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April 25 – Benidorm to Valencia, 2708 km
Today we have a serious problem. Benidorm is not half way to Valencia and the distance we have to cover for the rest of the way is much longer than two days ago, and significantly longer than any day since the start of our trip. To shorten our
distance we have decided to follow the national highway most of the way, not there are many other options in certain places. We packed and shopped last night and are up early, psychologically ready for the hard day ahead. We are on the road by 9. 
We are able to use a smaller highway, N332, for almost the first 20 km, while we are following the flat coastal plain north-east from Benidorm, but beyond this point we run into the Sierra de Bernia, a sharp wall of mountains that bars our way. Here our smaller highway merges with the freeway and the freeway turns north and climbs through a narrow gap at the east end of the wall. Here we are met by a strong north wind that fights our efforts to climb the hill. We struggle with it the rest of the day. 
On days like these, when the wind is our enemy, there is nothing much we can do but to stay crouched down over the handlebars, our faces tilted down, squinting at the road a few metres ahead to reduce our wind resistance and keep the blowing dust out of our eyes. I put the bike into the lowest gear to ease the strain on my knees and keep cranking the pedals slowly and smoothly. At times I feel tempted to get off the bike and push it but I have learned from past experience that it is three times harder to push a loaded bike up a hill than to keep riding it. With the wind against us, there is no coasting, no relief from the fight, and this continues hour after hour until the destination is reached.
The shoulder is broad beside the high volume of fast moving traffic on the freeway, broad enough that we can safely make it through the tunnels where the road cuts through the mountain. But this is a toll road and many trucks try to avoid the tolls by riding on the shoulder. They don't like us being here. They would gladly run us over to save a few pesados.Past the gap, the expressway follows through a couple valleys and canyons that are channeling the winds from the north right at us. Finally, after 30 km in the hills, the road returns to a seaside plain where the winds are somewhat lessened, allowing us to go a bit faster. Not long past the 100 km mark, we are able to take a side
road away from the expressway that follows the shore through a national nature preserve that features a fresh water lagoon called La Albufera, the rest of the way to Valencia. Unfortunately, we are both too exhausted by this point to enjoy its watery beauty much. We arrive in Valencia around 6 after nine hours of hard riding. We have covered 28 km more than our longest day so far, from Setubal to Evora in Portugal.Valencia is large, the population of Vancouver but more sprawling, and the layout is confusing. The centre is surrounded by a large canal on the south and a smaller one
on the north, as if to create an island. Several signs to the “centro” point away from the core, confusing us. Luckily, Valencians are friendly and helpful, tired as we are, and we manage to get to the tourist office just before it closes. We have city maps in our hands before we call our Servas host Josep. We hustle to get to his place because he has to leave for some commitment with friends at 7:30. He’s a tall, curly-haired, attractive and out-going guy, 30 years old in a Tom Hanks kind of style. He gives us a brief tour of his flat, wishes us luck and dashes out the door without leaving us keys. We scrounge through our panniers for dinner. Mike wants to have his typical evening walk around Josep’s neighbourhood. I have to stay to let Mike back in, but I don’t mind. I’m too tired to move and I am anxious to read more of Anna Karenin.
Rob, Josep’s long haired English roommate, comes home and introduces himself to me. He’s been living with Josep three years now, working as an English teacher. (Duh! I had to ask.) He showers and then retires to his room to play electric guitar. Like Josep, Rob is flamboyantly and unmistakably hetro.
Josep returns at 9:30, shortly after Mike arrives back. He only stays a few minutes, munching on a quick meal of fruit in front of us while trying to chat us up. He has done cycling tours all over Europe, Bolivia and parts of Brazil. He has thousands of slides but no time to show us. He doesn’t have time to read our carefully prepared letters of reference before darting of to join others for a theatre engagement. We are in bed and sleeping long before he returns.
PHOTO 1: view south towards Benidorm from Altea
PHOTO 2: view north to Calpe and the cape from Altea
PHOTO 3: Cala del Morro de Toix (the cape)
PHOTO 4: La Galera, before the climb
PHOTO 5: highway climbing the Sierre de Bernia
PHOTO 6: highway tunnel
PHOTO 7: looking back from the pass towards Benidorm
PHOTO 8: La Albufera wetlands south of Valencia
PHOTO 9: gateway to Valencia, Puerta del Mar
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