Once upon a time porridge.... - the journey - CycleBlaze

September 27, 2011

Once upon a time porridge....

Everyday pedaling of upwards and often more than ten hours a day, quickly fatigues both body and mind. And so it was yesterday evening, I hadn't the inclination to write so I'm writing this evening catching up on two days; days which weren't too eventful, but the reader nonetheless will wonder what went on if I leave them blank.

For the first time in a long long time, I ate porridge for breakfast. I can't recall when I last ate porridge, its so long ago. I think I became really fed-up with it one time, as it takes time to prepare, time to eat and I had to wash the pan in an icy-stream afterwards, so I stopped eating it. But its filling and supposedly provides slow release energy all morning, so I don't feel hungry till noon which is perhaps one advantage.

My custom now that I'm in Spain, is to ride in hope of reaching the next town with a supermercado shortly before noon. This morning to recap on my location, I started fifteen kilometres south of Teruel, and all morning I past leafy hedge-bound fields, in a valley enclosed by tabular hills dotted with dwarf pines on their scree slopes and often growing further up, in whichever rocky crevasse a tree had got a foothold. There wasn't a cloud in the sky so it was warming up and, I was still due south on N320.

At eleven o'clock, after a short climb, I crested a hill and the small town of Meduza came into view, built seemingly one house on top of the other on a steep hillside. And moreover, it was on the opposite side of the valley, so straightaway once I'd ridden off on the slip-road, Is braking on the steep downhill to the river, where I rode-over a quaint old bridge and then climbed steeply up a narrow roughly paved street, underneath balconies and washing lines.

I rode the whole length of the street and turned around, having not seen a supermercado. Then I asked a woman whom directed me back midway, where I saw a small shop window which I most have missed. The shop-front was barely wide enough to lean the bike and trailer against but belied the inside which although narrow, had a long single food-aisle and therefore had everything easily at hand within a small space. There was a long queue at the single-check-out though, due to a dispute between the matronly check-out woman and an elderly lady over the price of some produce or other.

I had my usual treat of a cold beer while sat on a bench outside to strange looks from locals. Who is he?: they perhaps thought, and as the Spanish don't have that pressing urge to approach me a man with a loaded bike and a story to tell, I don't mine at all. It's better that way, not having to answer questions that you've answered yesterday and the day before yesterday and will answer again tomorrow.

Leaving town, over the bridge and back up the steep hill to the road, had me at my limit without getting off to push. I was out of the saddle stomping down hard on the pedals to turn the thirty-two by twenty-one single-speed gear, but at lease it was short. Then immediately after joining the N320 at the top of the hill, the road that followed was elevated across the valley by a sleek new viaduct, thereby avoiding a big descend and a long ascend up again in the warm midday sun. As it were, there was a five kilometre climb when I'd got to the viaduct's opposite side which would've been much steeper if it hadn't of been for a deep cutting through the hill. When I eventually crested the hill, the itinerary ahead was arid upland plain unlike the greener valley hitherto. I cycled a long way past a mix of grey scrub-land and yellow stubble fields with an odd bare tree at the roadside, not enough to provide shade to lunch. I passed through two villages deserted at this time of day and kept going even though my stomach began to feel cramped from hunger and thirst.

It was two o'clock when Is closing in on what was a blue ridge on the horizon earlier, but was a silver colour now below which, I could see pine clad hills and soon there were pine-plantations on either side where I at last stopped for lunch and afterwards, a bit further on found a place to camp.

Half nine.
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Eleven o'clock.
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Noon.
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The following countryside beyond the hill in previous photo.
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Four o'clock: an early stop yet again.
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