Day 146
The Bridge of Death
We were reluctant to leave Granada as we felt we simply had not seen enough but as usual we had set ourselves a target and so off we went. It was a chilly start, we even had our first frost! Tom had planned a new route, allowing Komoot to use off-road sections, so instead of a busy road we cycled on a path by a river. So much better. When we then had to leave this and return to roads I was disappointed, especially as the hills approached. Little did I realise what a treat we had to come. We has been climbing steadily for a while, when we noticed a village literally built into the hillside. Neither of us liked the look of it but Komoot took us off road by the river, we hoped this would save us from a massive climb, but no such luck. We realised that Komoot on put us on the Camino Mozarabe, a Pilgrims route that runs from Granada to Cordoba. The way the Pilgrims walk through the village was the way we were to cycle, or rather push. As usual it was so steep I could barely drag my bike upwards, we got lost in the narrow maze like streets and felt we would never escape. Finally a helpful local took pity on us crazy cyclists and directed us out, up another steep hill naturally!
We were to be rewarded for our efforts. Finally summiting the road hill we turned a corner and were awestruck by the view of a massive dam and a valley with a river of deep blue/green water. It was stunning and fortunately we pretty much had it to ourselves. We were in the Granada Geopark. Formed over 5 million years, the area had no drainage into the sea which had left an extraordinary record of climate change. For us tourists, we were just thrilled by the colour of the cliffs, sandy on the lower slopes deep red at the top. As we climbed more we were cycling next to the deep red stone. It was probably one of the highlights of the trip. I wanted to transport my friend and old work colleague Paul Lane there to explain it all too me. Spain continues to amaze us with its diverse landscapes. We didn’t want the morning to end.
We stopped for lunch on a bench provided for the Pilgrims and spent an happy hour eating and studying an ant trying to move a piece of stone several times its size. It struggled uphill, fell, started again, and again. I finally had to drag Tom away, we cycled on, hoping the ant made it.
Komoot had come up with a route that would take us miles on the old Granada to Mercia railway line. There was little information about the condition of the line but we hoped to save ourselves from having to climb a good few hills. Once we decided to take it we were fully committed as there was simply no road option, if it was not good to ride on we would have miles of backtracking. We were a bit uncertain at the start as it looked pretty rough, but we were so fascinated by the scenery we carried on. One of our favourite spots in New Zealand was an area called the Clay Cliffs. Strange rock formations that simply took our breath away. Here we had similar rocks, but so much more. Bigger and they seemed to go on forever. There were also many troglodyte dwellings. People had created homes for themselves in the caves in the hillside. We were so engrossed we didn’t fully register the deterioration of the surface we were cycling on. It soon became apparent that the train tracks has been removed but no other work done. We were faced with about 4 miles of ballast to try and ride on or about 20 miles of rerouting. We carried on, Tom tried riding, I kept falling off, eventually we were both pushing, mile after mile. What had we done? Finally after several hours the line ran alongside an almond farm track so we could cycle there. I could see the road ahead, we had made it! Err, no. The line went over an canyon, a little brother of the Grand Canyon. There was the remains of a bridge, which we quickly christened ‘ The Bridge of Death’. Tom popped under the barrier, clearly longing to cross it, but he sensibly came to the decision that if he fell it was certain death, and even he thought that might not be a good idea. The problem was how to cross it? We decided to continue trespassing on the almond farm, hoping we could find a way out. A mile later we were back on tarmac!
Our route should have been to re-join the line but it was still just ballast. We managed to continue by riding on a mix of service roads beside the motorway, almond and olive farm tracks and a bit of private land. At one point we popped out onto a road and there in front of us was a Roman laundry. It was in an amazing condition and we were free to wander around it, if it hadn’t been so late I would have been tempted to do our washing!
Riding was slow going, the light was fading and we decided to stop. We camped on some disused land between the dreaded railway line, an almond farm and a couple of roads. As the sun set we felt actually we had a pretty beautiful spot. Our route forward was back on the line we couldn’t ride, but that was for tomorrow, tonight we slept.
