were some huge raptors flying above. I’m not sure what they were, but I still took a selfie with one.

After a while, I’d entered Catalunya, where the language turned weird and the valleys turned into canyons. It was also downhill for dozens of km, making me glad I wasn’t doing it the other way around.

As you can see, the route was filled with tunnels too. The odds of them having functioning lighting are about even, so bring your own lights, if you visit.

The route then mostly flattened, when it got to the Ebro river valley. This is the longest river that’s entirely in Spain.

Here in the flatlands, there were a bunch of silly deviations from the rail line, mostly because they’d built roads over it. Some of them involved going up and down on steep inclines. To have a rest, I took a selfie with a donkey.

And then I’d arrived at Tortosa, where it was decision time. I promised some friends in Tarragona that I’d spend a weekend, and another friend that I’d be in Geneva by the start of June. After a bit of math, I realized it wasn’t going to happen if I biked there. So I took a train to Tarragona.

Tortosa looked lovely and had the first vestiges I’ve personally seen of Catalonian “resistance”.

Sadly, I had a train to catch and no time to explore.

The trip happened without incident, except that unloading a bike plus tent plus saddlebags on a train stop is quite stressful.

That’s all for today. Thanks for reading.

Back on the lowlands

After a good night’s sleep among the olive trees, it was time for breakfast and restocking, at the nearby town of Azuara. A nice old gentleman wanted to chat and paid for breakfast after hearing I went through Cáceres, where he’s from. He also helped me find a fountain and a supermarket. Many thanks, sir!

Back on the road, I passed through the Waters river, on a village where a French gentleman likes formal wear.

The barely visible older gentleman on a bike behind the sign then struck a conversation, asking where I was headed and if I was passing by San Vicente de la Cuba. Upon seeing my confusion, he proceeded to explain that there was an old Roman dam there, which was actually the tallest in the empire for almost three hundred years and it was still in pretty decent shape. When I saw that it wasn’t too far off my route, I decided to go and he led me to where I’d need to turn off the road. I’m happy to report that, despite the rain, it was worth it.

Construction was finished in the year 84.
The best “smile” I could manage. The conditions were rather miserable.

A hill later, it was back into dirt roads and farm country.

I stepped onto that bank to take a picture and accidentally committed genocide instead, then proceeded to forget taking that picture. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Yup, there was an ant’s nest precisely where I stepped on.
The place was also full of shit. Literally. It was very non-smelly, surprisingly.

Now anyone would say that going on dirt roads with city tyres after three rainy days was a bad idea. Well, it was, but it still went better than expected. The drainage was quite good along the road, but still, just 30 meters of mud did this:

A stop for the world’s biggest bacon and cheese sandwich later, it was time for more farms.

Since dirt roads are, quite literally, a pain in the butt, I stopped for a second to get artsy with the camera.

I’m still rather delighted you can do this with a phone, now. 😁

This is not just farm country, it’s also pig farm country. All over Aragón, you could see facilities looking exactly quite this and… just be glad you can’t transmit smell over the internet.

By this time, it was my fifth day without a shower, so I was rather looking forward to reaching an actual campsite, near Alcañiz. I would reach it, but sadly not under my own power.

The bolt for the luggage rack sheared right off. Funnily enough, it was on a smooth, paved road, after hours of dirt roads.

The luggage stayed on, since the rack was held by the other three bolts. Still, I wasn’t going to put any more stress of it, so I scrambled to go on the internet and call a cab. Two local drivers on vacation and another on sick leave later, I finally called David. He’s a tough man to reach, since it’s easier to find news articles saying that he had the first electric cab in the province of Teruel than his actual phone number.

While I was waiting, it got quite cold and it started raining quite heavily. But that got me great shots anyway, so I ain’t even mad.

And then…

A DOUBLE RAINBOW! ALL THE WAY! ACROSS THE SKY! SO INTENSE!

David then took me 30km, to the campsite, while we had a conversation in Portuñol, a mix of Portuguese and Spanish. I kind of wish he’d pick one, but I was too tired to really care.

The campsite advertises itself as the closest lodging to Motorland Aragón, a series of racetracks for multiple vehicles, one of which is part of the MotoGP series. Unfortunately, that means waking up with the droning of loud motorbikes is part of the experience. Which is a bit of a shame, since this is one of the better campsites I’ve been to.

The day before got me really tired, so I relaxed until around lunchtime, while I got caught up on shows, news and general internet things.

Then I had lunch at the campsite, since the restaurant was plentiful and cheap.

There was a tuna salad before this. Honest!

All this, plus dessert, plus coffee was 11€, which is by far the cheapest food I’ve ever had in Spain.

Ok, focus! It was time to get the bike rack fixed, so I headed into town. Just outside the campsite, however, was La Estanca, quite a nice lake.

The shop was on the other side of town. When I saw the terrain, I decided to go around it, on a road along the river.

I ignored the “road closed” signs, like I usually do while I’m on a bike. This time, it was actually closed for everyone, even pedestrians. The park below had an ineffective fence. When I crossed it, looking up, I could see some machine hammering away at rocks a good 100 meters above. I crossed the fence right back and headed up into town. At least there were no saddlebags on the bike, this time.

With the bike in the shop, it was time to explore the town. First up: the 12th century castle. They turned this one into a hotel, too. Still, could be worse.

They really want to make sure you know where you are.

There was some sort of race going on and the drivers were staying there. That makes for lots of cool-looking cars, classic and otherwise.

And the cathedral:

And city hall.

What about the Spanish race, now?! I’m a bit surprised this sign survived until now.

Bike’s fixed. Back to the campsite!

The job was rather shoddily done, but I managed to make it right before I went on the bike again. The good news is: I fixed what’s wrong before putting the saddlebags on it. The new rack also looks more sturdy and the lack of spacers puts way less torque on the bolt, so I think it’ll last, this time.

The next day, I took a while leaving and… where’s my helmet? The answer was… in the shop. Since it was lunchtime already, I had to wait until 4, when the shop opened.

I went there, and then it was time to bike on an old railway. But that’s another post. See you there!