Euro Bike Tour: Out of Santiago, Up the Mountains

When you think of Spain, what are the first images that come to mind? Sun? Sandy beaches? Beautiful people? Siestas? While the country is no doubt home to all these things, they are not entirely applicable in the Galicia Autonomous Region, a small section of land in the Northwest corner of Spain. This particular province is full of lonely winding roads and mountainous countryside. As an added bonus there’s cold and rainy weather, even in early May. A rude awakening for sure, but every challenge has its rewards. Though the cycling was grueling, the scenery – lush with green trees and fields blanketed in colorful flowers – made for some supremely satisfying riding.

Chett cruises up a hill during some foggy early morning riding. Shortly after this picture was taken I returned to my bike to find I had a punctured back tire. It was the second flat tire for me in as many days.

Marc winds his way down a country road, his shiny silver trailer latched onto the back of his ride. Since Marc’s bike didn’t have any pannier mounts, he was forced to ride with the cumbersome luggage attachment following along. While this made packing easy, it also meant that he ended up carrying the most weight – about 60 pounds – because we would throw random items like food and pots and clothes into his waterproof bag. It also earned him the nickname “Trailer,” not only because of what he hauled on the back of his bike, but also because he would, rather understandably, lag about 10 minutes behind the group. A true team player, Marc never complained once about the extra weight, and he always managed to find room for our extra gear.

We took the roads less traveled.

Scenery like this literally makes you stop in your tracks. We lingered on this road, taking pictures and just generally basking in the tranquility of it all. I felt like I was in one of those posters you find in dentist offices to help you relax.

Hills + Clouds + Cold = Bad riding

The beauty of not knowing exactly where you’re going are the constant surprises you find along the way. Often times we would ride through small villages to discover treasures like this, a castle located in the city of Ponferrada, Spain.

A cross cuts a stark image in the sky in the small mountian village of Acebo, Spain.

A store front in Acebo, Spain.

This woman ran the one shop in Acebo. The town was about 500m up during a 1,500m climb and was a welcomed reststop along the way. When I told her I was riding all the way up she gave me an apple to take along for the ride.

Korea represent!

Snack time.

Jon takes in the view along the way.

Almost to the top, but after about 5 hours of riding uphill a break was needed.

Made it! Jon celebrates at a monument in the small village of O Cebreiro in Spain’s Cantabrain Mountain range, a height of 1,503m. Took about 6 hours of uphill riding, but it was worth it. Unlike riding through long stretches of flats, riding uphill offers a certain sense of accomplishment when you reach that final crest in the road. As an added bonus, the next 30km in the Spanish plains were all downhill. Like the old saying goes, “What goes up must come down.”

Euro Bike Tour: Porto to Santiago de Compestela

Before one can begin an extended cycling tour it is necessary to have the proper equipment. As I was coming directly from South Korea, I had virtually none of the required gear. No helmet, no bike shorts, no pannier bags, no water bottles. No nothing. Most importantly, I had no bike. Fortunately I scheduled 3 days in Bristol, England where I stayed with my friend and fellow traveler, Jon. Together we made a mad tear through city’s many bike shops and camping supply stores and somehow managed to wrangle all the essential gear, the most critical piece being the Specialized Tricross Sport.

This bike was a perfect fit for our tour. It’s durable but lightweight, can handle multiple road conditions, has great components, rack mounts for panniers, and excellent handling. It also had a hefty price tag, but we figured if we’re going to be on a bike for 7 hours a day, we might as well splash out a bit and get something built for the job. The picture above is of my bike after I reassembled in the Porto, Portugal Airport. Jon and I were joined by two other riders, Chett and Marc, who were both English teachers we had met in Korea. Together we were one Englishman, one American, and two South Africans, respectively.

The date was May 7th. It was slightly overcast when we left. We had no map, no place to sleep, and no food; just a general goal of heading north to Santiago, Spain. That, and lots and lots of adrenaline.

Marc (left) and Chett take a break along the N-13 in Portugal.

Never underestimate the power of a bungee cord. Between camping gear, clothes, spare equipment, and food, we ended up hauling approximately 50 pounds on the back of our bikes. There was always more stuff than space. Loading up before each day’s ride became something of an art.

Sunset on the Atlantic.

My tent was a cheap single-man that I bought in Korea. It did the job, but I think a single Korean man is slightly smaller than a single American man, so it was a bit on the cramped side. It was like sleeping in glorified body bag, but every tent is the same size when your eyes are closed.

It took two and a half days to make it to the Portuguese/Spanish Border.

This is the bridge that separates Portugal and Spain. There’s no border control once you’ve made it into the EU.

Relaxing in Spain

The best part about traveling on a bike is the fact that you get to see scenery you would miss by speeding down a highway in a car. We mostly took small, lightly trafficked national roads that took us through sleepy villages like the one pictured above, just south of Redondela, Spain.

This couple was getting their engagement photos taken on a beach in Cesantes, Spain. The one camp site in this town was closed so we had to improvise. After the sun set, we found a patch of grass behind a beachside hotel and pitched our tents in the cover of dark. The building provided great protection from the wind and we used their bathroom facilities in the morning. Total cost of lodging: $0.

The following day we rode 70 miles into our destination, Santiago De Compestela, Spain, home of the world famous cathedral of the same name. Located in NW Spain, the city is home to roughly 100,000 people and is a UNESCO Heritage Site, as well as the “European City of Culture” for the year 2000.

The girl in the white lab coat was working at an outdoor medical information booth the center of the old city. She saw that we were tired and hungry after a long hard day of riding and gave us all a bunch of apples for us to eat. Just one of many kind people we would meet along the way.

Marc’s bike and an apple for the road.

In Santiago we stayed in an what’s called an Albergue. This is basically a large hostel, but it is reserved for pilgrims traveling the Camino de Santiago, also known as The Way of Saint James. The Camino de Santiago is a network of roads that extend all the way throughout Europe, but all share the same end point, the Santiago de Compestela. For thousands of years, religious pilgrims have traveled the Camino by foot and more recently, by bike, in order to pray at the altar of St. James in the cathedral. Today many tourists also make the trek, sleeping at the Albergues along the way. The Albergues vary in size and amenities, but most cost about 5 Euro for the night. The one in Santiago is massive as it is the final stop on the pilgrim’s trail. We were lucky to find beds there as a torrential downpour hit the city just a few minutes after we checked in.

The Cathedral of Santiago de Compestela, the supposed burial place of one of Jesus’s closest apostles, St. James.

This was the general effect the Cathedral had on visitors.

The inside of the Cathedral housed the most ornate craftsmanship I had ever seen. It seemed as though every inch of the altar had been covered with gold. I’m not sure on this, but I believe King Midas may have been the interior designer on this project.

We spent two days in Santiago sleeping in and taking in the sights. After that we were headed east towards Pamplona. But first we had to get through the difficult Galician Mountains…

Euro Bike Tour: An Introduction

Full of Possibilities. The road looking East across the Spanish Plains.

I was ten years old when I got my first real bike. I knew it was real because it didn’t have any training wheels. It was a  florescent orange Huffy starter bike. It had 18 speeds, three of which I used, and a water bottle cage. My grandfather bought it for me when he visited my family from New York City. He and my dad spent a few hours in garage assembling it before letting me take it out on its inaugural ride in the playground across the street, the two of them watching from afar as I rode around in the fading summer sun, my brand new bike cutting wild orange streaks across the hard blacktop. Eventually the sun fell behind the trees and it was too dark to ride. My mom called me inside and I got ready for bed. She turned out the light to my room but I couldn’t sleep. I wasn’t tired. All I could think about was that bike, and the places it could take me.

That summer I rode any chance I got. I’d zip through the nearby schoolyard and barrel down ramps in abandoned parking lots, always stopping at the streets my mom told me I couldn’t cross because they were too busy, or too far away and I might get lost and not be able to find my way home. I remember one day standing on that invisible border with my Cheeto-colored bike between my legs, looking out into the oncoming traffic, and wondering just how far, if there were no restrictions, I could take it. Seemed to me that with a bike at your feet, the possibilities were endless.

It took me 14 more years, but eventually I found out what my ten year-old self already knew: you can go anywhere you want on a bike, you just gotta keep pedaling.

***

Through words and pictures the next few posts will recap my cycle trip from Porto, Portugal to Milan, Italy, a distance of over 2,000 miles. If you have questions or comments, please let me know. Hope you like it.

Fashion For the Dogs…

Saw this little dude cruisin’ around Pioneer Square today. If the Westminster Dog Show gave out a prize for best dressed, this guy would win for sure. As a side note, I shot this picture with my new iPhone. I’ve never been impressed with phone cameras before, but with a little tweaking this bad boy actually pumps out some pretty interesting pics.

My Sister’s Wedding

The New Mrs. Fraser – “We gon’ party like it’s your wedding day.”

Just one thing before I launch into my trip recap. Yesterday my eldest sister, Rebecca, walked down the aisle to give her hand in marriage to her long-time boyfriend, Jared. The two had been dating for 5 years before tying the knot, and yesterday they became newlyweds. A weather system which included torrential rain, thunder and lightening, and even hail, cleared just one hour before the outdoor ceremony was scheduled to begin. Thankfully, the sun came out and the vows went off without a hitch. The rain was inconvenient at the time, but you know what they say, “no rain, no rainbows.” After that everything went swimmingly. There was lots of awkward dancing, people capitalizing on the the buffet, and best of all no one made an ass out of themselves. I even found time managed to pull myself away from the open bar just long enough to give a toast, which I posted below, along with some Polaroid photos I took of the reception. Check it out:

I would like to congratulate Rebecca and Jared on this most joyous of occasions, their union in marriage. Today is the day when two people unite as one. Today is the day when when two people commit themselves to one another unconditionally. Today is the day my sister takes a new last name. Today is also the day when they can officially qualify for spousal benefits on their tax returns.

But before these two embark on their journey into married life, I would like to offer a few words of advice to my now brother-in-law, Jared. Now that we’re brothers, I think there are few things you should know about Rebecca. Things that only a brother could know. Things that can only be learned the hard way, through years of bickering, teasing, button-pushing, and line-crossing.

There is an old Italian proverb that says “Wise men learn by other men’s mistakes, fools by their own,” and Jared, as we all know, is no fool… a San Francisco Giants Fan, yes, but no fool. So it is in the hopes that you might avoid any future headaches that I shall pass these hard-won life tips on to you.

Tip no 23: Do not attempt to explain the rules of American football to your new wife. For the record, Rebecca, a fifty yard gain will only result in one first down, not five.

Tip no 61: Do not call her Becky. Never, ever, call her Becky, unless you enjoy sleeping in your garden.

Tip no. 70: When you go out to eat at a restaurant, do not eat her leftovers and then strategically try to redistribute the food around the Styrofoam container so that it looks as if you hadn’t touched it. No matter how clever you think you are, she will notice, and she will be pissed.

Tip no 93: Do not wear white after labor day. This has nothing to do with Rebecca, but it is sound fashion advice.

Let me skip ahead here real quick. there are too many to choose from. (Flip ahead through several pages of scrap paper)

Tip no 1430: If Rebecca is causing you run late for a function, do not roll your eyes and call her a “diva.” Trust me, this will only make things worse…much much worse.

So there you have it, Jared. if you want to see the rest of the list I can print out another copy for you and hopefully I won’t use all the ink in the ink cartridge (Rebecca hates that too). If you remember these few tips, things should go much more smoothly. As columnist and psychologist Joyce Brothers once said “Marriage is not just a spiritual communion, it’s also remembering to take out the trash.”

And to Rebecca, I would like to thank you for being such a great sister, even when I was so mercilessly  pushing your buttons and you probably had every right to actually physically harm me. You’ve always been the most adult of all the Schwimmer children (sorry Jessie) and now that I am a little older myself, I want to tell you that I am incredibly envious of your maturity, patience, and ability to love no matter how much someone drives you up a wall. I love you and wish you nothing but the best. Cheers.

So there you have it. My sister now has a new husband, a new last name, and a big new shiny ring. And what do I have? Leftovers. Lots and lots of leftovers. A successful wedding indeed.

Home Sweet Home

15 months, 9 countries, and approximately 2,000 miles on a bicycle later, I am happy to report that I am finally back home after one of the most epic adventures one man could ever hope to take. My trip took me from the rice fields of Korea, through the sweltering heat of Vietnam, to the neon-lit city streets of Tokyo and Beijing, along the glistening French Riviera, all the way to the Duomo in Milan, Italy, and a whole host of other remarkable places along the way.

Now that chapter has ended, and while I am no longer physically traveling, I will keep the experiences and lessons learned close with me. And while life abroad was thrilling and exhilarating and I enjoyed every minute of it, it truly is great to back home in the USA. More specifically, it’s great to be back in Seattle, Washington, a place where the sky is big, the air is fresh, the trees are green, the food is familiar, and the people, though rain-soaked and pale, are friendly. These past few days I feel like I’m seeing everything again for the first time, through brand new, more appreciative eyes. And the best part? Being back home with friends and family. It’s true what they say, you really don’t know what you’ve got ’till it’s gone.

Speaking of being gone, I realize that for a little over a month this blog has remained relatively quiet, and for that I apologize. I was fully intending on chronicling my bike journey from Porto, Portugal to Milan, Italy on this space, but unfortunately a lack of computers and Internet access prevented me from doing so. Perhaps I was spoiled by living in Korea, a place where you can’t walk five feet without running into an Internet cafe, but trying to find the web in sleepy little European towns was like trying to find water on Mars. It’s possible, but it ain’t easy. Now that I’m back, however, I fully intend on sharing my experiences with the dedicated readers of my humble blog. That’s right, all three of you. For the next week or so I will be posting pictures, stories, and maybe even a little video of the road trip of a lifetime. I hope to get back into the swing of writing here more regularly, and hopefully, you all will come along for the ride.

Related Viewing: “This Land Is Your Land” – Bruce Sprinsteen Cover