Liberation Instead of Lonely. Day 18 of Bicycling through Spain and Morocco (and England)

This morning, after stiffening up my floppy lips and letting out a jagged breath, I climbed aboard my bike and embarked on part two of this bike adventure—solo. Barcelona or bust. As I struggled to get out of Granada emotionally, I found that I did physically as well—the joys of rush hour traffic.

“Twain,” I texted. “I am not getting anywhere. The streets are all gummed up!”

“Don’t worry,” he shot back from the safety of the airport, “You will soon be liberated.” And just like that, those words defined the rest of the day.

In minutes I had wound my way out of downtown and began to climb up into the Sierra Nevadas. I followed the River Genil and passed endless fincas full of olive and cherry blossoms. Every so often I would come upon a small town nestled in a valley with white, plaster homes and orange tiled roofs, piled on top of each other, seeming to jockey each other for footholds on the slopes.

The air became cool and higher still, snow covered peaks began to appear. The cherries and olive trees were replaced with evergreens and moss and the forest became dark and deep. No more farms, no more homes. The only sounds were occasional bells in the distance as cattle minced their way through the woods to the tumbling river, and the wisp of a breeze through the pines. There were no cars. I was all alone. My breathing was no longer jagged, but deep and full.

When I broke through the pass at 4,600 feet, everything changed again. Mountains seem to do that. The river was left behind and here, there was only rock; bright red and orange cliffs, mesas, spires and towers. I was in the Geoparque de Granada. It is huge and known for its beautiful rock formations and obvious geological history.
Then down I flew, eyes as open as they could get, sweat cooling my skin and air rushing in my ears. I only stopped once to devour some peanut brittle and a grapefruit and guzzle some cherry juice before I descended into the desert below. I was indeed liberated.

Now I rest in another cave dwelling in Guadix. They are not unusual here, in fact, over 3,000 people live in them in this town alone. They also use them for businesses and churches, as well as in agriculture for storing and/or curing foods. They are everywhere. Often there is the facade of a house configured on the side of a cliff, but the whole interior will be underground. They must be deliciously cool in the summer, when here in is over one hundred degrees regularly with no other shade to speak of.

But, tonight, my little cave is stale and stuffy, so as soon as it is late enough, I will sally out upon the land and find a some comida. I had no idea this would be what I would find, and I love that.