20 years ago today – Day 22

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Monday, March 25 – Ayamonte to Huelva, 936 km

Monday morning and businesses are open again. Mike takes a trip around the town to find a bike repair shop to get his freewheel replaced, but finds nothing, which means another day for him riding a bike without a functioning freewheel. Fortunately it will be a light day, less than 70 km, and the terrain in this region is only lightly rolling so he doesn’t need to change gears. But we will need to get it fixed soon as it will not be long before we encounter serious hills again. Before we leave he calls a Servas host who agrees to put us up for two nights in Sevilla.

I’m in a much better mood though my left knee is aching a little. We follow the busy but smooth highway, N431, in the direction of Huelva. We have a light tailwind. At Cartaya we cross the Piedros River. We choose a side road from there south that takes us along the beach. The route is a perfect choice. We are riding 20m above the water looking over a long strip of undeveloped beaches and dunes, half-forested by pines. The shore is actually the estuary of the Piedros. A half-overgrown sandbar across the river forms a natural jetty between the river and the Gulf of Cadiz. The scene is so inviting. I’d love to return here someday and walk alone for hours amongst the pines and dunes.

The sandbar jetty ends and we encounter a sea of condos at Laguna del Portil. The beach road beyond here dead ends in the marshlands at the end of the Rio Odiel so he head north 10 km to cross the river into Huelva.


Huelva, according to the Michelin Guide, is the largest city we’ve been in since Lisbon, about 140,000 people. It has nice buildings here and there and some nice sections but it’s busy and built up, and otherwise not too memorable. I note a large red and orange bull fighting stadium as we’re coming into town. There are many pensions in town so the competition is strong. We find one for 1500 pesados without hot water. But it’s still better than camping.

We set off to explore the city once we’ve changed into our street clothes. It is full of small malls that seem to run parallel, but they don’t. We get lost and found several times until it has become a game to us. I’m beginning to like this place. Mike says it hasn’t been a good day until you’ve been lost at least once.


The Tourist Office is closed when we find it, but it opens again at 5. When we return we get directions to a local bicycle repair shop. I buy a Spanish-English dictionary and stock up on some groceries. We have dinner in a wonderful Chinese restaurant while another mournful Semana Santa procession floats past our window.


Later that night, back at the pension, Nick Tulloch shows up at our door. He had seen my bike locked up outside the entrance and asked about us at reception. He is agitated from a long, hard day, his birthday of all days, and it hasn’t been a happy one. He is fast running out of travel money and will have to return to Scotland to work in his uncle’s garage again. We try to talk him into taking a room at our pension for 1200 pesados but he has already made other arrangements. We even offer him some money but he won’t take it. He agrees to walk about town with us a bit as we look for the bike shop. Then he leaves us to phone his parents and meet up with some other backpackers he met earlier today. He promises to drop by again in the morning.

PHOTO 1: National Park seashore
PHOTO 2: Plaz de Toro, Huelva
PHOTO 3: Huelva
PHOTO 4: Pinzon brothers statue
PHOTO 5: Rabida Institute, Huelva
PHOTO 6: Sanctuario de la Cinta