Ride Day 6 - Haro to Laguardia

I spent last night in Haro, the capital of Rioja. The town is full of vinotecas, little wine shops with hundreds of wines to taste. These places were of course full of riojas and even the best ones rarely cost more than 5 or 6 dollars per glass. Since I still had a day of riding left, it would have been a good night to exercise discretion but hey, you only live once. 

My last day of riding today ended, appropriately enough, with a steep ascent up the town of Laguardia, still in the heart of wine country.

This part of Spain reminds me of Napa, California. Farms and fancy wineries everywhere, the mild smell of rotting fruit in the air, and lots of tourists crisscrossing the landscape visiting wineries. . . .

. . . including me. The wine theme is pervasive in, for example, my hotel, which offers wine mud baths, wine facials, grape exfoliation and “lymphatic drainage,” whatever that is, which I sure hope is preceded by wine. There’s also wine soap and shampoo in my bathroom – which is quite luxurious so I’m not complaining. 

Almost every weekend in Spain is a religious holiday honoring one saint or another and this weekend is no exception, so the town I’m staying in is packed with people here for the holiday. After 5 days of being more or less alone, it’s now hard to walk around without literally bumping into someone. 

In addition to wine and people, Laguardia also has this. Despite the fact that this clock is one of the town’s main attractions, everyone knows that it is about 5 minutes fast. So if you want to see the show, you have to get to the square early. 

Ride Day 5 - Frias to Haro

Because I spent virtually no time researching what my ride (called “La Rioja – The Descent of the River Ebro”) was actually going to be, I had assumed all along that I would be spending a week in Rioja, the royalty of Spanish wine country. I pictured myself at some trendy, sophisticated wine bar every night, sharing backslapping stories with new Spanish friends and buying everyone another round.

Had I read the description, I would have noticed that it is a ride to Rioja, not through Rioja. During the first four days the route snaked its way through valleys, over mountains and alongside pastures in the most remote areas of Cantabria, Castilla y Leon and País Vasco. Even in the roadside posadas where I stayed, there were no restaurants or stores, let alone wine bars. The people who owned the hotels would go in the back, make basic food and slap it on the table. In most places there was no choice. The rooms were very simple and small and unless you are fascinated by cows and sheep, there was really nothing to do after dinner. For some people this is a dream vacation. After a couple of days, I need a little more action.

Today, the last long ride of my trip, I entered Rioja. As if in a movie, barely 50 feet beyond the “Welcome to Rioja” sign, all I could see in every direction were grapevines. 

The small town I’m staying in has hotels, restaurants, wine bars and trendy tourists, many of whom are walking cute dogs. My room has dependable wifi, hot water, a comfortable bed and a plush bath towel. All of these things for the first time in a week. I have to say that I had not realized what a snob I’d become. But as I sat at a table on the main plaza sipping my Rioja, allowing the tourists walking by to acquaint me with the latest fashions and appreciating the good fortune that brought me to this place, I did realize what a snob I’ve become. Let the back slapping begin.

Ride Day 4 - Medina de Pomar to Frias

Despite having had a short conversation with the Russians, I wasn’t quite ready to make us a party of four. Nonetheless, the guy at the hotel last night sat us together for dinner. On one hand, he figured that since we were the only people in the entire town and were more or less travelling together, it made sense. On the other hand, he clearly didn’t know me.

It turned out to be fascinating. We actually got to know each other somewhat and despite significant limitations in the only language we both knew, we covered a lot of territory. Most of which I am not at liberty to disclose in this publicly accessible blog because, you know, Russia. But it was very interesting to get the perspective of some regular Russians (although probably pretty wealthy by Russian standards) without the filter of our news media. It was doubly interesting because the parents had very different opinions about current politics than did their teenage son. On to the ride.

The very first thing my navigation app said this morning was "Today, you may want to buy food and bring it with you for lunch," which told me everything I needed to know. I followed, crossed and sat by the Ebro many times over the course of the ride, most of which was spent in, shocker, isolated places. Every time I went from the river at the bottom of the valley back up to the top of the cliffs and saw eagles flying below me (yes that happened) I would think "I guess that's why I'm a little out of breath."

Speaking of isolated places, if you, like me, thought hermits only existed in Monty Python movies, guess what! They not only existed, but one of them lived here along my ride. After the heyday of hermits, this cave remained uninhabited for hundreds of years until the 1950’s when some Portuguese laborers building a hydroelectric dam were “housed” here. Not to be judgy but it seems like that should be sort of illegal.

Then on to Frias, a medieval town near the end of the ride. I could have taken the regular road but chose to use the original bridge. The tower in the middle is a toll booth, but I didn’t have to pay a toll because the guy who worked there died 800 years ago.

Ride Day 3 - Zamanzas to Medina de Pomar

Last night I decided to talk to the Russians. We’ve been eating dinner ten feet apart every night and it seemed un-American not to strike up a meaningless conversation. They were eager to talk and in the first 90 seconds asked my why I was travelling alone and how old I was, thereby confirming every stereotype we have about how Russians communicate. Then the woman typed something into her translation app and said “When I am 60, I want to do what you are doing.” Score one for the western alliance.

Since I spent last night on the banks of the Ebro, today unsurprisingly started with a ride over a mountain.

Along these mountain roads I was totally isolated – no people, cars, stores, nothing but many great views. It was exhilarating and also made me pray that my bike kept working, which thankfully it did. 

Sometimes, even in the most remote areas I would look across the valley and see something like this – a tiny sign of civilization perched on the edge. Not that it would do me any good if I got a flat.

Based on a recommendation from the guy at the mill last night, I made a 15-mile detour to stop by this town, Puentedey, to see this geological structure. The town’s name is a shortened version of Puente de Dios or God’s Bridge, since only God could have made this. Or I guess possibly erosion could have done it. But then, who invented erosion?

No time to answer that question, I had to ride back to original route and get to the hotel so that I can rest up for another ride over a mountain tomorrow.

Ride Day 2 - Polientes to Zamanzas

I followed the Ebro river for miles but at a certain point the valley walls closed in and got steeper and we had to go our separate ways – the Ebro to continue its peaceful winding path to Rioja and me to ride over another mountain. 

And in no time, I was at the top of the canyon looking down on the river in the distance.

But before that happened, I stopped for a while in this little town at the far end of the valley, called Orbaneja del Castillo, which has a mountain stream running through the middle of it. In medieval times this village was majority Jewish but then, you know, Spain.

In the village, this white van was driving behind me honking his horn. I kept thinking I was doing something wrong but eventually realized that he was the food truck (literally) and was just letting everyone know that he was there. People lined up to buy bread and groceries. If you live in Orbaneja de Castillo and don’t have a car (even if you do have a car) buying groceries would not be easy.

As I’m sure you know, every Spanish village has a church. When another town I rode through was
settled, the people said, “We know we need a church but we’re not high up on the list for a Papal visit, so how about we just put a door over a hole in the rocks, call it a church and call it a day.”

Another day, another medieval bridge. I had such a good time doing nothing sitting by the river the other day that I decided to try it again. This time around 40 or 50 miles from the beginning of the Ebro. It’s more like a real river here but it’s clear why they don’t call it the “mighty” Ebro.

And then a pleasant surprise – staying a night at a refurbished 14th century mill run by a charming couple who are fantastic cooks. I got to sit by the river, play with their dog and read a book. 

Ride Day 1 - Ormas to Polientes

The day I arrived in Spain, it rained steadily all day, and the second day was overcast and drizzly.  I looked outside when I woke up this morning and saw this.

When I booked this ride, my research hadn’t extended much beyond reading the title “Rioja – the Descent of the River Ebro.” Now that I’m on the ride I realize that while the river might always be descending (laws of physics and so on), my ride has a lot of ascent too. For some reason I had to go over a mountain today to follow the descent of the river. The first thing I did this afternoon when I got to Polientes was to take a look at the plan for the rest of the ride to get a sense of what I signed up for. I’ll keep you posted.

From the top of the climb, I could see in the distance the reservoir that I’d ridden past earlier in the day.

This is the Ebro about 5 miles from where it starts.

This is the Ebro about 10 miles from its source. You may be shocked to know that at this spot I got off the bike, took off my helmet, turned off my phone and just sat in the grass doing nothing for a half hour or so. I’ve seen other people doing this sort of thing and always thought I would hate it, but to my surprise it was pretty enjoyable. I may try it again sometime. This rejuvenating moment of serenity came just before I got back on the bike and realized that I was about to ride over a mountain. 

The town of Polientes claims a population of 100, but I think it is being modest. In sharp contrast to yesterday’s town, Polientes has a couple of restaurants, a bank branch, a general store where I bought a pen for 40 cents and a stoplight. So I’m heading out now to further explore.

One other question from earlier in the day – go or no go?

Ormas

Tomorrow begins the ride. When I went to pick up my bike today, I was joined by a three-person Russian family who will be on the same route as me. Their cordiality is lukewarm at best although I predict they may need me one day because they speak no Spanish and their English is a little rough. I shall refer to them as “the Russians.”

I am starting from Ormas, Spain, population 31. Or I guess 35 today if you count the Russians and me. If you click on “Things to Do in Ormas” in TripAdvisor, you get “We could not find attractions near Ormas.” Similarly, if you go to the Ormas online forum, the page says “Be the first to ask a question about Ormas.” I thought about asking a question just to get things started but quickly realized that no one would answer it. This is downtown Ormas. My hotel is on the left.

My ride will follow the Ebro River for a week or so, through the valleys of Rioja. The Ebro is maybe the longest river in Spain (If you believe about half of the websites that have an opinion on the topic) and goes through some beautiful country, much of which, according to the bike rental company, has no towns, stores, restaurants or traffic. “You may want to carry your lunch with you and eat it under a tree” is how they put it. I’m guessing the roads may be a lot like this one that I explored this afternoon.

One impromptu plan today, other than getting a closer look at the cows surrounding my hotel, was to ride to the source of the Ebro River, which we passed on the way up here. This unassuming spot is where water from the surrounding mountains that goes underground for many kilometers pops up again and forms the beginning of the Ebro. There’s nothing to spoil the natural beauty of this spot except maybe the statue of Mary holding Jesus which is here because, Spain.

Just before dinner I followed the road up the hill a ways and found an old church that seems to still be in use and a few well-kept houses, demonstrating that sometimes 31 people is enough (below).