Days 30-32: Back up to Tarifa and the Road to Ronda

Day 30: Travel Day from Makes to Tarifa

Not a whole lot to say about this day, since it was pretty much taken up by a long bus trip and a ferry ride.  I will say that everything went smoother than I expected, with the bike accepted aboard the bus with no hassle (though minor expense) and the ride up there perfectly pleasant in a clean, modern bus.   I felt a little bad for the person sitting next to me, in that I had not washed my clothes for a bit, but aside from that bit of uncomfortableness, all went well.  The bus does stop at those way stations that seem so popular in the developing world, but the Moroccan version isn't bad at all, and in 4 or 5 hours I was back in Tangier.

As an aside, I will mention how much different it is to view the country from the window of a bus then down there humping it on a bike.  The bus is so much more an insulated experience (not altogether a bad thing), but it did hammer home for me how much more one experiences of the land itself from the saddle of the bike, for good and ill.  End of sanctimony.

  For some bizzare reason, they drop you a few kilometers out of town, which would be really inconvenient had I not had a handy means of conveying myself and all my stuff right at hand.  I pedaled into town (funny how just a week has gotten me acclimatized- when I first got here everything seemed strange and mildly threatening, now no sweat), bought a ferry ticket with minimum hassle, boarded with only one guy demanding a tip for doing his job minimally competently, and zoomed back across the Straight.  The weather was a little rough, and it being night with no horizon to look at, it was kind of barf-o-rama in there, but otherwise fine, and in an hour I was back in Spain and checked into the same hostel I stayed in earlier.  I grabbed some food and settled into a very pleasant bar filled with locals and a guy playing Spanish guitar.  People clapped rhythmically along and even shouted "Ole!" In the pauses, and the whole thing was so Spanish it seemed kind of ridiculous.  Then off to bed.

Day 31: Tarifa to Jimena De La  Frontera (80 km)

Weather: mostly sunny, low 60s most of the day, windy.
Roads: Mild traffic on way out of Tarifa on more major road, very mild rest of day on more minor roads.
Bike: running nicely with no issues

It was certainly nice to get out on the bike again! Though the ride out of Tarifa consisted of a 1000 vertical foot climb along a major road, the contrast with Morocco was still so fresh in my mind that I still felt it to be a treat: wide hard shoulders, moderate grades, and above all a population of drivers that appreciate the value of human life!  There were also some excellent views at the top of the pass looking south over the Straight of Gibraltar and the Moroccan coast beyond.

I skirted the port town of Algeciras, getting a few nice views of the Rock of Gibraltar along the way, and whatever traffic there was immediately died the moment I left the highway.  The rolling foothills were very pleasant- apparently others thought so too, because for much of this stretch, I was paralleling the long-distance hiking trail that stretches the length of Alcornacales National Park.  The rolling road ended on the slightly more major road north of Algeciras, and I found to my delight my old friend the Camino Verde- the off-highway green asphalt bike path!  This whisked me up the pleasant town of  Castellar De la Frontera.  Though it left me then, the road was relatively smooth and flat following a river valley to my destination for the night at Jimena De La Frontera, which I hit right around sunset.  The town, like many in this region, is set dramatically on a hill crested by a castle, which certainly was scenic, albeit a bit disheartening to have to climb a steep hill right at the end of the day.  All was forgivem , however, upon the discovery of a pleasant campground with nice hot showers and its own restaurant.  I ate Spanish pork chops washed down with summer wine, mainly because I could.  Then off to an early night's rest after a great day of riding. 

Day 32: Jimena De La  Frontera to Ronda (the looong way) (105 km)
Weather: Mostly sunny, occasional gusty winds
Roads: ideal for nearly the entire day.  Lane and a half wide pavement with next to no traffic.
Bike: no real issues.  Shifting a tiny bit rocky.

Definitely a day of extremes today.  I got a decently early start, but was not feeling to great due to an intestinal complaint I suspect was probably a residual effect of Morocco, or perhaps my distain of Islam dinner I the night before.  But I had a choice: either a straight shot on more busy roads to Ronda at about 40 km, or a long arc through the national park at around 100 km.  Thinking I would kick myself later if I had the chance to ride a magnificent route and didn't, I chose the latter. 

Sure enough, the ride through the park was outstanding riding.  It hit that ideal of touring- lonely windy roads about a lane and a half wide, with no traffic to speak of, with glorious scenery rolling past continuously.   It was, however, extremely hilly, and for the first 30 km, I climbed a net of 2000 vertical feet, often losing a few hundred feet here and there to slight downhills.  The road out into the park was mainly with the wind, but coming back out, and finally actually pointing at the destination for the day, was definitely not, and I spent the next 30 km battling the wind as well as climbing.  The scenery got progressively more dramatic, however, with the foothills giving way to the steep craggy mountains that make up the background of the park.

Being kind of sick had sapped a lot of my energy, and I was pretty tired well short of my destination.  Hoping that having left the mountains and following a river valley most of the way to Ronda it would be relatively flat, I decided to push on.  My dreams of flatness were soon destroyed however, as the road instead chose to rise 1000 feet above the river valley, only to drop me right back into the valley.  I should quickly add that it is spectacularly beautiful as it does this, winding up and through dramatic rock spires with the canyon gaping below.  Also, I did notice a trail that paralleled the river far below I might have taken, but whether it was navigable by a 100 lb road bike is questionable.

I reached the valley below Ronda just as the sun was setting, and though  the sun was beautiful against the rock spires now far above, I was totally running on fumes, and the last huge hill to get into town in the dark was pretty miserable. There being no hostels in Ronda, I decided to try a "hostal" (a hotel that tends to sacrifice amenities for location, funky charm, and price), and this one hit the spot.  Downright luxurious by camping/hostel standards (you have your own bathroom! With towels provided! ) , it is in the middle of town, and with the regularly scheduled rest/sightseeing day tomorrow, will hopefully be a great place to rest and recuperate. (Writing this lying in bed the next morning, I am very happy so far!)

Anyway, after getting some dinner, taking a look on hot shower, and drinking about a gallon of "Aqua-ade" (Gatorade in Europe: like the "quarter-pounder", the American reference to a college football team was apparently too many leaps in translation), I was out with a smile on my face.