I was about to take my first flights in 19 months and I was scared. Not because of a fear of flying (never had that). Nor because of airport crowds and Covid: I’ve had three vaccines (the first two weren’t the same variety and many countries won’t accept a mix and match). I’d also just had a negative Covid test, so, nope, that wasn’t it. My unease was not even because the journey ahead was going to take some 24 hours, 3 flights and a long drive on twisty roads. No, my fear came from the fact that for the week before leaving Edmonton I’d been battling the most prolonged allergic reaction I’ve ever had. Several epi-pens, doses of Benadryl, steroids and two days in hospital hadn’t managed to get my throat back to normal. But I could breathe (though not well, and with the help of multiple inhalers) and swallow (well enough to get pills down), so I’d be damned if I was going to let this prevent my trip. And now, here I am, sitting and sipping Rioja wine in the warm evening sunshine on my rooftop patio in the tiny village of Montecorto in the Andalucia region of southern Spain.
Montecorto is a genuine pueblo blanco – white town – where there’s no such thing as a flat stretch of road. Everything is either steep uphill or downhill. There is no such thing as a straight stretch of road either: everything curves, having been grooved by millennia of nature’s erosion.
We did a 44 kilometre de-jetlag bike ride today through the mountains and olive groves. Do not even consider this trip unless:
- You are super-fit,
- You are a masochist (with a good set of lungs), or
- You have an e-bike with a good motor,
- AND it is not mid-summer. We are travelling in mid-October and the weather is perfect. Sunny and low 20s Celsius (70s in Fahrenheit). This would be deadly in the heat of summer.
I fall into category 3. Even with Ventolin and the motor, I was struggling to breathe just getting up our street and out of the village. Luckily, DH was sufficiently jet-lagged that he didn’t go very quickly either.
Living in an urban environment I had forgotten the peaceful, languid sounds of the countryside. Flies buzzing. Birds chirping. A few roosters. Lazy dogs. There are many roads winding through these mountains, and they are in good condition. There weren’t many cars (even on a Sunday afternoon), and they were all respectful of cyclists. A true pleasure.
There are, of course, drawbacks to the rural idyll as well. Crappy internet is one of them. I can’t even manage to download my husband’s photos from today’s ride, so you’re stuck mostly with mine. Enjoy.
