Going downhill fast

June 10, 2025

...a day of payback...

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So today was the penultimate day of cycling. Such a shame- I'm just getting into the swing of things! It was also pretty much the easiest day, as is apparent from the ride profile. I've really enjoyed Spain, and after yesterday's ride I was buzzing to get back in the saddle.

First, though, breakfast: and my budget hotel declined to do any of that complex bread slicing and jam opening stuff. So I had to head out into town to eat, which was a delightful experience given the vast number of bars and cafés competing to feed me. I managed to get some authentic looking toasted bread with oil and tomato, freshly squeezed orange juice, great coffee and a danish, all for around a fiver. And then, as I walked back last the opening supermarket, I added another danish to the tally. I'm not sure I've ever eaten this many pastries or white flour, but I'm grabbing the fuel where I can.

Morning breakfast. Deeply civilised, and much nicer than the standard hotel fare. Notwithstanding the absence of cheesecake.

The forecast was for more hot weather, but I figured that a 45 mile ride should be easily doable whatever the temperature, as long as I kept a sensible pace.

I'm not good at keeping a sensible pace.

Particularly when I see another cyclist. And there are lots of them on these roads. Still, it was great fun trying to catch them, escape them, or just draft them for a while. And there were plenty of friendly waves from those heading in the opposite direction. Even though Raven and I are doing this by ourselves, it's nice to share that sense of community. I don't recall the last time I randomly waved at a fellow car driver.

The terrain was different from yesterday, as we started the ride. Wide open country, with little shadow. I suspect this would be nigh on unbearable in the height of summer.

Slightly unfairly, the ride started off with a bit of uphill stuff. As if we hadn't done enough of that yesterday. Nothing too significant, until we hit a hill called Aiurdin just before the ten mile mark. The satnav flashed up its usual warning of a climb ahead. In France this had meant 400 yards of three percent gradient. Today, apparently, it meant 1.2 miles of average 7.5%. Ouch. Had there been other cyclists chasing us at this point, I'd have waved a white flag and given up. But we plodded up, finding bottom gear again, and perspiring heavily in the heat. ( I did the perspiring: Raven just creaked a little). I'm not sure whether we'd have been so successful at reaching the top, though, had we been coming from the other direction.

A little before our hill climb: the trees had made a welcome reappearance, casting shade as we followed our route.

The top of the hill. The stylised graphic seemed incongruous to me; I'm no meteorologist, but the chances of snow seemed pretty low.

The descent was glorious. It went on for miles, on sweeping open roads, one gradient warning sign swiftly followed by another. I honestly didn't know we'd achieved this much altitude, or that it was possible to keep dropping further into the landscape: and as I saw cyclists coming in the other direction, I not only waved, but I wished them luck under my breath. I hope they knew what was ahead of them.

I couldn't imagine living somewhere this wild. But it was beautiful. The great thing about taking photos on this descent, also, was that you could turn the pedals three or four times as you pulled away, and be right back at 25mph.

Lunch was in Areta, at about the two hour point if I recall. More food to give a coeliac nightmares ... white bread baton, and a packet of sliced chicken, with a peach whose fibres stuck in my teeth so that I regretted it for the next ten miles. Dental floss isn't an easy thing to improvise.

Lunch stop, just in front of a softly chattering stream, and in the shade of more trees.

And there's really not too much else to report from the ride itself. We travelled some fairly busy main roads on the way into Bilbao, but the Spanish drivers were courteous as ever, and there was frequently a defined cycle area at the road's edge. The downhill slope was less pronounced, now, but turning the pedals was still easy, and we often found ourselves at somewhere above 20mph. I'm ashamed to say that we had to check ourselves once or twice, as the 30kmh urban zones' speed indicator signs frowned down at us, telling us to slow down.

And then, in well under three hours of cycling time, we arrived in Bilbao. Hotel check in was at two, but knowing we'd have time to kill, I'd programmed in a sightseeing loop around the river, primarily to see the architecture of the Guggenheim modern art museum. That done, and with check-in concluded, I took a brief amble on foot around the central area. But my heart wasn't really in it today. Instead, I settled back into a bar terrace seat, and ordered a beer and some tapas. I felt like I'd earned it.

Tomorrow is a longer day: just over seventy miles, and sadly it's far from all downhill. But we'll take our time if we need to. The forecast is hot, but only around 25 degrees centigrade, and there's the chance of rain, which might be welcome. And once we get to Santander, we're all but done. One more overnight stay, and then a short ride to the ferry port around the corner.

Soon, it's going to be time to think about our next adventure...

The church of San Anton, as we headed over the river Nervión on our way into the central area.

The Guggenheim. I'd love to have visited it, but I think I'd have needed more time. Maybe that's the excuse for a return journey..?

I don't think I've ever had a ride where the descent was so much more than the climb. As you'll guess, I can take no credit for the maximum speed. It certainly wasn't on one of the few climbs.

The old town, right next to my hotel. So many bars, so little time. At the end of the street, the Cathedral of Santiago. Incidentally, I also found a route map for pilgrims to follow through the city, as they undertake the Camino to Santiago de Compostela.

Colourful buildings at the riverside. I think the city probably merited more walking than I was prepared to afford it, today. But sometimes, the siren call of the tapas is just too great.

Today's ride: 45 miles (72 km)
Total: 680 miles (1,094 km)

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