Scoot, as is any other motorbike, is not what you call aerodynamic. Add a couple of random shapes like ours and being buffeted comes with the territory. You travel within your own permanent wind tunnel. Speed is not the aim. Staying upright is.
Since learning to ride Scoot I’m much more aware and sympathetic towards the vulnerability of the “biker”. Never more so than when travelling a straight and openly exposed route, like today’s. The Spanish wind hasn’t heard of the word sympathy. They get so much of it down here they’ve even named a light pastry a “farton” – I kid you not! It’s tasty but full of air. So, no other option but to use the N-332 for part of our via into Alicante. We get blasted from all angles. Scoot doing his best to keep up with the flow of traffic. Passing juggernauts’ turbulence terrify. Heads suddenly shocked backwards. Powerful invisible waves doing their best to sink us. By the time we turn off onto the calmer coastal road the G-Forces have ravaged and reshaped our faces into a couple of Wallace & Gromit look-alikes.
The serene coastal road rewards us with a fabulous scene of Alicante . . .
Castle Santa Barbara our first port of call. The Spanish are not brilliant with their “historic” signings. We fumble around the shadowy back streets looking for the lift “up top”. You need to use it. It sits impregnable, perched on a mini mountain that offers spectacular rooftop views of the city and surrounding countryside.
Happy birthday Scoot rider!
Thanks Rog – it’s been a truly great day. Will blog it when I get chance . . .