Late supper but back on track despite the odds!Thursday 29 April 2010
Wednesday 28 April 2010
Arriving in Bilbao on Sunday 25th April
Arriving in Bilbao Sunday 25 April
Emergency re-routing committee,
cafe at Bilbao railway station
Mountain Meadows
Emergency re-routing committee,
cafe at Bilbao railway station
Mountain Meadows
Sunday 25 April 2010
Day 3 - 25th April - Bilbao to Puente la Reina
Sliding Dawes...You've seen the film, now ride the bike!
"What could possibly go wrong?!!" I uttered in response to a comment of Peter's as final docking manoeuvres where under way at our berth in Bilbao. Peter's final check of the route south to Bilbao station on our map, revealed that the vital bridge link across the river seemed unsuitable for bikes, so last minute replanning was hurriedly completed. This did not seem straightforward. Roundabouts were orbited several times, and hazardous railway lines delicately crossed and recrossed without mishap. John Y confidently led the way north, which felt somewhat counter-intuitive. "Prepare for your first cycle on a motorway Simon!!" shouted Peter from behind me. We pedalled furiously up a spiralling ramp with far too many bright blue signs to instil any confidence that he was joking. Thank goodness it was early on Sunday morning, as our indiscretions may go unnoticed. I envisioned our trip coming to an abrupt end, either by being thrown in a damp Spanish clink, or welded against the crash barriers as Raspberry jam. The detour north added unfortunate distance to our dash to meet our train departure, but the motorway speed limits boosted us on our way. Few honks on horns from startled drivers, and mercifully few juggernaughts thundering through the narrow tunnels, far to close for comfort. The aroma of burnt coal dust as we passed through the intensely industrial backdrop, reminded me of Teesside, Grandparent's hearths, and the Welsh narrow gauge railways of childhood holidays. A welcome slip road to normality led us towards conventional streets towards our goal. As we huddled round map for clarification, a Spanish police woman pulled up to help us on our way. Good job she hadn't seen us earlier!
Red lights slowed our progress, until desperation greened them to our eyes as we raced to find our train. Minutes flew faster than the miles, and with yards to go we realised our quest was lost. We stood in the station entrance forlorn. John Y disappeared. There would be another train at three in the afternoon, which would connect with ours to Pamplona, so all was still achievable. Urgent yelps from John Y from the top of the escalators sent us scurrying for Platform 7, as he had discovered our train had not yet left. We found him with beaming, full-faced grin, standing by a waiting train, underneath the platform sign. Our momentary relief was cruelly dashed, when we pointed out the sign was for Platform 8. Platform 7 was Train-spotterless!
Standing in awe of the proudly spectacular stained glass window, portraying Bilbao's mighty industrial heritage, the clock reminded us it was time to re-book our tickets for the later train......or so we thought!
First ticket station clerk put hands up in horror, not their problem, nothing to do with them. We deduced after further probing and translation of gestures, this was the local ticket office, and we needed one further along the concourse. Off we wheeled. Here we met Spain's equivalent of Little Britain's "Computer says NO!!" John A has done sterling work with the Spanglish, but this pert, non-smiling, unswerving ticket-retaining operative had him beaten! Aghast at the apparently devastating negative answers to his questions, we engaged the services of a helpful Spanish-speaking Brit. Her aged eyes diverged to port and starboard simultaneously, cunningly keeping an eye on both sides of the conversation.
"Can we change our tickets for the 15.00 train?"
"NO!"
"Can we buy new tickets for the 15.00 train?"
"Are those your bikes?"
"Yes they are, we need to take them with us to Pamplona"
"No bikes on trains!"
"No bikes on trains?!!"
"No bikes on trains!"
"Is there ANY way we can get our bikes to Pamplona by train?"
"No"
"Do you have any suggestions for alternative ways to get our bikes to Pamplona?"
"No!"
"Really? None at all?"
"You could ride them...."
Our stalwart Brit. was dumb-founded, turned to us and said "You have a problem, she has no personality!"
Thanking her for her efforts, we sloped off on the down escalator for coffee and half a ham bun, which we later realised was our only breakfast. Emergency re-planning committee was convened. Hiring of van was ruled out, as it was Sunday and the offices were still shut. A quick scout around the station revealed nothing more that a few groggy local buses. The remaining option was to take the Ticketmistress' advice, so we got on our bikes, and aimed for Puente la Reina!
"What could possibly go wrong?!!" I uttered in response to a comment of Peter's as final docking manoeuvres where under way at our berth in Bilbao. Peter's final check of the route south to Bilbao station on our map, revealed that the vital bridge link across the river seemed unsuitable for bikes, so last minute replanning was hurriedly completed. This did not seem straightforward. Roundabouts were orbited several times, and hazardous railway lines delicately crossed and recrossed without mishap. John Y confidently led the way north, which felt somewhat counter-intuitive. "Prepare for your first cycle on a motorway Simon!!" shouted Peter from behind me. We pedalled furiously up a spiralling ramp with far too many bright blue signs to instil any confidence that he was joking. Thank goodness it was early on Sunday morning, as our indiscretions may go unnoticed. I envisioned our trip coming to an abrupt end, either by being thrown in a damp Spanish clink, or welded against the crash barriers as Raspberry jam. The detour north added unfortunate distance to our dash to meet our train departure, but the motorway speed limits boosted us on our way. Few honks on horns from startled drivers, and mercifully few juggernaughts thundering through the narrow tunnels, far to close for comfort. The aroma of burnt coal dust as we passed through the intensely industrial backdrop, reminded me of Teesside, Grandparent's hearths, and the Welsh narrow gauge railways of childhood holidays. A welcome slip road to normality led us towards conventional streets towards our goal. As we huddled round map for clarification, a Spanish police woman pulled up to help us on our way. Good job she hadn't seen us earlier!
Red lights slowed our progress, until desperation greened them to our eyes as we raced to find our train. Minutes flew faster than the miles, and with yards to go we realised our quest was lost. We stood in the station entrance forlorn. John Y disappeared. There would be another train at three in the afternoon, which would connect with ours to Pamplona, so all was still achievable. Urgent yelps from John Y from the top of the escalators sent us scurrying for Platform 7, as he had discovered our train had not yet left. We found him with beaming, full-faced grin, standing by a waiting train, underneath the platform sign. Our momentary relief was cruelly dashed, when we pointed out the sign was for Platform 8. Platform 7 was Train-spotterless!
Standing in awe of the proudly spectacular stained glass window, portraying Bilbao's mighty industrial heritage, the clock reminded us it was time to re-book our tickets for the later train......or so we thought!
First ticket station clerk put hands up in horror, not their problem, nothing to do with them. We deduced after further probing and translation of gestures, this was the local ticket office, and we needed one further along the concourse. Off we wheeled. Here we met Spain's equivalent of Little Britain's "Computer says NO!!" John A has done sterling work with the Spanglish, but this pert, non-smiling, unswerving ticket-retaining operative had him beaten! Aghast at the apparently devastating negative answers to his questions, we engaged the services of a helpful Spanish-speaking Brit. Her aged eyes diverged to port and starboard simultaneously, cunningly keeping an eye on both sides of the conversation.
"Can we change our tickets for the 15.00 train?"
"NO!"
"Can we buy new tickets for the 15.00 train?"
"Are those your bikes?"
"Yes they are, we need to take them with us to Pamplona"
"No bikes on trains!"
"No bikes on trains?!!"
"No bikes on trains!"
"Is there ANY way we can get our bikes to Pamplona by train?"
"No"
"Do you have any suggestions for alternative ways to get our bikes to Pamplona?"
"No!"
"Really? None at all?"
"You could ride them...."
Our stalwart Brit. was dumb-founded, turned to us and said "You have a problem, she has no personality!"
Thanking her for her efforts, we sloped off on the down escalator for coffee and half a ham bun, which we later realised was our only breakfast. Emergency re-planning committee was convened. Hiring of van was ruled out, as it was Sunday and the offices were still shut. A quick scout around the station revealed nothing more that a few groggy local buses. The remaining option was to take the Ticketmistress' advice, so we got on our bikes, and aimed for Puente la Reina!
Day 2 - Pride of Bilbao towards Spain.
Random performances of noctural snoring techniques proved we are all as talented as each other, despite protestations to the contrary.
Stirrings at 07.20, followed by road testing of my Bruzor, led to one small shaving cut, to remind me of the fresh blade, otherwise successful.
Careful choreography in our very confined cabin left us washed, clothed and ready for breakfast, with no shared trouser legs. The appetising colours of the grapefruits, orange, pineapple and other fruits belied their lack of flavour and all shared a similar texture. I certainly had my quota for the day, but not convinced that there were any nuritional benefits. You would imagine that the British would have perfected the art of tea making, even on board a ferry. Polystyrene cup, PG bag in steel teapot, and several drizzles of hot water to start the brew. What could possibly go wrong? ......Pouring! At first we assumed John A was just careless as he sprinkled the table. Peter demonstrated the correct technique, with the same unfortunate result. I learned from these observations, and watered the floor instead. John Y, with confident gleam in his eyes, swift flick of the wrist, started a cascade of perfectly aimed tea. Early success was thwarted at the final flourish of the backstroke, with a reliable puddle flooding as before. Note to self: design stainless steel teapot spout that actually works, rather than just posing.
Whale and Dolphin watching was the order of the day, with a small pod of Dolphins spotted early on. This taster left John A and myself scanning the waves, but little more was spotted. Good oportunity to chat with fellow spotters, Czech archtect Milan being an interesting conversationalist.
Peter and I went to investigate the Posh Bar, with a walkthrough clad in our vibrant yellow jackets. Toffee-nosed noses were turned and peered down, from invisible ivory towers. I couldn't resist a repeat lap to outstare the condescending smirks. We shall leave them to preen, and enjoy the honesty of less pretentious bars.
Friday 23 April 2010
Compostela Blog
Compostela Blog
23rd April St George's Day
Meet at Ye Olde Ship Inn at 16.45, 16.55 cycle to Godalming station, 17.30 train to 20.00 ferry to Bilbao.
Last minute panic struck our trip, just a few hours before the start. Text's, emails and phone calls from John Y, alerted us to his discovery of the significance of asterisks on the timetable. **your ferry leaves at 20.00, not 21.00!
Miffed that such vital information had been so obscured, final packing was accelerated to a flurry. I apologise to my delightful housemates for the trail of debris through the house. I blame the volcano!
Much thought has gone into weight reduction for this trip, although I still seem to have an extra spare tyre on my midriff. My bike is now light enough when loaded to pick up with one hand, a big improvement. Experience from previous trips has taught us all what is truly necessary, and what can be left at home. John Y has caused us great amusement with the "hamster cage" strapped above his panniers. We suspect a cunning plan for power assistance using a hamster wheel, but won't be able to see clearly until he eats more of the obscuring choccy bars.
Ye Olde Ship Farwell Committee was very lively, with Caroline C doing the photographic honours, festooned with cameras like a one woman Papparazzi Tree. It was fun to boss her around for a change to ensure pictorial perfection. Violet S took change of elf 'n safe tea, warning her with seconds to spare of the approaching bus. I still think the shot would have been better from slightly further back...
With the final arrival of John Y, we left our beloved YOSI as we climbed St Catherine's Hill, bound for Godalming. Further panic at Godalming Station as John Y's train ticket did a disappearing act. Forensic search of the route by The Sniffer Squad revealed nothing. Logical analysis of John Y's recent activity exposed his ticket wedged in behind his pannier, having escaped through a vent in his cycle helmet.
Split into John Y and Peter C at front of Portsmouth train, with John A and Simon HW bringing up the rear.
Time to write some blog!
Photographs to be inserted when possible.
Many thanks to the truly wonderful internet postess!
24th April
Day and overnight on Ferry
25th April
Arrive Bilbao in the morning, cycle to station for train to Pamplona, arrive 17.00. Cycle to Puente La Reina, Hotel Bidean.
15 miles
23rd April St George's Day
Meet at Ye Olde Ship Inn at 16.45, 16.55 cycle to Godalming station, 17.30 train to 20.00 ferry to Bilbao.
Last minute panic struck our trip, just a few hours before the start. Text's, emails and phone calls from John Y, alerted us to his discovery of the significance of asterisks on the timetable. **your ferry leaves at 20.00, not 21.00!
Miffed that such vital information had been so obscured, final packing was accelerated to a flurry. I apologise to my delightful housemates for the trail of debris through the house. I blame the volcano!
Much thought has gone into weight reduction for this trip, although I still seem to have an extra spare tyre on my midriff. My bike is now light enough when loaded to pick up with one hand, a big improvement. Experience from previous trips has taught us all what is truly necessary, and what can be left at home. John Y has caused us great amusement with the "hamster cage" strapped above his panniers. We suspect a cunning plan for power assistance using a hamster wheel, but won't be able to see clearly until he eats more of the obscuring choccy bars.
Ye Olde Ship Farwell Committee was very lively, with Caroline C doing the photographic honours, festooned with cameras like a one woman Papparazzi Tree. It was fun to boss her around for a change to ensure pictorial perfection. Violet S took change of elf 'n safe tea, warning her with seconds to spare of the approaching bus. I still think the shot would have been better from slightly further back...
With the final arrival of John Y, we left our beloved YOSI as we climbed St Catherine's Hill, bound for Godalming. Further panic at Godalming Station as John Y's train ticket did a disappearing act. Forensic search of the route by The Sniffer Squad revealed nothing. Logical analysis of John Y's recent activity exposed his ticket wedged in behind his pannier, having escaped through a vent in his cycle helmet.
Split into John Y and Peter C at front of Portsmouth train, with John A and Simon HW bringing up the rear.
Time to write some blog!
Photographs to be inserted when possible.
Many thanks to the truly wonderful internet postess!
24th April
Day and overnight on Ferry
25th April
Arrive Bilbao in the morning, cycle to station for train to Pamplona, arrive 17.00. Cycle to Puente La Reina, Hotel Bidean.
15 miles
Monday 19 April 2010
The second stage of our cycle journey to Santiago de Compostela
In 2008 I started a cycle ride from Le Puy in France with Peter, to be joined two days later by Andy and John. We planned to follow the traditional route of St James to Santiago de Compostela, but on roads that were suitable for road bikes. We used a guide written by John Higgison, The Way of St James (Cicerone), as the basis of our route, with few modifications. It was our intention to cycle the journey in two stages. The first year from Le Puy, across the Massif Centrale, and through the Pyrenees to Pamplona. For various reasons we postponed the second leg until this year, and shall now be leaving from Portsmouth on 23rd April 2010. Fortunately we decided to travel by ferry to Bilbao, and then back to Pamplona by train, so we shall not be affected by the problems suffered by the airlines due to the unexpected eruption of the volcano in Iceland.
The photograph above shows two versions of my "Push-me-pull-you" modifications to toothbrushes and razors, in an attempt to reduce carrying too much weight over the mountains of Northern Spain. Not quite sure what to call them, but Bruzors seems favourite at the moment...comments and suggestions welcomed!
I am hoping that internet access will be improved in the places we shall be staying along the way, and also have had offers from friends at home to help post regular progress reports.
Our main concern at the moment is not so much the cycling of the journey, but whether there will be any aircaft to fly us home on May 7th. We could always cycle back through Spain and France I suppose!
This year we shall be a team of five, John A, Peter C, Andy D, John Y and Simon HW
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