Puffed out…Who is ?

 

After a day of relaxing, and doing the clothes washing (no ironing!) and reading on Tuesday, I knew I’d have to do something energetic today, so, should I walk, or ride…?

I was up early, and with patches of blue sky appearing overhead I decided to ride from the campsite, up to Fuente De, the ‘end of the Road’ and a few metres higher than where I was,so shortly after 9-15 a.m. I was ready, to see if the legs still had mountains in them…  and off I went, starting at around 360 mts high,(over 1,000 ft), along the relatively quiet road towards Fuente De.

I made good initial progress, but soon the top jacket came off as it was quite warm, and already I was perspiring, before I’d even got to the real hills which were to come…

Coming into view as I travelled along the road, were the sights of the great mountains up ahead, and of course the winding road which…wound it’s way, up,round,up,round,up,up and into the distance…and as you may guess it got quite a lot hotter…phew and not even 10a.m.and my watch said it was 39C, although that was on my wrist…disappearing under pools of sweat, and I was climbing higher and higher, with very little respite between the climbs.

Many of the cars passing me were British, quite significantly so, and one coming down towards me was an old British MG Roadster open top, and we exchanged waves as I puffed up the hill !

All the villages I was passing through seemed to be still sleeping, very little moved, although there was evidence on the road of cattle having been moved early in the day…fresh excrement ! (one slip and I’m in the sxxt !)

I managed to get a couple of rest and snack stops on the way up,  but didn’t hang about –it only delayed the inevitable, you may be able to notice some ‘slight perspiration’ on me by now ! I persisted, then the glorious moment came…I could see the last of the hills and Fuente De http://www.cantur.com/teleferico.asp before me, and the cable car station, which was very busy with great crowds of tourists, all whom must have swept passed me in coaches, as I was staggering up the hills..great,what a feeling, I’d ridden up 775 metres (2452 feet !) just 150 metres less than England’s highest Peak Scafell Pike (and most won’t climb it from sea level), and deserved my ice cream from the cafe’ there, and admiring glances from many of the tourists who were puffing and panting just walking around at 1082 mts …!

Not just that, I was able to establish that the campsite, quite rural/basic, up here is open ,so having had a conversation , in any language ,apart from Spanish or English,with the warden, I said I’ll be back…which I will, next week..for a week of mountain climbs.

Then, it was time to switch the camera on, fasten the jacket…and hurtle back down the road to the camp site in Potes… reaching speeds over 40 mph, not being passed by  anyone for 5 miles, and then only just !

I got back to the campsite just after 12, having ridden 25 miles, up and down, and really enjoyed it (downhill!) – and I’ve a video of the descent to bore anyone that asks !

A quick duck under the shower, light lunch…and snooze followed, before the afternoon thunderstorms, and finally rain came in, but its still 29C…in the shade.

Now…where’s that BBQ ??