Day 3–Motorbiking in Spain

The bikes

Well, it played out oddly, in that prior to getting the bikes, our rental car’s transmission went out with less than 3k on the vehicle and my traveling partner, Ken, had to push it off the roadway as he was alone. In doing so, he injured his back. He came to the revelation after gathering the bikes that he could NOT ride for any length and that riding up the dirt track was utterly painful. Suddenly, as fate will have it, I was once again a solo rider, only this time in a foreign country. Talk about a stranger in a strange land! My biggest fear was not being able to communicate, however this proved less of a barrier than I originally anticipated. An unending smile and a hearty language attempt took me where I needed to go and always with assistance in kind.

The bike was packed and I was as ready to go as I ever would be!

Phrasebook, check…maps, check…gps, check…sunscreen, check…visa, check…sense of humor, check…OK…I was ready to go. I had my route plugged into the GPS, thanks to my husband, only I was modifying it. Figures eh? I did it on the fly. Does anyone know exactly what this means??

I had to laugh at the eyes on the car. I do believe that here in the USA we need to use more cartoons in our signage as at least it does make one look and chuckle, though the meaning is still unclear! Watch out in your mirror for motorcyclists? Motorcyclists watch for slowing cars? Everyone watch out for steep hills? This sign was always on a hill’s downgrade.

The morning I left, the weather reporters were anticipating a high of over 40C…I had my camelbak filled with ice water, but it was mucho calor. and my first stop was to refill my water supply. Now, not speaking Spanish made this job less than an easy one. Buenos días, Senor, uno agua frio, por favor. All I could do was try and smile…

The camelbak was as much an oddity as an American female solo rider. I grinned a lot and hoped for the same in return.

My first attempt at riding on narrow cobblestone streets, complete with lights allowing traffic to travel one way at a time. Many of these streets were amazingly narrow.

Yarn, fans, lace and stockings, something we don’t usually see in storefronts in America.

I can’t quite remember the name of this town, but I believe it was Fernán Núñez heading to Lucena and Rute.