Day 3 - Twisties and Gran Reserva Ale in Asturias
Tuesday 1st September 2015
We leave the campsite at Llanes and head west on the A8 motorway. It is a beautiful road, sweeping and swooping up and down the foothills of the Asturias mountains as they tumble down to the sea.
It is a fairly new road, with the old road still visible in places. There are numerous viaducts bridging steep tree-clad gorges that carry the mountain streams and rivers down to the sea. There are plenty of tunnels too when the looming peaks reach all the way to the shoreline.
The plan is to ride west along the coast then head off up into the mountains and spend three days wriggling through the Picos following country roads and heading in a general easterly direction.
We stop for fuel and food at a Repsol service station on the motorway. Petrol is €1.22 a litre, around 90p in English money. So why are we paying 20% more than that in the UK?
We turn off in the small coastal town of Navia and head up into the hills. The country roads are fantastic. There is virtually no traffic and the surfaces are excellent. Twisty as a box of snakes, as my old mate Simon would say.
It is such a fun ride that Mick finds himself almost smiling. Much more of this and he will lose his Grumpy Old Man gold status.
After a few hours we arrive in the small town of Grandas de Selime. We are both feeling a bit giddy from all the amazing curves and gradient changes. Sometimes we ride for 10 minute spells without seeing another vehicle. I have only seen one other touring bike to wave to and that was on the motorway.
We stop outside the hotel and Mick checks it out. There is no one around to ask about rooms and rates but meanwhile I spot the Occidentale Hostal up an alley beside the church. It looks like a bar but sounds like it might have rooms. I ask the owner and soon do a deal for a nice twin room up in the eaves for €30. The walls are three feet thick.
Mick is even more chuffed when we ask for a beer and get a monstrous 6.5% ale similar in taste to the lovely Belgian monastery beers.
Later a group of eight English bikers show up. We recognise them from the ferry trip. They are on the way to Portugal via the back roads. A long alcohol fuelled night ensues. Dinner doesn't get going in Spain until 10pm at the earliest. The speciality of the house is octopus, but we had that yesterday so we settle for fried chicken, fried eggs and chips preceded by another enormous salad. With the 12 or 14 beers the restaurant bill is €37. In a fit of splendid generosity we hand over €40 and waive the change. We are on holiday after all.
We leave the campsite at Llanes and head west on the A8 motorway. It is a beautiful road, sweeping and swooping up and down the foothills of the Asturias mountains as they tumble down to the sea.
It is a fairly new road, with the old road still visible in places. There are numerous viaducts bridging steep tree-clad gorges that carry the mountain streams and rivers down to the sea. There are plenty of tunnels too when the looming peaks reach all the way to the shoreline.
The plan is to ride west along the coast then head off up into the mountains and spend three days wriggling through the Picos following country roads and heading in a general easterly direction.
 |
| |On the glorious back roads of the Picos |
We stop for fuel and food at a Repsol service station on the motorway. Petrol is €1.22 a litre, around 90p in English money. So why are we paying 20% more than that in the UK?
We turn off in the small coastal town of Navia and head up into the hills. The country roads are fantastic. There is virtually no traffic and the surfaces are excellent. Twisty as a box of snakes, as my old mate Simon would say.
 |
| On the road to Grandas |
It is such a fun ride that Mick finds himself almost smiling. Much more of this and he will lose his Grumpy Old Man gold status.
After a few hours we arrive in the small town of Grandas de Selime. We are both feeling a bit giddy from all the amazing curves and gradient changes. Sometimes we ride for 10 minute spells without seeing another vehicle. I have only seen one other touring bike to wave to and that was on the motorway.
 |
| Monte Bondone in his natural habitat |
 |
| The Hostal Occidentale tucked away behind the church |
We stop outside the hotel and Mick checks it out. There is no one around to ask about rooms and rates but meanwhile I spot the Occidentale Hostal up an alley beside the church. It looks like a bar but sounds like it might have rooms. I ask the owner and soon do a deal for a nice twin room up in the eaves for €30. The walls are three feet thick.
Mick is even more chuffed when we ask for a beer and get a monstrous 6.5% ale similar in taste to the lovely Belgian monastery beers.
 |
| You can get your ferret washed here in Spain |
 |
| Even the church has a bar |
Later a group of eight English bikers show up. We recognise them from the ferry trip. They are on the way to Portugal via the back roads. A long alcohol fuelled night ensues. Dinner doesn't get going in Spain until 10pm at the earliest. The speciality of the house is octopus, but we had that yesterday so we settle for fried chicken, fried eggs and chips preceded by another enormous salad. With the 12 or 14 beers the restaurant bill is €37. In a fit of splendid generosity we hand over €40 and waive the change. We are on holiday after all.
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