Hot, hilly haberdashery
Habadashery has nothing to do with it but i crave alliteration.We sat alone for breakfast. We had sat alone for our evening meal. I think there were other guests but we never saw them. The previous evening, we'd had an incredibly 'cheffy' three course dinner. One of those where they purposely miss with the sauce or jus and you have to find the best way you can of introducing it to the rest of the food whilst hoping not to be observed as it's almost definitely not the thing to do.... However, the meal came with a bottle of wine of our choice and the whole thing cost us €30! If we'd opted for 'a la carte' it would have cost us €92. We drank half the wine and left it on the table in case we drunk some more later by mistake.
After our quiet breakfast experience, we were off to our day's destination of Berrobi, a little b and b in the hills. Within a few miles, we were faced with the choice of going down a one way street the wrong way for about a mile or going over a foot bridge which involved stairs at both ends. On the whole, the Spanish don't seem bothered by our occasional lawless attitude to one way streets but we felt a mile was pushing it. Pushing it, therefore, was what we did as we coaxed the tandem over the footbridge.
Progress was a little quicker today but we knew that the big climb was next. The fact is that this big climb is no higher than the highest climbs in the Dales. Perhaps I can illicit some respect and sympathy by telling you that it certainly felt bigger? For a start, it was very Pyranees. Impressive zig zags in the road and vast views of our past and our future. Combine that with propelling a tandem that you can hardly lift in 30° heat and it felt significant to us. Anyway we managed it and loved the descent!
Half way down was the enchantingly named Zumaraga. It was time for coffee and a croissant.
Much of today was spent on great cycle tracks. Smooth tarmac with white lines down the middle and all the signs you see on the road. And yet, 'proper' cyclists still insist on using the road, however busy it is. I know they do in the UK, but that's not surprising when you see the state of our cycle lanes. There are fewer cyclists here than you see in Yorkshire but they are very serious. There is no cyclist brotherhood like there is at home. Eyes are fixed firmly ahead.
After further stops - essential in this heat - we arrived at our place nestled in the hills. The host doesn't speak a word of English. Our lack of appropriate responses seemed to just spur him on to a greater and faster soliloquy whilst we stood there with Cheshire cat grins saying 'Si' at various junctures and hoping for the best. In the end, through a combination of jesticulations and grunts, we ascertained that breakfast is served at 8am.
We have just been for a walk in to the tiny community of Berrobi nestled in to the valley. I drank a coffee which I'm learning to ask for with slightly more confident 'Spanglish' and then Kate confessed something terrible. She has brought three dresses with her. Three!! I'm not even going to tell you about the mini hair straighteners....
I knew you'd do it 👏
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