Murcia
I was so happy to be amongst the pine trees in the sand dunes down by the sea. Fixing the pegs was a dream and I thought I had got the tent set up as close to perfect as it gets. I went off to sleep listening to the sound of the waves crashing gently on the shore just a hundred yards or so away, but I woke up at 2am convinced there was a spider crawling over my face. Being unable to find it and feeling wide awake I set to work on the blog but was repeatedly interrupted by the sensation of something crawling on my skin. I soon discovered that there were hundreds of ants crawling around inside the tent. They were tiny, unlike the ants of Calpe two nights previously, but what they lacked in size they made up for in the sheer weight of numbers. Somehow they had sniffed out a piece of cheese that was wrapped up inside a plastic bag inside the tent. How they got into the tent I will never know, but I somehow managed to arrange things to keep them away from the sleeping mat and eventually I got back off to sleep. When daylight dawned I could see they were running like a river along the seams and corners of the tent, so I had to turn the whole thing inside out to get rid of them all. Surprisingly it worked quite well. Animals. Can't live with them, can't live without them.
It was getting pretty warm by this time, 10am, and I took myself down to the beach for a swim after packing everything up and before setting out on the bike. The water was perfect, and I was so happy to have a final chance for a swim before setting off inland.
I was very happy too about the way things worked out with the route. I had discovered a cycle path (Eurovelo 8) that followed the banks of the river Segura all the way to the city of Murcia, and another one that followed a disused railway line from Murcia to Caravaca de la Crux, which meant, presuming they were fully open, that the next 150 km would be off road but on good quality cycle tracks, and no major mountains. Cycling heaven in other words.
I wasn't disappointed with the first section to Murcia although the Riu Segura was looking very diminished and sorry for itself. I had become somewhat in awe of the way the Spanish manage their precious water supplies. In essence their problem is the opposite of the Dutch in Holland who have too much water, but the scale of the engineering required to redistribute this liquid wealth is equally astonishing. I had not thus far seen the price that has to be paid . By the time it reaches the sea this mighty river Segura has become not much more than a ditch although it's still contained in its enormous banks, levees on which the cycle path runs most of the time. All around the water is drawn off to feed the insatiable needs of the local agriculture which is apparently productive all year round. There still seems to be plenty of wildlife about, particularly birds, and I saw my first live snake scurrying out of somebody's garden across the track.
When it passes through a town the spirit of the water becomes almost totally subjected to the whim of mankind.
Rather sad to see.
In the early stages of the route there were dozens of picnic/resting areas at the side of the track which had been allowed to slip into decay. Unmanaged vegetation, unemptied rubbish bins spilling all over the place, and loads of empty bottles from booze parties. I started thinking about the way in which projects like this long distance cycle path can sometimes over extend themselves so that maintaining the infrastructure just becomes untenable. I thought about my dear old dad who was an accountant and who on more than one occasion told me that if you have a good idea you don't need to worry about money, the money will flow to you. I've never had an argument with that philosophy, just a problem convincing other people that my ideas are good! Then there was one of his best friends "uncle" John Callaghan a beautiful Irish man with a very attractive sense of humour. He was a bank manager in Essex and I remember him telling me "The gospel says that love of money is the root of all evil, but when you think about it, money is only paper. People don't love money, they love what money does". I guess the trouble is that what is a good idea for money to do changes from one year, one moment and one government to the next.
On a long bike ride you can chew these things over in the real world, which is never far away.
At Orihuela the Eurovelo 8 joins the Camino de la Cruz, a pilgrims route to Caravaca which I didn't know about before.
A few miles further on and I leave behind the province of Valencia and enter the kingdom of Murcia. I don't actually know if it's still called a kingdom, but it sounds good, and Aragon and Navarra are both still called kingdoms, so why not?
The roadside plants are getting quite monumental.
In no time at all, I can hardly believe that I'm in the city of Murcia, and a jolly fine place it appears to be. No response from any warm showers hosts so I make an internet booking for a night in the Cathedral Hostel right in the centre of town. It's Saturday night, I'd almost forgotten, and the place is rammed. The address of the hostel is 19 calle Traperia and I walk up and down the street with my bike trying to find it cos there are so many people milling about its too difficult to actually ride the bike. Some are drunk, some are crazy, some look at me as though I am crazy and some try to help me, but no one can find number 19. I phone the hostel and they tell me to look for a shop called Ale hop, they are next door. So for about the fifth time I walked the length of the street and there at the far end, in between number 34 & 36, is number 19! What can I say?
The hostel is on the third floor and seems almost to be a little clandestine. There is no sign anywhere outside and they ask me not to leave my bike in the hall downstairs but to bring it up in the lift. The third floor is absolutely classic Spanish from about the 1960's I would guess, all hard wood paneling and beautifully elaborate tiles with doorways about seven feet tall. Built to last, and very comfortable. And the staff were incredibly helpful, sorting me out with a tumble drier for my laundry which I had been carrying about still wet. And a shower to die for! And no school children, so a good night's rest with only one room mate, Mario from Italy.
There's also free coffee for breakfast which I had with a family from Sao Paulo, Brazil who were on holiday touring Europe. This hostel was a very grown up kind of place compared to the one I stayed at in Valencia, and at €25 compared very favourably with some of the campsites I had stayed at.
Cycling across town was a piece of cake as it is so well laid out with lots of traffic lights for cyclists and segregated lanes. I was heading for the university where the old railway line, built in the 1920's and closed in the 1970's, starts it's journey to Caravaca.
Leaving Murcia it is paved all the way to Alguazas and, like the French Voie Vertes is about the best cycling there is. Absolutely quiet, plenty of room, and only the gentlest of gradients. If you want to go on a cycling holiday somewhere I can highly recommend this route. The other thing about it being a railway line is that you get to see the arse end of towns. Where all the work goes on and there are no pretensions. I'm not the kind of traveller who always seeks out the sights, I'm just as happy finding out what makes a place tick. I'm reminded of a quote from the David Bowie film, something like: "Life's full of rubbish, but rubbish is great, so let's celebrate the rubbish".
Things are gradually getting more and more desert like, and I leave the trail to go and explore this place which has a jewel hidden within it.
It's called Baños de Mula and it's a tiny village with a hot spring. The Romans built the first baths here, then the Moors, and they are still in operation. After a hot day on two wheels there is little more appealing than a hot bath. Coming in off the street, this is how it looks inside:
I've never had a bath in a hot spring before and it was totally lush. The guy kept asking if I was alone and when he showed me the tub I could see why, it was big enough for half a dozen people and I got the impression that it is frequented by entire families. Happily for me, not on a Sunday evening, so I could sing to my heart's delight without bothering anyone else! Another great experience to be recommended, and only €10.
After calling in at the local bar for a bottle of Vichy Catalán I pitched my tent at the side of the pilgrims trail, watching the sun go down and feeling that if I could just avoid the ants, I was pretty much in one of the Buddha's heavenly abodes.
