Aude and Dandelion Wine
October 4 in France ⋅ ☁️ 18 °C
Day 34: Oloron-Sainte-Marie → Bagnères-de-Bigorre (61 miles / 4735 ft.)
We knew we had another difficult day ahead, but we adjusted the route to keep the climbing near 5,000 feet for another metric century. Rain was expected late in the afternoon, and we were a little nervous about both the climbing and navigating through Lourdes, so we hoped to get an early start.
Most of all, we were excited to revisit Aude, one of our favorite Warmshowers hosts. She welcomed us when we last toured through the Pyrenees and even made a beautiful fig pie for Jim’s birthday. If you have actually been reading our posts that long, perhaps you remember it! Ha ha!
Our first major climb carried us through the Bois du Bager, a beautiful forest of towering beech and oak trees near the Col du Cerisier. From there, we dropped into the Ossau Valley and continued through the rolling green foothills of Béarn.
This was mostly a riding day, and that felt good. Many of our days in Japan involved constant stopping, navigating, and sightseeing. Here we could settle into a rhythm and simply ride. The mountains rising around us, the green valleys, and the first changing colors of fall provided plenty to look at.
Because it was Sunday, the countryside seemed especially active. We passed cyclists enjoying their weekend rides, mushroom hunters carefully searching the forest floor, and people whitewater rafting on the Gave de Pau. Apparently everyone had chosen a different way to play in the Pyrenees.
We followed the river toward Lourdes, where we stopped for cold drinks and found a peaceful place for our picnic. We had taken a rest day in Lourdes two years ago, so this time it served as our only major stop rather than a sightseeing destination.
Leaving Lourdes, we climbed another quiet ridge near the Croix Blanche before descending toward the Adour Valley and Bagnères-de-Bigorre. We arrived about an hour earlier than expected and celebrated with a couple of cold beverages overlooking a beautiful church.
Aude was still preparing for a short adventure of her own beginning the next morning, so we picked up a few snacks and sat beside the river. From there we could admire the mountains and quietly think about tomorrow. If the weather cooperates, we hope to climb the Col du Tourmalet. We will save that story for tomorrow, assuming we make it…
At about 5:00, we rode to Aude’s house, cleaned up, and settled in while dinner cooked. We took a short walk around town before returning for rice, green beans with chorizo, cheese, and Aude’s homemade dandelion wine.
Her roommate Natasha joined us, and the four of us spent the next couple of hours around the dining-room table sharing stories and laughter. Eventually, everyone looked as though they might fall asleep right there at the table. We finally surrendered at about 10:30.
A challenging day of riding ended exactly where we wanted it to, sharing food, unusual homemade wine, and laughter with an old friend in the Pyrenees.Read more
Bonjour, Col d’Osquich!
October 3 in France ⋅ 🌧 19 °C
Day 33: Espelette → Oloron-Sainte-Marie (62 miles / 5,469 feet)
It was hard to wake up this morning. The sun rises later now, and our little bungalow beside the stream was so quiet and peaceful that neither of us felt any urgency to move.
Eventually we staggered around and went outside to visit our new friends: the two donkeys, the miniature horse, and the full-sized horse. We fed them a few more chestnuts, which they treated like candy. They took each one so gently from our hands that sometimes they were almost too careful and knocked it onto the ground. We could have happily stayed there all morning.
We finally packed up and ride over to Frederique and Vincent’s main house for breakfast at 8:30. We had hoped to be riding by nine, but the conversation was far too enjoyable to rush. Breakfast was wonderfully French: healthy and simple: bread, cherry jam, fruit, yogurt, and a little Camembert. By the time we said our goodbyes and rolled away, it was closer to 9:30.
We knew we had a full day ahead of us. Sixty-two miles made it another metric century, with nearly 5,500 feet of climbing mixed into the deal. Before leaving Espelette, Jim made one important stop to buy a small jar of crushed Piment d’Espelette, the town’s famous red pepper. It seemed like the proper souvenir from a village where peppers hang from white façades like Christmas decorations.
The route carried us east through the green folds of the French Basque foothills. We moved from the historic province of Labourd into Lower Navarre and eventually crossed into Soule. The roads rose and fell through pastures, forests, and small farming valleys beneath magnificent skies. The temperature was nearly perfect, and we made good time despite several climbs that demanded our attention.
Along the way we passed two women carefully searching beneath the chestnut leaves for mushrooms. Autumn foraging is serious business here, and they were completely focused on finding whatever little treasures were hiding on the forest floor.
We also practiced one of the few French words we know well.
“Bonjour!”
“Bonjour!”
It works surprisingly often.
At Lidl we gathered the ingredients for a picnic: hummus, ham, bread, chips, and two Cherry Cokes. After the delicious cherry jam at breakfast, we had apparently developed a temporary cherry addiction. We found a quiet place beside a beautiful church, made our sandwiches, drank our Cherry Cokes, and prepared ourselves for the biggest climb of the day.
The Col d’Osquich rises between Saint-Just-Ibarre and Musculdy, crossing the old boundary between Lower Navarre and Soule. The sign at the top reads 500 meters, modest by Pyrenean standards, but our loaded bicycles made sure it felt like a real mountain pass.
The Tour de France first crossed this country during its legendary 1910 journey through the Pyrenees. The Col d’Osquich later returned to the Tour in 1919 and again in 2006, when it was rated a Category 3 climb. We were moving considerably slower than the professionals, but we still celebrated beside the summit sign as if someone might be waiting with yellow jerseys.
Beyond the col, the road descended into the Soule valley and carried us through Mauléon-Licharre before turning toward Béarn. The profile looked friendlier, but the rolling hills and long stretches of gradual one-percent climbing slowly drained what remained in our legs. A one-percent grade sounds like nothing until it continues mile after mile at the end of a metric century.
We reached Oloron-Sainte-Marie at about 4:00 and wisely decided to check into our Airbnb before shopping. Or at least it seemed wise until we walked toward the grocery store in an enormous downpour. A pizza place tempted us, but we remained committed to our highly sophisticated French dinner of microwavable lasagna, salad, and assorted treats.
Once the rain eased, we wandered through the quiet historic streets. Oloron-Sainte-Marie sits at the meeting point of the Gave d’Aspe and Gave d’Ossau, two mountain rivers that join here to form the Gave d’Oloron. The city itself grew from two once-separate communities, Oloron and Sainte-Marie, which were finally united in 1858. Tonight the rain had chased almost everyone indoors, leaving the old quarters and river bridges unusually peaceful.
Back at the apartment, we caught up on FindPenguins, checked in with friends, and relaxed. Tomorrow we ride to visit Aude, the Warmshowers host who welcomed us in the Pyrenees two years ago. After that, if the weather and our legs cooperate, we hope to tackle the legendary Col du Tourmalet.
It is 9:45, the posts are finally caught up, and two tired cyclists are winding down for the night.
Bonne nuit from Oloron-Sainte-Marie. 🇫🇷Read more
Hello France, No Coffee, & Donkey Candy
October 2 in France ⋅ ⛅ 18 °C
Day 32: San Sebastián → Espelette (53 miles / 5365 ft.)
We ate our usual touring breakfast in the hotel room: yogurt, banana, muesli, baguette, jam, juice, and whatever else remained in our food bags. We even had instant coffee, but the electric kettle looked like a small science experiment. For possibly the first time on this trip, we decided that no coffee was better than questionable coffee.
Starting a cycling day completely uncaffeinated felt strange, and we continued joking about it for the next several hours.
We took our time leaving San Sebastián, roaming around the city on our loaded bicycles and finding one more postcard to send to a friend. Even in the busier areas, riding felt safe as long as we paid attention. Eventually, we left the city and continued east along the coast toward Pasaia.
Coastal riding is not always our favorite. The views are beautiful, but bicycle lanes, intersections, traffic, pedestrians, and constant navigation require much more concentration than a quiet mountain road. Still, the harbor at Pasaia and the rugged shoreline beyond it were worth the effort.
The real work began with the climb over Jaizkibel, the green mountain ridge separating Pasaia from Hondarribia. This is one of the famous cycling roads of the Basque Country and has often played an important role in the Clásica San Sebastián. Near the crest, we stopped at the stone Santa Bárbara tower, one of several 19th-century defensive towers scattered across the ridge. From up there, we could look across the coastline toward Hondarribia, the mouth of the Bidasoa River, and France.
After descending through Hondarribia and Irún, we crossed the Bidasoa into Hendaye. Just like our crossing from Portugal into Spain, there was no checkpoint, no dramatic welcome sign, and no real indication that we had entered another country, although we could feel a difference. After all those miles through Spain, entering France felt surprisingly anticlimactic.
We were sad to leave behind the pintxos and a language that I can navigate much more easily than French.
France quickly began to feel different. The coastal area was far more touristy, camper vans seemed to be parked everywhere, and traffic increased dramatically. We also had to adjust to French drivers. They gave us plenty of space, but often passed sooner than Spanish drivers, who tended to wait patiently until they could move almost completely into the other lane.
The coarse surface of some of the departmental roads made approaching cars sound much faster than they really were, which is taking a little getting used to.
We climbed above Hendaye and stopped at Château d’Abbadia, the striking neo-Gothic château and observatory built for explorer, geographer, and astronomer Antoine d’Abbadie. From there, our route followed the Corniche Basque along the cliffs before passing through Saint-Jean-de-Luz.
Eventually, we turned inland and followed the Nivelle River valley through Ascain and Saint-Pée-sur-Nivelle. Somehow, the countryside seemed to become even greener after crossing into France. The roads also became smoother and more flowing, and despite the traffic, we enjoyed the rolling ride toward Espelette. We were especially motivated because we had Warmshowers hosts waiting and hoped to arrive before 5:00.
Espelette immediately looked like the village we had imagined. White Basque houses with deep red shutters lined the streets, while strings of brilliant red peppers decorated shops and façades. These are Piments d’Espelette, or Ezpeletako biperra in Basque. The variety is called Gorria, meaning “red,” and the peppers are traditionally hung on buildings to ripen and dry before being ground into the famous mildly spicy powder.
We stopped for photographs, a cold drink, and a look around the Château des Barons d’Ezpeleta, which now houses the town hall, library, tourism office, and exhibitions. Behind it, we found a small arboretum honoring Espelette native Father Armand David, the missionary and naturalist who helped introduce thousands of Chinese plant and animal species, including the giant panda, to Western science.
Then the day became even more special. Our Warmshowers hosts, Frederique and Vincent, are both 59 and have traveled together throughout the world. They had lived in many different parts of France before finally deciding that this was the best place in the country to settle. Two years ago they bought an old farm and have been remodeling it with ideas from both of them. Vincent is a master carpenter and has completed much of the newer woodwork himself, using wood he harvested from their own forest.
Their beautiful home and property were absolutely amazing, but our sleeping arrangements were yet to be seen. Vincent led us down several little lanes through their land until we reached our own bungalow beside the river.
In the adjoining pasture lived two female donkeys, a mother and daughter, along with a horse and a miniature horse. Vincent gave us a bag of chestnuts to feed them and explained that chestnuts are like candy to the animals. They certainly seemed to agree.
Our quiet little bungalow had everything we needed: a shower, washing machine, comfortable bed, and complete silence. After cleaning up and settling in, we walked back to the main house for a magnificent dinner of pasta with a creamy white sauce, ham and mushrooms, bread, and four French cheeses: Comté, Bleu d’Auvergne, Morbier, and Camembert. Fresh fruit and white wine completed the meal.
The food was wonderful, but once again, the conversation made the evening. Frederique and Vincent shared stories from their travels and their life together, and we kept talking until about 10:30, when Lisa and I were nearly falling asleep at the table. We did not want the evening to end.
After saying bonne nuit, we switched on our headlamp and followed the dark lanes back to our bungalow. The donkeys were sleeping in the woods, but sometime during the night, one of them must have awakened craving more “candy.” She gave us a loud reminder that she was still out there.
I was asleep again within about a minute.
We say this often, but this truly felt like a place we could return to someday and stay much longer.
Portugal 🇵🇹: 14 Days / 594 Miles / 57,120 ft climbing
Spain 🇪🇸: 17 Days / 780 Miles / 59,520 ft climbingRead more
San Sebastián!
October 1 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 18 °C
Day 31: Elizondo to San Sebastián (49 miles / 3,045 ft.)
We began our morning with breakfast and a little more time with Amaiur and their two-year-old daughter, Goiztiri. Joseba had already left for work, so after saying our goodbyes and thanking them for an unforgettable Warmshowers visit, we rolled away from Elizondo.
The day began by following the Baztan River out of the valley. Near Oronoz-Mugairi, the river changes names and becomes the Bidasoa. Much of our route followed the Bidasoa Greenway, built along the former Tren Txikito railway that once connected Elizondo with Irún. The little train began as a mining railway before carrying passengers and freight through the valley until 1956.
It was another amazing stretch of riding, following the river through a narrow green valley beneath heavily forested hills. We had some light rain, but never enough to ruin the day. The wet pavement, low clouds, and first touches of fall color gave the mountains a completely different feeling from the bright sunshine of the day before.
The serious climbing began after Lesaka. The narrow NA-4000 carried us over Alto de Agiña, down toward the San Antón reservoir, and then back up to the Aritxulegi tunnel. The route wound through the forests of Aiako Harria Natural Park, surrounded by steep green mountains and almost no traffic. Near the tunnel, we crossed from Navarra into Gipuzkoa and officially entered another part of the Basque Country.
The climbing kept us warm, but the long, wet descent toward sea level was another story. By the time we reached the bottom, Lisa’s fingers were frozen. Luckily, we found a welcoming coffee shop where a ham-and-cheese croissant and warm cups of coffee gave us both food and something hot to wrap our hands around.
From there, we joined the Arditurri Greenway, another old railway corridor. This one once carried minerals from mines in the mountains to the port at Pasaia. Today it follows the Oiartzun River before linking into a surprisingly complete network of bike lanes through Oiartzun, Errenteria, Pasaia, and all the way into Donostia-San Sebastián.
Once again, entering a large city turned out to be far easier than we had imagined. We simply followed one bike trail into another until the mountains opened to the sea. I could not help thinking about how difficult it would be to navigate loaded touring bicycles into the center of Chicago!
Reaching the coast was spectacular. Dark storm clouds hung over the city while the ocean remained a brilliant blue below them. Large waves rolled toward Zurriola Beach, where surfers were taking advantage of the rough water. Zurriola is San Sebastián’s most exposed beach and the heart of the city’s surfing culture, so even under threatening skies there were plenty of people in the water.
Still carrying all our gear, we took a short bicycle tour along the waterfront and through the city before checking into our hotel. It was much nicer than we expected, with a little balcony and a great view. We relaxed for a while before setting out on our next important mission: pintxos!
We wandered through the narrow streets of the Parte Vieja, stopping for little snacks and drinks along the way. The old town was rebuilt after a devastating fire in 1813, although the Gothic Church of San Vicente, the oldest church in the city, survived from centuries earlier. We also found a small souvenir shop, picked out some postcards, and sent them on their way.
Eventually, our wandering led us to a beautiful place overlooking the ocean for sunset. The colors never became quite as brilliant as we expected, but watching the clouds, waves, and fading light over the Atlantic was still a perfect ending to the day.
Then it was back to our balcony for a few snacks and drinks before calling it a night. Between the rain, river trails, mountain passes, frozen fingers, city navigation, surfers, pintxos, and ocean views, we were exhausted. It was another completely unique day, and another one we will never forget.Read more
Over Artesiaga and Into the Baztan Valley
September 30 in Spain ⋅ 🌧 20 °C
Day : Pamplona to Elizondo (49 miles / 3050 ft.)
Pamplona is a bustling city, and it seems like the farther north we travel in Spain, the earlier people become active in the morning. Maybe it is just our imagination.
After a late breakfast in our hotel room, we finally rolled out around 9:30. Before leaving Pamplona, we took a relaxed cruise through the city, riding past the Citadel and following one interesting street after another until we eventually circled back into the old town and Plaza del Castillo. There we stopped for coffee and a slice of the famous tortilla de patatas (one of Lisa’s favorites).
We continued wandering past old bridges, parks, and some of the city’s grand government buildings. Pamplona felt remarkably quiet, safe, and easy to explore by bicycle while people headed to work and students made their way to school.
Leaving the city, we picked up the Arga River and followed its green corridor through the Esteribar Valley. The buildings gradually disappeared, the hills closed in around us, and the ride became quieter with every mile. The route passed through the same beautiful river valley as the Camino de Santiago before continuing toward the mountains.
At the Embalse de Eugi, we stopped beside the water for a picnic of bread, hummus, and cheese. From there, the real climbing began as we entered the thick forests of Kintoa, also known as Quinto Real. The name reaches back to the days when the kings of Navarre collected a levy for livestock grazing in these mountain forests.
Our climb to Puerto de Artesiaga was a little over five miles and carried us to nearly 3,250 feet. The narrow road twisted through beech forest and open mountain country with very little traffic. There was, however, plenty of evidence that cattle, horses, sheep, and goats roam freely up there. We were amazed by how much manure could fit on one little road!
The reward was one of the most spectacular descents of our lives. The landscape reminded us of Switzerland, with animals grazing across steep green mountainsides, deep valleys falling away below us, and an enormous blue sky overhead. The narrow road curled down the mountain in one switchback after another, almost completely free of cars. We reached speeds over 40 miles per hour as we dropped nearly 2,500 feet toward the Baztan Valley.
After reaching the valley floor, we rolled through Irurita and followed the river into Elizondo. The town sits on both sides of the Baztan River and serves as the administrative and commercial heart of the valley’s fifteen villages. Its stone houses, wooden balconies, small bridges, schools, shops, and stately old buildings make it feel much larger in importance than in size.
Naturally, our first stop was a café for pintxos and cold drinks. We sat in the town square until a little after 4:00, when our Warmshowers host, Joseba, arrived with his two-year-old daughter, Goiztiri. After playing in the square for a while, we walked back to their flat nearby, had a few snacks, cleaned up, and relaxed while waiting for Joseba’s partner, Amaiur, to return from Pamplona.
That evening we shared tortilla de patatas, cold tomato soup, freshly cooked vegetables, tomatoes, bread, cheese, and dry cider from the cooperative Joseba belongs to. Somehow, in only six hours, we learned an incredible amount about Basque culture, cheese, cider making, music, language, bicycles, and everyday life in the valley.
Joseba told us about the txalaparta, the traditional Basque wooden percussion instrument played by striking long boards. We also learned about the kirikoketa, an older tradition connected to making cider. People rhythmically pounded apples with long wooden mallets, turning the work into music. It was one more example of how history, food, work, and community remain connected here.
After dinner, Joseba interviewed us for Xorroxin Irratia, the local Basque-language radio station serving the surrounding valleys. He is working on a project about bicycle culture, especially using bicycles for everyday transportation, and wanted to hear what daily cycling is like in Iowa City.
We also took an evening walk through Elizondo. People greeted one another on the streets, families were out walking, and the entire place had the comfortable feeling of a small Iowa town, only with mountains rising above the rooftops and far more people enjoying an evening stroll.
We finished the night sitting together, talking and playing with Amaiur before heading to bed around 10:00. Once again, Warmshowers gave us much more than a place to sleep. It gave us a doorway into a family, a culture, and a community we never could have experienced on our own.Read more
Buen Camino, Buen Pintxos, Bueno Everything
September 29 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 27 °C
Day 29: Estella-Lizarra to Pamplona (35 miles / 3235 ft.)
With a shorter day and less climbing ahead, we slept a little later and took our time leaving Estella. The morning was cloudy and chilly, so we rode around town to see a few more sights before heading toward Pamplona.
The riding between the two cities was amazing. We repeatedly intersected the Camino de Santiago and sometimes rode directly on it, traveling opposite the normal flow of pilgrims. We must have passed at least 100 walkers from all over the world. Everyone shared the trail graciously, and a few seemed surprised enough by our loaded bicycles that we probably ended up in their photos.
All day we heard, “¡Buen Camino!” along with genuine smiles and gratuitous nods. It is the traditional greeting among pilgrims, wishing one another a good journey. Naturally, Lisa and I began modifying it: “Buen Velo,” “Buen EuroVelo,” “Buen whatever,” and anything else that made us laugh.
Near Puente la Reina, our route connected with EuroVelo 1 and EuroVelo 3, the Pilgrims Route. This is one of the Camino’s most important towns, where historic pilgrimage routes come together before crossing the famous medieval bridge over the Arga River. From there, we continued through rolling farmland, vineyards, little stone villages, and the foothills of the Sierra del Perdón.
Puente la Reina also became the site of Lisa’s first touring flat in what we estimate is nearly 5,000 miles. The timing could not have been better because it happened beside a café filled with delightful pastries. A piece of wire nearly as thin as a hair had worked its way through the tire.
We found an outdoor table, ordered coffee and pastries, and repaired the flat. Unfortunately, we had not kept track of which spare tubes were actually still good, and I installed one with a tiny hole. After enjoying our pastries, we discovered the tire was flat again. Luckily, I had not put the wheel back on the bicycle yet, so the second repair went quickly. Buen flat!
As the day continued, the clouds separated and the sky became a magnificent blue filled with puffy white clouds. I could not stop taking pictures. We eventually reached a newly paved descent where our speed climbed past 40 mph before the landscape opened into the Pamplona basin.
We always get a little nervous approaching a large city, but Pamplona’s bike lanes made the arrival surprisingly easy. Our route brought us past the University of Navarra, the massive green space surrounding the star-shaped Citadel, and toward the old city. Pamplona is one of the first major cities on the Camino Francés, although most pilgrims begin farther east in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port or Roncesvalles.
There was one final climb after reaching our hotel. Our room was on the third floor, which in Europe means carrying the loaded bicycles up four levels because the ground floor is numbered zero!
After cleaning up, we headed back out on foot. We walked past the bullring, explored the old town, and wandered through Plaza del Castillo, or Gazteluko Plaza, the lively heart of Pamplona. Of course, we found a place for pintxos.
While eating, we met a Swiss couple traveling south from France for two months with their children. As if that were not adventurous enough, the husband had previously spent three years traveling from Switzerland through Africa. Encounters like that have a way of making our little bicycle trip feel almost ordinary.
Darkness settled over the city as we wandered among illuminated gates, plazas, and government buildings. We eventually found a grocery store, gathered supplies for breakfast, and were in bed by 9:30.
Another one of the best days, although we seem to say that almost every day.Read more
Champagne Gravel and a Traveling Wine Glass
September 28 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 20 °C
Day 28: Vitoria-Gasteiz to Estella-Lizarra (48 miles / 2150 ft.)
After breakfast with Ainhoa, Hodei, and Lur, we said goodbye as they left for school around 8:15. Our legs felt revived after a full day away from the bicycles, and finally, this felt like the kind of day bicycle touring is supposed to be.
We quickly joined the Vía Verde del Ferrocarril Vasco-Navarro, a greenway following the old narrow-gauge railway known locally as El Trenico. From 1927 until 1967, the little train connected Estella with Vitoria-Gasteiz and towns farther north. Today, its former railbed creates a peaceful route of gentle grades, tunnels, bridges, and miles of mostly wonderful crushed “champagne gravel.”
Peaceful, except for the wind! We were immediately hit by a 22 mph headwind. The surrounding hills occasionally protected us, and as the trail changed direction, the headwind became a crosswind that tried pushing us off the path in the open areas. We continued pressing forward, and eventually the wind eased.
The trail carried us away from the broad plains surrounding Vitoria, through the quieter hills of Álava, and finally into Navarra and the Río Ega valley. There were few people, almost no cars, and surprisingly few barking dogs. We stopped briefly for a snack and to handle the details for our evening accommodations, but otherwise we simply kept riding and enjoying the trail. We also captured plenty of video, hoping to make a video film of one of our favorite riding days.
https://www.instagram.com/reel/Dd2B5vYoRL6/?stk…
Upon reaching Estella-Lizarra, we bought groceries, checked into a hostel filled with Camino de Santiago walkers, and settled into the familiar routine of drinks, snacks, showers, and laundry. Apparently, we are still on the Camino! We returned to the store for dinner supplies and cooked pasta and potatoes in the shared kitchen.
Estella grew into an important medieval city because of the Camino, and pilgrims are still everywhere. That evening, we wandered through the illuminated Plaza de los Fueros, the heart of town, surrounded by arcaded buildings and the neoclassical façade of the Church of San Juan.
We purchased a glass of Spanish red wine, and without any concern, they let us walk away with the actual glass. We wandered around the square for more than 30 minutes before returning it. In the United States, alarms might have sounded and security might have been called. Here, the glass was simply trusted to find its way home.
We keep saying, “This was one of our best days of riding,” but every day offers something different. This one was especially quiet, peaceful, and exactly what we needed.Read more
Coins, Pintxos, and Kindness ❤️
September 27 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 24 °C
Day 27: Rest Day in Vitoria-Gasteiz (5 mile walk)
We had an actual rest day! I never even looked at the bicycles. Lisa saw them once, only because she retrieved the water bottles to wash them.
We slept late, enjoyed breakfast at the flat, and wandered back into the city. Our first stop was the Sunday flea market in Plaza de España. I searched through old coins hoping to find something from the 1800s, but settled for three coins for one euro. We also searched unsuccessfully for an old marble. We usually bring home a marble from each trip because it is small and easy to carry, but perhaps the tradition is evolving into finding any little flea-market treasure that catches our attention.
Next came the pintxos festival. Pintxos are the Basque version of tapas, small but carefully created bites often served on bread or held together with a toothpick. They are meant to be sampled with a drink while moving between bars or stands, making lunch as much a social experience as a meal. After trying some food and drinks, we were more than ready to return to the flat for a nap.
Later, Koldo, Ainhoa, and their children finally arrived home. Meeting them in person was an absolute delight. Hodei means “cloud” in Basque, while Lur means “earth” or “land,” beautiful names that we will certainly remember.
We played cards, visited a playground, laughed together, and shared stories and a wonderful dinner of tortilla de patatas, salad, cheese, and Rioja wine. The hours passed much too quickly.
This is the true gift of Warmshowers. Sometimes you meet people from a completely different place and almost immediately feel like yourself around them: comfortable, calm, and exactly where you are supposed to be. We arrived as strangers trusted with their home and left feeling like we had found another family.
We know we will be friends forever, and we truly hope Koldo, Ainhoa, Hodei, and Lur will someday visit us in Iowa. What a special evening and a perfect rest day.Read more
VITORIA! A Warm Welcome to the Middle Ages
September 26 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 22 °C
A Warm Welcome to the Middle Ages
Day 26: Balmaseda to Vitoria-Gasteiz (55 miles / 4300 ft.)
We enjoyed a quiet morning in our hotel, a former convent that had been converted into a beautiful place to stay. We were on the road before 9:00, which felt pretty early by Spanish standards.
The route began along the Cadagua River before turning through the green, wooded hills of the Basque Country. We crossed back and forth between Bizkaia and Álava, eventually climbing through the foothills near Gorbeia Natural Park before reaching the broad plain surrounding Vitoria-Gasteiz.
Numerous cycling groups were out enjoying their Saturday morning rides. It was a delight seeing so many cyclists, and it helped us make good time toward Vitoria, where our first true rest day and a medieval festival were waiting.
Along the way, we stumbled into the San Miguel festivities in Murgia. The plaza was filled with music and groups of friends cooking for a potato competition. It was another one of those unexpected experiences we never could have planned.
Because of a little confusion, our Warmshowers hosts, Koldo and Ainhoa, were near San Sebastián when we arrived. They arranged for their friend Raúl to meet us in a plaza. He greeted us warmly and carefully guided us through the city to their flat. We were incredibly touched that Koldo and Ainhoa trusted us with their keys and entire home even though they were not there.
“Make yourselves at home and enjoy the city. Feel free to help yourselves to anything in the fridge or use anything in the house—no problem at all.
See you on Sunday—have a great trip!”
After settling in, cleaning up, and resting briefly, we walked into Vitoria-Gasteiz’s medieval quarter. The old center is known as the Medieval Almond because of its shape, and for the weekend its narrow streets were filled with more than 200 food and craft stalls representing the Christian, Jewish, and Arab cultures that once shared the city.
We watched acrobats and a giant work their way through the packed streets, browsed the artisan food, jewelry, and craft stalls, and ordered some roasted pig that turned out to be pork served in a kebab box. It wasn’t quite the medieval feast we imagined, but it still tasted good!
We had dreams of staying awake until 10:00 for the fire show, but after riding, eating, and fighting our way through the crowds, our first true rest day sounded even better. We returned to the flat feeling incredibly grateful for Raúl’s kindness and for two Warmshowers hosts who trusted us enough to say, “Make yourselves at home,” even when they weren’t home themselves.Read more
Climbing into Another Year
September 25 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 17 °C
Day 25: Vega de Pas to Balmaseda (45 miles / 3650 ft.)
Jim’s birthday ride!
The day began with a late breakfast that Booking.com reviews had described as “wonderful.” The reviews mentioned meats, cheeses, fruit, yogurt, and packed lunches. Instead, we received coffee, juice, three small pieces of baguette with jam, and a magdalena, Spain’s little breakfast sponge cake. We had hoped for more because a seven-mile climb was waiting right outside the door.
As we climbed out of the Pas Valley, we spotted a group of cyclists ahead and decided to catch them. They were from Madrid, and it was fun having some camaraderie as we climbed together toward Puerto de las Estacas de Trueba. Once again, we found ourselves riding into the clouds.
The pass carried us over the Cantabrian Mountains at nearly 3,800 feet and from Cantabria into Castilla y León. As we crossed over, the climate changed noticeably. The air felt cooler and fresher, with a hint of fall in the trees. Most of the leaves were already brown from the dry, hot weather, but a few showed flashes of crimson and yellow. The views were spectacular, followed by a long, warm descent alongside the Río Trueba. We soon found ourselves riding with another group before parting ways in Espinosa de los Monteros.
We had pushed on because we expected to find food at the market, but it was already closing. A couple of bakeries saved us with traditional premade sandwiches, which we ate on a bench before continuing east through the green Valle de Mena. Lisa settled for a hot dog in a baguette, while I had chorizo inside bread. Both were simple, traditional choices that hit the spot.
The final miles followed the Cadagua River into the Basque Country and Balmaseda, meaning my birthday ride crossed three different regions of Spain. Balmaseda has long been a gateway between Castilla and Bizkaia, tucked between the mountains along the river.
Upon arriving, we celebrated with patatas bravas and cold drinks, checked into our hotel, and hit the town. We eventually found a wonderful family-owned café run by a Venezuelan family. Their youngest son, Alan, spoke English and helped us order, and then cooked what may have been the best cheeseburgers we have ever eaten.
The night ended back in our hotel room with a nightcap and birthday cheesecake.
Happy Birthday, Jim! ❤️Read more
Wrong Turns, Rock Music, and Two Passes
September 24 in Spain ⋅ 🌙 23 °C
Day 24: Puente Viesgo to Vega de Pas (61 miles / 6265 ft.)
Have you ever had one of those days when you kept making wrong turns? That was exactly how our morning started. It felt like we had never toured before and were just learning how to read a map. Maybe all the coastal traffic and crowds had thrown us off our game, but we finally shook it off once we reached the mountains and countryside.
The route gradually carried us into the Valles Pasiegos, three green valleys shaped by the Miera, Pisueña, and Pas rivers. Cows grazed on steep hillsides among scattered stone cabins traditionally used by farming families as they moved their animals between seasonal pastures.
The beautiful weather continued, and mushrooms were springing up along the damp roadsides. Autumn mushroom gathering is a popular tradition across northern Spain, where the cool temperatures, frequent rain, and forests create ideal conditions. We also encountered plenty of motorcycles enjoying the winding mountain roads.
We knew our two biggest climbs were waiting late in the day. The first followed the Miera River deep into the narrowest and most rugged of the three valleys. Somewhere across the valley, a rock band was practicing. We never saw them, but their music echoed through the mountains and gave us an uplifting distraction from the climbing.
The final section to Alto del Caracol gained roughly 1,150 feet in less than three miles at an average near 7%, topping out around 2,675 feet. From the summit, we could look back into the Miera Valley before enjoying a magnificent twisting descent into the Pisueña Valley.
Then came La Braguía, our second mountain pass. It climbed for about five miles, gaining more than 1,500 feet at nearly 6%. Whenever we climb these mountains, the reward of looking back into the valley and seeing how far we have come makes every bit of tough riding worthwhile. This is the kind of touring we love, far more than fighting traffic through coastal cities.
From La Braguía, we descended through open pastures, stone walls, and Pasiego cabins into the Pas Valley and Vega de Pas. Crossing two mountain passes late in the ride made it a tough day, but the descents into those valleys were some of the most beautiful riding we have ever experienced.
We reached our rural accommodation around 5:30, completed our usual “chores,” and walked into town looking for dinner. We found the only place open, but naturally, they didn’t begin serving until 8:30. That gave us an hour to decipher the menu and talk about the day.
With help from our very patient waitress, we ordered cocido montañés, Cantabria’s traditional mountain stew made with white beans, berza greens, and different cuts of pork. We also shared a pizza and a bottle of Spanish red wine. It was the perfect dinner after a long mountain day.
Afterward, we enjoyed a quiet moonlit walk back to our hotel through the cool mountain air.
Until mañana. ❤️
P.S. A mile 39.1 we have 1000 miles for the trip so far.Read more
Sunrise, Shortcuts, and Spanish Tortilla
September 23 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 21 °C
Day 23: Llanes → Vargas (62 miles / 5,780 ft.)
We woke early to catch the sunrise peeking over the Bay of Biscay, then started climbing. It became another beautifully picturesque day of climbing and descending through green mountains and river valleys.
We passed through Colombres, known for its grand “Indiano” homes built by emigrants who returned wealthy from the Americas. After crossing from Asturias into Cantabria, we followed the Nansa River and stopped to watch the fish below.
Of course, I found us another nice shortcut. It followed a trail that was almost rideable, which means it was mostly unrideable.
Later we found a café where two coffees, a slice of tortilla española, and a chocolate croissant still cost about half what we would expect to pay in the United States.
The route continued through Cabezón de la Sal, a town historically connected to salt production, and along parts of the old Camino Real through Riocorvo and Cartes. This centuries-old road once connected Spain’s northern coast with the Castilian plateau.
A swarm of motorcycles added some extra excitement to our final descent into the Vargas area. We ended at a lovely guesthouse in the countryside, where we ate a tapas-style dinner on the terrace while watching the sunset. Afterward, the owner and another couple joined us for a long conversation about travel, kindness, politics, food, and nearly everything else. It was a wonderful mixture of Spanish and English, helped along by an owner who loved practicing his English.Read more
Clouds, Blowholes, and a Dinosaur Egg
September 22 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 21 °C
Day 22: Arriondas to Llanes (40 miles / ___ ft.)
We woke in Arriondas with the town once again engulfed in clouds. After another beautiful breakfast spread, we started along the cool Sella River before climbing through Bode and Tresmonte into the hills between Monte Moru and the Sierra del Sueve.
Eventually, we climbed above the clouds and caught our first view of the Bay of Biscay, something Lisa had dreamed of seeing since she was a little girl. We stopped near the top and looked toward the brilliant blue ocean while clouds still filled the valleys behind us. From that peaceful mountain viewpoint, it took only about five minutes of descending to reach the beach.
We stopped for coffee and a snack, then walked along the shore searching for sea glass. Lisa found what may be the largest rock anyone has ever decided to carry on a bicycle tour. It resembles a dinosaur egg and it’s a perfect souvenir for Gopal!
After passing through Ribadesella, where the Sella River reaches the sea, we continued east along sections of the Camino del Norte. Pilgrims normally walk west toward Santiago, so once again we had a steady stream of Camino walkers coming toward us.
Before reaching the Bufones de Pría, we found a vending machine and bought two icy cold Cokes. Our hotel had encouraged us to pack sandwiches from breakfast, giving us everything we needed for a magnificent picnic near the cliffs.
The bufones are blowholes created by waves entering caves beneath the limestone cliffs. The trapped water and air become pressurized and escape through openings in the ground, producing geyser-like sprays and a deep roaring or whistling sound. The ocean was fairly calm, so we didn’t see the giant sprays they can produce during rough weather, but hearing and feeling the air rushing through the rocks was still impressive.
Then came the most adventurous part of the day. Our route became a narrow, rocky singletrack that was nearly impossible to ride. Sharp rose bushes and sticker bushes crowded both sides of the trail and large rocks from the singletrack. At one point Lisa disappeared behind me, and I later learned she had fallen directly into the stickers while being attached to her pedal!
We finally escaped the craziness and reached a gravel road that felt as smooth as pavement. From there, we continued along the coast through small villages and past one beautiful beach after another. The water here is locally called the Cantabrian Sea, the southern portion of the Bay of Biscay. Its English name comes from Biscay, the Basque province farther east.
Traffic increased as we approached Llanes, but so did the scenery. Limestone cliffs, hidden coves, green pastures, and blue water seemed to surround us. We arrived in Llanes, a medieval fishing and whaling town squeezed between the sea and the mountains.
Our hotel check-in couldn’t have been easier. The woman was friendly and immediately helped us secure the bikes in the hotel garage, which always brings a huge sense of relief. After cleaning up, we ventured back out to find a laundromat and some dinner. Naturally, we found a kebab shop, because that is often what we do. It was good, easy, and perfectly timed while our laundry dried.
We dropped everything back at the room and went out once more to enjoy the town and the sunset. Every day seems to get better, and the pictures will never fully capture this one. We took plenty of video too, so maybe another Instagram video will appear under Jimboyvw or JimC.
What a day!Read more
Loving Asturias Riding!
September 21 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 26 °C
Day 21: Oviedo to Arriondas (48 miles / 4610 ft.)
Surprisingly, we slept well despite the late night bar scene outside our hostel. A full breakfast spread got us started, and we walked to the parking garage to find our bikes still safely hidden under the cardboard. We rode back to load them up, taking care on Oviedo’s slick stone streets while cleaning crews hosed away the remains of last night’s San Mateo festivities. We passed the cathedral, listened to its bells for a bit, and within three miles were out in the countryside.
Then the fun began. Low clouds rested in the mountains, sunshine warmed us as we pushed east, and the roads wound past cows, horses, apple trees, vineyards, and green pastures. Farmers had been moving cattle between fields, leaving plenty of evidence on the road. We also saw about ten cyclists, mostly older gentlemen on road bikes. Then I remembered I probably fit that description myself.
The hills gave us a ridiculous rhythm: descend at 30 or 40 mph, then immediately shift into our easiest gears and climb the next one at 4.5 mph, sometimes on a 14% grade. Some winding stretches reminded me of Kentucky. A few open views almost looked like Iowa, though the mountains quickly put an end to that thought.
Around mile 30, we stopped to eat the croissants we’d saved from breakfast. By then the morning clouds were lifting, and we just kept enjoying the ride through the hills toward Arriondas. We were near the Sierra del Sueve, with the Picos de Europa farther east. The coast is close, too: the Sella River runs from Arriondas to the sea at Ribadesella.
Rather than fight for a spot at a crowded café, we bought snacks and drinks at the grocery store and had a picnic in a park along the river before our 4:00 hotel check-in. Now we’re relaxing and planning a quiet evening, maybe with a stroll by the water when it cools down. It was chilly this morning but warmed to about 75°F, just about perfect.
Lisa and I keep catching ourselves saying, “This is the best day.” Today really was some of the best riding we’ve ever had.Read more
A Rest Day, Asturian Style
September 20 in Spain ⋅ 🌙 19 °C
Day 20: Grado to Oviedo (26 miles / 3700 ft.)
We went to bed under clear skies and woke with our hostel completely engulfed in fog. After breakfast, we hit the road for our “rest day,” which somehow became nearly 30 miles and and 3,700 feet of climbing.
We began with an easy coast into Grado for its Sunday market. We wandered among booths filled with cheap shoes and clothing, produce, meats, honey, and local cheeses. We left with honeycomb, cured sausage, and a piece of four-month-aged Afuega’l Pitu blancu, one of Asturias’s oldest cow’s-milk cheeses. We chose the white variety without paprika.
From Grado, we followed the Río Nalón valley before climbing away from the river toward Oviedo. We had discussed skipping Monte Naranco and having something closer to a real rest day, but the weather was beautiful and we were enjoying the ride, so up we went.
The long climb led to the Monument to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, standing high above Oviedo with its arms stretched over the city. We weren’t alone. Tourists arrived by car, hikers walked up, and quite a few cyclists made the climb before bombing back down.
At the top, we met a couple from Florida who had hiked up. Most of the other hikers looked like they had barely exercised, but these two were covered in dirt and looked as though they had been backpacking for days. They were ready to find a taxi for the trip down. We enjoyed our snack, the views, and then earned our reward with a fast descent into Oviedo.
For more than 24 hours, we had been worrying about our hotel’s rule forbidding bicycles. Separating ourselves from the bikes is never our favorite thing. We rode first to the recommended parking garage, unsure whether they had received my email. The attendant greeted us kindly, led us to a tucked-away corner, and then said in his best English, “It’s free.” Once again, a small act of kindness nearly brought tears to my eyes.
We unloaded everything at the hotel, rode back in our street shoes, locked the bikes deep inside the garage, and piled cardboard around them for a little extra camouflage. With security cameras watching, we decided they would be safe for the night.
After showers, snacks, and some rest, we headed into Oviedo for the San Mateo Festival. Oviedo is now the capital of Asturias, but it was also the capital of the medieval Kingdom of Asturias. Each September, San Mateo transforms its historic streets into a huge celebration with live music, food stands, local vendors, children’s activities, street performers, and fireworks.
We casually wandered through the crowds, listened to music, and eventually split a pizza. On our way back, we found a quieter live performance and stopped for a while. We were too tired to make it to the 10:00 p.m. fireworks, which may have been a wise decision. Our street was lined with pubs advertising hours from 11:30 p.m. until 5:00 a.m., so whether we actually got a restful night remained to be seen.Read more
Grado! Downhill, Until It Wasn’t.
September 19 in Spain ⋅ 🌙 19 °C
Day 19: El Puerto to Grado (45 miles / 1585 ft.)
After so many days of climbing, this was a day we had been looking forward to. Since we were starting at the top of the mountain, we hoped for an easier ride and good weather for the descent. We were not disappointed.
It was strange waking at 8:00 a.m. with the village still dark, the sun hidden behind the mountains. At least the restaurant didn’t back out on breakfast! We were the first ones downstairs, apparently still early by Spanish standards.
For nearly the first 15 miles, we barely needed to pedal. We probably could have broken some speed records, but kept it between 25 and 30 mph, stopping frequently for pictures that could never capture the magnificent landscape. From El Puerto, we descended through Somiedo Natural Park, following the Río Somiedo between steep green mountains. We passed through tunnels cut directly into the rock, with the cool air and sound of rushing water echoing around us.
The drivers here continue to impress us. Even on narrow mountain roads, they patiently waited until there was a safe place to pass.
We stopped in Pola de Somiedo for a walk through the village and to refill our bottles, then continued through the river valley to Belmonte de Miranda, where we had coffee and chatted with a couple of bicycle tourists from England.
Along the way, we saw countless hórreos and paneras, traditional Asturian granaries raised on stone supports to protect food from moisture and rodents. The larger paneras have six or more supports. Their wooden construction and overhanging roofs reminded us a little of Bavaria and Switzerland.
Then came the “until it wasn’t” part. To avoid a road tunnel, we followed a section of the Camino Primitivo, the oldest Camino route, in reverse. The gravel climb reached 18% and became completely unrideable for a while. Near the top, we finally managed to pedal again, only to find the road nearly blocked by vehicles and men carrying guns. It appeared to be an organized hunt, most likely for wild boar.
After passing a few Camino walkers coming toward us, we enjoyed another beautiful descent. With so much downhill, we finished with our highest average speed of the trip at 14.2 mph.
In Grado, we split a snack at a kebab shop, picked up supplies at Lidl, and tackled one final short but steep climb to our hostel in Sestiello, a tiny village overlooking the city. The beautifully remodeled building was once the owner’s family farmhouse. He showed us where his grandparents had lived and where the cows had once been kept.
We decided to support his business by eating dinner there and were rewarded with a beautiful salad and chicken stuffed with ham and cheese. Later, while walking through the village and listening to the cows moo, we met an older gentleman who had served in the Guardia Civil. We talked for about ten minutes and probably understood three to five percent of each other. Somehow, he convinced us to pick and taste some of his grapes.
When we finally left, he gave me a hearty handshake and blew Lisa a kiss from his hand. A neighbor walking down the hill saw the whole exchange and smiled. These encounters can begin a little awkwardly, but they often become some of our favorite cultural exchanges and best memories from the road.Read more
Austuria and No Chicken for You!
September 18 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 14 °C
Coal Country to the Clouds
Day 18: Ponferrada to El Puerto (55 miles / 5240 ft.)
We got up around 7:00 and opted out of the hostel’s €7.50 breakfast, making our own instead. In hindsight, ours was probably better anyway. We ate in the common area with several Camino hikers, although they were packed and gone long before us.
With the temperature around 49°F, we returned to our room, packed the bikes and added some warmer clothing. Another morning, another climb, but soon we were rewarded with beautiful riding alongside the Bárcena Reservoir.
From there, we followed the Sil River upstream through Toreno, Páramo del Sil and Villablino. The road, river and old railway were squeezed together between steep, forested slopes, and the scenery seemed to improve around every corner. This was once major coal country, and the old Ponfeblino railway carried coal from the mines around Villablino down the valley to Ponferrada. The mining has mostly disappeared, but its history remains visible in the towns and along the hillsides.
We knew the day would involve plenty of steady climbing, but riding through the tight curves of the river valley was breathtaking. After Villablino, we left the Sil and began our final climb into the jagged peaks of the Cantabrian Mountains. We crossed from Castilla y León into Asturias at Puerto de Somiedo before reaching El Puerto, a tiny livestock village sitting nearly 5,000 feet above sea level.
Lisa and I had spent much of the day dreaming about our promised chicken dinner. We had confirmed that the restaurant would be serving, so we carried very little food. Unfortunately, shortly after arriving, we learned that dinner had been canceled. Check-in felt a little tense until I used ChatGPT to translate a message explaining that we were sorry if we had gotten off on the wrong foot, but we had been counting on dinner and had no other food.
The woman helping us seemed upset with the owner on our behalf. After serving us a couple of cold drinks, she quietly disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two ham-and-cheese sandwiches and two apples. We both nearly teared up at her kindness. Then she came back again with two small cinnamon rolls for dessert.
Our spirits lifted, we walked through the tiny village listening to the cows mooing and admiring the brilliant blue sky, streaked with clouds and jet trails. Later, while sitting on the terrace, clouds rolled over the mountains, swallowed the sunset and slowly enclosed the entire village. It was an incredible feeling to be sitting inside the clouds.
Exhausted from both the climbing and the visual overload, we retired to our room with yet another magnificent mountain view. In the middle of the night, I woke and looked outside. The clouds had completely disappeared, leaving a dark sky filled with thousands, maybe millions, of stars. I stood quietly at the window for a while, simply absorbing the beauty.
Another wonderful day.Read more
The Cult (band), the Camino, and a Perfect Day.
September 17 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 20 °C
Viana do Bolo to Ponferrada (60 miles / 5100 ft.)
Some days are about exploring, and others are simply business on the bike. Yesterday we put our heads down and rode, but in between all that riding was honestly one of the most beautiful days we have ever had on bicycles.
Román had already left for work, but Noelia prepared an awesome breakfast and visited with us before we departed. As usual, the day began with a three-mile climb, but this time we were rewarded with nearly 15 miles of descending, sometimes approaching 45 mph. The temperature was perfect, the sky was clear and everything just seemed to click.
We left the mountains of Galicia’s Ourense province, descended through the Bibei valley and followed the Sil River through Valdeorras. Eventually we crossed into León province and the region of El Bierzo, part of Castilla y León. The mountains slowly opened into a greener and wider river valley as we approached Ponferrada.
We also found ourselves traveling backward along the Camino de Invierno, one of the Camino de Santiago routes. We crossed paths with walkers, followed the familiar shell symbols and passed the beautiful Ponte de Éntoma, an old single-arch slate bridge traditionally linked to Roman times. Lisa and I continued our running joke: “We must be on the Camino de Santiago!” We have been saying it since Lisbon and will probably continue saying it anytime we see a hiker.
Ponferrada felt like a town designed for fans of the rock band, The Cult. Red Templar crosses appeared on businesses and historic buildings throughout the city, while the massive Templar castle dominated the old town. The Knights Templar arrived here in the early 12th century to help protect pilgrims, and even the city’s name comes from an iron-reinforced bridge built across the Sil River for travelers.
Near the castle, we found a place for a cold drink and a snack before checking into our hostel. We felt slightly out of place among the Camino walkers, but everyone was welcoming, and the hostel had secure bicycle parking, a repair area and even a bike wash. That is always a huge relief at the end of a long day.
After showers and laundry, who could resist searching for a kebab? Lisa and I always say you cannot go wrong with pizza, a kebab or Indian food. We both had döner kebabs and french fries, then wandered around town until sunset.
We also came across a rather creepy black-robed statue that looked unsettlingly familiar to American eyes. It represents the Lambrión Chupacandiles, a traditional Nazareno who walks through Ponferrada ringing a bell to announce the coming of Holy Week. The pointed hood is part of a Spanish religious tradition that is centuries older than anything it unfortunately resembles back home.
Around 7:00 p.m., the city suddenly came alive. It was as if someone gave everyone an electric shock and said, “Get out of the house, walk around and have a cigarette!” We joined the evening crowd for a while before returning to the hostel and wrapping up another nearly perfect day.Read more
Portugal Behind Us, Galicia Ahead🇵🇹
September 16 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 16 °C
Day 16: Bragança, Portugal to Viana do Bolo, Spain (52 miles / 7,000 ft.)
The day began with another traffic jam of sheep. A farmer and his dogs led a large flock down the road, while a few more dogs followed behind keeping everyone in line. It was the beginning of one of our most picturesque days of the trip.
Then came the climbing. Unlike Iowa, there was no “getting a run at it.” We simply settled in, pedaling steadily at 4 to 6 mph as the road carried us higher into the mountains, sometimes approaching a 20% grade. Cooler weather helped, and the views were magnificent.
Naturally, one of my traditional “I think this is a shortcut” decisions led us down a crazy gravel descent followed by an even crazier gravel climb. We also rode through thousands of chestnut trees, from newly planted groves to enormous old trees that looked hundreds of years old. We wondered what anyone could possibly do with that many chestnuts. For centuries they were a staple food here, especially before potatoes arrived. Today they are roasted, dried, ground into flour, made into creams and desserts, or sold candied. Even so, it looked like there were far more than anyone could ever harvest.
Somewhere along the way, we crossed into Spain. There was no welcome sign or border crossing, but when we looked behind us, there was the Portugal sign. Just like that, our Portugal chapter was complete, with Lisa and me both a little sad to see it end so quickly.
Portugal by the numbers:
594 miles, 13 riding days, 1 rest day and 10.81 vertical miles. Approximately 6,732 barking dogs, four dog chases, three sheep roadblocks, two rats, one deer, two flat tires, both Jim’s, no clouds, no rain and only a couple of bad decisions!
Viana do Bolo was a hidden little gem tucked into the mountain valleys of Galicia. Our first Spanish meal was patatas bravas, crispy potatoes with paprika sauce and mayonnaise, and a nice change from our steady diet of batatas fritas.
The best part of the day was our Warmshowers hosts, Román and Noelia. They welcomed us even while juggling work, children returning to school, and remodeling their home. Over dinner, we learned about Galicia’s close historical and linguistic relationship with Portugal, along with Viana do Bolo’s winter Entrudio festival. During the celebration, boteiros wearing towering, colorful masks dance and leap through the streets while groups called fulións create a thunderous rhythm using drums and even old farm tools.
We also shared a Galician favorite, roasted pementos de Padrón with bread. As the traditional saying goes, “Os pementos de Padrón, uns pican e outros non” (“Padrón peppers, some are hot and some are not”). Eating them becomes a game. We would each bite into one and then watch everyone’s face, waiting to see who got the hot pepper. If someone suddenly started stuffing bread into their mouth, we had our answer!
Román also educated us on Portugal’s maritime reach into Africa and Asia, including the arrival of Portuguese traders in Japan in 1543. He mentioned the often-repeated connection between Portuguese obrigado and Japanese arigatō.
We could have talked much later, but our legs were finished, Román had a 5:30 a.m. alarm and a two-and-a-half-hour drive for work, and Noelia had school in the morning. Another fabulous Warmshowers experience, and one of our favorite areas of the journey so far.Read more
A Small Village to a University City
September 15 in Portugal ⋅ ☀️ 26 °C
Day 15: Vila de Ala to Bragança (60 Miles / 4,390 ft.)
Our final day in Portugal began with a full-service breakfast from Álvaro, Odette, and Mário at Casa de l’ Eigreija. After all their help, cold drinks, conversation, and hospitality, they deserve a big shout-out.
We left a tiny village where sheep wandered through the streets and tractors outnumbered cars. The route carried us across the high plateaus of Trás-os-Montes, repeatedly dropping into deep river valleys before sending us up long, winding climbs, some more than four miles. The roads were quiet, scenic, and really fun to ride.
In Vimioso, we stopped for a Coke, coffee, and a coconut-dusted pastry. Farther down the road, a small café appeared at exactly the right time. My Radler was so cold and refreshing that I immediately ordered another, while Lisa had juice and water.
By afternoon, the landscape began shifting from scattered farms and nearly empty villages toward Bragança, a city being rejuvenated by the Instituto Politécnico de Bragança. Its School of Agriculture fits naturally into this deeply rural region, while international students bring younger energy to the city. Many come from Portuguese-speaking countries, including Cape Verde, which was connected to Portugal until gaining independence through peaceful negotiations in 1975. That shared language and educational connection remains visible here today.
Our hostel is an older residence that Paulo remodeled during COVID. He was clearly proud of what he created, and he should be. It is a wonderful space overlooking Bragança’s medieval citadel. After pizza, groceries, and laundry, we walked up to the castle to watch the sunset.
It feels strange and a little sad knowing this is our final night in Portugal. Tomorrow we cross into Spain, where another Warmshowers host and the next part of the adventure await us. Portugal gave us one final gift: a glowing castle outside our bedroom window.Read more
Scrambled Eggs, Big Hills and Little Things
September 14 in Portugal ⋅ ☀️ 33 °C
Day 14: Vila Nova de Foz Côa to Vila de Ala (54 Miles / 5,300 ft.)
On our fifth big bicycle tour, we finally reached an important milestone: we made scrambled eggs for breakfast.
We rolled out around 8:30 into a sunny 58-degree morning. For once, the day began with a screaming two-mile descent, the cold air rushing over us. Of course, Portugal soon presented the bill and sent us climbing again.
Part of our route followed the Ecopista do Sabor, built on the old narrow-gauge railway that once connected Pocinho with northeastern Portugal before closing in 1988. The smooth grade gave us enormous views over the Douro and toward the Sabor Valley. Vineyards and thousands of olive trees covered hillsides that looked too dry and rocky to support anything. The fractured schist actually allows roots to reach moisture deep below the surface, helping grapes and olives survive in one of Portugal’s hottest and driest regions.
Just after joining the trail, we encountered a large group of goats and sheep blocking our path. A local farmer was tending them with the help of four dogs. It is always fun to stumble across something like that, although there is also that slightly nervous moment when you wonder how the dogs will react to two strange cyclists passing through.
Most of the day was simply riding through massive, nearly empty hills. A gas station appeared at just the right time, providing cold Cokes, an apple turnover, and a ham-and-cheese pastry.
In Mogadouro, we split a dürüm kebab, the kind wrapped in thin flatbread, along with fries and more cold drinks. The owner’s daughter came over from a nearby house to help translate. Her father’s pride as she confidently used her English required no translation.
We finished in Vila de Ala, a village so quiet that we had not seen another person by evening. Álvaro, a young lawyer from Spain and friend of the owner, helped us through the check-in process. The owner, Odette, is a retired geography teacher who could not have been nicer and had cold drinks waiting for us. Our accommodations and swimming pool were completely ours. The church next door rings every 15 minutes, which for now we are calling charming.
The landscapes were huge today, but the little things stayed with us: a friendly toot of a horn, a wave between bicycle travelers, a gas-station worker joking that “they” are usually wrong about the internet weather forecast, a cashier checking our eggs for cracks, and a grandmother making silly noises for her tiny granddaughter.
Cultures can appear completely different, but these small moments feel familiar everywhere. Kindness rarely needs much translation.Read more
Goats, Granite, and Castle Glass
September 13 in Portugal ⋅ ☀️ 33 °C
Day 13: Celorico da Beira to Vila Nova de Foz Côa (43 Miles / 4,050 ft.)
Breakfast began with bread, yogurt, juice, ham, cheese, marmalade, and a cheerful conversation conducted through Portuguese, a little English, homemade sign language, and plenty of smiles.
Less than a mile into the ride, we encountered one trail runner, then another, followed by a steady stream of them. It turned out to be the Trail do Cerco, with several races winding through the hills around Celorico da Beira. We repeatedly crossed their route, sometimes on another brutally bumpy old stone road, and received plenty of “bom dias” and smiles as we cheered them along.
Eventually, the runners disappeared and we climbed into the quiet mountains on a narrow road we named Goat Road. The name was not very creative. We simply followed a small herd of goats for a while. Around us were enormous granite boulders, ripening red and yellow apples, and thousands of olive trees. High above the crumbling slate farm buildings, modern wind turbines turned along the rocky ridges. It was a striking mix of old and new.
We explored the castle at Trancoso before continuing to Moreira de Rei, where we found an amazing wine press carved directly into a granite outcrop. Grapes were crushed in the upper basin, and the juice flowed through channels into a lower collection area. Rock presses like this preserve the region’s long winemaking history. Grapes are now processed in modern wineries, but vineyards, olives, and the autumn harvest still shape life here much as they have for centuries.
At Marialva, we climbed through the castle ruins to the Torre do Relógio and started a new tradition by collecting a small piece of “castle glass.” At a nearby café, we cooled off with Cokes and a sonho de abóbora, a pumpkin fritter traditionally made around Christmas.
After some fast descents approaching 40 mph, we skipped the final castle and continued toward Vila Nova de Foz Côa. A stop at Intermarché supplied everything needed for another famous pasta dinner.
It was a wonderfully quiet Sunday of goats, runners, castles, giant rocks, and roads nearly empty of cars. Exactly the kind of day that keeps bicycle travel interesting.Read more
The Romans Didn’t Have Bicycles
September 12 in Portugal ⋅ 🌙 24 °C
Day 12: Seia to Celorico da Beira (41 Miles / 5,900 ft.)
On a long bicycle tour, the days can start to blend together: eat, ride, climb, sweat, repeat. But then you find yourself trying to push a loaded bicycle up an ancient Roman road and the day becomes memorable.
Our morning with Adriana and Bernardo included fruit, toast, yogurt with grains and fruit, and possibly the best coffee of the trip. Conversation continued until nearly 9:30, when they needed to begin their bicycle-camping trip and we needed to face the mountains.
Straight out the door came a seven-mile climb gaining more than 2,000 feet. We climbed into the dry, mostly treeless landscape of the Serra da Estrela, mainland Portugal’s highest mountain range. The scenery had changed dramatically, with huge granite slabs and rounded boulders shaped by millions of years of weathering and ancient ice.
We unexpectedly found ourselves sharing the mountain road with competitors in the Estrela Xtreme Triathlon. We cheered as they passed, and they seemed surprised to hear encouragement coming from two loaded bicycle tourists in the middle of nowhere.
In Gouveia, we found shade, ham-and-cheese toast, and a Coke while watching more racers pass. After another difficult climb, we reached Folgosinho. Its small pale-quartz castle, reconstructed on a much older defensive site, overlooks the village and the upper Mondego Valley. We spent half an hour enjoying the view before making our next questionable decision.
The ancient Roman road looked interesting on the map. In reality, its giant stones, grades above 20 percent, and our loaded bikes made even walking difficult.
“I guess the Romans didn’t have bicycles,” became the joke as we wrestled our bikes upward. The road was part of an ancient route across the mountains, built for feet, hooves, and carts, apparently without much consideration for future cyclist.
Celorico da Beira was bustling with its market and evening festivities. We sampled cherry liqueur (Ginja), a shrimp pastry, and white wine while admiring displays of local produce. We hoped for pizza, but the shop had closed, so cheeseburgers and french fries won instead.
The music was scheduled for 10:00 p.m. and the DJ for 2:00 a.m. The Romans may not have had bicycles, but apparently the Portuguese do not need sleep.Read more
Tiny Coffees, Mini Beers and New Friends
September 11 in Portugal ⋅ 🌙 23 °C
Day 11: Bordeiro to Seia (44 Miles / 4,730 ft.)
It was a beautiful, cool morning in our little apartment. After our normal quiet breakfast together, we put on our jackets and headed straight back into the climbing. The mornings have been cool, but the bright sunshine and perfectly blue skies warm things up quickly.
In Côja, workers were busy transforming the main square for the weekend’s medieval festival. We wandered through the streets looking for postcards, then joined everyone else with a baked treat and one of Portugal’s amazingly tiny coffees. The sugar packet was nearly as big as my espresso, and the whole thing was gone in about one sip.
The landscape is becoming hotter, drier, and more rugged as we approach the Serra da Estrela, the highest mountain range in mainland Portugal. With temperatures heading into the mid-90s, we took our time because our Warmshowers hosts, Adrianna and Bernardo, suggested arriving around 5:30.
In Lourosa, we visited the Church of São Pedro, a rare pre-Romanesque church dating to 912, along with ancient tombs carved into the surrounding stones. Later, we stopped in the shade among the Roman ruins of Bobadela for a snack, surrounded by the old forum, stone pillars, and monumental arch. Before leaving, we took a quick look at its Roman amphitheater.
Oliveira do Hospital may have a hospital, but that is not where its name comes from. The town was once controlled by the Knights Hospitaller, a medieval religious and military order. We were not especially hungry, but we still could not pass up the local kebab shop. The friendly owner walked outside with us and said that if we ever needed help anywhere in Portugal, he would send one of his employees. That kindness seems to follow us everywhere here.
In Seia, Adriana greeted us warmly with a table full of snacks and cold drinks. When Bernardo returned from his psychiatry practice, we shared soup, baked eggplant, fried eggs, and alheira, a poultry-and-bread sausage traditionally linked to Portuguese Jews who concealed their avoidance of pork during the Inquisition. We also enjoyed grapes, figs, passionfruit, and homemade marmalades from Adriana’s family.
Before we knew it, it was after 11:00. Adriana teaches theater and Bernardo teaches psychology, and they were preparing for one final bicycle-camping trip before returning to teaching Monday.
The craziest connection came late in the evening. Remember the gift we delivered from Al Hood to Professor Joaquim in Coimbra? Bernardo believes Joaquim sat on his dissertation committee and gave the final approval for his degree. Portugal suddenly felt like a very small place.Read more
Schist, Castles, and Sore Forearms
September 10 in Portugal ⋅ ☀️ 21 °C
Day 10: Coimbra to Bordeiro (54 Miles / 5,750 ft.)
We woke up early, a little nervous about the predicted 7,000 feet of climbing. We left Coimbra at 7:30, rode through campus and down to the Mondego River, then fought our way through the morning traffic. The farther we got from the city, the quieter it became and the climbing began.
Near Lousã, we made a short detour to Castelo da Lousã and spent nearly an hour exploring the castle and nearby chapels. The castle dates back to the 11th century and once helped guard the southern approaches to Coimbra.
Next came the long climb to Candal, one of Portugal’s Aldeias do Xisto, old mountain villages built largely from the region’s dark schist stone. From there we continued high into the Serra da Lousã, riding along fire-scarred ridges with giant wind turbines humming beside us.
Next was a five-mile descent over loose rocks and gravel. By the bottom, our forearms were aching from squeezing the brakes. Somewhere along the way, we also spotted a huge deer with antlers nearly three feet long.
We gathered supplies in Góis for a Jim and Lisa specialty pasta dinner with mushrooms, arugula, green olives, and local cheese melted into the sauce. As the evening cooled, we sat outside near Bordeiro looking back at the television towers high on the mountains we had crossed earlier. Chocolate pudding cups finished off another great day on the road.Read more
Traveler
The peacefulness of this scene really catches my eye.