An annual cycle

I am a new man. I

discovered kamoot – an app designed for bikers/cyclists that enables me to avoid those filthy gravel paths and pothole bombs (opting instead for paved roads as a default)

Result? I arrived in Zamora by lunchtime ! Having navigated beautiful, deserted, paved roads – overseeing wonderful countryside at an average of just under 30kmph instead of molasses-slow-anxiety on those ghastly gravel (Crunch, Grind, Swerve and Slide) paths.

There may be a God after all?

Perhaps not the exact words – but the gist of them.

Tordesillas (my current location) was the location of a famous treaty between Spain and Portugal (7 June 1494) designed to demarcate who got what, where – for the entire planet!: west of the Iberian peninsula was for Spain, and east for Portugal.

Simple!

Turned out Brazil was an agreed exception – but, otherwise, that was the split pursued by both nations:

For good measure, let’s look at the former British Empire:

Can you identify every red patch? (I can’t!) – good material for your next Table Quiz!

A consolidated “Colonies over the Centuries” might be instructive too?

Cycle paths shouldn’t disappear?

In the first instance, today, I backtracked and found an alternative route.

In the second, I decided to persevere through increasingly jungle surroundings.

Imagine the scene – no discernible track, encroaching bushes on either side. . . and then – the dogs! Ever since the dog attack in Oregon (Vancouver to San Francisco trip in 2013) I have become hyper-alert to loud barking dogs.

On that occasion, one nasty candidate (of 3 would-be attackers) succeeded with his evil intentions – sinking his teeth into my right leg just above the knee, leaving no fewer than 5 bloody punctures (necessitating repairing to a local hospital for a tetanus shot).

So, when I heard, and then saw, 3 loud Alsatians heading in my direction, the rush of adrenaline was immediate.

The problem was the path – even with a blast of adrenalin to supercharge my pedalling, the terrain just would not allow a hasty escape. I had to pray that they were contained behind a suitable fence.

Luckily, they were. But I failed to recognise the portent they represented.

Fed up with the poor quality path, I sought a different route to complete my journey. Google identified an alternative tertiary road on the other side of the motorway – and a bridge to access it – so, off I went.

So far so good. A steep climb on a good quality road seemed like an acceptable price to pay. A turn left and – back to a “Crunch, Grind, Swerve and Slide” road. Ugh! At least there was no grass in the middle or tall vegetation at the side. And, having climbed a good while, the path thereafter was downhill.

Ah, downhill.

Little did I know I was about to be introduced to the game of “Rock, Sand, Skin”. . .

Rocks – clearly beats Sand

Sand – beats Skin (so, avoid)

And Skin? – unlike “Rock, Paper, Scissors”, Skin just breaks. Skin bleeds. Skin yells with pain.

All it took was a concealed rock/pothole, a layer of sand, and a downhill aspect to send me flying.

And then that awful high speed disaster/slow motion feeling. My right leg and right elbow took the brunt of the damage, acting as an unintended and painful brake.

I spit out the sand and grit and take stock – all 4 limbs are present and accounted for – no apparent breaks. Good.

Bike looks gnarled – it can wait.

Experimental flexing of fingers and toes. Okay.

And then the Pain Train hits me – my right leg and arm are on fire. Some antiseptic wipes clear away most of the sand and grit but I’m bleeding.

I had to cycle 10k to Tordesillas – only to discover they had no hospital (okay – it’s a small town). The pharmacy directed me to the local Clinica and there, a “seen it all before” nurse/paramedic patched me up – cleaned the wounds, applied antibiotic cream, gingerly applied a dressing and gave me a tetanus shot.

I asked how much I owed her for her Florence Nightangale intervention. When I looked puzzled to her response of “Zero” she simply shrugged her shoulders: “European!” (the equivalent cost in the US 11 years ago was US$1,000!))

I could have kissed her.

Try navigating this mess without an authoritative instruction from Dr Google?!

Fantastic start: deserted roads, super smooth -a delight to be on:

But the Universe still has a laugh at my expense (or, should I say, Google Maps) – try navigating this “path”:

Despite the great start on paved roads, I was back to Grind, Crunch, Swerve and Slide all afternoon – damn those gravel/sand paths!!

I can’t get over the number of cathedrals – they’re huge – and have amazing sculptures, paintings, architecture and more

There has to be a reflection on the relative wealth (and monopoly) of the Church in past centuries – and on what we now spend equivalent sums on? (that will be the subject of wonder in centuries to come)?

I’ll need to reflect on that one.

Sometimes the best things are right in front of us?

McDonalds – I know – but, come on – €2.41?

(the device in the background is a customer self-order one)

Status check today:

Wet and Windy? – definitely not

Heat, Humidity, Hills? – very hot (35C at 6pm!) – I consumed nearly 5 litres of water just staying hydrated today. Humidity not a problem. Hills? Yes: challenging (another 4,000 feet day)

Surface? The biggest challenge. If it wasn’t the grind of hardcore/sandy, it was the crunch of gravel – or, worse, the swerve (to avoid potholes/stones) or the slide into loose sand. I reckon my average speed fell by at least 50% compared to cycling on a paved surface. Really tiring too.

Definitely planning to revert to adjacent roads from tomorrow and leave the challenging Camino surface to the walkers (or cyclists with mountain bikes – my tourer just isn’t equipped (or is it me?))

I read an account of this Cathedral in my EuroVelo Guide and thought “on drugs or mad?”

So, I checked Wikipedia. (Same madman or drug addict?).

So, I took a detour and inspected the site myself.

Here is what Wikipedia says:

A miracle is attributed to Dominic according to which two beheaded cooked chickens resurrected to testify in favor of a pilgrim wrongly accused of theft. A pair of descendants of the chickens are kept at all times in the choir loft of the cathedral.

Surely not?

Zoom in and you’ll see the rooster and hen – in the cathedral.

I asked the nice man who had charged me €5 entrance “Do you believe the BEHEADED COOKED chickens were resurrected?”

Like the faithful local you’d expect, he said yes.

I’m going for a beer.