You can’t have too much of a good thing. Here however, it’s not that we can’t, more a case of we don’t.
A real case of déjà vu finds us again at one of the best locations ever. Perched amidst stunning countryside. We’re back – Olvera camping.
We’re back for one reason only. And that’s to ride the Olvera Via Verde. The Green Way. Spain has created many. This is supposed to pass through the most beautiful countryside of them all. 38K there. 38K back. Spain’s followed UK’s lead. Converted many old train lines into walking and cycle ways. Before set off, both bikes given a full spring clean. Not a grain of Sahara dust left in sight. Spokes shining brightly. Almost as brightly as my grin when we set off. The downside is that we’re upside and the trackless Via Verde IS downside. Far down. A one in five down. Our return should be fun. 5K from the site and we’re off. Can’t miss the route – follow that arrow.
Then we hit the equivalent of the French Route Barrée. We’re at our first tunnel. What’s going on? No idea. It’s all in Spanish. There are voices from within. I can see white lights. Are they doing roadworks? Perhaps we can squeeze past. We venture in. The worse that can happen is that we’re told to go and shove our shopping trolley. Further in we can see three Spanish cyclists. One is sitting on the floor with his trainers and socks off. Has he hurt himself? No. He’s covered in mud. More than the other two. As are their bikes. We take a look. It’s very muddy. And part of the exit is blocked. ‘It can’t be that bad’ I think, ‘if they’ve got through, then we should be able to too’. WRONG!
What I didn’t realise is that they’d tried to get through from this end. “I’m not going through that!!!” Mary-Ann states categorically – even though she is aware that I am both the optimist of the family and the idiot. “I’ll just see” is my clutching at straw response. I’m aware that Mary-Ann is wearing her unblemished black trainers. Spose I’ll end up carrying her and her bike through. WRONG!
Not wanting to be thwarted, I tentatively tread. (at this point and in retrospect, it would have been a good idea to leave my bike) At first the ruts are solid and crusty. They hold my weight. My optimism rises. I can see a patch of water ahead – should be able to maneuver around that. Then without warning – SQUELCH. I’ve stepped off the edge of the cliff. My feet get sucked into the glup. It’s leech-like properties pull me to a halt. It’s got a hold of my bike too. It’s useless – a bit like me. I can barely lift my feet up to turn around. The more I tread the more the glup sticks. Impossible to wheel my bike. I lift it and squelch out. “I’m not going through that!!!” Mary-Ann repeats. (amongst other things) She can see I’m still trying to figure a way through.
. . . but I don’t stay broken for long! The return uphill gets my blood flowing and Mary-Ann’s cheeks glowing. Back at base we break out Scoot and hitch a ride back into town. The top of town to be precise.
The 360 view is breathtaking. Compensates – almost.
