Day 6 - Add a New Country to the List
Wednesday 30th August 2017
The weather forecast is not good for today. After days of almost unbroken sunshine there is a weather front coming in from the north. Fortunately my route plan will take me south today.
I leave the Hotel Posta at 10am. I'm heading west for a few miles then turning south for a run through the mountains and down to the border with Portugal. The first section is lovely as I follow a narrow river gorge then up and over a mountain pass. Puerto de San Lorenzo lies 1347 metres above sea level.
Further south I leave Asturias and enter the region of Castile and Leon. A high pass called Los Portillinos rises to almost 2000m. For the first time on this trip the road surfaces are poor and it is hard work threading my way over the broken carriageway and loose gravel to be found on the numerous hairpins.
I'm still on rural roads and the high passes are in cloud, cold and clammy. There is virtually no traffic. finally I drop down to a small town where I lunch on bocadillo mix, a Spanish version of the ubiquitous croque monsieur found in the cafes of France.
Now I am riding through an area that has recently suffered a series of forest fires. The roadside trees and bushes are burnt and large swathes of dead trees have been cleared. The road surface is heavily scorched in places and there is still a lot of debris on the road.
finally I join a beautiful sweeping road in good condition that will take me to the Portuguese border. One more country to add to the list of countries to which I have ridden a motorcycle.
Braganza is a small historic city in the Alto Trás-os-Montes region of north west Portugal. There is a fine castle on a hill overlooking the town. It looks impressive but time is getting on and I need to find a hotel for the night so I pull up in the town square and consult booking.com.
There is a small guest house listed in the tiny medieval village of Bacal not far away. It looks interesting so I decide to check it out. It turns out to be a wonderful find. The Casa Moleiro de Bacal is a beautifully renovated farm house in a tiny village of cobbled streets. The building next door is falling down. Many of the surrounding houses are in a dilapidated state but this Casa is beautiful.
Electrically operated gates open to allow me through an archway into the enclosed courtyard. The guest rooms are above the yard with a sunny balcony running the length of the sleeping quarters so I can keep an eye on the bike parked below my french windows.
The lady of the house welcomes me but has few words of English. Fortunately her sister is also here on a visit and she speaks some English. So with the assistance of Google Translate we get by. We agree terms, arrange dinner for 19:30, and I lug my gear up to a lovely room. I seem to be the only guest.
Feeling all clean after a good shower I wander down to the dining room. It is 19:30 on the nose and my meal is ready. The sister comes in and asks what time I would like breakfast in the morning. When I say 08:30 she enquires whether I mean Spanish or Portuguese time.
I had no idea that Portugal operates in a different time zone from Spain. It is the same as back home in England and one hour earlier than Spain. My dinner has been kept warm for an hour while they waited for me to put in an appearance.
Feeling guilty I tuck in to a very fine courgette soup followed by a huge veal steak accompanied by salad and chips. The local wine is a fine powerful red, as good as any I have tasted on this trip so far.
After the meal the owner turns up with coffee and a bottle of local brandy. I'm reeling by the time I head upstairs to bed.
The weather forecast is not good for today. After days of almost unbroken sunshine there is a weather front coming in from the north. Fortunately my route plan will take me south today.
I leave the Hotel Posta at 10am. I'm heading west for a few miles then turning south for a run through the mountains and down to the border with Portugal. The first section is lovely as I follow a narrow river gorge then up and over a mountain pass. Puerto de San Lorenzo lies 1347 metres above sea level.
Further south I leave Asturias and enter the region of Castile and Leon. A high pass called Los Portillinos rises to almost 2000m. For the first time on this trip the road surfaces are poor and it is hard work threading my way over the broken carriageway and loose gravel to be found on the numerous hairpins.
 |
| Up in the clouds |
I'm still on rural roads and the high passes are in cloud, cold and clammy. There is virtually no traffic. finally I drop down to a small town where I lunch on bocadillo mix, a Spanish version of the ubiquitous croque monsieur found in the cafes of France.
 |
| Summit of Los Portillinos |
Now I am riding through an area that has recently suffered a series of forest fires. The roadside trees and bushes are burnt and large swathes of dead trees have been cleared. The road surface is heavily scorched in places and there is still a lot of debris on the road.
finally I join a beautiful sweeping road in good condition that will take me to the Portuguese border. One more country to add to the list of countries to which I have ridden a motorcycle.
 |
| Lunch stop |
Braganza is a small historic city in the Alto Trás-os-Montes region of north west Portugal. There is a fine castle on a hill overlooking the town. It looks impressive but time is getting on and I need to find a hotel for the night so I pull up in the town square and consult booking.com.
 |
| Add another one to the list |
 |
| Braganza |
There is a small guest house listed in the tiny medieval village of Bacal not far away. It looks interesting so I decide to check it out. It turns out to be a wonderful find. The Casa Moleiro de Bacal is a beautifully renovated farm house in a tiny village of cobbled streets. The building next door is falling down. Many of the surrounding houses are in a dilapidated state but this Casa is beautiful.
Electrically operated gates open to allow me through an archway into the enclosed courtyard. The guest rooms are above the yard with a sunny balcony running the length of the sleeping quarters so I can keep an eye on the bike parked below my french windows.
 |
| At the Casa Moleiro |
The lady of the house welcomes me but has few words of English. Fortunately her sister is also here on a visit and she speaks some English. So with the assistance of Google Translate we get by. We agree terms, arrange dinner for 19:30, and I lug my gear up to a lovely room. I seem to be the only guest.
Feeling all clean after a good shower I wander down to the dining room. It is 19:30 on the nose and my meal is ready. The sister comes in and asks what time I would like breakfast in the morning. When I say 08:30 she enquires whether I mean Spanish or Portuguese time.
I had no idea that Portugal operates in a different time zone from Spain. It is the same as back home in England and one hour earlier than Spain. My dinner has been kept warm for an hour while they waited for me to put in an appearance.
 |
| Courgette soup and a fine local red |
After the meal the owner turns up with coffee and a bottle of local brandy. I'm reeling by the time I head upstairs to bed.
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