Placed April 28th 2018
Waking up to the sound of a babbling bourn, how nice is that … even if you are standing in a parking lot. Today I want to make a big hit, on to the French border. Will not succeed in 1 day, but half will? Break up some rap camp, hang suitcases on the bike and brush teeth quickly. I am gone at 9 am and drive back to the village first. Probably a shop where they sell bread and ham or something. To the left, kluffie op, village in and yes … a shop where you can not turn your ass, not even with a size 32. But everything I need is there. Baguette, salami this time and water. As proud as a peacock with my new acquisition I drive to the village square where I gave a demonstration yesterday afternoon and took place on the bench. Have a quick breakfast … .. It tastes, why not … .. otherwise I should have chosen something else. It is picturesque, the men are outside at the front door to keep talking and old women walk on their sloffies with a bag towards that mega-store. Wondering how these ladies, who really have no more size 32, can walk through the store under all shelves to sweep them with their derrière …….
I clutter a bit at my charging point for phone and iPad and after approval I go back on track. The route starts a bit further, so my navigation asks if I want to drive to the starting point. “That’s good, boy!”, I tell him when I press YES. Out of town, get rid of it again and soon I’m happily humming again as I head towards the horizon. They are long straight roads, but that is allowed. Soon when I am on my route it will be a party again … right? I enjoy good, sometimes even 120-130. No chicken on the road, no strobes (I hope) and the faster I leave these boring roads behind me the better it is. The landscape is beautiful, but it really does not appeal to mmmmmmmmm. It is not ‘my Death Valley’. In this region there is clearly a lot of agriculture, the fields are tightly plowed and the colors change nicely between bright green and beautiful deep terracotta. Yes, I enjoy it, even though I hope ……. Hmmmm, what will it take long before I am back on my route, I think. Time for a stop and check it out. Ai, I’m wrong … very wrong. All those long straight roads have only distracted me from my route instead of going there. Shit …… jerk! I bale and turn around. It takes another 45 minutes before I get to see my familiar purple line again. “Turn 100 meters right into the centimeter 3117”, my navigation calls. I’m back on track again, but unfortunately the turns stay out and I start doubting Ben and me. We have not meant it that boring. But I am resigned, there will soon be …. Patience, Jon!
Around noon I stop at a place with trees and benches, time to pick up the rest of the baguette, which is neatly clamped behind the screen. It is cold, I keep my coat on. Nice, you are in Spain and then you are cold. I expect that when I go to Lapland, not here. Hey? Do you hear me? No, because it remains cold. I even consider taking a sweater. But I’m not a wimp, I’m a real one … just leave. I am a wimp, it is cold. Bread up, bottle of water empty and I take a look at the gauge glass of the oil. I let Big Red run smoothly in the mountains, and then boxer blocks need to use some oil. It is low, at the next pump but just top up. No worries, bottle is in the suitcase. Never leave home without oil! The country remains boring, no boring … .other. Less exciting, rolling. It belongs to Spain, it is part of my trip. Roaming, you never know what you are going to get. But still, I enjoy! No worries. But still, I notice that I come close to Parque Natural de la Serrania de Cuenca. “You should not want to go out with 2734 beer,” I say to myself. In the distance I see massive walls of stone looming. House high, rough, rough, as I like to see. I’m in the middle of it in no time. Parque Naturaa … ehhh that park. Trees up into the sky, trees up to the streams … nature is wild and trees sometimes fall over. The road is bad, bar bad. If I had driven a Harley Davidson here, after 30 minutes I would lose everything stuck to my frame. Not that I now make a statement about an HD, but still … maybe it is. But my big friend is doing well. He is relaxing in his suspension and I enjoy once again. Are there anyway. Ah, just send Sacha an app where I am. Yes, nice thought but with literally 0 reception and network I can write it on my stomach. Fire is forbidden, so smoke signal does not go through either. She just waits. When I come out of the valley I see a road running alongside sloping rocks on the other side of the valley. Beautiful arches support the road, the oblique background makes it almost a work of art. Will I be able to drive that later? No Unfortunately. I do not get that present from Spain. But no worries, the park still has a lot in store. A stream travels with me, on the left between the road and the rocks. Clear water, very clear. “Would it be drinkable?”, I wonder. I do not feel like scurvy, I take my bottle when I’m thirsty. The valley, BAM … ..view of a village with something of a castle wall? Spotlighted in the sun just a few hundred meters away it is cloudy. Stop and photo … .. no chicken on the road so the roadside is not necessary. Pling, petrol lamp on … .75km about this time. I look for a moment and see that there is a pump 20 km away in the route. Beautiful, no sweat! After 10 km I see 2 GSs standing at the side of the road. Italians, there is 1 without petrol. His calculation was clearly less accurate than my calculation. I speak to them in liquid Italian, but they do not understand me. Strange …… But I understand that they will come out. I go through and stop at the pump to refill oil and petrol. Just as I am busy with oil, Italian friends are coming. How they fixed it now, no idea. Their Italian was still lousy. But after a short hand and foot conversation I continue. I stand on the goat, get on and start. Put him in his 1 and keep the clutch when I swing them off the buck. Plop, straps on the floor and with a nice panache I drive away. It’s going well, I’m not falling over. Not yet …… Right, climb, bend, 13% up … ..lots! Later also down. I like that driving, leaning on your steering wheel, brake and clutch in turn …. I feel like that man who years ago stood on a poster that I had in my room. Photographed in a nice corner, diving in his suspension of his Kawazaki. Now I feel that man, on my BMW!
It is still not really hot, so I decide to give myself a hostel as a gift. It is almost half past six, nice time. There must be something in Nuévalos. Right, they’re in the corner. But unfortunately, full. Crowded. “Camping!” Says the lady at the desk. Shit, there goes my gift. Then along the supermarket, pick up stuff and worship the campsite with my visit. There is space, but not much. It is a week of school holidays, but when I approach him he shows me a spot. Kluffie op, rechts …… whoooowwwwww BOEM. My engine turns off and I’m just in the corner. That’s where he is, my friend. On the suitcase and crash bar. Together we lift him up, and slowly I ride behind the man looking back where my ego is exactly dented.