My tour of Andalusia had been pretty well mapped out and booked in advanced through Cordoba, and things had gone pretty much as planned, with a few exceptions in routing/breakdowns. I had thought to maybe take a train from east from Cordoba to Baeza, and visit Baeza, Ubeda and Jaen before circling back toward Granada. While in Seville, Iain had mentioned that the Parques Natural de la Sierra north of Montoro were quite nice, and something I might enjoy for a day ride or two. Given the nagging persistence of my cough/cold, I decided to go to Montoro for two nights – it wasn’t too far from Cordoba and would give me the option of a day ride or a rest day, depending on how I felt.
After my very brief morning visit to the Mezquita-Catedral de Córdoba, I packed up Vivien George and we crossed the Río Guadalquivir on the Roman Bridge. In less than two shakes, we crossed back over the Río Guadalquivir, and headed east on the wide shoulder of N-IV highway. Traffic was moderate but steady and the route flat, an easy but uninteresting stretch to start the day. After eight miles, I exited N-IV at Alcolea onto CO-3103 and had a wonderful eight mile stretch to Villafranca de Córdoba. The scenery wasn’t very notable, mostly woodlands and a general haziness, but the cycling was fantastic - another gem Andalusian road where there were more bikes than cars.
I stopped for a snack break in the small town of Villafranca de Córdoba, finding a bench by the town soccer pitch. As I sat munching my nuts and dates, a small boy with a soccer ball walked rather aimlessly in the street. He occasionally tried to execute a soccer move, but it was pretty clear that he was not a skilled player. After a while, it dawned on me that he was the son (or a relation) of the woman sweeping the street, with a broom. I struck up a brief “conversation” with the two of them, and thanked them for letting me take a photo. Then it was back on the bike for another stretch along the N-IV.
Leaving of Villafranca de Córdoba, the route headed south over the A4 autoroute and I was once again on the N-IV highway - another eight mile stretch that included the industrial area of El Carpio. I said a final farewell to the N-IV at Pedro Abdab and found myself on a very small road that climbed up through farm fields and olive groves. At the crest of the climb, I could faintly see Montoro in the distant haze before setting off on a wonderful downhill on the A-309, which took me into Montoro.
I wasn't sure the source of the haze - multifactorial perhaps. But there was a lot of tractor activity kicking up dust while cultivating the olive groves. The distant grove, on the left, looks freshly cultivated and the weeds removed; on the right is a grove yet to be mowed
I’d booked an apartment in Montoro directly with the host, Rosario, and texted her when I arrived in town, as instructed. In fact, I was not in Montoro but rather in the adjacent town of La Estacion. Undaunted, I continued on my route and found my way to the apartment, arriving a few minutes before Rosario. It was then I learned that the apartment had no WiFi, but that it did have a washing machine. Somewhat placated, I cleaned up and set off for the small plaza down the street in search of food. Despite the fact that it was mid-afternoon, none of the bars or restaurants near the plaza were serving food – the two that were open had drinks, but no food. I settled for a Fanta orange and small cup of salmorejo tapas and considered my options vis-à-vis food and internet.
The lack of internet was an annoyance not only for posting on CB but also due to the fact that my next French class was meeting tomorrow night on Zoom. My host Rosario told me that public WiFi was available at Plaza España, so it seemed a good thing to check out. I also searched online for food stores and found one on the other side of the river - Google said it was open, but did warn that Easter Monday might affect the hours. I walked up the empty streets of Montoro to Plaza España, noting the shuttered stores and the unusual layout of the city streets and buildings. Montoro is built along a hillside, similar to many of the towns I’ve visited in Andalusia. But here, everything seems built on top on each other, maximizing the space in a way I’ve not seen before.
There was not much going on at Plaza España, but the public WiFi seemed to worked fine. I then made my way down a maze of zig-zag streets and stairways to the base of Montoro and across the Río Guadalquivir, in search of the open grocery/market or perhaps a bar/restaurant. The market was shuttered. As were the all the bars and restaurants. It was if everything just stopped on Easter Monday, exhausted from a week of celebration and processions. A bit frustrated, I made my back across the river and up the hill to the apartment. I feasted on nuts and oranges I’d picked up earlier in Pedro Abdab, worked on the journal, and competed my French homework. I would figure out a WiFi work-around in the morning.
1 year ago