Sierra Nevada National Park to the coast, Spain, 2006
Thursday: Castarras...somewhere high in the Aljuparras
Had breakfast and said our goodbyes to Sandra our guide...readied the bikes and set off around 8:30am as miraculously there was nothing to fix...riding with Emilio as our guide today, he took some excellent photo's of us all (see the last twenty or so pic's in my slideshow, link below). Stopped for coffee and mid morning cakes to celebrate Mark's birthday, he is actually only 36 which is amazing for a man who doesn't look a day over 40...following the coffee and cakes we spent a day of mixed uphill road work, nice downhill single track and some technical sections with the obligatory thorn bushes and ferral dogs.
The stunning view from our apartment, taken the night before
Mark's birthday fell on the Thursday so it was coffee and cakes for breakfast...ace!
The birthday boy tackling the stairs which dropped through the village.
Looks like James isn't too keen on the local energy drink.
Mark tackling switchbacks on the way to the valley bottom. Down there it was around 40 degrees...fried again!
Me tackling the same switchbacks, but with more skill and panache of course.
In the unbearable heat there were some monster climbs today, some on singletrack lasting minutes like here, others lasting hours on public roads...the granny ring got some stick. Here Emilio embarasses us all by riding his bike to the top and then walking down and riding other peoples bikes up as well...hardcore!
There was even some hike-a-bike. Can't help but think it might be ridable now I'm a better rider but it was ridiculously sleep and loose.
Group photo outside a church and public toilet...not the same building. Theresa was about to find out her 'yellow peril' had dodgy forks...lubricant started pouring out of them shortly after this picture was taken.
After lunch we had another ridiculously steep climb for an hour or so up to the brilliantly named Mecina Bombaron where we stopped for a brew...Mark had the worst of the climb...being one of the first up he promptly took his bandana and shades off and was immediately stung in the face by a wasp, cheers! Following the break for coffee we set off and I heard what sounded like someone's bike breaking completely in half behind, it was Mark's seat post which had snapped a bolt...pretty unlucky as we had a huge downhill to ride and he'd spent the last hour or so climbing up to the start of it and now he had nothing to sit on.
Today was a bonus day for the lucky ladies of Mecina Bombaron...not one but three muscle bound hunks rolled into town. Note that it appears that I have zero tan, it's an optical illusion caused by Len's flare off of Aaron. We would shortly go for coffee, beer and ice cream and then set off...then Mark's seat post broke.
Starsky doesn't look impressed about something. I think that's Mecina Bombaron in the background.
The view from just outside Mecina Bombaron.
The view of the road we had to climb up to get to Mecina Bombaron. It took us about an hour and a half to get up to the village, this section of road is only part of it.
Emilio and I spent half an hour trying to find the village mechanic who, according to Emilio's translation of his wife was "he is out of town for the afternoon, somewhere up in the hills, would we like to come in for a coffee?", er, no we'll pass thanks ...Benjamin turned up with the support truck after another half hour or so and luckily we found a bolt that would do the job (after checking the local park benches and railings for a similar bolt we could, ahem, "borrow")...whilst Mark fixed this the rest of us were treated to a display of "hump the female dogs face" by the local feral dogs which was an unexpected treat...you can't beat some live dog porn when your waiting for someone to fix their bike.
Mark playing table tennis with Emilio at the end of the day.
We stopped that night just outside the village of Castarras, high up in the Aljuparras, in a lodge and whilst the rest of them played table tennis until dinner...I went out to explore Castarras and see what it had to offer in the way of nightlife. There was a lot of Spanish people sitting around the square talking so I said the odd hello, how are you etc, you know, really pushing the boundaries of Anglo\Spanish relations...luckily before I got myself into a meaningful conversation I found the local pub which was brilliant...it was basically a plain white building with what sounded like very very loud Spanish music coming from it, there was an electric sign above the small doorway which said "cerveza" in red and blue, through the beaded doorway was a large blank looking room with a bar at one end made of beer crates and a thick wooden top with loads of crates of booze behind it...there was also Cruzcampo on draught...basic, functional and very popular as there were around 40 Spaniards all drinking, dancing, singing and laughing around the room...I ordered a Cruzcampo at the bar and was seriously considering just running onto the dancefloor and busting some ridiculous moves but as it looked to be a Spanish only affair and there were some "big lads" there in the shape of local farmers I thought better of it...the last thing they needed was a pasty white boy busting really dodgy breakdancing moves before attempting to spin round on his back with his legs in the air whilst shouting "spin me! spin me!"... wishing the others had been with me so we could mix it up a little I had my beer and then left them to it and went and had dinner.
At the end of the day I got into my room and opened the wooden shutter to check out the view and this filled my room, amazing.
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