The Real Muchachos!
Trip Start
Mar 04, 2008
1
30
36
Trip End
Oct 06, 2008
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Salamanca,
Castile-León,
Spain and Canary Islands
Friday, August 22, 2008
Oh man, where to begin?! So much has happened in the last week. Jake has been battling some severe medical ailments, I've met some great folks, had some of the most challenging riding on this trip thus far and have persevered through the hottest weather I have experienced to date.
So the ride over the Pyranees was apparently too much for Jake. My bottom bracket (connects the two cranks) finally was worn to the point of replacement. The clicking sound I was hearing previously had progressed into a severe wobble (it was like riding with rubber cranks) and a distressing snapping and grinding sound was now emanating from Jake's netheregions.
I will spare you the full details of Jake's medical treatment, as it is a very long story having visited 8 mechanics in 4 different towns, but will share our experience with the first. I took him to the doctor's office in Pamplona. Despite being a Saturday sandwiched between a holiday Friday and a Sunday, the office was open. As it would turn out, this was a stroke of BAD luck. I showed up at the bike shop at 10am. The mechanic was busy with another customer, so I waited. By 11am he was ready to see us. I removed my bags and put Jake on the stand. He assessed the problem: worn bottom bracket. A regular Sherlock Holmes we have here. Between chatting with his friends and answering the phone, by noon he had removed the screws to my bottom bracket.
Ciraqui, the 10000 km town.
By 1pm he had informed me that he could not find the tool to remove the piece, and therefore could not fix the problem. He could, however, repair the problem with my front brakes. A broken adjuster spring and a new cable, nothing more I informed him. By 2pm he informed me that my brake lever/shifter was broken. Fine. Just replace it. By 3pm he had replaced it with a used Shimano Sora component, a significant downgrade in both quality and aesthetics. No matter, as long as it is functional. He promptly informed me that while the braking system seemed to be working, the shifter wasn't. I asked him how long he had been working at the bike shop. Five years. Five years wasted, I should have told him.Searching his bicycle catacomb in the back room, he emerged with a lever system looking like he pulled it from his grandmother's bike. Meanwhile, I had been busying myself with the 'broken' lever, and with the exception of an easily replacible fitting it seemed to be functioning fine. I told him so. He claimed it was still broken, but could not explain or demonstrate how. I got the feeling I was being ripped off.
Rather than turn my bike into some kind of Frankenstein machine with pieces from his jalopies in the back, I told him that I cannot purchase that lever system and I will be happy just to take my bike and go. This guy clearly had no idea what he was doing. Unforunately, my handlebars were now just bare aluminum on the left hand side. I grabbed my 'broken' shifter, shoved it in my bags and made a hasty retreat.
Estella
He may have screwed me over and caused me to forfeit a day poking around Pamplona, but he got his too - an entire day with no pay.Seven mechanics, four cities, a forced layover day (Sunday, waiting for the shops to open on Monday) and two forced half days later I found a mechanic who could fix the bottom bracket. My god, what an ordeal. Lucky mechanic number 8 (those Chinese may be on to something)! I was so happy to get my bracket fixed I didn't even mention the missing front brakes. Suprisingly, neither did any of the other seven mechanics.
Okay, enough about that. On to the good stuff - the people.
I met a great Irish lad, David, in Estella on my layover day. He wasn't doing the Camino but was just driving around France and Spain to clear his head for a while. We had an instant connection. It was eerie. We were almost like the same person, in the same place, going through the same things and both very far from home. He had me rolling in laughter half the time I was talking to him.
Turns out we were staying at the same campground. He told me a story about the night he checked in. I will try to do it some justice here, but please understand that his expressions, gestures and accent are what really made the story priceless.
The Real Muchachos
by David O'Loughlin
After a long day of driving, David pulled into the crowded Lizarra campground in Estella, Spain. Anxious to get some shut eye, he began setting up his tent in amongst the hordes of tents and campers.
For Ainaz...Pink Seat!!!
The campground is absolutely chock a block full with vacationing Spanish families. A rude lady in the adjacent camper gave him a dirty look, and motioned for him to slide his tent over. To where? The place is packed! So he continues on, ignoring the lady.That evening, under the cover of darkness, a dark van pulls in next to him. This is no minivan. We're talking a full sized commercial panel van. He swears they were gypsies. A vanload full of 'em. The kids hop out and get to work setting up the tent. In no time they have erected a semi-permanent structure between him and the lady in the adjacent camper. Five kids, hammering pegs and setting cross beams, shouting and yelling between each other while 'madre' is shouting and yelling directions to the kids. Meanwhile, 'padre' is in the cab with the Spanish tunes absolutely cranked to the max. This was the real deal, claimed David, ´the real Spanish fucking Muchachos, straight from the hills.´
Me thinks that now, David was looking pretty good as a neighbour to the lady in the camper.
Man, so much more to say but this is getting long.
Short version:
Decided to give up the Camino de Santiago in Burgos and head south. I'm now in Salamanca, and am formulating plans to hit up Portugal. Two reasons for deserting the Camino:
1) Jake really isn't cut out for this trail, especially with all my gear and my broken rack. The other people doing the trail with bikes all have primo mountain bikes with suspension and are carrying next to nothing.
Camino Shot
If I did continue, I'd have to take the highway route (still a designated Camino route). This doesn't appeal to me. It is a busy highway with lots of trucks. Besides, if you're not taking the trail, then, well, you're not really doing the trail, are you?2) I would like to get into Portugal and down to Gibraltar. Santiago is way up there. Gibraltar is way down there. Cutting SW now would save me some valuable time.
More highlights:
Met a couple of Fernandos on the trail after one paricularly nasty ascent and descent through the Oca Mountains. They invited me to their buddies place for a much welcomed beer on a scorching hot afternoon of a 120 km day, mostly off road and with a lot of pushing! Fernando number one then escorted me into Burgos, to the two bike shops, and then on to the gates of the campground. What a guy!
Got pulled over by la Policia for riding on the autovia (autostrada) once again! Long story, but it is Spain's own fault for double designating the highway. I thought it was a normal highway. And besides, technically there were no signs saying that bikes were prohibited. The cops were total assholes, forcing me to hop over a flimsy wire fence onto the adjacent gravel farming road, when only 50 m from an exit. This was a feat more dangerous than riding on the Autovia itself. Mass confusion ensued, trying to find my way along the maze of farming roads and tertiary highways.
Salmanca is a beautiful city. I'm taking a laundry day/bike repair day. What a place to do it!
Sorry for rattling on for so long. I hope you managed to wade through my ramblings and get a laugh or two.
Until Portugal,
Robin.
