The rain in Spain falls mainly......bleedin' everywhere!

Day 2 dawned bright, but cold, with a frost covering the bike. Brrr! I finally managed to get to grips with route finding in France by using a combination of GPS waypoints together with a list of major towns stuck in the see through pocket of my jacket, plus memorising the map and using the sun's position! If all else failed then I followed signs for "toutes directions" rather than "centre ville" until I knew where I was going again!

It all worked out and I found myself making good progress down through France and by the evening I had got to Pau in the foothills of the Pyrenees. Shortly before it got dark I got a view of the mountains in the distance, tomorrow was going to be good riding!

The next morning was clear again, but really cold. I had put thicker engine oil in the bike in anticipation of the high temperatures in the Sahara, but at -5 degrees it was like treacle. After a bit of strained cranking the bike started and I was underway again.

The route through the Pyrenees was stunning. Hardly any traffic, beautiful blue skies and amazing scenery all linked together by some fantastic twisty mountain roads, bikers heaven. "This is what it is all about" I shouted into my helmet as I leant the bike into corner after corner, loving every moment. This is what I had thought the trip would be like.


As I dropped into Spain I saw the beginnings of clouds in the far distance and an hour later I entered the weather. At first it was hill mist but as I passed Zaragoza it turned to rain. The rain went on.....and on....and on. As I wound my way towards Madrid I felt the horrible squelching sensation of wet socks and the odd trickle of water down my neck, this was no longer much fun!

I fought my way round the Madrid equivalent of the M25 (about 4 of them!) as the rain continued to fall. Heading south I felt that surely the rain must end soon. It was cold as well. Madrid is higher than you think, and I was frequently above 2500ft, with the temperature consequently colder. I vowed to continue for as long as I could bear it, in the hope that I would find dry and warm weather.

It got dark and the rain continued, made worse by the spray thrown up from the countless trucks on the road. By 1930 I had had enough. I pulled into a roadhouse and got a room for the night. My feet were soaked, I was slightly aching, and when I took my gloves off my hands were black with the dye that had come out of the leather. I crawled into bed for a well deserved sleep, I had covered 507 miles, most of it in the rain.

Surely tomorrow would be dry?