Leg 0 of the northern Spain cycling tour…

So I haven’t cycled anywhere yet but my hotel is locked and no one’s home (how do you get out if you’re staying here?) til 12 apparently! A nice man popped over to tell me; it’s currently 11am. I’m not about to search out a coffee shop with a 31kg bike box so I guess I’ll just um wait here then.

I’m just outside Bilbao in Muskiz (moose-Keith) which on the map is a sensible spot to start my tour west into Cantabria. So far Muskiz seems a mixture of a massive oil refinery (the taxi driver said it looks like something out of a science fiction film at night) and quite pretty views and absolutely nothing else. But that’s fine as I’m off tomorrow; I just need food, a siesta (the alarm was 2:45am) and probably about 3 hours to re-build my bike. On that note, thanks to Winnie and Joe at SE20 Cycles for all their help packing it into the box yesterday!

Leg 1: I bloody love this.

Muskiz – Bádames. Miles cycled: 36. Miles to go: 78.

I was pretty chuffed with myself yesterday when I successfully put my bike back together. There wasn’t an alternative option here so this was bueno.

Today was when the cycling began and there were a few moments where I found myself grinning madly as I pedalled with stunning sea views to my right. On the map a lot of the route is quite inland so I wasn’t expecting to see so much of the sea, but I did because I climbed so high my ears popped. The hills… the hills were OUTRAGEOUS. I was quite pleased to overtake a man who was walking along pushing his bike, but it wasn’t long before I was the one pushing. It was annoying but on the 10% I just couldn’t, and not with 10kg strapped to the back of my bike. After a picturesque coffee stop overlooking a harbour in Castro Urdiales, I had two more climbs ahead of me. The second one I just about managed with a lot of rests and some welcome cheering by a group hiking the camino de Santiago. This is where I got overtaken by another bike packer I’d seen about 20k earlier who cheerfully said, “Hello again,” and on that note it was nice to see so many other cyclists to wave at. There are even speed limit signs for cyclists here (60kmph – which my friend’s dad told me is 37mph and now I feel much better).

The downhills were wonderful, and I lunched in the tourist beach spot of Laredo knowing I was only 40 minutes from my accommodation. Madly, Luis Fonsi is doing a concert on the beach there tonight! And I saw a lizard.

And important to mention that during a snack stop where I’d leaned my bike in a ditch, a guy stopped his car to check I hadn’t fallen off within about three minutes of me being there. People keep saying I’m brave for doing this on my own but the world is full of mostly nice people.

Leg 2: Dya like dags? No.

Bádames – Gajano. Miles cycled: 35 (total 71). Miles to go: 38.

I need to write this part while I’m having my morning coffee stop and while the adrenaline is still pumping. This morning started with a delicious continental breakfast courtesy of my home stay and a lovely chat with Maryan, who was in town to scale a rock face (we exchanged photos of rock climbs and bike climbs). The first part of my ride should have been an hour-long poodle to the beach in Noja. I was following Google for this part and found myself down increasingly off-road paths, but I felt reassured as I turned down a track clearly marked ‘Calle Industria’ which was correct according to the map. There was a large expanse of water to my left and some factory buildings/farms to my right, and I was a bit confused because on the map the road crossed the water, but I couldn’t see any crossing in front of me.

I kept going and then the barking started; I saw a large dog in a garden to my right and then two smaller dogs darted under the fence, barking and snarling as they ran alongside me for some distance until I turned a corner. As relieved as I felt to be rid of them, my heart sank as I saw the path ahead descend into mud and a boggy field. I was at a dead end. I caught my breath hidden round the corner, knowing that the only way out was back past the dogs. I gave my heart time to recover and then set off back again, my only strategy to pedal as fast as I could on an uneven gravel track without falling off. I knew they’d be waiting, and as soon as I turned the corner I saw them sat guard by the gate. They were at my heels within seconds, trying to dart in front of me (I kept my line STRAIGHT) as I shouted repeatedly, “NO!” (more for me than for them) with the booming bark of the large dog (thank God too large to escape) adding to the chaotic soundscape. They did not let up but neither did I, not stopping til I got back to the main road with my heart going a thousand miles an hour. If I’d fallen off I think they would have eaten me, or had a good go. If I thought my legs were jelly after yesterday’s ascents, that was nothing to what they were like now.

As I continued along the main road I couldn’t understand where I’d gone wrong, until I stopped at a point where the mysterious ‘Calle Industria’ should have joined the road I was on. See map versus the reality which is heaps of rubble, with huge gaps in between, crossing the water. ‘Calle Industria’ has not been a road for some time.

Hiding round that corner knowing I had to go back past the dogs was a low point, but as always when the only way is through, you go through and you grow a bit braver.

Shortly after I stopped for a breather in a really pretty spot next to a river, where a friendly old man stopped to chat about my bike and where I was heading. He gave me some great tips (he knows all the beaches from here to Galicia) and it’s these moments that I wish I could convey the beauty of to my Spanish students.

I had my coffee in Noja then headed west to Loredo (yesterday was Laredo) for lunch, cycling down some picturesque lanes and then up and down some massive hills, where some people in a car coming the other way went mad cheering out the window. As usual at the top of a climb, I was rewarded with a lush sea view. Loredo was a cute surf spot with a beautiful wide beach, where my blood sugar took a dip just as an ice cream van appeared. The last half hour to my hostería was along the coast (and over a cool bridge) past Somo and Pedreña, both STUNNING, where I ignored any suggestion from Google of a small road.

Leg 3: Home for 8 days.

Gajano – San Vicente de la Barquera. Miles cycled: 38 (total 109). Miles to go: 0 (til I do it all in reverse in 8 days’ time).

I left my hotel looking forward to a longer cycle today, grateful that Roberto the owner was a fellow cyclist and had lovingly stowed my bike somewhere safe.

My cycle started round the port of El Astillero with mild ups and downs that you’d barely notice in a car, but that on a bike with two heavy panniers, had me sweating. Later there were some steeper climbs with the most breathtaking views of the Picos de Europa dominating the distance. Lots of cyclists come to this part of the world to conquer the famous Picos. Not me. But I did find the climbs a lot easier today, which hopefully means I’m getting my Crystal-Palace-hills fitness back. What slowed me down most was stopping to take photos of these insane views, although the best views came when I was flying downhill (occasionally humming the Jurassic Park theme tune). At a mirador (viewpoint) I bumped into a couple hiking the camino and the man offered to take a photo; what was funny was that the woman kept on going, seemingly annoyed that he was stopping. She’s in the photo.

The roads were perfect today – main-ish but quiet. I am very grateful to Álvaro Hernández whose route I am following on Komoot! I started the day with quite a lot of dog fear but this lessened as I realised that dogs in gardens had absolutely no interest in me. I also kept reassuring myself that yesterday I’d basically stumbled onto private land so no wonder the dogs were on guard.

I was having a great morning so decided to push through to Santillana del Mar before stopping for coffee, which was a good choice as it was super pretty and historic. It was also nice to have most of the cycle behind me, with only an hour to Comillas which I’d originally thought was ambitious as a lunch stop. Comillas beach came out of nowhere, I hadn’t seen the sea once on my cycle and then suddenly I was practically in it. Comillas was rammed with Spanish tourists but this was a blessing as it meant I had to venture into the pretty old town to find a restaurant. I bought some hippy trousers there in one of those shops with incense that I am a sucker for – this was always the plan as I brought zero trousers with me, I even chucked my leggings out my bag in the middle of the night before my flight.

I only had half an hour to my hostel just outside San Vicente de la Barquera, and I was cycling along with a massive grin on my face thinking, ‘Omg I’m going to live here for 8 days.’ The hostel is set within the Parque Natural de las Dunas de Oyambre and is mostly full of peregrinos (pilgrims) hiking the Camino de Santiago. It’s a gorgeous hippy surf spot set back from the road surrounded by pretty gardens with a bar, lots of books and a telescope. I’ve been chatting to some really lovely and interesting people at the bar, one guy in his sixties is hiking the camino after an operation to remove a tumour meant that he spent a year re-learning how to walk. People doing the camino have a lot of time to think so everyone is super open and vulnerable, in the good way. I think I’ll like it here.

Leg 4: Escape.

San Vicente de la Barquera – Langre (near Santander). Miles cycled: 45 (total 154). Miles to go: 86.

I’m here trying to write fiction and the facts are more dramatic. So normally I’m the one on the (non) receiving end of unrequited love. Not this week. I came to San Vicente de la Barquera – a three day cycle from Bilbao – to write.

My plan was to stay in the gorgeous hostel I’d found for eight days and make some headway with my short story. But here I am, 71km away because as usual a bloke ruined everything.

Miguel arrived on Tuesday, a peregrino hiking the Camino de Santiago. Then he decided to stay an extra night. Fine, we actually had quite a fun day of me showing him round the town. Then he decided to stay another FIVE nights – as long as I was there. The next day I did some writing in the morning, then we went off for lunch together and I was happy to have my bike as a way of having some space from him. I made it pretty clear I wanted to spend my time writing, “Do you feel guilty because you’re not writing?” “No, I love writing and it’s what I want to do.” The next day, he decided to hire a bike. At this, my heart sank. We were having every breakfast and every dinner together, he was bloody awkward and argumentative, and he was always there, in my eyeline. The day he got the bike, I disappeared off on mine before he got back. He was always asking what my plans were, and kept asking about my plans for after I left, which were cycling to Santander. He decided he would also be going to Santander but hiking along the camino, which made no sense as he had come from this direction and was originally heading west, not east.

Last night at the bar he asked me, again, what time I was leaving Tuesday. I said I didn’t know. He said he’d decided to get the bus to Santander – meaning we’d both be there the same evening. Enough. I went to the bathroom and searched frantically for somewhere else to stay. I found the hostel I’m now sat at and thought I’d decide in the morning, organising my things a bit before I went to bed.

This morning I woke up, metres away from him in a dorm room, and made my mind up instantly. When he went down to breakfast, I packed my stuff (which takes about 5 minutes when you just have two panniers) and took my bags down to my bike. I popped into the bar, told him I was going on a long cycle in the opposite direction, and left. Jara, the sweet dog, definitely knew because she followed me all the way to the road, agitated and barking, which she only ever did when cars came up the drive.

The cycle was the longest of the trip so far, but the miles came easily today. I don’t know if it was because I was in escape mode or because the hills around San Vicente were some serious training. It felt bloody liberating to be able to take myself and all my stuff with me and just go with the power of my body. And this place isn’t bad either.

When I went back to the bar last night after checking accommodation options, Miguel was telling Dominico (an Italian surfer) “It’s that, my plans keep changing.” Yeah, well. Checkmate.

Leg 5: Surf town – fishing town.

Langre – Santoña. Miles cycled: 14 (total 168). Miles to go: 35.

A short one today, from the rural bliss and surfers’ paradise of Langre, to the fishing town of Santoña. After fleeing San Vicente de la Barquera, I opted to stay an extra night at the hostel I’d hastily found in Langre (on the coast just past Santander) because it was a magical and relaxing retreat run by the loveliest hippies, with stunning views.

One night we watched lightning illuminate the sky miles away, when there wasn’t so much as a breeze where we were. It was also a short stroll to a lush beach with massive waves, so I had a daily play in the waves along with a load of other adults releasing their inner child. Yesterday I popped to Santander by boat which was fun, but I was glad to come back to the countryside afterwards.

I met some lovely people at that hostel and was sad to leave this morning. But now I’m in Santoña and being in a fishing town, I opted to finally try Cantabria’s famous anchoas (anchovies) for lunch, which did not disappoint.

Leg 6: Back to Basque.

Santoña – Muskiz. Miles cycled: 35 (total 203). Miles to go: 0.

It feels strange to be back where I started two weeks ago, set to fly home tomorrow. Today was one of the longer cycles of the trip and having already done it in reverse, I knew I’d have extreme up- and downhill in equal measure. There was a section with a 10% incline followed by a 10% decline and I was super chuffed with myself that, unlike two weeks ago, I did the uphill without getting off to push (whilst on my period feeling nauseous in 30 degrees, just to add.) Thank you to my dear friend Emily who sent me a cheerleading message when I needed it.

I felt very reflective today and was thinking about so many of the things that have made me smile; one was that often I would cycle into a little town and have no idea where I was, but I started to notice that there was always a sign saying you were leaving, with the place name and a big red line through it. As soon as I realised this it made me chuckle every time, “Where am I? Dunno, I’ll find out when I’m not there anymore.”

Today, like every day on a tough hill, people shouted encouragement – today it was walkers but it’s also been cyclists, “¡Venga, ánima, venga venga venga!” Earlier I was delighted to actually be able to help a cyclist asking for directions, feeling somewhat of an expert of the northern Spain coastline and referring to the N-634 like I’ve been cycling it all my life. I’ve also loved having bike chat with fellow cyclists I’ve met at hostels, discussing routes and gear and CYCLING STUFF.

And I’ve just loved being in Spain, so much of this culture makes so much sense to me. Eating/drinking out is affordable so everyone can and does; I’d forgotten the electric buzz of a packed Plaza Mayor at 8pm and loved experiencing it last night when I was in a town. Going out for breakfast isn’t a bougie affair – a slice of tortilla from the bar and a coffee will cost you about 3 euros. So people pop into the same café bar every day and the sense of community is immense.

Hasta pronto, España.