a few days to explore city of Valencia. We rented a great apartment
(www.friendlyrentals.com), which for us is a good way to go as we can
cook and spread out a bit. Highlights of Valencia included the America's
Cup yacht harbor, the cathedral (who knew the Holy Grail was in Valencia?),
the park in the dry riverbed of the diverted Turia River, and just
wandering the narrow streets of the historic El Carmen area. We shopped
for food at the central market with its art deco building and all the
stalls of produce, cheeses, meats, fish, breads, and other goods. It was
also amazing to us, as tired American cyclists, to see the numbers of
people out and about, eating, drinking and socializing well after midnight.
We were able to cycle out of Valencia, headed south. There is supposedly
a cycle path from near the center of the city to Salou, 16 km south on
the beach. We got lost in road construction, but were directed to the
path by an older gentleman who gave us directions from his car at a
stoplight, much to the consternation of the cars waiting behind him. Once
we were on the path, it took us a little beyond Salou and close to
Albufeira National Park, which is a big lake that provides a major
migration stop for many birds. There were few birds this time of year,
though.
Once off the cycling path, there was one bit of pushing along a dirt path
and under a gate. We then were on a flat two lane road which was signed
with warnings for drivers to be alert for cyclists. There was a narrow
shoulder but drivers were courteous. The area was quite pretty, with pine
trees, grasslands, and of course off along the beach the usual concrete
megolithic apartment buildings.
As seems to be the case all too often, the tourist guide to the
campgrounds was not correct, and the map wasn't quite right either. So
the campground we were planning to stop at was closed. It was only four
o'clock, but since it gets dark at six o'clock, we made a quick decision
to pedal hard to the next town that might have a hotel. However we saw a
campground that was supposed to be closed, but was open, although we were
the only ones camping there. The manager, a Peruvian, came out and raked
away leaves so there was a spot for us. It was a chilly night and a
chilly morning, so we packed up quickly and headed back down the two lane
road.
We spent the day cycling on two lane roads past orange trees, and
sometimes the smell was almost overwhelmingly sweet. There were
occasionally sections of designated bike path, but mostly the road was
good cycling. We reached the port of Gandia and cycled along the fairly
dead water front area and managed to find the open campground, which was
full of German, Dutch, and British retirees in their motor homes and
caravans. Gandia was nothing special, but there were a few good day rides
up into the mountains.
From Gandia we were planning to go to Denia, another of the old fishing
villages that have been overrun by tourism. We again cycled mostly quiet
two lane road, with the beach developments off to our left and our road
passing through agricultural land, mostly orange trees but some date palms.
After 34 km we arrived in Oliva, and decided to camp at one of the six
open campgrounds right on the beach. Some were pretty expensive, but we
found one with "bungalows" that were old insulated truck containers with
some wood facing, windows cut in, and pink painted dry wall on the inside.
Lovely, really!?!? They also had little verandas with fridge, sink, and
table/chairs, so we were there, what luxury, to have table and chairs,
fridge, and beds.
Campground culture in these retiree winter resting grounds is
fascinating. A sociological study of campground culture is definitely in
order. Some campgrounds cater to particular nationalities, e.g. Dutch.
This one was primarily British and German with a few French folks as
well. They get up at 8 AM, eat breakfast, "hoover" and otherwise clean
their caravans including raking any chance leaves that drifted onto their
parcel. Shopping or other errands is followed at noon by more eating,
followed by napping or walks. Then comes social time, with petanque or
other games, accompanied by beer or other drinks. Dinner, then more
socalizing. The conversations were often in three or four languages. The
pitches were decorated with flashing lights, Santas, pine boughs, and
other Christmas decorations. The people in the caravans around us quickly
adopted Erich, who became the official petanque score keeper as well as
main entertainer of Rex the ball-catching dog. So we stayed there for
four days, building sand castles, taking day rides, eating meals on our
little veranda, and participating in campground culture.
Alas, even good things end. So we headed out of the campground to the
cheers of the campers (felt like we were in the Tour de France but
without the publicity caravan and with an extra 50 pounds on our bikes.)
We continued south along the coast toward Denia, where the road became
hideously busy. After asking directions we headed around some headlands
again on mostly quiet roads, for a total of 42 km to Javea, or Xabia in
Valenciano. Another campground, but this one was much noisier, with
sounds of discos, barking dogs, and motor scooters throughout the night.
But Uilke and Jennie, our Dutch friends from Benicassim and Gandia, were
there. There were a number of excellent walks and rides detailed in a
tourist booklet, including a terrific ride to the cove of Granadella. The
beach was beautiful; the area had experienced a great deal of rain about
a month previously, and the hills were full of Spanish lavendar,
rosemary, and other herbs all in bloom. Beautiful!!
The weather was getting slightly colder, making for some long nights in
the tent. Also, riding south meant once again heading onto the N332, a
very busy highway. Uilke, our Dutch friend, offered to take the bikes to
our next destination, about an hour's drive, so we could avoid the
highway on the busy holiday weekend. We gratefully accepted the offer,
and soon were in Altea, a very pretty seaport. The campground was again
mostly crushed rock pitches and quite full of Dutch and British retirees,
who again adopted Erich. This campground was right across from the rocky
beach and next to a cheap Chinese restaurant. Tom will detail our
exhausting but beautiful day ride up to Guadalest. The other day we went
to the apalling resort of Benidorm, with its layers of high rise
apartments and hotels, fish and chip shops, and legions of overweight
British tourists lolling on the beaches. Beached whales came to mind.
Glad to have seen it once, but its definitely a place to be avoided for
any lengthy stays.
From Benidorm one again has to ride the highway, so we took the very
modern tram down to Alicante.
So...part of this section had some very nice cycling. For those who may
try to cycle this section, taking the train to skirt the N highway seems
like a good option, and there seem to be many very good day rides along
the coast and up into the mountains.
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