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Travel StoriesSpain And The Faro Rally 2005 - By Ren Withnell
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 10
I awake, and somehow I notice something is wrong, something missing. It takes me a moment to realise it is the noise of bikes, voices and music that is missing. As my mind wakes up I am thankful for the peace and quiet and that I have nowhere to go today. I am about 250 miles from Santander, on a Monday morning and I do not sail until Thursday afternoon. I could remain camped here for the next 3 nights and still make the ferry.
But I want to go home. Last night Liz from the Scottish crew made a call back to Scotland because her father had a minor stroke. It seems he is ok but she is worried sick about him and wants to be there for him. It took a while for her sister back home to persuade her he’s ok and to enjoy herself. I know what she’s feeling. I’ve been constantly thinking of the gf and her mother. I want to be there for the gf if anything should happen to her mother. I know what it is like to loose someone close and would not like her to go through that alone.
I’m missing things I take for granted back home. I miss going into shops and understanding what is written on packets and tins. I miss cafes and petrol stations where I can pay for things in a currency I understand with coins I am familiar with. I miss green fields. I miss the cool British weather. I surprise myself by not missing the Internet or TV and I don’t miss British traffic. I don’t miss sleeping in my bed, I have been remarkably comfortable in my tent on my roll and in my sleeping bag. For all the good things about this trip I have had enough now. I am ready for home and there are another 3 nights of camping and 1 night on the ferry before I am home.
I get up and do the morning things that are becoming routine now. Wash some clothes in the sinks, hang them on the tent or the bike, have another shower, search for breakfast, struggle to speak Spanish and eat something quite dull, spend ages getting sand out the tent then out of all my orifices and then think of something to do. The Scottish crew are going to walk into Santa Martes des Tormes. I shall join them.
The walk into town is easy, about half a mile. Santa Martes is a town in its own right but as part of the suburbs of Salamanca. The road in has several large houses in tiptop condition with manicured lawns and gravel driveways. Next to each mini mansion is a ramshackle run down shell of a house with rubble in amongst the dry grass of the garden. It is such a contrast from the fantastic to the drastic. The town has the now common 5,6,7 storey buildings that all Spanish towns have. These are drab concrete or brick but in a respectable state of repair. The shops are small compared to UK towns but in a good condition.
George and Liz seem to be able to use only Banco Telefonica cash machines while the rest of us happily insert our bankcards into any old ATM and retrieve the strange money they use here. My ATM tells me my exchange rate will be this and that and tries to sell me insurance all in perfect English. We wander round the shops and laugh as George points out Hector Brocklebank has been “Straight through!!” leaving a fish consignment “Up the back passage” of the local fishmonger. Whilst in a supermarket searching for tins of something edible I notice the girls being sneaky. It turns out it’s Mel’s birthday and they are getting him a surprise.
Back at the campsite we unload and snack on our purchases. There is a pool on site as part of the hotel and the poor people on the campsite are allowed into the pool area for a small fee, and we do this. I never thought I would do the holiday thing of lounging round a pool, sunbathing and taking the occasional dip, but that is exactly what I did. Lying there on a big plastic sunbed, making sure my white bits are getting some sun, turning over to burn the rest of me and moving with the sun for best effect. I’m supposed to be some kind of wild man, travelling across vast plains and exploring new cultures. I’m not supposed to be doing the ultimate British holiday hobby, burning myself to a nice tender pink. I feel I’ve let myself down, but stuff it, it’s nice to relax and chill for the afternoon.
This is actually a little more like I expected being in Spain to be. The pool is clean, the area round the pool is pristine and the grass is lush green. There are a variety of holidaymakers lounging around in shorts and bikinis. And some of them are rather attractive. The Scottish crew point out a few younger ladies to me, but I’ve got my eye on a strawberry blonde woman in her early 40’s. I am disappointed when I hear her talking to her daughter in Spanish, there’s no hope of me even talking to her. I sit a while with my shades on and letch. This only makes me miss the gf even more.
I return to the tent later in the afternoon for another hot, sweaty sleep. I can see why the locals have the siesta, it’s too hot to even think by 2 or 3 in the afternoon. I wake and go for yet another shower. I don’t even bother to dry myself, I just walk out with my shorts on. There’s not much to do. I sit with the Scottish crew and drink coke, smoke cigarettes and talk. We eat tea on the campsite, talk, other bikers are starting to turn up now. The evening runs as you would expect with nothing exciting to report. It is nice to be in company and I am starting to know the Scottish crew well enough to not feel like a total outsider.
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Preparation
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 1
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 2
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 3
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 4
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 5
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 6
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 7
The Portuguese coastline is not quite what Ren was expecting. Then there's the case of the disappearing helmet.
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 8
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 9
Ren has to brave the plastic portaloos of HELL at the Faro Rally. It's also time to leave the noise and chaos and get back on the road Northbound
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 10
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 11
It's another long and hot ride across the Spanish scenery. Still, every sweaty mile is a mile closer to home.
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 12
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 13
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 14
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Aftermath
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Travel StoriesSpain And The Faro Rally 2005 - By Ren Withnell