In Valencia, day 1: La Albufera

December 11, 2019

The morning begins well, with what the team’s breakfast connoisseur avows is the finest spread of the tour. They have almost everything - a good range of cereals, breads, and pastries. Bacon, eggs, tortilla, asparagus, paella, melon. Surprisingly, no churros or chocolate donuts. And, since this is Spain, there are not ten varieties of jam. Rachael forgot her phone in the room, or she might have taken a video.

We begin our ride with a short detour to the Local Bicycle Store for some assistance. When we took the bus here from Murcia I tried to remove my saddle stem so that the bike would fit better in the bag, but was unable to. No amount of tugging, wresting, hammering on the saddle would break it free. I’m careful to keep the stem greased when assembling it, so I’m surprised that it’s locked solid like this. It wasn’t a problem on the bus - I could collapse the mast with the saddle still on it and fit the bike in the bag - but it would definitely be a problem when time came to suitcase it for the plane. We’re really lucky to have discovered this when we did while we still have plenty of time to deal with it.

At the LBS, I pantomime the situation to the mechanic, a promisingly burly young guy with biceps that look like my thighs. He makes his own best effort, without success. In a way, this pleases me - I hate going up to someone for assistance on something that requires some strength and then have them effortlessly open the bottle or whatever, handing it back to me with a smirk.

No smirk today. Instead, he looks at me a bit grimly, says cortado (chop), and pantomimes a sawing motion. After I satisfy him by expressing alarm he smiles, chuckles, and walks off for a can of penetrating oil. Five minutes later he tries again; and after hammering the saddle with the palm of his hand a dozen times, it finally starts to give.

Our day began with a trip to the LBS for some emergency servicing.

We tussled in frustration a bit last night and this morning, trying to work out the best plan for spending our time here. How much biking, how much sightseeing, how much walking do we want to do? Valencia, the third largest city in Spain, sits at the center of a broad, pancake flat plain. A first glance at the map doesn’t turn up many obvious choices for day rides from the center - the city extends far out, and you don’t see any real contour in the land for about fifteen miles. We tend to keep most of our rides to about forty miles now, so we don’t see that much within our range that looks like a worthy destination. Not the most obvious spot for a five night stay on a bike tour, actually.

On top of this, there’s the wind. Today’s forecast calls for a coolish, partly cloudy day with 15-20 mph west winds. And this is the good day. The next three days all look similar, but with even stronger winds. On Friday, gusts of up to 40 mph are predicted.

After much back and forth we agree on a general plan for our time, beginning today with a ride out to La Albufera, the large lake/natural park that begins ten or fifteen miles south of the city.

We leave Valencia by following its excellent network of bicycle lanes, starting with the one that passes right outside our door. It takes us past the city’s famous City of Art and Science, a complex of giant, hypermodern structures that are one of the top rated attractions in all of Spain. We allow ourselves only a brief look in passing this morning, knowing that we will be back for a longer visit sometime in the coming days.

Four miles later we cross over the Turia River, leave the city proper, and soon find ourselves biking along a broad sandy beach beside the sea. We are still biking on the city’s bike lane network, by the way.

Our route to Albufera took us past the City of Arts and Sciences, Valencia’s most important attraction and one of the highest rated sights in Spain. It really is astonishing, and worth some real attention. We’ll return for a longer look in the coming days.

Crossing over the rail line on a bike overpass we enjoy a view of Purísima Concepción parrish church.

Crossing the mouth of the Turia River on another bike overpass. From our experience so far, I’d say that Valencia has about the best bike infrastructure of any large city I’ve ever biked through.

The Turia River, about a quarter mile from the point where it empties into the sea. I was surprised to see how large this river is, since it was rerouted from its original course through the heart of Valencia to prevent flooding.

Even this late in the tour, Spain just keeps on giving. Today is yet another of those days that we’ll look back on as one completely unlike any day in the saddle we’ve spent before. Outstanding, and unique.

La Albufera is a large fresh water lake, the largest lake in Spain. It was originally a salt water lagoon, but over time has been cut off completely from the sea by the narrow sliver of land that we bike today. Fanning out from the lake is a broad, flat apron equally as large as the lake that was (and possibly still is - I’m unclear on this) given over to rice cultivation. Rice is a huge crop here historically, and Albufera is the homeland of paella.

After riding along the narrow sliver of land that separates Albufera from the sea for several miles we come to our first views of the lake. Today the lake has an almost violent character, with wind-driven waves rushing across the lake and piling against the piers. Albufera is a famous tourist destination, a place people come to for boating on the lake and admiring fabulous sunsets reflecting off the calm waters; but not today.

We look at the lake with wonder for several minutes and then bike on, fighting the strong crosswind blowing across the lake for control of our bikes, thankful that we’re sharing this road with so little traffic.

La Albufera is the largest inland lagoon in Spain. On a calm day you can take a boat out in it, but not today - winds are gusting to 30 mph.

It’s time for lunch, and as we bike along we keep our eye out for a sheltered spot where we can get some relief from the wind for a few minutes while we scarf down our snacks of the day. To our surprise though, we find a perfect spot on the leeward side of El Palmar, a small town abutting the lake. The town breaks the wind completely, and we enjoy a very pleasant lunch sitting in the sun on a low wall, facing a surprisingly flooded field to the west, taking in the quiet drama of the place. In front of us, birds dabble at the edge of the water or alight on top of posts. A trio of black cats slinks around, keeping the birds a bit farther off than they might approach otherwise. Behind our backs, and old couple sit in front of their home - she sits inert facing the sun in her wheelchair, he is hunched over on the stoop next to her mending a fishing net.

Image not found :( — We stopped for lunch here in El Palmar, sitting beside this small channel. It is surprisingly calm here, the strong west wind blocked by the small town behind us. A delightful spot to sit in the sun, eat your lunch, and watch the birds and cats drift by.

We were surprised by the extensive flooding here, with many structures isolated and surrounded by water in the huge lagoon.

A barraca, the traditional style of rural home in the Valencian countryside built of wood, reeds and mud. Only a few remain, here in Albufera.

An eerie scene, which we’ll see repeated for mile after mile for the next two hours.

A nice collection of favorite objects - a wooden boat, a cat, two bikes.

A nice study in black and white: a glossy ibis and a little egret.

I think this is the first time I’ve seen a Eurasian kingfisher close and stationary enough to get any sort of photo. Not the best shot, but enough to give you a sense of how intensely colorful they are.

I’m so delighted to know what a stonechat is now, a bird I first spotted way back in Extremadura almost two months ago. I’d never heard of this bird before then, but now that I’m aware of it I see it often.

After lunch we’re back at it, wrestling with the wind. For the next fifteen miles we’ll bike across the broad apron that surrounds the lake on a narrow paved lane that zigzags across the plane before eventually bending back seaward. At least I hope it’s paved the entire way - it looks like it on Google Maps, but it’s a pretty confusing route, cutting across a maze of smaller, unpaved roads that break the land into large squarish blocks.

The ride is not at all what I’d expected from looking at the maps, because it feels like we’re biking through the middle of the lake. The fields on all sides are flooded, the lanes extending out from our road into and then under the water, the water dotted here and there by structures - houses, agricultural buildings? - that are either completely surrounded by water or clinging on one side to a low finger of land. The road we’re biking on is above water, but barely. Water laps at the edges on both sides, and on the windward side laps up onto the surface.

The weather has changed too. A dark cloud formation has developed overhead, blotting out the sun. The wind has picked up, and some of the gusts must be 30 mph. It all feels quite raw and exposed, biking alone across this narrow strip of road across a vast wetland, buffeted by these winds. We both hope that I’ve mapped the route accurately and the road stays above water until we return to higher ground; and of course we hope it doesn’t rain.

At about the turnaround point in our route, we come to a locked gate that completely bars passage onto our intended road. A sign indicates it’s closed for perilous conditions. Not sure what to do, we decide to just turn back the way we came; but a mile later we come to another intersection, to a paved lane that isn’t shown on our map. By chance a car pulls up, the driver stops for us, and if we understand him right he assures us that it continues on to the coast. If it does, this should get us back to high land much sooner than by backtracking, and faster since it’s primarily downwind.

The next fifteen miles look like this. With strong, steady winds gusting 20 to 30 mph, it’s a raw, elemental experience. Cars are rare, which is a good thing - you’d like to stay well away from the edge.

Video sound track: Feel So Near, by Dougie MacLean

Surrounding the lagoon is a vast apron of absolutely flat land, crisscrossed by a network of lanes that taper off into flooded fields. I think most of this is rice fields, intentionally flooded at this time of year.

A curious scene. This stylish chair looks like it’s been drafted into duty as a fence post.

The already raw day grew more so as the sky clouded over and threatened rain. We felt exposed out in the middle of this vast wetland, buffeted and deafened by a wind that lapped water over the edge of the road.

The quality of light here was mesmerizing, reflecting off the wind-rippled water under an overcast sky. Note the black stork off in the field to Rachael’s left.

As close as he’d let us get. This was a lucky sighting. Most Of Europe’s black storks go south of the Sahara for the winter. This corner of Spain is the only part of the continent where any of them hang around.

This part of the ride was full of bird life, with flocks of gulls, terns and egrets rising from the fields as we biked past, with an occasional cormorant, ibis or heron thrown in.

The palm trees make a rather weird contrast to the rest of the scene here.

Here we were starting to get a bit anxious about our ride. Would our road give out on us? Was the water rising behind us so we’re we at risk of being cut off? A bit uncomfortable.

And it does. About three miles later we bike into El Perello, one of the seaside towns we’ve seen rising across the lake. Fifteen miles later we’re back in town, happy that the winds have abated and shifted a bit and are generally in our favor now. And a good thing - it’s been an incredible day, but we’ve had enough for the moment.

Returning to the city the sun breaks out again, nicely illuminating the colorful array of cranes rising above the port.

Back in Valencia. In the sun again, it’s hard to believe this is the same day.

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Ride stats today: 43 miles, 1,000’; for the tour: 2,385 miles, 99,500’

Today's ride: 43 miles (69 km)
Total: 2,385 miles (3,838 km)

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Jen RahnThis ride felt like a time warp to me. So much visual stimulation (magically captured in photos, videos, and words), that I got lost in it all. Pretty cool feeling!

I imagine that the presence of high winds didn't make it entirely relaxing .. but what awesome scenery, lighting, ... and birds!
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4 years ago

Scott AndersonTo Jen RahnThe wind was a bit unnerving alright, and so variable as we changed directions. It definitely added to the overall experience and its aura of mystery though.
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4 years ago