🎼On the road again! A light continent breakfast at a local cafe and I was rolling out of Motril at 9:30 with Granada on my mind. With the snow capped mountains ahead of me, I thought I would be a slave of my granny gear all day. Mile after mile of flat terrain cut through huge rock shears. The views along the way were impressive. I snapped at least a dozen shots. Only after twelve miles did the incline ramp up to mountain stage. Racing bikes were everywhere with the riders tricked out in their Lycra skin tight riding gear. There I was cruising along at a very modest clip with these bikers hauling by me in both directions. Most acknowledge my existence but some were above lowering themselves to a touring bike. They are going around in twenty mile circles, whereas us touring bikers are laying down hundreds of miles and carrying three times the weight. There are real men and then there those who think they are real men. However, one these cyclists truly impressed me. He was ahead of a pack of bikes, pedaling with one leg up a mountain. First my eye saw that the right side pedal was missing and then I saw that the guy had no leg. I stared in amazement as this guy cranked up the mountain. Amazing!
Moving along, so to speak, with the climb, mile after mile, came the wind. One bridge spanning a deep canyon had a wind shear that almost blew me over. I walked that one. Other gusts slammed me on solid ground but at least I knew I would not be blow over a guard rail to plummet hundreds of feet to a sudden stop. For a short stretch, I ran out of secondary road and had to thumb my way for six miles along the autovia. The two guys in a van who picked me up joked about how they saw this “old man” along the side of the road and took mercy. I promptly informed them that I was strong and just as capable as the younger guys. They loved my take on myself. Finally with thirty miles behind me, I pulled over and tucked my self behind a small steel structure for lunch and a rest. With the rising altitude came a drop in temperature. Cold coupled by exertion is a real calorie burner and so with over four hours of riding hehind me, I needed a break. Cheese, French bread, salami, chocolate and water hit the proverbial spot. Rejuvenated, I set off to knock off the last twelve miles. Fearful of getting a chill, I changed to full gloves and put on my fleece pullover. The legs stayed bare but I managed. As I approach Granada, I meet a German guy loaded up, making his way through all of Europe. We Facebooked, exchanged selfies and head off in opposite directions. Finally, I entered Granada where it took me well over an hour to find my Airbnb. With endless narrow cobble stone roads going every which way, my gps was sending me to hell and back. Pissed and tired, I pulled under a tented cafe area just as a powerful squall whipped in, turning tables over and drowning the area with a torrent of rain. Two waiters who could speak English call my Airbnb host and got matters straightened out. It is amazing that Marissa, the Airbnb host, had not posted directions on her site given her obscure location. The waiters wrote out the route which actually worked.
Does this lady have a view?!! She overlooks the city from a high vantage point. Probably her taxes are out of sight like mine, necessitating Airbnb to raise the necessary funds to lighten the tax load. Not speaking a word of English, she navigated me through her house, giving me the run down on how thing work around the house. Once settled in followed a hot shower, I used Marissa’s map and found a low key restaurant with a ten euro buffet. I made sure I memorized landmarks so I could find my way back without getting lost, as is often the case. Being very near Alhambra, the tours are everywhere. I saw the towering walls from below when getting directions and later saw it lit up with lights, quite the site. Tomorrow rain is expected but I will be on the move, checking out the city and Alhambra.
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