Hidden Spain
- Vive la Spain
 I
love France so much so I think that one day
I may live there. I love the food, I love the
wine, I love the countryside each region is
different, different wine, different food, different
countryside. So what's this to do with Hidden
Spain? Well it's like this. Over recent years
I've been touring Spain, the countryside and
its customs have become more familiar and I'm
getting to know and like it well.
The Spanish seem to have carried on from where
the French left off and enjoy providing a service
with a smile. Service stations have pump attendants
restaurants have mostly men waiters who are
pleased to provide a professional service.
 I'm
not one for long boat trips, I get board, so
if we are going to Spain we always choose to
take a ride through France why not it's a motorcycling
holiday and as I said before I love France so
we go for it, enjoying the back roads and sometimes
autoroutes.
The route from the ferry port at Calais down
to Amboise is best forgotten. Over the years
the N10 has been improved to in places almost
autoroute standard but where it hasn't been
up graded it's a chore and uninteresting. However
after a night in the comfort of Novotel we were
off to greener pastures and a favourite hotel
in the Lot Valley. Passing Loches that has close
connections with the French writer George Sands
who I think was the lover of Chopin and on to
join the N940 after Chateauroux.
 Here
the road gets interesting and chance to see
how the new parralever front suspension works
under load. Reports were good to excellent.
Tipping the loaded BM into the tight bends felt
positive and secure and when you hit one of
those corners which tighten up and, tighten
up bit more I felt I could just lean a little
bit further with out the fear of the undercarriage
dragging along the tarmac. I was really confident.
The bike would just roll over the rough sections
mid corner with only a tremor from the bars
holding the bike on line through the bend. Long
sweeping curves were just child's play.
 The
hotel here is in a quiet village Cajarc on the
banks of the silent running Lot. Situated in
woodland it's was the find of last year. It
appears that President Pompidoo moved into the
village and in anticipation of an explosion
of interest in the village a local business
man built the hotel, I suppose to make a quick
buck but the President moved out leaving the
hotel high and dry. You just can't trust politicians
can you? It was our gain though and a gem of
a location. The restaurant is something special.
Be prepared to eat duck in one form or another
often dressed to look like something else but
rest assured it will be delicious but it will
be duck. The wine from this region is some of
the oldest in France and was known back in the
Roman days. It has a deep crimson colour and
is almost black when young. The service here
was as it should have been, excellent.
There was no time to explore the famous Pech-Merle
caves from which European man stumbled 10,000
years before or marvel at the wonderful Pont
Valentre the fortified bridge over the Lot.
Built in about 1328 during the Hundred Years
War, we were off to sunny Spain but not before
we had paid our respects to d'Artagnan a statue
in the town is a reminder that someone really
existed before Alexander Dumas made him larger
than life in the Three Musketeers. Further south
the plain of Gascony rises into the Pyrenees
and we start climbing.
 Rolling
green pastureland gave way to sinuous mountain
hairpins where all the agility and torque from
the 150hp engine was called up. Second gear
corners came thick and fast on the really tight
ones I reached for first. The motor pulled vigorously
in each gear and I had to restrain from grabbing
clumsy hand fulls of the feather light throttle.
We entered Spain through the Tunnel Biesla,
one of the oldest tunnels through the Pyrenees
leading into Aragon, the bike pulled sixth gear
up the long haul, and it's got so much torque.
I needed good engine braking for the down hill
stretch in on the Spanish side. The road follows
the tumbling river through the Ordesa National
Park to Biescas through the spectacular Ara
Valley. The corniche road climbs to Broto, it's
as good as it gets, and rocky escarpments blend
with lush fertile valleys. According to figures
released by the Spanish tourist office Aragon
receives the least number of British visitors
of all the Spanish regions don't forget that
the first wife of Henry V111 Catherine came
from there and she never lost her head at least
not over the wonderful views at least.
The N240 follows the Rio Aragon past a wonderful
azure blue reservoir on the left and some pretty
strange rock formations to the right. The road
follows the contours of the landscape dipping,
climbing sometimes though narrow cuttings and
other times cresting a peak looking over the
glistening reservoir. Our hotel on the N240
Sansebastian road was situated at the end of
the huge Pamplona ring road that seemed to go
on forever.
We followed the route back from Pamplona towards
Jaca turning off the N240 to Sanguesa back into
Aragon. Sure the roads were empty just an occasional
truck loaded with pigs. The long straight ribbons
of tarmac of the A127 stretched far into the
horizon, rice paddy fields line the road - I
suppose its grown for the paella if its not
rice fields its pig farms the region must be
the pig capital of the world. Amazingly the
pigs attract vultures. Flocks of these huge
ugly birds perch on the roofs of the pigpens
waiting for scraps.
I wondered why it was necessary for the bike
to have six gears, at times I found myself cruising
in fifth then realizing that I've another to
go. Now I know why. On these long straight open
stretches snicking it into top drops the revs
and up goes the mpg. Mileage on that leg was
220 and on those Spanish roads was no problem
on the BMW grand tourisimo it's like an express
train TGV. It was our first visit the Teruel
Parador and even those with a Garmin didn't
find it easy. It's not a particularly interesting
Parador but set in peaceful manicured gardens
just off the main Valencia/ Zaragoza highway.
The town has a big Moorish influence with five
Mudejar Towers but for us the prison located
almost next to the Parador held our interest
as trustees worked in the allotment under the
watchful eye of Mr McKay.
With a 400 mile stage facing us the day after
we decided to shorten the route to El Burgo
de Osma and take an easy day to what I consider
to be the jewel of Castilla y Leon. Standing
on a hilltop in the distance is the old city
of Osma overlooking the 18c new town El Burgo.
Pass too quickly on the N122 road to Soria and
you will miss what is hiding behind the façade
of newish buildings. The medieval colonnaded
square is an oasis and just the place to relax
mid afternoon with a cool beer. Built around
the square are wonderfully restored ornate buildings
the centre piece being the Gothic Cathedral
whose tower stands 64mts it's the third in a
long line of towers, the others kept falling
down.
Using mostly main roads we split the stage
up into four legs and disciplined ourselves
to about 100 mile stops - petrol, drinks and
other things at each stop, we made an early
start as well. The long legs of the GT made
the run easy, comfort was great Gloria found
that with the screen fully up reduced any buffeting
to a minimum and for me the cruise control facility
proved its worth. Cruising effortlessly at around
ninety the bike was showing a good 57mpg. Wind
noise from our new Givi helmets was only slight
making conversation between us comfortable through
our Autocom system, altogether a good package.
Arrival at the Baiona Paradore was a regal
affair passing through a majestic gateway leading
to narrow bends as you pass through emblazoned
stone arches before finally reaching the battlements
of this stately Galician manor. Our parking
place had been coned off for us although we
had to share it a Vintage Bentley Rally of sixteen
imperial vehicles. No problem we all shared
the same passion for travel and all had our
own tales to tell.
This Paradore ticked all the right boxes. Location,
quality, service and restaurant. Breakfasts
itself was a feast, everything from a Manx kipper
to a boiled egg. Evening meals started late
at 21.00hrs (normal for Spain) but it didn't
matter. We sat and enjoyed a glass of white
wine and gazed at the view, which stretched
far out into the Atlantic Ocean. The menus read
something like this.
First night
Seasoned salad with marinated salmon and
yoghurt sauce
Grilled Galician beef loin with red peppers
Galician cheesecake with Galician spirit
sauce
Second night
Gratinated sea scallops in shells stuffed
with cod and spinach
Grilled sea bass filet with potatoes and garlic
Galician crepes stuffed with orange cream
and chocolate sauce
Café, wine and water all included
both nights.
It was time to leave the opulence of this gracious
Parador and head northeast. For us negotiating
Ourense tested our patients to the limit finishing
up travelling the same stretch of the ring road
and crossing the River Mino several times before
finding our road out to continue our 285 mile
day to the Picos de Europa. Our route took us
into Principality of Asturias, often called
the Spanish Wales because of its coal mining
heritage and wonderful coast lines. Its well
known for its cider which I must say is an acquired
taste. The ritual of pouring from a bottle at
arms length into a glass can be a messy affair
and hardly worth getting your shirt wet for.
Asturian ecologists have saved the Picos as
an unspoilt National Park with very strict controls
of development. The mountains are known not
so much as mountains but for sheer beauty and
rugged grandeur. Leading from Cangas de Onis
we took the dead end road to our base hotel
Covadonga one of the most famous locations in
Spain. The view from our bedroom window overlooked
the famous shrine to the legendary King Pelayo,
who back in 718 took on the Moors and defeating
them in the mountain glen, founding the first
Christian kingdom in Spain.
Our tour of Hidden Spain was fast coming to
a close. The final leg was back to Pamplona
another 260 miles. Up to this stage we had covered
2452 miles on the K1200GT which out performed
and satisfied every need. It carried us in fine
style through some parts of Spain which are
not normally visited by to regular tourists.
We confirmed that Spain too has its special
regional food, famous wine regions and roads
that were just built for motorcycling. However
one thing is for sure I couldn't live there.
Why? It's too bloody hot.
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