What a Difference a Day Makes to Salamanca

We agreed an 8am start and as usual I can hear the tutting as I prepare for my day. It always takes me longer to get ready and The Captain unwillingly endures this process. It is still dark and with all lights blaring we are off. The most difficult part of navigating is getting out of the city and today proved no different. The biggest mistake we make is to ask advice assuming it's credible – it's always shite! After 5 miles we find ourselves close to where we started. Unflustered we leave the city and head for The Plateau. We are in fine spirits the sky is blue and wind turbines are all shutdown. The slight breeze we can feel is benefiting us on our right shoulders. As we cross the plateaux at still some 2800 ft the views are fantastic. We fuel on the cake that we bought last night anticipating our really start. I have one problem - a touch of the gout in my achilles. ( Everywhere you go in Spain you get complimentary peanuts and they are the Catylist) Captain Parker finds it amusing -  I assure him that the only people who laugh about gout are the ones who haven't had it. Anti-inflammatories are an international phenomena and the 600 tablet hits that are available in Spain soon ease my predicament. We push on and the memories of yesterday's awful weather soon subside. We are in good form and agree that our 80 mile without a lunch stop today is a record. At this point we gorge  on supermarket cheeses and meats leaving us a 35 mile run into Salamanca. Again the run in is on what seemed to be a redundant N road. The N620 was void of traffic and we have this huge highway all to ourselves it was fantastic. More than strange to be riding up the centre of such a big road and have it all to yourself. We rode a good distance apart today partly because I wanted to play some tunes (And the Captain only likes ELO) and partly because the cycling was that good it's important to personalise it. The last 20 miles were cracked in just over the hour and we finish up at destination end 114 miles. Captain Parker is particularly pleased to be at Salamanca. 'The Coldstreams kicked ass here in 1812' he declares with all his military pride. I check this out on Wikipedia and indeed they did - in fact a field day! It's a bustling city and appears to be incredibly wealthy. Again booking.com finds us accommodation 170 yards from where we sit and have a beer. How good is that? We dive into the nearest eating house to the digs and with lids heavy - fill up and dive straight back out to be in bed by 9:10-boring bastards! Into Portugal tomorrow all being well and have agreed on 730 sharp leave. Over and out  -  Los ciclistas muy cansados - That means we be knackered.