Cycling from Tarifa to the Rock of Gibraltar

Image by Lightsource, Deposit Photos

Cycling from Tarifa to the Rock of Gibraltar, is it a perilous road? To many, no. But for me, yes. And what makes it astonishing? The town at the start of my ride, Tarifa, is the most southerly point in Europe. It almost has a Moroccan feel to it rather than Spanish. And the winds continuously batter through this narrow Strait of Gibraltar.

So picture me, about to travel solo on my push bike, wind whistling in my ears. It’s not quite light. To my left is the Atlantic Ocean. To my right, the Med. And I’m about to follow through on a misguided idea that could well turn into a painstaking mis-Adventure, and 30 days of sheer cycling hell. The first leg is cycling from Tarifa to the Rock of Gibraltar.

Image by Furian, Deposit Photos

A Crossroads

Have you ever got to that point in your life where you think time’s ticking on, and if you don’t do something now you never will? That happened to me. My fitness was an optimistic idea in my head and bore no relation to reality. And I felt I’d lost the gumption for a challenge.

I needed to step out of my comfort zone and put myself into an uncertain world to see whether I’d survive. Sometimes the years, and what we feel we should’ve achieved, knock us more than we think. Maybe the point doing this challenge for me was to regain my confidence in myself and discover who I was again.

So I announced to the world: “A thousand mile cycle!”

It made a good headline. But in my mind, I knew it’d be way more than a thousand miles, even as I shot video clips for local TV and Radio.

Truth was, my Just Giving page was in better shape than me. £1,000+ of donations. And my big had mouth launched me into the unknown.

My partner Debra and my daughter made the trip to Spain to see me off – or make sure I went, I’m not sure which!

Image by Graham Caldow

So that’s how I ended up at the start line in Tarifa, the Spanish town looking across the narrow strait to Morocco.

Strange New World Of Cycling In Spain

The wind combined to blow. A cross wind rather than a helpful tail wind. No wander Tarifa is so famous for windsurfers and kitesurfers.

Unlike further up the coast it’s so less touristy developed.

But as one local windsurfer from Gibraltar told me, “This is one of the best and most hidden places in Spain.” And I can believe that. He then ruefully added, “For the time being.” Development will come.

Image by Michele_Morrone, Deposit Photos

The road out of Tarifa felt perilous because I don’t ride on the right hand side of the road. I’ve never ridden with panniers. And nor was I prepared for the hills that faced me as soon as I left town.

Image by Debra Caldow

Rather stupidly, I just got on my bike to ride.

There’s really only one road out of town northwards, and everyone took it from small cars, medium-sized trucks, to large juggernauts, and I was but a flimsy cyclist on the edge of the road, blown about by the same gusts as the windsurfers used.

Image by Graham Caldow

My bike is designed around comfort. It has high handlebars and an amply padded seat to spread my butt. But my legs felt it. The road surface wasn’t smooth tarmac. It was one of those tyre-gripping roads that make you fight for every pedal turn.

After what seemed like a long, interminable climb, what goes up must eventually come down, and I free-wheeled like I was on a scenic rollercoaster weaving between rolling green hillsides.

Image by Graham Caldow

Contrasted against this natural beauty were brilliant white wind turbines soring into the sky, capturing energy for a modern digitally powered world. I found this juxtaposition strangely odd yet wonderfully reassuring as we try to curb the extremes of global warming.

Image by Graham Caldow

Click link to watch a 4.06 minute video of Cycling from Tarifa to Rock of Gibraltar.

Anticipating My First Big Test

On a bike, if I didn’t find the road out of Tarifa perilous enough then Algeciras was going to test me. Algeciras is Spain’s largest port, and the second largest in the Mediterranea Sea (Wikipedia). It has an urban sprawl too wide to go around, and everyone was resolute about driving on the right-hand side of the road. This rule wasn’t going to change for me.

I was apprehensive.

My cycle experience was roughly the level of my fitness, not really that well matched to cycling from Tarifa to Rock of Gibraltar let alone to Bilbao. My balance wasn’t so good that I could glance over my left shoulder (rather than right) with impunity to spot car-danger.

Fortunately a traffic jam greeted me as I entered Algeciras. Stationary traffic made it easy to overtake vehicles and got to the first roundabout safely.

Then a surprise! A long cycle path wound through the city and delivered me to the other side, where a main road showed me the Refinería de Gibraltar-San Roque, with its large chimneys towering into the sky.

The Spanish Government under General Franco has been accused of deliberately locating this oil refinery here, expecting pollution to float across Gibraltar, according to one Gibraltarian I spoke to. But its location is slightly north, meaning the pollution more affects the local Spanish population.

Image by Nito103, Deposit Photos

On the way out of Algeciras the road was busy. As much as I could I hugged the side. I briefly stopped when I caught sight of the giant rock in the distance, but flow of traffic soon got me moving again.

The Barriers To the Rock of Gibraltar

I got off my bike to cross the border rather than use the car lane queue which wound around on itself like a churro, glazed sugar melting in the sun.

Something like 15,000 EU workers (10,000 Spanish) cross the border to work in Gibraltar under a post-Brexit deal (La Moncloa). Needless to say this can cause a traffic jam, with queues for border crossing easily take an hour as the Spanish guards meticulously check everyone’s papers from drive-through security booths.

The pedestrian/ cycle line was quicker. It involves a passport control building, but I wasn’t spared the scrutiny by Spanish officials. In all I stayed in Gibraltar for a few nights, which meant I received a passport stamp when I arrived on the plane in Málaga, and two for the times I crossed the Gibraltar border. Everyone receives a stamp on their passport every time they cross unless they have a special card.

Maybe the Spanish border control resent this British enclave deep in their country. They certainly weren’t as relaxed as British border officials, who waved me passed with little concern.

And then once through I was totally astonished. The border post and town were separated by the airport runway. The barriers were down to say I couldn’t cross. A plane was coming in to land.

I waited patiently.

Then the plane descended from the sky. Jet engines ringing out as it screeched the length of the runway as the plane came to a halt. The barriers opened as though an everyday occurrence, just like a train passing a level crossing. I set forth on the runway.

Photos by Graham Caldow

It felt surreal.

I was like an adventurer stepping onto the tarmac of a forbidden land, for that’s how every other airport in the world is. Other people, though, locals just went across like it was their daily routine. No more unusual than waiting for a red traffic light to turn green.

Photos by Graham Caldow

Sometimes we don’t really think about the scale of airports, the length and width of runways, but they are huge! I started to wonder across. And with each step, the imposing rock seemed to climb higher in the sky. A giant piece of limestone that’s both a tourist attraction and an obstacle.

Once across I switched to riding on the left-hand side of the road.

My first day of cycling from Tarifa to Rock of Gibraltar had left me with three great fears. First for my fitness. I’d rather optimistically hoped that somehow everything would come out ok. I now realised I was in trouble.

Second, which again I tried to put to the back of my mind, was a realisation that the hills were a little steeper than I imagined, and a lot more frequent.

Third, which I didn’t expect, was cycling on the main roads. This fear wasn’t so much based on how motorists would pass me, but rather on how dull and dreary this ride would be if I had to stick to highway roads all the time.

As I cruised, the old city gate appeared before me like a remnant of Gibraltar’s history, reminding me this enclave has a tale to tell. I pulled up to it, found my accommodation with a great view of the Rock, and decided to do some sightseeing and leave my fears behind for the moment.

Brief History of the Rock of Gibraltar

The earliest known inhabitants of Gibraltar were the Phoenicians, well over a thousand years ago, but it became the province of Hispania under the Roman Empire. By the 8th century, the Moors invaded, and it became a key stronghold for the Islamic expansion across the Iberian Peninsula.

Incidentally the word Iberia comes from the Greek Iberes. for the peninsula of Spain, hence we still know the word in some contexts, Iberia Airlines for instance. But the etymology of the word Spain comes from the Latin Hispania.

In 1462, Gibraltar was taken by the Spanish, who integrated it into their kingdom, and it remained Spanish for the better part of 250 years. But a pivotal moment came in 1704, during the War of Spanish Succession, when Anglo-Dutch forces captured Gibraltar. In 1713 under the Treaty of Utrecht, Spain ceded control to Britain.

Britain transformed Gibraltar into a heavily fortified naval base, critical for controlling Mediterranean Sea routes. It played a significant role in the Napoleonic and both World Wars. Despite continued claims from Spain, its residents have chosen to remain British in referendums in 1968, with only 44 people voting for Spanish sovereignty and 2002.

Today, Gibraltar is a thriving financial and tourism hub, as well as a major port. It’s lesser known side relates to the gambling industry, particularly online gambling, which has had the knock on effect of introducing a highly skilled workforce to make the online platforms work which has benefited the financial sector. (fact check and source)

It has one of the world’s lowest unemployment rates, with huge numbers of Spanish workers crossing the border daily. It’s also home to Barbary Macaques monkeys who don’t care about international diplomacy and ongoing disputes.

Climbing The Rock of Gibraltar

Gibraltar is very un-British in the way the sun shines just about all year round. To quote one local, “We go to northern Europe for our summer holidays to get some cool weather.”

My sightseeing trip took me up the rock, all 426 meters of it, which later in my ride I came to regard as a mere 1,398 feet. But the day was hot, and the ice cream van on the layby at the top was a relief. As I took in the view I noticed Gibraltar’s most famous residents starring at me.

Image by GoranJakus, Deposit Photos

“How cute,” I thought until they started coming towards me. Wikipedia suggests they were tourist friendly. But from my experience of monkeys on other travels, no monkey is friendly. They aren’t here for my entertainment. I act like a live coward, with a hasty retreat.

In one of the caves near the top of the Rock is a museum showing the role Gibraltar played during the Second World War. One section pays homage to Ian Fleming, the creator of James Bond 007. A tenuous link to the super-spy maybe. But the real Ian Fleming did spend time on Gibraltar during the war.

At the top of the Rock the views were breathtaking, with miles of sight. The shipping out at sea was but a little dot. In the far distance is Morocco, 9 miles away.

Summary of Day 1

Cycling from Tarifa to Rock of Gibraltar on Day 1 had seen 30 miles covered of a thousand plus. I began to have real doubts about whether I could make it to Bilbao, let alone in 30 days.

I’m under no illusion where my comfort zone is with my level of fitness. The hills were going to take it out of me. My lack of fitness could get me killed on the main road if I wobbled because of tiredness at the end of a day’s ride. What I’ve committed myself to?

As I lay down on my pillow that night, I thought about something Debra had said. She’s Australian and has this fine turn of phrase for my endeavour, “The kangaroos must be loose in the top paddock.”

Whatever was going through my head!

My daughter also found it all very amusing. This wasn’t stepping out of my comfort zone. This was stepping into sheer folly.

Please comment below or feel free to ask questions.

Read on to find out the goals I set myself and Days 2-3 …

Image by Graham Caldow