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Travel StoriesSome Iberian Mountains
The Rest Of The Misery
Ride Date 26 September 2024
By Ren Withnell
Urgh. MMppff. Sheeeeeeez. Sweet precious sleep did come through the night, but not consistently. Up--- down--- UP--- Down---. You could argue it would rock you to sleep but my stomach is turning and churning. UP--- down--- up--- DOWN--- CRASH! If I felt well enough I'd panic thinking we've run aground or the ship has broken in half. I don't care, death might be a sweet relief.
I can't take it any more. I'll have to go and at least try a cup of tea. Leaving Sharon rolling around in her bunk I heroically muster my way along the corridor, bashing off the narrow walls. Clinging to the banister I climb the stairs. As I enter the restaurant there's 2 kinds of folks. The ones much like me looking worse for wear and green around the gills, and the annoying gits who seem to take it in their stride while tucking into a full fried breakfast. Urgh, god no.
Focus, concentrate... hold the cup with the left hand, hold the rail with the right. Keep steady walking with the cup, oh crap there's no rail between the brew station and the tills. Be brave Ren, be brave. I slam into the tray rails around the tills, keeping most of the tea in my cup.
I throw myself into a seat as an elderly lady is lifted clean off the floor by a big wave, only to come crashing down, breakfast and all, hard into the now rising floor. I consider helping but the staff are around her in moments. She's hurt, probably nothing broken but I bet there's something like a sprained ankle. She's assisted off around the corner, I presume there's some kind of medical assistance but I'm not well enough to find out. I drink my tea. Slowly. At least it is good tea.
Back to the cabin and lie down. Lying down is about the best scenario in this situation. The nausea abates to discomfort, occasionally misleading me into thinking I'm fine, until I sit up or try to walk.
Eventually desperation leads Sharon and I back to the restaurant. I, cautiously, nervously, believe the worst may be over. The boat is still moving a lot but not *quite* as much as it has been. Sharon seems to be doing better than myself overall, she's suffering but less than I. We dine, cautiously, on a cooked breakfast apiece and I seem to be able to keep this inside of my gut. There is hope, vague hope but I'm clinging to it much like the banisters.
"The boat will be delayed due to the weather" comes the announcement. We were supposed to dock at 1100, I expected to be out of the port by 1230 giving us all afternoon to make our way to, well, I was thinking perhaps The Cotswolds? The estimate is that we'll be in docking in Plymouth around 1400. Great, drag out the pain why don't you?
Between feeling queasy and holding onto the table or the walls or the bed or the rails, I have time to think and to worry a little. If we're in port by 1400 I bet it'll be 1500-1530 before we're actually out on the road, particularly if we're stuck in the same queues we were in yesterday. That really will not be enough time to get up to The Cotswolds, find a campsite, make a meal and chill out.
We do have one thing on our side - time. Today is Friday which means we have today, tomorrow and Sunday before we need to be home. It is becoming apparent we won't be going to The Cotswolds today, the logical thing to do is to camp near the port and reassess the situation tomorrow.
I discuss this with Sharon and she agrees. By now the boat has stopped pitching violently and land, solid and unmoving land, is in sight. As we approach the dock Sharon is surfing the interweb frantically once she has a signal and I know exactly what she'll be surfing for. Solid accommodation rather than a tent.
She suggests a few costly hotels which I reject outright. Undeterred she keeps on looking. A static caravan? Nope, not paying that much. A lodge? Nope. What about this, kind of a cheap lodge, really a shed? OK, OK, yeah OK we can manage that and it's not too far from Plymouth. It's booked before I even finish my sentence.
Near enough...
With a gentle thud we are docked. We wait. "All vehicle passengers on Deck 4, make your way to your vehicles". We're chatting with a few other riders, and waiting. "All vehicle passengers on Deck 3, make your way to your vehicles". We've arrived late and now we're being made to wait even more. It is getting boring now though and I'm wondering if we'll ever get off.
It is almost 1600, yes 4pm, before we are allowed down into the bowels of the ship and back to the bikes. I am keeping my calm but it is taking a concerted effort by now. More queues just to get off. More queues just to pass passport control. I kid you not - we've waited ages to get on, crossed the roughest seas, waited ages to get off and you guessed it... Sharon and I are 2 of the last five people to actually leave this blasted port. It's 1720 on a Friday evening. Rush hour.
Just let us off will ya!
Just outside of the port I pull in to set up the sat-nav and check Sharon is OK. With each footstep I get a tingling wobbly sensation. My body is so used to being on a constantly moving ship it is struggling to adjust to terra firma. I'm not worried, I know it's to be expected, but it feels most odd indeed.
The battle through rush hour is turgid and boring. We are in no state to be filtering nor attacking so we just bumble along carefully. We take a stop at a supermarket for fuel and food (and REAL TEABAGS!) before the sweet relief of the A38 dual carriageway allows us to speed up. It's only 28 miles from the port to our lodgings but it seems to take forever.
Lemonford Caravan Park is OK, pretty typical I'd say. The pod is as advertised too, double bed, microwave, kettle, small fridge, a chair, not a lot else. It's not smart or posh but it is within tolerances considering the cost, satisfactory rather than impressive. It is however heated and as the evening draws in and the air cools this is most welcome.
As the sun sets we take a short walk around the site. There are some crisp new bits that are lovely, most of it is middle of the road nice. Then we find a corner that is scruffy with clearly permanently occupied statics. Rusting kids bikes, a washing machine under a tarp, big knickers drying on hand rails and the obligatory Land Rover on bricks covered in moss. You know the kind of place I'm sure. An urchin gives us a hard stare as we walk by.
I'm glad we're here in the warmth and not outside, it looks likely it'll actually freeze tonight as frost forms on the seats of the securely locked bikes. Considering what we have both been through since, oh blimey let me see, when the rain started in Santander, around 48 hours ago, we are both hanging onto our moods rather well. With the benefit of hindsight as I write this later I daresay we should be proud of ourselves.
This is not a smile of joy, it's a smile of manic anxiety!
To bed. To sleep. It still feels odd being in a bed that's not moving constantly.
What a day. What a couple of days. Blimey.
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Prologue - Some Iberian Mountains
Organising a simple 2 week bike tour should be easy peasy. Watch Ren make this simple task as difficult as possible.
Easing Into The Trip
After plenty of flapping and fretting Ren can calm down and start to enjoy the ride. It's a simple journey today with no purpose other than getting closer to the forthcoming ferry.
Onto The Ferry
Ren takes a simple short trip and turns it into an unnecessarily arduous ride to the ferry. Then all the Dynamic Muppets have to do is get on the ferry. Should be easy - right?
Off The Ferry And Into The Affray
It's all waiting and chaos, confusion and queueing - and that's just getting off the ferry. Despite being in Spain the evening has a very English feel with an English friend.
The Wonder That Is Riano
What started out as a good day turns into a really good day. There is of course a mishap and some moaning, otherwise so far so good. What's the catch, there's gotta be a catch.
Feeling Lucky In Riano
Gird your loins dear readers - Sharon and Ren are accidentally having another "really good day". There's a glitch in The Matrix, buy a lottery ticket, this is a one time only special deal. Normal misery will return soon surely.
Same Peninsula Different Language
It's time to leave the beauty of Riano and head into the "Yellow Country". There's potholes and Ren making an ass of himself. Nothing new then.
Dull Roads And Strange Accommodation
There's plenty of scenery but the ride is not so interesting today. The accommodation is unexpected in both good and bad ways.
Excellence In Its Own Way
More Mountains! The Serra da Estrela provides a wiggly squiggly experience that's similar yet different to many other mountainous regions. The Dynamic Muppets get to ride and relish around.
Dams And Delights
As the Dynamic Muppets start their return leg Portugal has more scenic delights in store. Ren is still facing going cold turkey without tea - poor poor Ren.
Tea Is Tea, Even If It's Poor Tea
The morning is all about the desperate search for real tea. The afternoon would have been fine if Ren's wallet hadn't been opened so vigorously.
A Dull Day Here Is Better Than Home
The surroundings are great, the riding is fun, the town is lovely. This isn't the best day of the trip so far but Ren is just a miserable fool.
Back To Santander
One last day on the road for the Dynamic Muppets - luckily it's an good one with easy miles and sensational scenery. Fear not - the night is not without its woes.
The Beginning Of The Misery
Ren is not having a good day at all. He's trying to stay positive by clinging to the memory of an excellent adventure and the handrails. I'm sure you'll all enjoy sharing his distress.
The Rest Of The Misery
The miserable crossing of The Bay Of Biscay continues for longer than expected or desired. The Dynamic Muppets keep their calm and even manage to keep their breakfast down too.
Home And Epilogue
There's very little to say about the final leg home so Ren lets us know what he thought about the trip. Did you know that from Liverpool to Potes is about the same saddle time as Liverpool to Fort William?
Reader's Comments
Bogger said :-
All's well that ends well, as they say.
Bogger
08/04/2025 19:12:34 UTC
Ren - The Ed¹ said :-
Quite so Bogger. I'm still here to annoy you all with my words of infinite wisdom...
09/04/2025 07:58:23 UTC
Upt'North ¹ said :-
I know I shouldn't, but I'm tittering within.
You've both got the Biscay medal of honour though, there is that at least.
We were very unfortunate that it was still calm both ways and we failed on the medal front. Some folks have all the luck.
I do hope you had an uneventful ride upt'North. But I can wait for that episode from the manic anxiety travelogue.
Upt.
09/04/2025 17:53:17 UTC
Ren - The Ed¹ said :-
The ride upt'North was... as you will read soon... entirely and blissfully uneventful. There is one more post for this 'ere adventure and that's the prologue. I'm sure you'll be looking forward to that. Speaking of which we demand the next exciting instalment of your very own Franco-Italian adventure!
09/04/2025 20:26:08 UTC
Upt'North ¹ said :-
You're such a taskmaster.
But we l..., well like you a bit.
It's in draft form as we speak.
Pffffffftttttt.
Probably the best day of the year forecast for today in the NE, it could be the first day ride day? The wind off the Nord Sea has been bloody cold, brrrrrr cold.
Upt.
10/04/2025 08:53:07 UTC
Ren - The Ed¹ said :-
Put a jumper on and go for a blummin ride! This might be the last time you see sunshine for another few months. Put 'er indoors on the back, find a nice cafe and have a brew while enjoying the fact you can see the scenery.
10/04/2025 10:24:24 UTC
Upt'North ¹ said :-
Your wish is my command Captain Ed.
18 to 24 of your blummin centigrades, it's all downhill from here, I best buy a new coat!
10/04/2025 17:12:03 UTC
Ren - The Ed¹ said :-
Well done Upt'. Did you get a brewski anywhere? Did you take your partner in crime? And wurzat piccy taken?
I've gotten your email, I need to read it now... wish me luck.
11/04/2025 07:57:44 UTC
Upt'North ¹ said :-
You're a bit blummin nosey, ain't ya? Big nose!
Yes Er'Indoors adorned the rear seat. Lunch was taken at Rhymers Tower Caff at Earlston in Berwickshire, the piccie is at Carter Bar which is obviously the border between old blighty and wee McSporranland.
One last expenditure was coffee and cake at the Running Fox at Powburn.
Earlston is a nice enough borders town, about the size of Wooler.
The scenery was amazing and I saw my first Northumberland lizard which I avoided running over. Probably around 140 miles altogether. Last years fuel is nearly gone!
Upt.
11/04/2025 08:08:41 UTC
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Travel StoriesSome Iberian Mountains