August 16, 2015
Hidious Hills: 10 km after Molina de Aragon to camp in stubble field on N420 14 km south of Cuenca.
I have come to the conclusion Spain is too far west to be in the same time zone as France and other continental European countries to the east of the UK. Spain is on much the same longitude as the latter, so it makes sense that the time should be the same, not Central European (CET). Perhaps a Western European Time (WET) for Iberian peninsular, Ireland and UK.
It means my body-clock kicks in waking me at half seven local time, with the sun just appearing on the horizon. It's only a small point, but it feels strange the day starting with the watch showing it's so late.
I am doing pretty well out of my stocked up food pannier, preparing appetising meals for camping. Yesterday-evening's supper was pasta in cream of vegetable soup, out of a packet, with two day old broccoli stalks, having to cut much of the floret off because heat had caused mould against the plastic rapping. A filling meal followed by chocolate chip cookies and red wine. This morning dried fruit muesli with a sliced banana and chocolate milk, tea and cookies.
It is almost ten when I ride down the track from my campsite and re-join road CM210 at km 90. The way descends a couple of kilometres through countryside of yellow stubble fields and pine forested hills. Then there's a left split off: a CM2106 with a sign to a place called Terzaga. Pausing a moment to look at the map, it is a longer alternative to remaining on CM210, so I stay on the latter which swings right and goes up a steep incline, the first of many. The way ahead a chaos of hills, forested with rock escarpment high up and deep ravines where the road descends steeply into, followed by something like a steep thirteen per cent climb back out.
It is hideously up and down until reaching Poveda de la Sierra, which with such a name, is at the top of a long arduous climb. There's some kind of religious monument before the turnoff into the village down below the road on the right. But up by the road is a hostel also on the right side, with a café where I now write while waiting for my camera to charge. I've a second cup of coffee and wait more. Finally I unplug it with the battery icon showing 45% charge, which will do a few days conservative use.
I don't, or try not to take all that many photos. I now know when a scene or something will make a good picture, so I only stop when there's something worth snapping; like, a stretch of road with some aspect like a dramatically cloudy sky; something to represent the day; otherwise I don't like stopping all that often, especially if I want to cover a hundred and twenty kilometres.
It is quarter to one when I pay for the coffees and leave and I've only ridden twenty-five kilometres. I've a long day ahead with another dusk ahead looking to the side of the road for a place to camp.
The CM210 ahead is a bit more stable. An hour passes until I come to a water fount set in from the road with stone walls and stone seat dating from 1959 and decide it'll make a good place to lunch: the wall providing shade. And once I've eaten I read my book, getting engrossed in Simon Kenton's escaped from Indians, then spending six days in the forest living on nuts because he hadn't a weapon to hunt, having left his flintlock at his camp when the Indians attacked and he had to make a run for it. As I turn the page, a group of people come to get water: an Asian girl with a Jack Russel dog, her Spanish boyfriend and an older Asian woman, most likely the younger woman's mother. I could see the ladies couldn't resist settling their curiosity at the man with a loaded bike; so I've to down the book as they chat to me, asking me all the usually questions about my cycle-tour and comment on how cool and pure the water is flowing out of the metal pipe in the stonewall as the younger reaches forward filling a mineral water bottle.
There's one long steady descend when I get going again, as if there's no end to how far down it'll go, with cliffs, impressive vertical rock columns rising above the pines on either side of the narrow valley. Though eventually it does bottom out, crossing a river by a little settlement and as expected, comes a long climb. But thereafter the itinerary changes as I come out upon plain with cereal stubble and fields of sunflowers to the side.
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Towards the end of the day CM210 counts down to kilometre zero and joins N320, where I go right toward Cuenca. My aim for the day is a dozen kilometres past said town where N420 splits off right, which I manage in the last light of the day, finding a place to camp in a stubble field by a river.
Today's ride: 132 km (82 miles)
Total: 9,083 km (5,641 miles)
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