We woke late on day 2. The night had been cold but the campsite owner had lent us a tent so we slept comfortably. My legs were stiff from day 1's climbing but I still felt pretty fresh.
The ride ahead was 10 k shorter with much less climbing than the previous day. It promised no major challenges.
We eventually pulled out of the campsite by 10am.
Soon we were riding in a creek beside the Rio Duraton. The landscape on top of the meseta is shades of brown: light brown corn to red brown earth. But here in the creek it was green and terracotta. The sandstone wall of the creek was covered in green vegetation and wind rustled the leaves of Poplar trees by the river. It felt like Eden.
Back on the high plain of the meseta, the roads were arrow straight and the sky big, blue and dotted with white clouds. It is a harsh landscape, all above 800 metres; hot in the summer, bitterly cold in winter.
We'd expected heat to be a problem but it was surprisingly fresh. Rory stopped to put socks on under the sandals he was riding in. The wind was blowing steadily in our faces and dust whipped up into eddies across brown fields.
After about 3 hours of riding we came down from the meseta and stopped in a village for pastries and a rest.
A friend of Rory's from work was spending time at his parents' house in a village about an hour's cycling away and we had planned to meet up so we called ahead. Javi invited us to have lunch at his parents house and came out to meet us on his bike. I was weary of the cycling and was looking forward to lunch and a rest.
Eventually we pulled into Navas de Roa - 700 inhabitants - and the hospitality of Javi and his parents. If I had wished for a lunch my imagination would not have come up with a meal as tasty and well-suited to a day's cycling as we were given at Javi's house. Pisto - courgette, potato, boiled egg, peppers and tomatoes - and barbecued lamb chops with a glass of wine.
After lunch the head wind was more noticeable. I don't know if it was stronger or just felt that way but we were now riding in deliberate formation. One of us would take the lead, taking the brunt of the head wind, for 20 - 30 minutes before dropping back and taking a rest in the slip stream. Javi stayed with us for maybe 30 kilometres. The landscape was a washed out brown and green. Cornfields and scrub land. But for the most part I wasn't looking at the landscape. If I was out front I had my head down out of the wind; if I was following I was concentrating on Rory's back tire trying to tuck as close as I could into his slip stream.
Lerma is hidden into the landscape so we were approaching for a long time but couldn't see the town. It was disconcerting for two tired cyclists who just wanted a shower, a beer and to watch the European cup final. It was past 8 o'clock and we still hadn't seen Lerma.
Eventually we crossed a dual carriage way, followed an unsurfaced road, rounded a corner and Lerma was directly in front of us.
The ride ahead was 10 k shorter with much less climbing than the previous day. It promised no major challenges.
We eventually pulled out of the campsite by 10am.
Soon we were riding in a creek beside the Rio Duraton. The landscape on top of the meseta is shades of brown: light brown corn to red brown earth. But here in the creek it was green and terracotta. The sandstone wall of the creek was covered in green vegetation and wind rustled the leaves of Poplar trees by the river. It felt like Eden.
Back on the high plain of the meseta, the roads were arrow straight and the sky big, blue and dotted with white clouds. It is a harsh landscape, all above 800 metres; hot in the summer, bitterly cold in winter.
We'd expected heat to be a problem but it was surprisingly fresh. Rory stopped to put socks on under the sandals he was riding in. The wind was blowing steadily in our faces and dust whipped up into eddies across brown fields.
After about 3 hours of riding we came down from the meseta and stopped in a village for pastries and a rest.
A friend of Rory's from work was spending time at his parents' house in a village about an hour's cycling away and we had planned to meet up so we called ahead. Javi invited us to have lunch at his parents house and came out to meet us on his bike. I was weary of the cycling and was looking forward to lunch and a rest.
Eventually we pulled into Navas de Roa - 700 inhabitants - and the hospitality of Javi and his parents. If I had wished for a lunch my imagination would not have come up with a meal as tasty and well-suited to a day's cycling as we were given at Javi's house. Pisto - courgette, potato, boiled egg, peppers and tomatoes - and barbecued lamb chops with a glass of wine.
After lunch the head wind was more noticeable. I don't know if it was stronger or just felt that way but we were now riding in deliberate formation. One of us would take the lead, taking the brunt of the head wind, for 20 - 30 minutes before dropping back and taking a rest in the slip stream. Javi stayed with us for maybe 30 kilometres. The landscape was a washed out brown and green. Cornfields and scrub land. But for the most part I wasn't looking at the landscape. If I was out front I had my head down out of the wind; if I was following I was concentrating on Rory's back tire trying to tuck as close as I could into his slip stream.
Lerma is hidden into the landscape so we were approaching for a long time but couldn't see the town. It was disconcerting for two tired cyclists who just wanted a shower, a beer and to watch the European cup final. It was past 8 o'clock and we still hadn't seen Lerma.
Eventually we crossed a dual carriage way, followed an unsurfaced road, rounded a corner and Lerma was directly in front of us.
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