July 21 Las Caldas

We had a transport day from Cangas Di Onis to Las Caldas, just outside the big city of Oviedo.

Its a health resort, lots of glass, lots of well-trained efficient staff, clean quiet rooms, hot water and people wearing white dressing gowns...in the hotel lobby...and looking like a shaved head Conleth Hill (Lord Varys from Game of Thrones) but much much grumpier. Maybe the enemas werent working? Maybe the rude dickhead needs cleaning out?

OGF has paid for all of us for five nights, which will be worked out in the reckoning at the end of the trip.

The restaurant across the roads beckons. All five of us are making sure BB gets his pain management right. He tries by ordering a gin and tonic with so much gin the tonic wont fit in.

Beautiful food, nice wine, and postres.

AND.... a new name for BB, Buble Boy - he has been re-appelationed to El Tortuga!!
ET will be with us on each ride.

We tell ourselves we are fuel loading for tomorrow.

Add captioninteresting lighting scheme

Amontillado

Rooms found, clothes removed from suitcases and a walk around the grounds to find a place to read a book for a while and look at the landscape.

Firm mattress, soft pillows (not my favourite) and sleep crashes like shutters.

Alarm wakes me up and we find our allocated breakfast room at 7.59am and are told we need to go to the lower level, to another breakfast room that looks just as good.

More fuelling for todays ride to the south - approx 90km and 2000m of ascent.

We find our roads quiet today (Saturday) and the only traffic seems to be white Transit vans heading up the valley gorge, perhaps more walkers? there are walk paths next to the quiet road we are on.

Ride route here

We turn off the road and continue to follow the stream uphill among towering gorge cliffs, its stunning scenery, sadly I didnt bring the point and click camera, only my mobile phone, so the process for capturing an image is a pain, stop, remove dry bag from back jersey pocket, get phone, take image, back in dry bag, pocket click in ride.

The road goes up and we find where all the white vans have been going. People are getting out to sit on a bike and roll down the hill we have just been enjoying on the ride.

A smaller road turns uphill (yes even more) despite a couple of misgivings we follow the route set by OGF and turn pedals at 10% pass donkeys and many many cattle turds on the roads. So much shit everywhere.

 We eventually make a plateau and see a chapel off in the distance surrounded by horses and their few handlers. This is the pass/puerto of Maldavia. Its muddy and shitty.

But glorious at the same time. LM makes easy work of any climb.

politics at the top of the hill

From here we climb a bit and descend a bit and then OGF gets his first flat tyre, our fourth of the trip, a quick repair and we roll downhill constantly on the brakes. Our wheel rims get hot and SM decides to stop and let them cool down before proceeding.

 A big descent through primeval lanes, the roads are growing moss in the cracks of the asphalt, dark shaded corners have made us nervous and we tentatively roll down the the hill until we find the prosaic town of Grado, where we make lunch.

This town has a grittiness to it that isnt helped by arriving at siesta.  Its closed generally except for the few restaurants serving food and drink. There appears to be many businesses simply closed, the main plaza has a derelict photo shop offering 1 hour photos. Wut?

We still have a few metres of climbing to do for the twenty kilometres back to Las Caldas.  SM pushes hard up what might be the last climb and try to follow but he has too many beans today. At the hilltop he has simply disappeared. I push hard downhill in the biggest gear taking the corners as fast as I dare and I nearly catch him, but its an urban area, cars, kids, speedhumps and tightening radius curves and a healthy desire not to turn into roadkill calm my descent.  That said I later find out I am the 7th fastest ever to descend this road (Strava) into the industrial towwn of Trubia, dominated by the reeking smoke stack of one factory and the general stench of the chemical plant to the east. Living here must be challenging.

 I know again I am a tourist,fleetingly passing with zero connection to these places where people have been living for thousands of years.

We cruise into Las Caldas via a riverside path, wash the bikes down, hit the bar for a beer and watch the Tour roll into Mende.

Tomorrow we have El Angliru. Steep bastard. But first more fuel. We head over to the third option for fuel and its not good. The outside beer garden is derelict and closed due to the wet weather. The 'dining room' is enveloped in the stench of urinal lollies and the main bar has the windows open to allow the cigar smoke and spanish bogan behaviour to pervade. Quick drink and out and back to our favourite of the three.

Wine, tapas, wine, postres, more wine. Fuel.

Back to my room and my days cycling kit has been washed and dried. This hotel like cyclists.

Angliru