At the campsite in Balaso I met an English couple Tom and Maria, from Teeside, who were doing a long sponsored walk to Benidorm, supported by another friend also named Tom. They were walking in aid of first contact mental health to raise awareness of the alarmingly high suicide rate in the North East of the UK particularly among middle aged men. If you want to know more about their work take a look at their Facebook page: https://m.facebook.com/groups/615482975739378/
My destination for the day was Zaragoza, about 88km away where I hoped to spend a little time with friends Josh and Ana. Along the route I noticed a lot of these birds nests in electricity pylons and in fact on any high building. I guess they may have belonged to storks, but there was no evidence of any occupants so I guess they would have already migrated.
The roadside flowers were getting more colourful, and the number of insects and butterflies increasing.
I passed through the town of Tauste which is quite lively and industrial, and entered the valley of the Ebro River.
Zaragoza is home to an important military academy and the regional communications are significantly affected by a huge military training area. This has the effect of forcing all the arterial transport routes along the entire valley for a distance of around 30 Kms. In general the provision for bikes in Spain had been fantastic, but here it became a little more difficult to discern. The corridor is dominated by two motorways that run side by side and the towns alongside are connected by a maze of smaller roads, some of which are ok but some are rough tracks. I got lost a couple of times trying and failing to discern the detail in the satnav maps. Eventually though the cyclists entry into Zaragoza is triumphant as there is the most extraordinary track that weaves it's way through what looks like one of Europe's largest motorway interchanges and drops you directly on the beautiful banks of the Ebro River which has by now swollen to twice it's size.
Along the banks of the river for a kilometre or so, and then across this bridge to enter the city proper. There is a very special atmosphere to this place which I found instantly attractive.
It didn't take me long to find Ana's apartment in a charming but quite modern part of town. Her mum had prepared Paella for supper and enjoying a great meal like that was a lovely way to meet her family.
Next day Ana, Josh and Ana's brother Xavi took me on a tour of the city, and I was completely bowled over, although I was still a little worn out from the cycling, they probably didn't notice!
Here's the cathedral of our lady of Pilar next to the Ebro, a world famous church dating from the very earliest days of Christianity in Europe, but rebuilt in the 17th century after a fire destroyed the previous building.
During the civil war Zaragoza was an important objective for both sides on account of the military academy and at one stage it was bombed by the Spanish air force. These two bombs fell through the roof of the cathedral but failed to donate, which was seen as a sign of the divine favour by the devout. It is an incredible story as if they had gone off it would surely have altered the subsequent history of the town.
Anna and Josh with and brother Xavi
Leaving Zaragoza next day was quite an intimidating experience as I had to ride alongside the Autovía, or motorway, where bicycles are not allowed, but with various exits and slip roads crossing the service road that I was on. I didn't see any other bikes on that section but got quite a shock when I came across two elderly men walking along the same stretch of road. Nobody seemed to make anything of it.
Striking out from the motorway the road went up quite quickly through an industrial area and I thought I had entered something like a high plain. The next thirty kilometres were like the Chinese water torture of uphill cycling, for the road gently inclined upwards for the next three hours. At first the incline was barely noticeable, and so only because the fields that soon replaced the industrial units, were gently terraced in line with the contours. It followed a dry valley and the surrounding landscape was basically sandy desert dunes with scrub. Think High Chaparral, Clint Eastwood and Badlands. It looked as though a crop of winter or spring wheat had been grown on the valley floor, but it had long since been harvested, leaving nothing but a very dry sandy tilth. The temperature was around 26-28° and the sky was absolutely blue. For the first hour or two I was quite enjoying it, but I began to realise that I hadn't free wheeled for quite a long time and my poor legs were gradually getting more and more tired. The landscape was tree less, so finding a little shade to rest in proved more than a little challenging. There were precious few towns but when I arrived at Valmadrid and spotted a quiet shady picnic area I pulled over and collapsed on a bench for an hour or two. But worse was yet to come as after my lunch break the road became steeper and steeper. This was definitely worse than the Pyrénées because it had gone on for so long.
But the downhill reward eventually arrived and it was staggeringly beautiful, as the sandy dune type mountains finished very suddenly and the road descended rapidly on to an enormous flat plain below. The descent was so rapid I thought I might lose control of the bike in the wind which was blowing across the road. Adrenaline rush. This plain was more like the Sahara than the High Chaparral and it extended as far as the horizon in every direction. It was a little daunting.
As I got down further into the plain I noticed that there was in fact some higher ground to the south west, and that of course is where the road was heading. You're never far from a mountain in Spain.
I don't know what the temperature was doing but it didn't feel like it was getting any cooler so I had to make a determined effort to make it to the next town, Belchite, which had been recommended to me by Ana and Josh as a good place to visit on account of some historic ruins that had been preserved as a museum of the Spanish civil war. The town was set out in a grid and easy to navigate round, I found a shop, bought some dinner and located a place to camp between the town and the museum.
Cicadas, mosquitos and barking dogs coloured the dusk with sounds.
