The road to Salamanca

I kept thinking back to my trip down the west coast with Andrew and remembering how much we ate. It occurred to me that I was falling well short of the required daily calorie consumption. Even with cereal bars first thing, spanish pastries and coffee at 10am, 2 carbohydrate drinks and various energy bars during the day and 3 courses for both lunch and supper I was not consuming enough. My body had been surviving on it's own reserves of fat and muscle to supplement itself and I couldn't keep this up. The question was how could I eat the equivalent of a 5 egg omelette every day when the only places I past were rural bars selling iberico ham and cheese burrios? Deciding to change tactics I ordered a ham and cheese roll and a cafe con leche, poured 3 sugars into the coffee and despatched them in record time and left. This was a little unsettling for the Spanish workmen on their 1 hour morning 'coffee break', but I had a plan. Cereal bars were to be followed by 2 'breakfast' rolls. That was the answer...

My next focus was to traverse the central plain and make it to Salamanca. The impending visit was to be a particular highlight as I undertook my Sandhurst training in 'Salamanca Company' and had never seen the city. I was also looking forward to making it over the heights of Bejar before dropping down to Seville. Looking at the relief on the map and the average temperature of Seville, I stick my finger in the air and decided that as soon as I passed Bejar it would get really warm. This was a fantastic focus, and within 5 minutes I was sure that it must be true. The central plain was unremarkable. It mainly consisted of desert punctuated by the odd field and some very lonely looking trees. A westerly wind blew in gusts. Having started offshore it had picked up the cold temperature of the atlantic off western Portugal before pestering me as it continued to Madrid and beyond. I could visualise the storm battering the coast in the same way that the Atlantic onshores pound the North Devon coast for most of the winter months. Remembering how the wind managed to blow out all of the beaches except the most sheltered semi 'secret' spots along the coast, and cover everything inland in sand. With this in my mind I resigned myself to the fact that there would be little, if any shelter from the wind all day. I was right and for the rest of the day it managed to slow my speed by 3-4 mph leaving me pushing hard to stay at 16-17 mph.

I passed through several small non-descript semi deserted villages before I stumbled on what can only be described as a scene from a horror movie. As I approached the village there was tumbleweed blowing across the ploughed field and skipping across the road. I slowed as I gently climbed a small hill and then freewheeled into a village. Passing abandoned houses on the outskirts the most recent signs of life were decaying objects outside the front of the houses from 20 years ago. The odd property that was occupied stood out a mile off with only 5 years of sun bleached white wash walls and curtains nestling between two other terraced houses with no windows and parts of the external walls missing. As I continued down the single road I continued to look for signs of life and, unrealistically, any kind of shop. Unsuccessful, I turned the corner at the bottom of the street and was confronted by a very strange sight. 50 scarecrows lined the side of the road to my right. The gusting wind brought them alive in a manic urgent manner, as they strained towards me. I passed them before stopping and reaching for my camera inside my pannier. Having taken some pictures, the zoom revealed the lifelike creations in their full weird detail.. I started to question the sheer isolation and particular desolation of the village. Walking back to my bike I kept checking over my shoulder, before speedily throwing my camera in my pannier and leaving at pace.