Valencia’s bustling cycling paths were a lot quieter on a Saturday morning. The city scape changed quite quickly from the “rich” inner city apartments to more humdrum multi-stories and dilapidated looking suburbs. The folks were just going about their business. Coffee and breakfasts everywhere.
After 20km or so we’re into the countryside, heading inland. A tower marks the El Cid Camino. Sounds like a film to me. The towns we pass through are thronged with people having a fiesta: tables of drink and food with noisy banter lightening the streets.
Later in the day it’s siesta time on a hot September afternoon. Only the cyclists braved the tumbleweed rolling down the deserted villages. These folk emerge later. It’s like the Marie Celeste inland.
The plateau we climb up too has larger manufacturing towns. Reminds me a bit like the Heads of the Valleys places, only in sunlight.
We go through a few gorges to the wee town of 550 people where we are tonight. They are all out partying. Cyclists head to bed.
Travelling reflections 