January 13, 2017. Tarifa, Spain

Mission Morocco was a success, I had made it back to Spain with time to spare, five days to be exact. There was too much up in the air right now so I took it one step at a time, my friends had suggested and mapped a route from Tarifa to Algecrias so I headed up along the coast.

Like ghosts the giant container ships snaked along the Gibraltar, I often thought about busing back to take my raft and going across but not only am I bussing three times to Granada but will need another ferry ride, it was just too much money and hassle for something so small.

The road passed through old military bases, this must have been a very important point to control back when people did war.

for some reason these old Spanish roads were just unnecessarily bumpy

At Algeciras I had more of a plan, a train to a town not too far away and then possibly riding the Transandalus all the way back to Granada.

surprisingly hassle-free ride to Ronda, no need to haggle over price for the bike like in Morocco... although it would have been a funny sight

I rode out without much expectations, to be honest I have had this attitude toward Spain and Europe in general that it would be too populated to enjoy. However, minutes out of town I enter a reserve, or a natural park or a protected area or all three.

I chase sheep along the narrow track and sit for a good twenty minutes thinking if i should stop early to camp. An old stone house provided good shelter from the wind and there was plenty of firewood. It was one of those days that makes you glad you are out there, even if you are going to freeze at night in your sleeping bag. I kept the fire going for hours and wondered why I hadn't made more fires while traveling.

Sunday. I rode through few ghost towns, in Spain when it's Sunday nobody works and nobody goes out. It was crazy to ride upon the empty streets which if it were any other place would be full of life. I settled for not-so-great minimart food and a surprisingly good 3-course deal of the day at an empty pug while I did my best to warm up and yet was very uncomfortable as I hadn't showered in... a while.

I rode down to a giant dam and then crawled up along some neat walls. If I strain my ears I could hear some Frenchmen yelling out stuff in french as they make moves to climb higher. A group of dirt bikes drive around drowning all other noises for a little while.

Not much luck dropping in elevation for a warmer night but at least I found a good view, right next to the road. I think of a fire but it seems that it may be a private property so I decide not to.

the evening 3 course meal: bread/meat/cheese + chocolate + chocolate

A food stop in town with "winter appetite" confirms that I should not go to Europe or any expensive places, maybe it would be Africa after Argentina... hmm..

Another reserve minutes out of town, it is really amazing how all these places connect and you get the beautiful riding and the convenience of towns, maybe Spain and Europe would be some good riding after all. I jump past fences and think of excuses if somebody stops me but eventually I end up on a highway.

I meet a man with a drone and a dog, he drove up to the pass during his break to play around. I watch the drone crash but it seems to be okay.

With only two days to go, the plan is to ride today, take tomorrow to get to Granada and board the night bus to the Madrid Airport, flight is at 6am on the following day. One last big descend almost burns the brakes through but there is just a little bit left to make it back safe and without scratching up the rotors of my friend's bike.

I ride through photogenic olive tree hillsides toward a town where I had found a place to stay via warmshowers. Raul is not there but he left the door open for me, I had a friendly chat with a local from the bar but the whole town seems like a ghost town. Or people just having vacation homes for the summer.

I fight with the wind along the steep hillsides and spot wild goats. This place must be very busy in the summer or when its warm but it's another ghost town now. Too cold for anybody to be out here.

When I reach the top I opt for the tarmac to Granada, with the headwind and questionable road and trail quality on the Transandalus it is better to play it safe.

Another hill, another ghost town, a lake, a hill and there it is, Granada. I meet with Jesus and Tatiana and thank them for the amazing ideas. What would I have done if I didn't meet them? spend 20 days somewhere in Spain? They are heading out to Costa Rica for few weeks but the one thing that really bothers me is that they really want to do the GDMBR in USA. But. They think it would not be good as they are from Spain and a certain new president has certain views. I assure them that that is not the case and he does not represent all of america, in the Rockies they will only find the most amazing people.

En route to Florida there is a layover at Norway and I enter my own personal hall of fame by paying $27 for 3 slices of pizza. Pizza hut pizza.