Day 4 - The hills... and the flies!

Astorga to Ponferrada

We woke up with the best of intentions. We managed to set our alarms for 7:00 and up we sprang for a good day's riding.

The map ahead indicated that today would represent the biggest incline of the entire ride, but upon setting out this was a good few hours away and the furthest thing from our minds.

Yesterday's ride lingered in our muscles and though a few aches and pains persisted, it was good idea that we started the ride early.

Obviously it was a lot cooler in the morning and we weren't the only people with the same idea. It seemed like most of the pilgrims were off at the crack of dawn and the first few hours of riding were spent mainly getting around them.

It was slow going to start off with. We were a little stiff from the previous day and the flat farmland lulled us into a false sense of security. Though the map insisted otherwise, in the early hours it was easy to believe that the day's ride was going to be simple. So, we took our time and before we knew it mid-day had arrived and the hills were still ahead of us.

Did I say hills? Really, they were mountains. The skis adorning the cafe entrances should have been indication enough. But, the maps insisted we climb and climb we did. Each town represented a new milestone and though the road ever so slightly increased, each incline was obvious on our calfs. Burning as they pressed ever onward. There's nothing quite like a muscle screaming out in pain as lactic acid fills it and the road requires just a little bit more.

The longer the day progressed the more foolish we began to feel. The latter half of today's journey was a much bigger undertaking than we had originally envisioned. The day pressed on and the hills got steeper.

The views got more impressive though, and that can only be a good thing, The undulating farmland of the lower levels of northern Spain were lovely, but as soon as we headed up into the hills, everything became really quite lovely.

The foliage became a lot greener and richer for one thing, but this brought with it about a billion flies. It was impressive really. The higher the trees the denser the flies, and for most of the ride up the hills we had a constant coating of them. I felt like I was being provided with protective fly shield. They were that dense and consistent, it was as if I had my own bubble shield! It's not the nicest bubble shield ever, mid you.  

The hills went on forever though. As the road pitched round a new bend a new incline presented itself. Each time the road went ever upwards and what seemed impossible became true.

Though the temperature was lower than the previous days we were still drenched with sweat. The road kept going up and we kept following.

Whatever goes up, must come down though, right? That's the rule? Though it seemed hard to believe during the latter stages, at points the road became incredibly steep, we eventually reached the summit and 15km below us laid the day's target.

In pictures the town appears impossibly far away, and though we spent the better part of the day climbing these hills, the downward journey was our reward.

And, as hard as the uphill ride was, the reward was so sweet. On reaching the summit, our destination lay below, many miles away through a haze of smog, and the mountains provided us with the perfect opportunity to let loose.

There was a warning sign before we got going though. It warned cyclists to... um watch out for their own hubris and apply the brakes at least a bit.

Or something. Given the importance of the notice and the steepness of the ride ahead, you'd think the Spanish government could invest in a sign that contained proper English. We got the message though. Loud and clear. Only an idiot would attempt to shoot down these hills at speed. Off I went as fast I could!

The ride up had been hard but let's put it this way, if we had to repeat the journey in reverse, there's no way we would have made it up those hills. We had at least 10km of incredibly steep downhill slopes and let me tell you, it was glorious.

The roads were quiet enough to really enjoy putting the bike where it needed to be and the views were spectacular. I only wish I had a GoPro so that I could show you just how impressive the views were.

The warning was well-founded though. The road twisted and turned and there were many moments I had to slam on the breaks to ensure I didn't careerer off the road and into the bush. The bikes picked up so much speed.

I won't lie, after the slow moving inclines of the morning, to shoot down these hills was an absolute joy.

It was dangerous though. The empty roads gave the impression of safety and though I'd managed to get out ahead of Dad.

There were moments when I misjudged the road. Specifically, when another rider came up behind me and, in a blind panic believing he was a car, I pushed myself too far into a steep corner and nearly went straight into the gravel.

I didn't, and whatever language the rider did speak, I'm pretty sure he could understand my general sentiments as he spend off into the distance.

Though the downhill riding was fun, it was still at least another 25km once we'd reached the bottom, and another few hills finished us off for the day.

We arrived in a town with a Templar castle in the centre of it, and that's always impressive (you can Google what those guys got up to if you're desperate).

Let's see what tomorrow brings!