Vaucluse Dreamer

We had a lovely day exploring Madrid yesterday, but by the evening we were just itching to get on the bikes and start cycling.

We needed the day just to sort a few things out, but once we’d done that, we just wanted to get on the bikes and escape the city. We really aren’t good at city-life and after 24 hours are always ready to leave. We were in bed last night by 9, watching Provence Rugby play Oyonnax on our phone, listening to the music in the square, wondering why everyone else was still out and about! Surely 9pm is everyone’s bed time?

It goes without saying that we were awake early this morning, well before sunrise, packing everything back into our bags and attaching them to the bikes. I spent a while looking at the route I’d plotted to get out of Madrid. The joy of being able to look at all the main junctions on Google Earth means that I can visualise them as we go, removing a little bit of the stress.

We always knew that escaping the city would be a stressful ride for us. The biggest city we’ve negotiated by bike so far is Montpellier, a small town in comparison to the capital city of Spain. So our anxiety was high and anything I could do to reassure myself about the route we had planned was time well-spent.

By 8am though, as the sun was rising, turning the clouds pink, we were ready to go. We carried the bikes down the stairs, emerging onto a quiet back street, which only a few hours earlier had been packed with people and chock-a-block with cars, horns blaring . When we stepped out onto the pavement though, it was empty, apart from a couple of people who appeared to still be making their way home, looking at us as if we were mad. Perhaps we were.

The first part of the ride would take us through the old city, before taking us down to the railway station, which had been a scene of absolute chaos, when we first arrived. I could visualise the road, so it was time to put my big-girl pants on and just follow the route I’d planned, with Andy on my wheel. It didn’t matter how much I tried to calm my nerves, my heart was beating so hard that I could hardly hear myself think. So I took a deep breath and turned the pedal. We were on our way.

Clearly 8am on a Saturday morning is a good time to leave Madrid. There was about a quarter of the traffic we’d seen, when we arrived and we got our first taste of the incredible respect that Spanish drivers give to cyclists.

Around the station there are multiple lanes, and traffic emerging from a tunnel and we had to move from the far right lane to the far left. I took a glance behind, stuck my arm out, took a deep breath and started to move across. Only to find cars sitting behind us, whilst we moved across. After experiences elsewhere, this felt so different.

Then we were off, on dual carriageways and occasional cycle paths, heading through roundabouts, with the outskirts of the city in our sights. As we crossed each roundabout, I could feel myself calming and with each turn of the pedal, a little bit more adrenalin was forced out of my system.

After a while, we spotted a churros & chocolate van at the side of the road. We hadn’t had much for breakfast, so pulled over & ordered what turned out to be burros, rather than churros and a pot of chocolate each. The chocolate was like the school-dinner chocolate custard of our childhood, and as such was absolutely sublime. We sat on a bench, munching the hot, sweet, deep-fried delights dipped in chocolate, and all of a sudden we realised that we were rather going to like this place.

We hopped back on the bikes and continued on. With the easy navigation from the route I’d planned on Komoot , we were soon crossing the motorways around the city and catching our first glimpse of open countryside beyond the buildings and industrial estates.

Normally, we avoid riding along major roads, but here the drivers waited until it was safe for them to pass us, before moving to the other carriageway to give us plenty of space. What we had seen in the city continued outside and even on the main roads, we started to relax 

Finally, we left the city and found ourselves heading through pretty countryside (much more as I’d expected Spain to be) and passing small towns and villages.

Just before 11, we pulled into the small town of Torres de la Alameda in search of coffee, and found ourselves in a quiet village square with a pretty church and a cafe packed with cyclists. Evidently, we had stumbled across a well-known coffee-stop. Inside, it was buzzing with noise & chatter, which I couldn’t understand at all, despite my best efforts with Duolingo, but we stood in the queue waiting to be served, as coffees, orange juices and plates upon plates of churros were whisked out of the kitchen.

It was worth the wait, and we grabbed our coffees and orange juices, making our way across the square to sit in the glorious sunshine, next to a bronze statue of a family sitting on a bench. We watched the bustle at the café for a long time, finally relaxing and appreciating the beauty of the area that we were cycling through. Already, Madrid was a distant memory.

Refreshed, we cycled on again, following increasingly quiet roads across a high plateau, until our stomachs were growling for lunch. As we entered the village of Pezuela de las Torres, we spotted a bench in a park by a little coffee van, so pulled in, to be immediately greeted by the owner. It appeared that we couldn’t have found a better place to stop, as he was as passionate about cycling as he was about coffee Domestico.pezuela

After an excellent coffee, we decided to forgo our sandwiches for one of his ‘toasts’. A thick slab of toast, topped with a drizzle of tomato & piled with iberican (acorn-fed) ham, all warmed to bring out the flavours. It was divine, and set us up perfectly for the afternoon. He also sent us on our way with a gift of energy gels and flapjack. So kind and a perfect way to spend an hour too …

He had looked at our route, and was happy that we were taking the best roads across to Pastrana, where we had booked a small hotel for the night. It really was a beautiful ride, down through the town, before taking an almost empty road following a river, before we turned off and started to climb again.

The landscape changed again and we passed from the hillsides and rock outcrops covered in a sharp, spiky grass to more gentle, rolling hills with the road edged by acacia trees.

Finally, we turned off and swept downhill to Pastrana, a beautiful, historic Spanish town, where we found our hotel, and after a shower set off to explore its narrow and ancient streets.

We did get diverted by a beer…

And ice cream…

But loved the historic heart of the town, with its ancient Palace…

And stunning Collegiate Church, which is now home to a tapestry museum.

We discovered that the bars & restaurants didn’t start serving food until 8pm tonight, which seemed rather late. After the stresses of the morning and the thought of what faces us tomorrow, there is every chance that we’ll be asleep by 9 again. So we bought bread, ham cheese & pastries and have spent the evening sitting on a bench overlooking the village, simply enjoying the view & the atmosphere, whilst we ate and I typed this post.

It really has been a superb day’s cycling. You can see the route here and we feel that we’re starting to get a real sense of Spain that we had imagined.

So far, the roads, the drivers and the people we have met have been superb, even with my appalling attempts at speaking the language.

We’re just looking forward to tomorrow now