starring

John B de Brocklehurst
Grahame B de Smith
Adrian B de Butcher (heh heh)

My retirement trip around northern Spain finally materialised after many leaving parties and much cake, when on saturday 4th April JB GG and I met up at Strensham services, Grahame wearing an improbably golden new jacket. He had booked onto the Pont-Aven in Brittany Ferries Commodore class and we settled into our 3 berth cabin with free minibar and personal flying bridge. The trip across Biscay was flat calm and the food on the boat wonderful. A huge hors d'oevre buffet was followed by a whole lambs leg - literally!
   
Our first Parador was at Cangas de Onis about 80 miles west of Santander along the coast and inland a bit. As we had all afternoon to achieve this modest distance we'd hatched a twisty detour for the journey following lunch. But first there was an adventure in store.... Grahame was leading and once onto the first twisty section took off like a scalded cat. All went well until a rising 180 left. I was following and backed off a bit halfway round. As GG rolled on for the exit he seems to have touched the armco with his (R) pannier before being spat off the CBF and when next seen was rolling up a concrete gully at the side of the road nutting the ground. The bike had righted itself ? on the crash bung and was continuing solo diagonally across the straight following the corner only to strike the opposite armco and be turned back across the road downhill towards me (...now stationary) Happily the gully on our side of the road turned the front wheel away from me and the bike rolled up the bank before flopping onto its left side. Grahame was shaken but not stirred, his visor was hanging of on one side and his Roof helmet was somewhat chamfered by road at the front (as was the visor). Apart from a slight nose bleed, a lining burn to his scalp and some bruising to his limbs he was OK! The CBF fairing was much cracked on the left and both internal indicator lugs were broken off. The left crash bung screw was bent back and the left mirror was snapped off. Both cases were scuffed by armco contact. Not a good start.

But hey - Quacks keep quacking and after some work on the fairing and indicators with a roll of gaffer tape and the right mirror swapped to the left, we were off again if somewhat more slowly as GG could not see much through the scuffed visor. We arrived at the hotel after a steady ride on some wonderful roads only to be greeted by a downpour but checked in and showered we were ready for our first gustatory experience enlivened by JB's wine expertise - an Albarino this time. There was much talk of the accident and GG wondering about whether to give up biking given his recent spate of accidents. I did my best on PtF's "cluster" theory but it would take more riding to reinflate Grahame's confidence.

Day 2 was a playday anticlockwise around the Picos de Europa mountains. Only 80 miles or so to the next Parador at Fuente De. We called at the local bike shop in Cangas first and Grahame found a decent helmet and a pushbike mirror which we clamped to the stub of the broken one, and then we meandered south through spectacular gorges and tight slow blind bends around rocky bluffs to Reino where we had monster steak and chips at a lakeside restaurant. From there the ride in to the hotel was a hairpin fest of about 40 miles over a high col and JB was going for it out front on the K! GG brought up the rear at a steadier pace but it was great practice - and we were going to "have" to do it all again the other way the next morning. The Fuente De parador is at the top of  a valley surrounded by sheer cliffs up which runs a cable car. There was little snow to be seen but it was a very alpine spot with a broad swoopy road leading up to it. There was more excellent food and a fine bottle of  Jaume Sierra Reserva Cava, which was better than many Champagnes I have tasted, followed by an early night ready for a longer trip the next day travelling south east.

We reversed the route over the col back to Reino and then turned south (Grahame leading) for Palencia, Aranda de Duero and Siguenza. It was good riding, some swoopy, some tight and a lot very scenic. Finally rounding a corner we found Siguenza spread out before us with the castle parador dominating the town. Some pics, check in - and it was beer o clock. It was my turn to have the single room and I found myself in a corner room which proved to be in a tower....I've always fancied staying in such a place - though I'm hardly a sleeping beauty! No hair... That night at dinner our waitress was named Mercedes....rather surly and built like their Vaneo we rather unkindly observed! But it was great food again in a spectacular vaulted dining room. We drank a Tempranillo (from Ribero del Duero nearby).

The next day's trip was shorter in a direct line so we plotted out a route through the Sierra de Albarracin - which turned into a spectacular 300 mile trek. After coffee at Molina we rode south east but not without an "after you Claude" debacle in which noone seemed to want to lead! I found myself in front despite not having paid attention to the plan and not having a GPS to hand...Inevitably I took a wrong road which rapidly petered out into a broken up asphalt track winding downhill through pinewoods. It was gorgeous, I had my visor up just to breathe the aromatic air. After about 3km doubts surfaced about the route and I waited for the others by a small bridge in the heart of the woods. There was a vulture circling above.....

We got back on the right route and found Tapas for lunch in Albarracin. Wonderful scenery excellent lunch. We fuelled up in Teruel and followed a tortuous route through spectacular american scale scenery of gorges mountains and a canyon at Cantavieja that wouldn't have looked out of place in Texas! Alcaniz is another castle looking out over the town. It was the thursday night before easter and there was to be a midnight procession. A weary JB took an early night after another splendid meal (with Gewurtztraminer Catalunya) but Grahame and I went out and watched the procession from above, on the castle walls. A sinister repetetive drum pattern from many drummers rose from the town and below where a street straightened came into view white clad druid type characters with pointy hats swaying along in time to the rhythm. As GG observed, much like the Klu Klux Klan! Eventually the inevitable crucifix came into view followed by the drummers bringing up the rear.

The goal of our trip was the Priorat wine growing valley. At the QQ wine tasting event at JB's last October MtsR had brought a stonking wine from Priorat so we made the valley (and the wine) the grail of our travels. A route plotted into the head of the valley worked well - a minor road but like most we found beautifully smooth and grippy. We explored a bit but it was raining heavily at times and our next castle, at Tortosa, was not too far away, so we headed there for a late lunch followed by an evening trip out onto the Ebro delta to find some seafood and see the sea. We failed at both so returned to the Parador for dinner - and this time we found the grail. Just one Priorat on the menu but fabulous (Les Terraces 2003) I was sharing with Grahame that night - a twin room with 2 draped four poster beds and a spa bath......d'you think they thought we'd be gay?!

The next day brought the start of the return via the Pyrenees. Lunch was to be al fresco so we went to a supermarket and bought food to eat at the roadside. It was warm and sunny in the foothills. The route north was via Tremp and we had chosen to follow a slightly devious route in to Viehla from the east. All was well to afternoon coffee and then with 30 miles to go the road started to climb above the snow line. Clouds became snowstorms and soon we were riding hairpins on salted roads with continuous snow obscuring visibility and misting visors. I had no visibility troubles in my wonderful C2 lid and I wondered where the others were as I chugged upwards. The GS was made for this and the low speed torque made it all so easy. There were 12 ft snow drifts at the roadside but the metalled road surface was well salted with good grip. Over the top at 2000 metres and the descent became interesting. We were into another province and the ill maintained surface was in places starting to break up. At one tight downhill right I went in too tight and came out almost nose to nose with the occupants of a motor caravan! Lesson learned I started to make the wide entries for tight exits again which I had been doing on the way up....and then I stopped to take pics by a deep drift and of the others coming past.

The Parador at Viehla looks like a gestapo special but was very modern inside which was particularly appreciated by JB. The dining room was very stylish with bare concrete pillars and large picture windows looking out on the valley. The food was as ever brilliant and we had another bottle of Ribero (as well as a supermarket bought Reserva Rioja in our room first - with nibbles....)

Next morning it was snowing and had been overnight. We cleared our bikes off and loaded up under the entrance canopy. The snow stopped as we descended through a tunnel on the main road south and we were soon much warmer and drier which encouraged us to take the high level twisty route west via Ainsa and Jaca. We had a splendid lunch in a roadhouse near Jaca - I had rabbit in garlic followed by whisky ice cream...which was nice. I led into Olite down some superb twisties which were welcome as the main road west was a grind of heavy traffic and solid white lines. We had to leave the bikes at the back door at Olite as access to the main parador entrance was in the scenic town central square which was closed off to traffic for easter. We did have the pleasure of riding through the empty town (with permission) to unload however....some disapproving looks from the locals... Being our last night we dived into the 5 course degustation menu with a Grenache (the Fagus, Navarra)

An early start was necessary to cover the 180 miles to Santander by lunchtime so we stuck to the autoroutes and got to the port with time to swap Grahame's mirrors back on the quayside. We had beer o clock in our cabin and as the ship left in sunny warm weather we were able to look back to the snow covered Picos mountains behind the town where we had been riding a week before.

What a brilliant start to a biking retirement. Adventures enough, coping with adversity and great company throughout made it a very special week for me. Graham was almost back to normal in terms of confidence but pointed out the state of his rear tyre on the left where it had been much scrubbed in the many lefthanders. I hope he continues in the club, but maybe with less expectation of being among the faster riders. Age will wither us all but that does not mean cutting out our pleasures root and branch and the quacking groups ladder is there for folks to step down as well as to step up.

2 months to the next one.......Alsace here I come!

Adrian