Foothills of the Pyrenese

Touring with the grandparents was a new experience: apartments and hotels, bungalows in campgrounds, actually planning where we were going, remembering to shower, not being the last biker.  I biked with my parents in Europe 28 years ago, and what a treat for them to be able, at 70 (shhhh), to be able to bike with their grandkids!

Huesca is in the foothills of the Pyrenes that rise slowly from the arid plains of Spain.  In fact, having not looked at pictures of the Pyrenes, I did not actually expect big mountains (ha ha ha).  Marty found Huesca polluted by tourism, I looked for all the charms of the town, and Caleb and Jorja enjoyed the spoils of travelling with grandparents.  We headed off biking to the west to Castillo de Loarre, which is a spectacular castle rising out of the rock hills that overlooks the plains, and guards the foothills.  It was built as a castle in 1071 on the frontier of Christian and Muslim lands, and was also used as a monastary.  It was not in use for a few hundred years, and the location lost its strategic importance so it is really well preserved. We did go on the same day as several busloads of school kids from France and Spain so it was as busy as it was when it was in action.  We stayed at a campground, and it was still 2 km uphill to get to the castle.  Some crazy dude was drifting his long board around corners preparing for a race, on the same hill that we were zooming down on our bikes, which have brakes!   Caleb climbed the trees in our campsite, and we finally figured out what the orchards of small fuzzy fruits were - almonds!!  He tossed bundles of nuts down and we cracked them with rocks and they were delicious!  Many people told us we were visiting at the best time, before the summer travellers, and while everything was still green. 

We must have been refreshed after a few days of hanging out in Salamanca and train travel, as our biking days with grandparents were getting longer.  We started following the Rio Gallego, and the change of scenery through canyons, and between mountains was refreshing.  There are crazy river diversions for crops through aquaducts, old and new, and pipelines that are pulling water from way upstream to run hydro plants.  There was an old dam built of limestone blocks, that made me think of the scene in Superman, where he holds the dam together, that is still holding back thousands of litres of lake water. Sometimes, we thought we had planned ahead for where to stay, but it didn't always go smoothly.  We arrived in Anzanigo, after biking 50km, with only rice and mustard and tea left, and the "town" was dead.  Eventually we found a man painting some windows, and he told us that the cafe owner was indeed in town, and would open after siesta, which would be sometime after five.  We waited, and waited, and knocked, and waited, and finally after asking a few more times, the painter came at six and banged on the door yelling "Carlos!".  Eventually Carlos came to the door.  He had rooms upstairs in the old stone inn, and he cooked up a feast of salad, lamb and french fries that we ate in the bar.  Close call!!  Since then we have been carting around a bit of extra food, and Grandma has sworn to never leave home without her sleeping bag and bivy sac. 

Biking to Sabinanigo, we found the smallest roads, but found a village that actually had people, and it was the day that the grocery truck came to town.  We came ripping around a corner on our bikes, and there it was:  a big white truck that was set up as a fish store, pulling a trailer that was open on both sides selling fruit and veggies.  There was even a baker just down the street, where there was no store, you just walked right into his workshop, and bought the bread off the counter.  He opened his wood burning oven for us that was rotating the pans, and Caleb tried his hand at lifting the pans with the long wooded handled lifter.  The same baker honked when he passed us later the same day delivering his bread to a bakery in Sabinanigo.Read more