Astorga to Villafranca del Bierzo (wine!)

At Rabanal del Camino I stopped for a coffee and pastry, and there watched as a tall, lean very slightly older Englishman, parked his bike, padlocked it, removed various packs from it and made his way into the albergue and ordered the Full English. In this case though, laughingly the café owner made coffee with fresh milk, and gave him bread, tortilla & pastries and I watched as he enjoyed it. 

I had café con leche, and a large sugary, nutty, delicious pastry knowing full well I would be burning it off fairly quickly with the climb to come. As we engaged in conversation he seemed the kind of man to see the funny side and take delight in enjoying the unusual and we decided to attack the climb together. 

This should be, I calculated, 80km - pah! That's what almost exactly about 50 miles; I can do that! 

Chris, let's call him Chris, was only going as far as Ponferrada. Probably a wise move as his hired bike was making some annoyingly weird noises and he may need a bike fixer sooner than later, besides I was counting on the 15km of non-stop downhill, to recover from the climb. We were about 1100m altitude and the climb would be to 1450m over six and a bit kilometres. Not much I brazenly thought and indeed the road was good, not much traffic and if the electricity pylons were taken out of the picture one could have been in bonnie Scotland, low rounded hills, heather in flower and pines; all resting under a cloudless sky. The road twisting and turning and our conversation soon got us to the top which we decided must be an area used for specialist military training given the British flag, with regimental stamps, signatures from Colchester soldiers, endorsed Baghdad 2009, as well as a flag of an American Airborne Division and their Spanish and Italian comrades, hanging in the café bar close to the top. 

The views from the top made the climb worthwhile and soon we were whizzing down the mountain's otherside to lunch on pulpo and boiled potatoes in olive oil and pimenton and an enormous beer in frozen glasses. A fruit salad seemed to balance matters. 

We continued down to Ponferrada where we said our goodbyes and thanked each other for encouragement and company on what had really now become The Way. I continued and got lost although not without some benefit to Modestine, my bike, when I found a car wash and for €1 gave it/ her a good high pressure spray, cleaning off the sandy dust that had become concrete like and encrusted. The remaining day's ride became a slog, with more short climbs and being choked by old small smoking tractors laden with both white and black grapes for the harvest being brought in. I forgave them considering what an important job it is. 

And then the village of Villafranca was reached, a small restaurant found, delightful fresh white wine poured down grateful throat, followed by an excellent fish soup and then "Sauce de Truite" which I couldn't make out until a cold grilled trout arrived that had been marinated after grilling, in white wine, herbs and black pepper. Delish. Then followed  dessert, a black cream cake that was superb and demanded a dessert wine. Could I make myself understood? Eventually one of the waitresses said, 'sweet?' Yes! And she brought a bottle and poured a glass of Malaga Virgen. I'd never known it before and suddenly a Britsh band, Phil Collins alta ego band, Brand X popped into my mind and all was good. Check out Brand X - Malaga Virgen -- 1980's?

I found my accommodation, the old dear asking what time I'd be leaving and when I said early and its Domenica, she showed me where all the coffee, croissants and juice could be found and left me to it. I slept really well.