I was now heading towards Santander to catch my ferry which was going to depart from Spain in three days. My plan was to spend the last days on the beach in Santander.

But as I was heading north I started recapitulating the past weeks spent on the road and realized that there was much that could be done in two full days. I had seen everything and much more than I hoped to see on this trip. The only thing I thought I was going to skip on was seeing Madrid. It was just too awkwardly placed right in the centre of Spain. Just didn’t fit into any route. But here I was with two full days of extra time. So I stopped on the side of the empty road, updated my GPS target and turned around heading south for Madrid.

Since I was heading for the heart of Madrid I was expecting the sun to pop up any second the further I got south. On the contrary though it got colder and colder and for the very first time on my Spain trip it even started to rain. Just when it had stopped raining I was back climbing hills reaching fog so saturated I got more wet from it than from the rain minutes ago. On the sides of the road tall snow measurement poles started to appear.

It almost seemed to me like I was going to end up climbing another one of those “shortcut” roads. But luckily that wasn’t the case and eventually the scenery and weather changed to what I was expecting to see in this area.

Except for that unreal Armageddon back lit rain that I encountered all the way down to Madrid.

400km later I arrived in Madrid when the sun had just set. I had booked a nice hostel which like so many other hostels offered free walking tours every other day. Exhausted I went to bed curious about seeing the city the next day.

A group of 15 people we walked through the city at almost 40 degrees Celsius learning about Spainsh history which is closely tied to Austrias history. Even the palace of the Spanish side of the Austrian Habsburg Family that ruled both countries at that time looks very much like the one they had built in Austria.

The architecture in Madrid was nice but not as impressive as other places I had seen on this trip.

Part of the reason for that is that at the time these buildings were constructed (Baroque/Classicism) it was frowned upon in Madrid to show wealth in architecture. The inside of these buildings were incredibly pompous but the outside was supposed to be as bland as possible.

A friend of mine had told me that Madrid wasn’t going to be too interesting compared to all the other sights the country had to offer and after having seen it I agree. Though there were a few museums I wanted to visit I ended up just walking through the city and relaxing at the hostel after the strenuous past days.

I had reached the highest point and from now on the road was going downhill.

Suddenly the vegetation changed completely as I had reached the timberline. Going downhill proved to be as difficult as I had imagined it. Mainly because it was all gravel. Going up on a gravel road is OK if it’s not too steep but going down is difficult because you are not heavy enough to get a good grip like you would get with a car. You have to decide between going fast which also means less sliding or going slow which means a bigger chance of sliding but if you don’t know whats behind a bend then going fast ist just not an option. Once you are sliding there is nothing you can do except for dropping the bike on purpose hoping to stop that way. I was going at walking pace hoping for the best.

Luckily it all went well and I got back on tarmac at last.

When I got onto the main road I couldn’t help but laugh as this road had been the reason why I made this little excursion in the first place. It was supposed to be a great motorcycle road but compared to the “road” I had taken to get to it it was a huge disappointment.

Just as I was about to dive into the mist laying ahead of me I came across a family hiking up the mountain. I wished I could have put them all on my bike as I was passing them with ease while they were slowly plodding up the road.

The road which had become partially muddy from the damp air lead to a huge boulder marking the beginning of a ridge with a steep falloff on both sides.

The view as breathtaking so I made another stop to fully appreciate it.

The valley to my left almost looked surreal in those heights. It was a saturated green mattress because of the moister getting trapped there every day.

As I stopped I was passed by the hiking family again. The children were leading and mom and dad were behind quite a bit. When they passed me I asked the husband if he would take a picture of me which he kindly did. They were from the Netherlands and hiking to a mountain hut which was supposed to be quite close. I thanked the man for the picture and was about to be on my way when he asked me if I would mind giving his wife a lift on the bike. She had hurt her leg and walking had become painful for her.

Unfortunately my pillion seat was packed with luggage but the husband offered he would carry it to make room for his wife. So we took off some of my bags and I went ahead and caught up to his wife who had already walked on and informed her that her taxi had arrived. Carefully she got on the seat …

… and on we went towards the hut that appeared out of the mist.

After a minute we also caught up with the rest of the family cheering us on like the crowd at a rally as we passed them.

The hut was now just a few hundred meters ahead and since I had to continue a different route and the remaining path to the hut was impassable for a motorcycle we parted ways after taking a group photo where I could clearly hear the youngest girl excitedly saying in Dutch “I also want such a motorcycle!”.

In the morning I got up early because even though I was skeptical that there would be cows or a farmer up there I didn’t want to risk waking up from cow bells.

The next morning I was woken up by cow bells and cows brushing against my tent.

The cows didn’t bother me but it meant that the person who lead them there in the morning must have been close too – and he was but like so many times before when I was camping on somebody else’s property he didn’t even acknowledge my presence (maybe because my grass green tent was blending in so well).

Unfortunately it had started to rain during the night. But because I was on an incline the water that hadn’t already seeped away into the ground flowed downwards beneath my tent and didn’t collect under my tent so everything stayed completely dry inside. I started packing the tent in the rain hoping I the rained would stop soon and I would find a good spot and a little spare time to let it dry.

At least I didn’t have to wash the cloths anymore which I had left on my bike not packed into my waterproof bags.

Unfortunately my towel was soaked too.

Today I wanted to reach a road that I had read about online which was supposed to be great for motorcycling. I don’t usually rely on this kind of trip advise because most motorcyclists enjoy twisty roads where they can push and test their own driving limits and those of their bikes going as fast. That’s not for me so I was a bit skeptical and didn’t expect too much.

Luckily the weather turned out to only be bad in the little valley I had been in which made sense since it had trapped all the warm air. As soon as I started heading south towards the center of the national park the weather got cooler but better. I needed to go south because I was on the northern side of the national park and the road I was looking for was exactly opposite, on the southern side. So I entered my target in on GPS and it gave me a route straight down to the other side. At this point it should be noted that Google Maps suggests a different route, around the national park.

I was very much looking forward to what I hoped would be the best way to see the beautiful scenery of the national park, going straight through it. And my expectations were exceeded within the first few kilometers. The narrow wet road that occasionally slimmed down to one lane lead me past beautifully sun lite mountain faces and emerald green mountain rivers.

Each corner behind which the road seemed to disappear announced another spectacular view.

A few kilometers in however the road seemed to end at a little village which again reminded me of an Alpine ski resort village.

What concerned me was that this was the only rout my GPS had found to reach the other side without having to go all around the national park. But it looked like I didn’t have any choice but the return the way I had come and take the long way around.

Just when I left the little village the same way I had come I noticed that my GPS had actually instructed me to take a turn just before entering the village. So I had just missed the right route. However upon arriving back at that turn I saw that it was a little gravel road off the main road. It didn’t really look like it was frequented a whole lot and frankly it didn’t even look like a public road. It also looked like a dead end considering that it was going through a valley facing another mountain chain ahead.

I wasn’t really sure what to expect from this region of Spain. I was already stunned by what I had seen in the South. Landscapes I did not expect or think possible in this part of the world. The North looked so different yet again. I knew that the Picos de Europa national park was a land mark in that region and worth a visit but I still wasn’t sure what to expect.

The cloudy weather was a bit of a concern considering that I was going for a mountainous region and I knew I didn’t have much warm clothing let alone a second pair to change if I got wet.

The further I kept going the more mountains appeared on the horizon. I changed my heading from East to South going deeper into the national park.

The villages I passed through looked nothing like the Spain I knew from the South. In fact from time to time I forgot I was in Spain and thought I was driving through villages in the Austrian Alps.

My goal for the day was to enjoy the scenery and the view from higher up. However I also knew that it would get very difficult to find a good sleeping spot or any place at all for that matter. So I also started scanning the scenery for that purpose. The temperature had fallen to 15 degrees upon entering the national park and kept falling the higher I climbed. I knew this was going to be a cold night no matter where I set up my tent. The roads didn’t offer any chance to branch off into the forest where you could set up a tent like I did so many times before. There is barely enough space for the roads which are very narrow considering that they are for traffic from both directions.

I was already cold but my grip heating made all the difference and kept my body warm enough. The view from higher up was well worth it though.

Ever so often I had to remind myself that I was still in Spain.

I contemplated putting up my tent right where I was but any flat ground I saw was fenced in and clearly at some point populated by cows. So I kept going. The temperature had fallen below 11 degrees and so in a way I was glad I didn’t find any good opportunity to settle for a space there.

I drove down to a lower elevation again and passed through valleys and villages. I came across two official camp sites but didn’t want to stop there and pay 20 Euros when I had the chance to be out in the open for free a few kilometers further (even if it actually didn’t look like I was going to have that chance. Hence there were two real camp sites). So I kept riding further and further away from the camp sites until I started doubting my decision to not go for the official ones because there still wasn’t any place in sight to set up a tent.

I had traveled half way through the national park on it’s outer edge hoping to find more flat ground there but I didn’t get lucky so I decided to go deeper in.

Surprisingly this proved to be the right decision. I finally found a little path that was branching off the main road. It was extremely steep but prohibited for public traffic anyway. So I walked up it and just found myself surrounded by steep mountains on all sides. Still in full gear I felt I felt int necessary to explore every possible opportunity so I started walking up one of the mountainsides.

A few meters up I found the perfect spot. A relatively flat ground not an inch wider than what I needed for my tent. Even the temperature in the valley was pleasant. At 15 degrees I was going to be warm in my down sleeping bag.

I was exhausted and went to sleep right after dinner. I had been excited to finally be able to use my little gas stove again and make a warm meal after not having the opportunity in the dry south where the danger of fires was too high. However I was just too tired to carry my cooking equipment up the mountainside since it would have meant to climb up more than two times so dinner once again consisted of caned sea food. The canned octopus tasted delicious with fresh bread I had bought at one of the villages.

I left Santiago changing my heading for the final time: East! My goal was Gijon.

The landscape had changed again. No trace of the southern burning-sun-Spain. The vegetation was lush, the skies cloudy and the air damp.

I enjoyed the change and only hoped it wouldn’t rain as my jacket wasn’t waterproof.

Gijon lies on the northern coast of Spain. There are some nice old buildings but overall the city wasn’t too interesting and I only stayed for a few hours.

Gijon is one of the bigger cities along the coast and was on my route because of that and because it is the second of the two Spanish cities which are significant in Austrias football history. Earlier I had already visited Cordoba, the location of what is said to be the greatest game Austria ever played (“The miracle of Cordoba”). Well Gijon is exactly the opposite. It was nick named “Disgrace of Gijon” because in that game Germany (Austrias eternal arch nemesis in sports) and Austria both knew that with a particular score in that worldcup tournament game they would both be happy so they stopped playing after that score was achieved and the remaining half of the game was just an incredibly slow and underwhelming dribbling exercise with apologies for light tackles and no apparent desire to change the score.

Visiting the stadium of Gijon therefore obviously was a sad moment.

After this last stop in Gijon I set course for my last destination on my Spain trip. The national park “Picos de Europa”.

I was already very close to the northern tip of Portugal and crossed the border into Spain just when the weather started to change making me concerned about finding a good spot to put up my tent.

The joy about the smooth roads and less aggressive drivers however made up for the bad weather.

I took me about two hours to find a spot but it was a good one. At least so I thought.

Just when I had crawled into my comfy tent the rain started to fall. It was a strong downpour and it lasted throughout the whole night but I felt perfectly safe in my tent. After all it has a hydrostatic head of 5000mm (which should be enough for any rainy condition in Europe).

The next morning however I had learned a valuable lesson.

My tent was dry everywhere except for the floor. I hadn’t tucked in the outer edges of the ground cover on which I always set up my tent. I just didn’t think it would really rain when I set it up so I didn’t bother tucking in the edges. But now the water that dripped down from the tents walls right onto the floor cover collected in the middle beneath the floor of the tent. This much water is too much for any average tent. Luckily it got wet only where I had placed my sleeping mat on so none of my belongings got wet and I only noticed what had happened when I removed the rubber mat to pack my things in the morning.

The main problem resulting from this situation was that I didn’t want to pack a wet tent. I didn’t want any mold on it when I had the next chance to unpack everything again.

Luckily the plastic floor cover was rubbery enough so that the water just dripped of when I lifted it.

The tent however needed to dry. Once more the geodesic design of the tent came in handy. I could just pick it up and put it on it’s back like a lazy cat in the sun.

It rested there for an hour before I decided it was enough and we had to move on. It didn’t want to go and begged for just ten more minutes like they do but I started tearing it apart anyway. It was not a pretty sight..

My cruelty against my tent apparently hadn’t gone unnoticed as I was greeted by soldiers in full gear with their machine guns out when I returned from the forest.

It probably was just a training exercise but they didn’t make an effort to explain their presence. Instead they directed me opposite the direction I wanted to go but somehow I was not in the mood to argue with them.

My next stop was going to be Santiago de Compostela. A famous pilgrimage city.

I had already lost half of the day and still had a few hours of driving ahead of me.