For the next leg of my journey from Tarifa to Bilbao, Spain, I’m cycling from Salobreña to Almería. I’m expecting much the same terrain as before, the steep hills to climb, the rugged coastline with bays of sunny beaches, but I will be travelling in the one of the dryest areas of Europe when I reach Andalusia. It contains a small desert that has featured in many films.
Since the start of this ride, the concept of pride has been on my mind. Partly because 0f my situation with my daughter and the lengths my wife and I have had to go to ensure she has an occupation she can be proud of to bolster herself esteem. Maybe I’m thinking about it more deeply because I’m on my own and have plenty of time to think. Sometimes in daily life, our routine passes so quickly we don’t always think about the things we have to be grateful. In the search for the next thing, we miss what is today. That’s why I love cycling, because I’m in the present moment.
Day 6: Cycling from Salobreña to Almería
The day started off deceptively easy – a smooth tarmac road. In no time I was at Motril, passing small holdings with sprinklers irrigating fields.
Image by Graham Caldow
The pleasantness passed as the map turned me left into an industrial area. What remained of the tarmac had been churned up by heavy vehicles, and I played dodge the pothole. This area of town was home to warehouses and yards filled with trucks. It was where the real people of Spain worked.
Image by Graham Caldow
The pot-holed road gave way to gravel-track. I began to realise I didn’t have the tyres for this terrain. My tread was wearing a little thin. A couple of times I had to get my feet out of my cleats quickly to avoid falling.
The road changed again once I got to Puntalón and became easier as I started getting close to the main highway that runs north. Often Spanish highways have a service road beside them for local traffic, particularly to reach the packing houses and farms.
Image by Graham Caldow
Problem was, when the main highway cut a tunnel through the hills, the service road climbed around and over the hill.
Image by Graham Caldow
The snake-path weaved up. A number of vehicles passed as I climbed. It was as steep as any hill I’d faced thus far. And it was one of those hills that kept on giving and giving more climbs around each bend.
Image by Graham Caldow
It was a matter of pride that I didn’t get off to push. I told myself several times I volunteered for this.
And when I neared the top, it felt as though I could touch the blue sky. To reach the summit, the road cut a gap between rock edges, twisted to the left, and opened into an expansive view across the sea and a poly-tunnelled landscape below.
Polytunnel Heaven
Image by Graham Caldow
At the top of the hill, I looked down on a vast landscape of polytunnels. Miles of them. All covered with opaque plastic.
It didn’t take Einstein to deduce these were to extend the growing season and stave off weather, pests, and diseases. And a quick google search revealed the main crops as cucumbers, watermelons, eggplants, zucchinis, peaches, peppers and tomatoes supplied to Europe in winter.
What surprised me, however, was the attempt at a sustainable approach to intensive agriculture. Much of the produce is organic and the farming methods use less water.
Best-Ever Downhill!
The downhill started slowly, just enough decline to get a decent speed. And then the fun started with a first bend left. Then right. Shadows of scrub flashed by me. The sea also began to move at speed out of the corner of my eyes.
Another bend, the road narrowed, and a truck approached. The decline was getting steeper. I held firmly to my handlebars, bracing myself to squeeze through the gap. As I passed my shadow rode before me.
Image by Graham Caldow
I was picking up more speed. The next bend came fast. I realised my breaks weren’t quite as good as they could be. But I carried on.
For me the best part of cycling is these steep downhills. The thrill. The excitement. I weaved around another comer, leant into the next. Roads shouldn’t be like racetracks, but that’s how they felt. Some of the curves had a slight bank to them.
As I went down the scenery changed. The polytunnels were ever-present to my right but it felt like I wasn’t at the top anymore and a little closer to habitation. And my speed kept building.
The more the hill went on, the farther I realised I’d climbed. Then a final turn to the right and a straight downhill. I was heading towards the sea. My progress halted by a main T junction road.
I turned left to ride on a walking track that run a few metres above the coast. I couldn’t have asked for more from a downhill. It was the best cycling part of the leg cycling from Salobreña to Almería.
Watch Cycling from Salobreña to Almería
Image by Graham Caldow
Pride
The rest of the afternoon was pleasant. The sea constantly to my right brightened the dull but serviceable roads that kept the ride easy. Occasionally I found a pedestrian promenade to cycle on.
It gave my mind plenty of time to wander. I’m here in Spain alone because my wife and I want our daughter to have a purpose to her day. We’ve invested a lot of our time and effort into helping her to find the opportunity to get paid work, something only around 5% of people with additional needs find.
But for us we consider this a great investment because we’ve seen the benefits to her, and not just the money. Work gives us as people a place to go each day (though I realise work from home is now a thing). It gives us an opportunity to interact with people; a need I’ve come to believe is inherent in the human condition. And it gives us a sense of identity and pride in ourselves, and this often accompanies our purpose for our day.
Funnily enough I never thought about work so deeply when I was plodding along with a day-to-day job. It’s only since agonising over what is a rewarding life for my daughter have I thought about it. It’s benefits, like the way it staves off depression, the way it prevents us from wasting our lives in our bedrooms with nothing to do, and the way it forces us to engage with the world.
Indeed, it would be fair to say that our daughter’s job is also work for us too. Work we as parents gladly do, because we want her to have pride in herself. I realise we’re not the only parents that sacrifice things, many others do for their children in many ways. And like all parents, we want our children to be safe, secure and live a rewarding life.
My thoughts were interrupted by the road turning inland to EJ Pozuelo, my destination for the night, while cycling from Salobreña to Almería.
Image by Graham Caldow
Fellow Travellers
My host held off dinner because another cyclist had booked to stay the night. However, he was on a tighter budget than I and brought food for the night. My host said dinner was a chicken dish (something local which I didn’t record properly in my notes) but she asked if I wanted some pasta.
“Yes,” I replied.
She cooked enough spaghetti to feed an army. The plate was so big I wondered whether she’d forgotten about the dish she promised over WhatsApp. In English she said, “Cycling needs pasta.”
But the chicken came after, another huge plate with salad and a glass of local red. I’d gotten in the habit of eating a big meal at night to fuel next day, but this was way too much for me. It took me all night to digest.
The next morning I got a proper chance to speak with the other guests. The cyclist was Spanish, lived in Switzerland, and cycling home to visit his parents. He was super-fit, thought nothing of covering 70 miles on rough terrain. A completely different level to me. The fitness I wanted.
An English brother and sister were also staying. They’d come to Spain to settle the estate of their mother, an ex-pat. She had a bungalow, and the Spanish legal system made it difficult to finalise things without a visit.
They said they implored her to return to England in the final few years. But she was stubborn. A strong streak of independence that remained with her to the last. Too proud I think one of
them said. And that made me think again of what was on my mind, what it is to be proud and what pride gives us. For their mother it gave her the life she wanted until the very end.
Day 7: Cycling from Salobreña to Almería
Image by Graham Caldow
The day started off with a beautiful sunrise along a smooth road with little traffic. A red hue reflected off the stone retainer walls on the other side as I headed north with the coast to my right.
The most eventful thing was me taking a wrong turn, which cost a few miles. But the cycle path was smooth, flat, and pink tarmac.
And then an event I didn’t want to happen. Another puncture. For some reason these things always happened in the back wheel.
Image by Graham Caldow
I noticed how bald my tyre really was. Not fit for purpose cycling from Salobreña to Almería. I resolved to buy a new one when I got to Almería.
Tourist Almería
Almería is the capital of the Andalusia region and has an exceptionally dry climate by European standards. It gets over 3,000 hours of sunshine a year – who comes up with these facts? If like me that tourist-office statistic means nothing, it’s 125 days of solid sunshine without sleep – I did the maths on a calculator. Imagine the suntan!
Image by Graham Caldow
Almería is located adjacent to a small desert, which was once a huge attraction for filmmakers wanting to shoot spaghetti Westerns. I must admit I never saw Clint Eastwood or his poncho wearing friends while I was there, but it’s a background I must’ve seen many times in movies.
My visit to the Cathedral was delayed by a wedding. In the square a couple stood around outside, waiting, smoking.
Image by Graham Caldow
About an hour later the wedded couple came out. I couldn’t see whether it was rice or confetti that was thrown. Everyone’s phones were out taking pictures; no doubt the images would be online in a matter of moments. And the groom worked the crowd, raising his hands in the air, encouraging everyone to cheer.
Once all the guests had left, I was free to go inside.
The original cathedral was destroyed by an earthquake, and the new one built between 1524 to 1562. The building employs Gothic and Renaissance architectural styles, and has a fortified feel to it when seen from a distance. Apparently, back in the day, the threat of attack was always at the back of the townsfolks’ minds, and so the Cathedral was a place of refuge from frequent pirate raids from North Africa.
Image by Graham Caldow
My Almería
While my Almería took in the tourist sights, the Almería I will always remember is the ordinary Almería. The woman I stayed with and her young child. The cafes. They bike shop.
My host at the guest house lived on the second floor of an apartment block. By this time I’d gotten used to upending my bike on its back-wheel, twisting the handlebars, and squeezing into the elevator beside it. My room was large enough to do repairs.
I set about asking her in my best Spanish, where the bike shop was; she answered in much better English. And as we got talking, I noticed the huge amount of pride she had for her city. If I’d have taken her advice I might have cancelled the rest of my ride to stay here. Certainly Almería offers a quieter, more authentic experience of Spain than the more touristy places, but its size was limited, and its sights were few. Nevertheless, she spoke as though it were the most important historical region in Spain.
I stopped at a café on the way to the bike shop to take in the town. Yes, my host was right, this city did have a charm. Local people going about their everyday life, worrying about their children in animated conversations.
The bike shop had the tyre I needed. The shop owner didn’t speak a word of English and vocabulary for bicycle parts wasn’t strong. But we got there. When I got back to my room, the tyre fitted. I was good to go next day.
Summary of Day
Days 6-7 cycling from Salobreña to Almería was 76 miles, bringing up the total to 268. The hills have been much the same, steep and long. Another puncture made me realise I don’t have the right tyres for this journey, possibly not the right bike with the pot-holes and gravel-tracks.
Perhaps the most noticeable difference between earlier legs of this ride and these couple of day has been the scenery. Andalusia is an agricultural are of Spain and there’s miles upon miles of polytunnels. The winter garden of Europe.
And because of all the sunshine and dryness from the small desert just outside Almería, the terrain is stunning in its own way. A movie backdrop certainly, as seen in the spaghetti westerns with Clint Eastwood. And I understood why my host in Almería had a huge amount of pride for her area of Spain.
Pride as a concept had been in my thoughts ever since I started this trip in Tarifa. My host at Almería made me reflect on pride in a different way, a way I’m not always so conscious of. Sometimes in my life I’m too busy doing, and thinking about what I will be doing, to reflect on things as they are. Sometimes I’m not grateful enough for what’s already in my life, and I want to clutter it more by adding more.
Each day I ride, I realise Spain is teaching me a little more about myself and life.
Image by Graham Caldow
