Cycling into Spain went rather well, till Renteria. A road sign forbids cyclists on the highway... So I enter the town and get some Spanish currency at an ATM (automatic teller machine), then look for a store to buy a good map of Spain. After a bit of study, I settle on a small coastal road going west and head out.

The road's very scenic, but all hills. The coast is basically where the Pyrenees mountains hit the Atlantic ocean. So I rest frequently and take pictures. It's a low mileage day, but it was enjoyable nonetheless. I decide to spend the night at Zarautz.

In the morning, I'm divided on whether to go on or be lazy for another day... I procrastinated so long, that the decision took itself. So I did laundry, walked on the beach and around town, found a compact Spanish dictionary, basically spent time getting acclimatized to Spain.

Up to now, I was getting up around 5 AM, which allowed for a smooth start to the day before starting cycling with the daylight... In Spain though, people start eating dinner around 9 PM, so I wouldn't be hitting the sack until midnight at the earliest, therefore it was tough to get up before 7 AM and I was getting later starts for cycling. But that was OK, since I would cycle until later in the day as well...

Anyways, leaving Zarautz, I follow the coast road until Debo, and then turn inland (N634) following a river valley into the mountains. Though gruelling, the first 15 kms being all uphill, the scenery is superb, with forests and little villages in the mountains. Then I switch valleys heading towards Bilbao and it's all downhill. What a pleasure ! though the scenery is less appealing being mostly industrial.

It's raining when I get to Bilbao, so I settle down for the night.

In the morning, it's raining again, so I decide to stick around wandering the city and taking in the sights.

One of the most striking pieces of architecture in Bilbao is the Guggenheim museum where I spent most of this first day in Bilbao.

The next day's raining as well and I spend the day at the Museo de los Belles Artes.

Well, it was raining again in the morning but I left anyway fully dressed in my raingear. As soon as I'm out of the valley where Bilbao sits, the sun shines. It seems the valley was simply trapping the rain clouds. The cycle west along the coast is just marvellous...

... and then I get to a little village, Santillana del Mar, and am transported entirely to another time. This is one of the prettiest villages I've seen ! I spent a day's rest here just enjoying the medieval pace.

Mid-morning after leaving Santillana, I take a break after a long cycle uphill and watch the progress of this little fellow... That's exactly how I felt... slow... but steady !

Near Llanes, I notice that I had a broken spoke on the rear wheel. The wheel wasn't true and was rubbing on the brake pads. The broken spoke was on the cassette side and I didn't have the tool to remove the cassette. There was a small bike shop in Llanes, so I decided to spend the night and have the spoke changed and the wheel trued.

The rain was pouring all day. I thought it would pass so didn't put my overbooties on. Well, it didn't take much time for my shoes to get soaked and my feet were sloshing with each pedal stroke. So I called it quits early and crashed at Ribadesella.

Isn't the scenery just divine !

My goal was to get to Gijon... But it was a big and busy city, I got lost, found my way out and settled in Candas, a nice small village.

The past few days, as I was cycling west along the northern coast of Spain, I was encountering more and more backpackers as well as other cyclists... It so happens that the route I followed was one of those taken by pilgrims on the "Camino de Santiago"... Ever since the discovery of the remains of Saint Jacques the Apostle in Compostella sometime in the 10th century, pilgrims have been walking the northern coast of Spain to atone for their sins, renew their faith or just appease troubled spirits.

So, leaving Vegadeo, I decide to head inland, across the Pyrenees towards Santiago de Compostella.

It's a tough ride into the mountains and that day, from sea level, I gain 660 meters and settle at Gutin de Pallares for the night.

Getting up in the morning wasn't pleasant. The mountain weather sure was different from the coast. Cold and humid with thick heavy fog... I cycle the first 12 kms uphill with blinking lights on my bike, never seeing more than a few meters in front of me. But the weather eventually clears up and the rest of the route to Santiago's enjoyable.

The pilgrims' destination, the remains of Saint Jacques the Apostle over which a cathedral has been built. Santiago de Compostella's a fairly large old city with a number of medieval churches at its core. The people were friendly, got Titus all lubed for free at a small bike shop, but they had no pedal bearing cap and suggested I might find one in Porto (Portugal) as there was a Campagnolo dealer there. I spent a day's rest here wandering around.

Heading towards Portugal. I had my best cycling day yet... It sure helped that the first 40 kms or so were mostly downhill. After 113 kms, I decide to crash in Tui, just across the river from Portugal, and spend what's left of my Spanish currency.

Today got really warm and my arms got sunburned... but who's complaining... I hope the sunshine lasts !

Cycling's a lot more enjoyable in the sun ! and in the 16 days it took me to cross northeastern Spain to Portugal, there was only 3 days of rain and 2 of these I spent visiting museums in Bilbao...

The scenery in northeastern Spain is beautiful... all mountains and hills with some agriculture in the valleys... though, whoever coined the phrase "gently rolling hills" must've been a masochist or, at least, not a cyclist... There's nothing gentle about rolling hills. I've come to dread the downhills because they're invariably followed by uphills... But my legs got better and I certainly got leaner (lost most of my "thick skin").

West of Bilbao, I started avoiding large cities as they got more depressing... Though richly industrial, a lot of the residential areas were ugly masses of apartment buildings... Smaller villages are prettier and the people, less rushed and hassled, are a lot friendlier... and with my limited knowledge of the Spanish language, it takes a lot of time to carry out a conversation.

I found Spain to be a much better value than France. While France has great foods and wines, they don't come cheaply... Northern Spain sure knows how to cook and they don't charge much for it... A typical dish of Basque Spain called "cocina montanares" is a stew of white beans with various meats and sausages (kind of like the French cassoulet) and simply delicious and hardy after a day of cycling.

As well, Spaniards appear to take more pride in their possessions than the French... Houses and hotels, though they may be old, are kept sparkling clean and well tended... My one gripe with the Spaniards is the dog pooh... and they have lots of dogs... that pooh everywhere... invariably, you have to watch where you walk outside or you'll step in it...

In northern Spain, my cycling got more relaxed... I was cycling longer days and mileages but with more frequent stops during the day... taking in the scenery... talking with farmers... The sun sure made a difference !