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Thursday, April 4 – Granada to Nerja, 1521 km
Today we leave for the Costa del Sol and I am apprehensive about it for a few reasons. First, my head cold is still quite bad. I’m not sure if it has passed its worst yet. I had a fairly sleepless night because of it and that has sapped my strength. Secondly, we are taking a small secondary route over the mountains instead of the busy truck route, which is virtually an expressway, and that means lots of climbing. Even the long drop on the far side could me bad news for my cold. Thirdly, it will be my first day cycling with Mike again. The past two days we have enjoyed many days apart, which has been fine, but I am not sure he will respected my weakened state when it comes to climbing hills.
It doesn’t help that we have had a late start again. It’s 10:30 before we are on the road. It is cold this morning, cold enough that the fog of our breath hangs in the air for five seconds. After only two km I stop to put on my tights, jacket and winter gloves. It hurts a lot to breathe deeply. I cough now and then, a deep, painful chest cough, but I continue.
We ride along side of the shoulderless major highway that runs from south from Granada to Motril on the coast. The weekday traffic is very congested, much like I am, though at points we are moving faster than it is. At 12 km we gratefully turn onto a peaceful country road that slowly angles away to the southwest.
The first hill indicated by arrows on the Michelin map turns out to be quite easy. It is neither high nor steep. Our road twists its way through gentle rolling hills, gently climbing past farms and fields of grass, carved out of more barren landscapes of rock and scrub. As were rise above the smog of the valley floor the majestic Sierra Nevada in the east crystallize into view in their snow-capped glory. It could be a scene in Switzerland, but somewhat drier. Fortunately the mountains we are climbing are nowhere as high.I am expecting the roller coaster climbs and falls that we experienced three days ago, or like the day in Portugal we crossed from the Alentejo into the Algarve. Those were both very difficult days, but this road just climbs rather steadily up towards the pass. I gradually strip off my extra layers as my body warms up with the exercise.
I catch up to Mike who has stopped to eat lunch in a pine forest 10 km before the pass. To avoid the weight, I have brought only an orange. I opt to save it for later so that I can get ahead of Mike. That motivates me to try harder, to see how long and how far I can keep ahead of him.
The final hill to the pass is so gentle that it is almost a disappointment. I was psyched for something much harder. I wasn’t even sure this was the final climb until I saw the Mediterranean Sea in the distance. I put my sweater and jacket back on, knowing the long downhill will be much faster and colder. Mike catches up to me while I am dressing, and together we start down the hill to the coast.
It’s a rapid drop, the road hugging a rocky cliff side and then switching backing until it levels out for a bit. It falls in a steep, straight line down to and across the flat stretch. The road is smooth and in good repair, so I take the risk and let the bike go as fast as it wants. A few years ago in Vermont I almost lost control of my bike going a very high speed on a long downhill. If I had fallen, I would have been reduced to a very long smear of strawberry jam, and the fear of that close call has haunted me ever since. But on this hill I reach an incredible, exhilarating 72 km/hr, only slightly less than Mike’s speed. He is so thrilled by the drop that he wait for me to catch up with him so he can compare notes. 
The rest of the way to the coast is more pleasant than dramatic. Mike gets our first flat tire 10 km from the junction with the coast road in Almunecar, nearing the 1500 km point of our trip. It’s definitely warmer on the south side of the mountains, but from Almunecar we fight an aggressive headwind as we struggle westward Nerja. Our road 
rises and falls above the beach side villages, clinging to the rocky hillsides. It’s our hardest cycling of the day.Nerja, the “balcony of Europe”, finally appears in the glare of the western sun. It’s a town of about 20,000, set on a ledge above the beaches. We find a beautiful, restive pension by the main road and spend much of that evening in a British pub nearby.
PHOTO 1: leaving the highway for a quiet route
PHOTO 2: climbing to the pass, Sierra Nevada across the valley
PHOTO 3: nearing the pass
PHOTO 4: south side of pass
PHOTO 5: heading downhill
PHOTO 6: above Almuncar
PHOTO 7: near the coast
PHOTO 8: Nerja headland
PHOTO 9: old Nerja street
2 comments:
The countryside pictures are breathtaking in this stretch of the trip. Love to see more pictures of you from that time, but I'm assuming you're behind the lens most of the time.
It's true. I am behind the camera and Mike never offered to take one of me. I have very few of me, not that I cared much for them at the time.
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