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"Spain is a mountainous country"
That opening phrase in our guidebook is possibly the biggest understatement since Custer muttered the immortal words "what Indians?"
Spain is a country where even goats get vertigo. The word "level" is probably missing from the Spanish dictionary (well, it's missing from our Spanish vocabulary, come to think of it, most words are missing from our Spanish vocabulary).
Just as an aside another word missing from our vocabulary is "zanahorias", the Spanish for carrots. This word is as difficult to pronounce, as it is it remember. It helps to have wobbly dentures and to be slightly drunk when asking for zanahorias. As neither condition applied to me yesterday in the local grocery, I reverted to that old standby, a mime of Bugs Bunny eating a carrot.
The shop assistant was obviously from a generation lacking that essential educational foundation of Warner Bros cartoons so she shook her head and retreated behind the counter, clearly worried that she was alone in the shop with a complete nutter, and even worse, he was English!
Undeterred I pointed to a jar of asparagus then an orange, followed by a rapid finger wagging between the two. The girl was clearly educationally challenged or perhaps desperate to find the panic button under the counter. The absurdity of the situation struck me so my brain tried to come up with the Spanish for "Sorry I'm from South Africa". It was then that I spotted the jar of pickled shredded carrot and carried it over to the counter in triumph.
"Ah si, si, si "cenorias" (she was Galician, not Catalan Spanish), "non, nos non temos ningun, sorry.
Well, who wanted carrots anyway? What else was on the list? Ah, cucumbers, I think we'll go without!
Anyway I was on about Spain being hilly. We've toured most of Galicia now and have just started Asturias and the only flat bit we've encountered was the estuary of the River Mino, Spain's border with Portugal.
Otherwise we have been cruising down mountain passes or driving up them, one eye on the stunning green landscape of tree clad slopes, the other 5 eyes on the precipitous drops off the edge into the ravines below.
Now in Britain roads tend to follow the terrain. By that I mean that a road will cross a river via a bridge built just above it (though judging by our recent history of flooding, not quite high enough above it).
In Spain, you need binoculars to see the river when a road crosses it, because the road is on a viaduct, usually at least 200 metres above the river. Worryingly, these viaducts are often named after saints, as though the builders felt an extra level of spiritual support was necessary!
So, by now, you may be wondering what point I'm making, and come to think of it I am wondering myself! The point is that despite Spain being a mountainous country Spanish road builders have ironed out many of the up and down bits. They hack huge chunks out of mountains (no tree chained bunny huggers here, well there might be the remains of a few at the bottom of the ravines) then build these fantastic viaducts so the roads through the mountains are pleasantly sloping.
A consequence of this levelling process is that when you arrive in a town or village you are totally unprepared for the fact that the Spanish, pre earth moving mechanisation, built the place on a selection of 45 degree slopes. Suddenly the contents of the motorhome are whizzing past our ears towards the windscreen or the rear bedroom and I am pulling out to avoid ye olde worlde timber framed building that has oozed in to the middle of a rapidly narrowing lane!
The towns and villages are stunningly picturesque often with intact medieval centres, totally out of bounds for a motorhome, best accessed on foot. Sadly many of the building are dilapidated and collapsing, a sign of Spain's current economic woes.
Those motorways I mentioned earlier are clearly part of the eurozone's current problems. The Spanish are building motorways everywhere in these provinces, often alongside existing and very well maintained dual carriageways. In some areas, around A Coruna for example, toll motorways are being constructed alongside toll free motorways, all going to the same places, all empty by British standards.
Add the house building to this (Spain until recently built more houses per year than the rest of the eurozone put together) and you realise that Europe's wealth has been poured in to the concrete foundations of Spain's construction mania!
Anyway, explaining Europe's financial malaise is not my day job; come to think of it I haven't got a day job! Returning to the theme of mountains, this area is not recommended for casual bike rides. From our current campsite on the banks of the Rio Eo (not a Duran Duran song) on the Galician/Asturias border, we depart on our bikes each day, keen to explore the wooded mountains above us.
Alas it is the triumph of optimism over muscle power. Instead we follow the Ruta de Ferrocarril, the old railway line built a century ago to transport iron ore from inland mines to the sea at Ribadeo. The joy of railway lines is that they are built as flat as possible, a feat that Spanish motorway builders have been keen to emulate.
The Ruta follows the river upstream, through old oak forests, five long dark tunnels offering a respite from the heat. The river water, full of juvenile trout and salmon, is warm enough for skinny dipping in the numerous cascades and deep pools along the way.
At one point the peace and tranquillity is spoilt as the Ruta is crossed by the main road that takes all the traffic from the Roman walled town of Lugo down to Ribadeo. A battalion of road rollers, earth movers and trucks are going about their business, straightening, levelling and re-surfacing this minor road.
Yet another road being done, perhaps the Spanish still have some of that Roman blood in them!
Beside admiring the road building we've visited some beautiful towns (especially Lugo and Montforte de Lemos), enjoyed some excellent white wines (Albarino particularly), consumed plenty of tapas, visited more churches and cathedrals than we can remember, frozen in the cold waters of the Atlantic at A Coruna and become Romans for a day during the Astures v Romanos festival at Astorga (OK that town is in Castilla Y Leon province, not Galicia)
Some belated greetings are in order. Hello to Marcel & Iris, Jeroen & Karin, Cecile & Kare, Alfred, and finally but not least Kay and Dave.
PS In the Welsh language, carrots are called………Morons!
- comments
Kay and Dave Took us back Sounds like we missed a great bike ride along the railway track- next time! Thanks for the connection we'll enjoy trekking with you from a chilly UK
Heike Evans Great info for the planning of our gap year - 2013 !! Hope the world does not end at the end of 2012 - would have been seriously bad planning then - or Karma - depending on your frame of reference ! Look after yourselves and enjoy !!