The Trip
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Day temperatures reached 37 degrees the further south i cycled, hitting the June heatwave around Osuna.
On 16th June 2019, I clipped into my pedals at Santander Airport, setting off on a bold mission: to cycle across Spain, from the northern coast to Malaga Airport, tracing a route through the country’s stunning Natural reserves and steering clear of the usual tourist trails. The goal was simple—discover the “real Spain”, the one tucked away in mountain passes, sleepy villages, and sun-drenched valleys. Over 9 days, I covered 1,450 km, climbing a staggering 16,800 meters. The journey took me through:
But every climb, every kilometer, was worth it. This wasn’t just a ride—it was a journey through Spain’s soul |
The Stages
Day# 1: Santander to Suances (36.42 km)
After landing in Santander around 3 p.m., I wasted no time. By 5 p.m., the bike was prepped, the gear was loaded, and I was rolling out—ready to begin this long-awaited journey.
Rather than diving into the city’s bustle, I opted for quieter backroads, winding through Cantabria’s gentle countryside. The route was forgiving, perfect for easing into the rhythm of the ride. Rolling hills, sleepy villages, and the scent of salt in the air guided me toward the coast.
My destination: Suances, a laid-back seaside town known for its surf-friendly beaches and relaxed vibe. The evening light cast a golden glow over the shoreline as I arrived, making the first leg of the trip feel like a soft exhale after months of anticipation.
It was a short ride, but the perfect start—just enough to shake off the travel fatigue and reconnect with the road.
Rather than diving into the city’s bustle, I opted for quieter backroads, winding through Cantabria’s gentle countryside. The route was forgiving, perfect for easing into the rhythm of the ride. Rolling hills, sleepy villages, and the scent of salt in the air guided me toward the coast.
My destination: Suances, a laid-back seaside town known for its surf-friendly beaches and relaxed vibe. The evening light cast a golden glow over the shoreline as I arrived, making the first leg of the trip feel like a soft exhale after months of anticipation.
It was a short ride, but the perfect start—just enough to shake off the travel fatigue and reconnect with the road.
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Day# 2: Suances to Alba de Los Cardanos (147.47km)
If Day 1 was a gentle welcome, Day 2 was a full-blown initiation. Covering 147.5km, the distance alone wasn’t daunting—but the relentless climbing was. Nearly 4000 meters of elevation gain turned this ride into one of the toughest I’ve ever faced.
The day began with a cultural gem: a stop at the Cuevas de Altamira, home to prehistoric cave art that whispers stories from 36,000 years ago. Nearby, the cobbled charm of Santillana del Mar offered a brief moment of serenity before the ascent began in earnest.
From there, the route carved upward through the lush expanse of Parque Natural Saja-Besaya, leaving behind the coastal calm of Cantabria and entering the rugged heart of Castile and Leon. The scenery shifted—forests thickened, peaks loomed, and the air grew thinner.
By the time I reached Cervera de Pisuerga, the sun was dipping low, but the road kept climbing. The final stretch through Parque Natural de Fuentes Carrionas y Fuente Cobre-Montaña Palentina was both breathtaking and brutal. I finally rolled into the tiny hamlet of Alba de los Cardaños at 11 p.m., utterly tired but deeply fulfilled.
The day began with a cultural gem: a stop at the Cuevas de Altamira, home to prehistoric cave art that whispers stories from 36,000 years ago. Nearby, the cobbled charm of Santillana del Mar offered a brief moment of serenity before the ascent began in earnest.
From there, the route carved upward through the lush expanse of Parque Natural Saja-Besaya, leaving behind the coastal calm of Cantabria and entering the rugged heart of Castile and Leon. The scenery shifted—forests thickened, peaks loomed, and the air grew thinner.
By the time I reached Cervera de Pisuerga, the sun was dipping low, but the road kept climbing. The final stretch through Parque Natural de Fuentes Carrionas y Fuente Cobre-Montaña Palentina was both breathtaking and brutal. I finally rolled into the tiny hamlet of Alba de los Cardaños at 11 p.m., utterly tired but deeply fulfilled.
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Day# 3: Alba de Los Cardanos to Riello (140.60 km)
After the punishing climbs of Day 2, Day 3 offered a gentler start. The descent into Guardo was a welcome reprieve, letting the legs recover while the landscape unfolded around me.
But the break was brief—soon enough, the road tilted skyward again, stacking up 1,657 meters of elevation gain over the course of the day.
The route traced a path north of León, with the Picos de Europa looming in the distance. Their jagged silhouettes and snow-dusted peaks were stunning.
The terrain was varied: rolling hills, quiet valleys, and long stretches of solitude. It was a day for reflection, for rhythm, and for soaking in the grandeur of northern Spain’s wild heart.
I wrapped up the day near the town of Riello, tired but content. The climbs were tough, but the views made every pedal stroke worth it.
But the break was brief—soon enough, the road tilted skyward again, stacking up 1,657 meters of elevation gain over the course of the day.
The route traced a path north of León, with the Picos de Europa looming in the distance. Their jagged silhouettes and snow-dusted peaks were stunning.
The terrain was varied: rolling hills, quiet valleys, and long stretches of solitude. It was a day for reflection, for rhythm, and for soaking in the grandeur of northern Spain’s wild heart.
I wrapped up the day near the town of Riello, tired but content. The climbs were tough, but the views made every pedal stroke worth it.
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Day# 4: Riello to Miranda do Douro (220km)
This long day in the saddle started in Riello towards the beautiful town of Astorga, a walled town on the crossroads of the Camino de Santiago pilgrims route and the Roman Silver road. On the list of things to see was the Episcopal Palace designed by Gaudi.
Carrying onwards seen me navigating through the flatlands towards Portugal cycling through sleepy hamlets. Or that is what I thought, continuous hills made the last 70km into a though cycle.And to make matters worse, the border was closed on my planned route, hence an additional 20 km detour to reach my end destination
The day began with promise, rolling out from Riello toward the town of Astorga.
Nestled at the crossroads of the the Camino de Santiago and the ancient Roman Silver Road, Astorga is a treasure trove of history.
I made time to admire the Apiscopal Palace, a striking neo-Gothic marvel designed by none other than Gaudi —a surreal sight in this quiet corner of Spain.
From there, I expected a smooth ride through the flatlands en route to Portugal, passing through sleepy hamlets and open countryside. But the terrain had other plans. The final 70 km turned into a relentless series of hills, each one sapping more energy than the last.
Just when I thought I’d made it, a final twist: the border crossing I’d planned was closed. That meant a 20 km detour, turning an already long day into a test of grit and patience.
Despite the setbacks, crossing into Portugal felt like a triumph. The landscape, the history, and the unexpected challenges made this leg unforgettable.
Carrying onwards seen me navigating through the flatlands towards Portugal cycling through sleepy hamlets. Or that is what I thought, continuous hills made the last 70km into a though cycle.And to make matters worse, the border was closed on my planned route, hence an additional 20 km detour to reach my end destination
The day began with promise, rolling out from Riello toward the town of Astorga.
Nestled at the crossroads of the the Camino de Santiago and the ancient Roman Silver Road, Astorga is a treasure trove of history.
I made time to admire the Apiscopal Palace, a striking neo-Gothic marvel designed by none other than Gaudi —a surreal sight in this quiet corner of Spain.
From there, I expected a smooth ride through the flatlands en route to Portugal, passing through sleepy hamlets and open countryside. But the terrain had other plans. The final 70 km turned into a relentless series of hills, each one sapping more energy than the last.
Just when I thought I’d made it, a final twist: the border crossing I’d planned was closed. That meant a 20 km detour, turning an already long day into a test of grit and patience.
Despite the setbacks, crossing into Portugal felt like a triumph. The landscape, the history, and the unexpected challenges made this leg unforgettable.
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Day# 5: Miranda do Douro to Salto de Saucelle (116.34 km)
Day# 5 took in the fabulous Parque Natural de Arribes del Duero, an area of extreme beauty.
One of the first stops was the beautiful medieval town of Fermoselle where the small medieval streets and stone houses made a great photo opportunity.
From here, i headed deep into Parque Natural de Arribes del Duero.
The end of the day was a spectacular decent into the Douro valley where I would stay for the night in Salto de Saucelle.
Day 5 was a feast for the senses, unfolding within the breathtaking expanse of Parque Natural de Arribes del Duero —a region where nature shows off in dramatic cliffs, winding rivers, and untouched beauty.
The day began with a stop in Fermoselle, a medieval gem perched on a hilltop. Its narrow stone streets and centuries-old houses offered a glimpse into a slower, older world. I couldn’t resist pausing for photos—every corner felt like a postcard.
From there, the route plunged deeper into the park. The terrain was rugged, the views expansive. Eagles soared overhead, and the silence was profound.
The day ended with a spectacular descent into the Douro Valley, a ribbon of green and gold carved by the river over millennia. I arrived in Salto de Saucelle as the sun dipped low, painting the valley in warm hues. It was the kind of place that makes you forget the effort it took to get there.
One of the first stops was the beautiful medieval town of Fermoselle where the small medieval streets and stone houses made a great photo opportunity.
From here, i headed deep into Parque Natural de Arribes del Duero.
The end of the day was a spectacular decent into the Douro valley where I would stay for the night in Salto de Saucelle.
Day 5 was a feast for the senses, unfolding within the breathtaking expanse of Parque Natural de Arribes del Duero —a region where nature shows off in dramatic cliffs, winding rivers, and untouched beauty.
The day began with a stop in Fermoselle, a medieval gem perched on a hilltop. Its narrow stone streets and centuries-old houses offered a glimpse into a slower, older world. I couldn’t resist pausing for photos—every corner felt like a postcard.
From there, the route plunged deeper into the park. The terrain was rugged, the views expansive. Eagles soared overhead, and the silence was profound.
The day ended with a spectacular descent into the Douro Valley, a ribbon of green and gold carved by the river over millennia. I arrived in Salto de Saucelle as the sun dipped low, painting the valley in warm hues. It was the kind of place that makes you forget the effort it took to get there.
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Day# 6: Salto de Saucelle to Las Mestras(141.41 km)
Day# 6 was probably my most favourite day of the entire cycle. The day started off with a long 1 hour climb out of the Douro valley. With the wind in the back, i made a quick gradual decent towards the beautiful city of Cuidad Rodrigo, a walled city with fabulous historical buildings.
After saying goodbye to this beautiful city, most of the day was spent in Parque Natural de las Batuecas. Climbing Pena de Fancia was the highlight which with it's 1727 meters was the highest point of my trip.
On this day, i said goodbye to castile and Leon and entered extremadura.
Extremadura is famous for it's historical towns, but it is also a place where you have average temperatures of well into the 30s, so keeping the head cool was important. Cycling through the pine forests towards the small town of Las Mestras was just fabulous.
If every journey has a golden day, Day 6 was mine.
The morning began with a one-hour climb out of the Douro Valley, legs burning but spirits high. With the wind at my back, the descent that followed was smooth and swift, leading me to the stunning Ciudad Rodrigo. This walled city, rich in history and architectural charm, felt like a living museum—its cobbled streets and grand facades a reminder of Spain’s layered past.
After bidding farewell to Ciudad Rodrigo, the route led me into the serene wilderness of Parque Natural de las Batuecas. Here, nature took center stage. Towering pines, winding roads, and the majestic climb up Peña de Francia—at 1,727 meters, the highest point of my entire trip—made this leg unforgettable.
Crossing into Extremadura, I was greeted by soaring temperatures and sun-drenched landscapes. Known for its historic towns, Extremadura also offered a quieter kind of beauty: pine forests, shimmering heat, and the tranquil approach to Las Mestras, where I ended the day.
It was a day of contrasts—climbs and descents, cities and forests, history and solitude. And above all, it was a day that reminded me why I ride.
After saying goodbye to this beautiful city, most of the day was spent in Parque Natural de las Batuecas. Climbing Pena de Fancia was the highlight which with it's 1727 meters was the highest point of my trip.
On this day, i said goodbye to castile and Leon and entered extremadura.
Extremadura is famous for it's historical towns, but it is also a place where you have average temperatures of well into the 30s, so keeping the head cool was important. Cycling through the pine forests towards the small town of Las Mestras was just fabulous.
If every journey has a golden day, Day 6 was mine.
The morning began with a one-hour climb out of the Douro Valley, legs burning but spirits high. With the wind at my back, the descent that followed was smooth and swift, leading me to the stunning Ciudad Rodrigo. This walled city, rich in history and architectural charm, felt like a living museum—its cobbled streets and grand facades a reminder of Spain’s layered past.
After bidding farewell to Ciudad Rodrigo, the route led me into the serene wilderness of Parque Natural de las Batuecas. Here, nature took center stage. Towering pines, winding roads, and the majestic climb up Peña de Francia—at 1,727 meters, the highest point of my entire trip—made this leg unforgettable.
Crossing into Extremadura, I was greeted by soaring temperatures and sun-drenched landscapes. Known for its historic towns, Extremadura also offered a quieter kind of beauty: pine forests, shimmering heat, and the tranquil approach to Las Mestras, where I ended the day.
It was a day of contrasts—climbs and descents, cities and forests, history and solitude. And above all, it was a day that reminded me why I ride.
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Day# 7: Las Mestras to Caceres (180.2 km)
This was a day shaped by the sun. With forecasts predicting temperatures soaring to 36 degrees Celcius , I made the call early to adjust my route—safety first.
The revised path wound through the hills of Extremadura, offering shade where it could and challenge where it couldn’t. The heat was relentless, turning every climb into a test of endurance. Hydration breaks became sacred, and keeping cool was a constant battle.
But the reward was worth it: arrival in Cáceres, a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of Spain’s most captivating cities. The Ciudad Monumental, its old town, is a stunning blend of Gothic and Renaissance architecture. Cobbled streets twist between fortified houses, ancient palaces, and sun-dappled plazas that seem untouched by time.
Despite the struggle, the day ended on a high note—great food and a few cold drinks on a Saturday evening was the perfect way of closing out the day.
The revised path wound through the hills of Extremadura, offering shade where it could and challenge where it couldn’t. The heat was relentless, turning every climb into a test of endurance. Hydration breaks became sacred, and keeping cool was a constant battle.
But the reward was worth it: arrival in Cáceres, a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of Spain’s most captivating cities. The Ciudad Monumental, its old town, is a stunning blend of Gothic and Renaissance architecture. Cobbled streets twist between fortified houses, ancient palaces, and sun-dappled plazas that seem untouched by time.
Despite the struggle, the day ended on a high note—great food and a few cold drinks on a Saturday evening was the perfect way of closing out the day.
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Day# 8: Caceres to Cazalla de la sierra (226.43km)
The Spanish sun showed no mercy today. Leaving Caceres behind, I braced myself for another demanding ride—this time toward the Sierra Grande de Hornachos.
The terrain was unforgiving, with long stretches of exposed road and relentless climbs. The heat clung to everything, turning each ascent into a slow-motion battle. But the landscape offered its own kind of reward: sweeping views, quiet olive groves, and the occasional breeze that felt like a blessing.
The real challenge began in Parque Natural Sierra de Hornachuelos, where the road tilted upward once more. The climb toward Cazalla de la Sierra was steady but taxing, a gradual rise that tested both legs and willpower.
By the time I reached Cazalla, I was broken and battered—but also deeply satisfied. It was a day that demanded everything, and gave back in silence, scenery, and the quiet pride of pushing through.
The terrain was unforgiving, with long stretches of exposed road and relentless climbs. The heat clung to everything, turning each ascent into a slow-motion battle. But the landscape offered its own kind of reward: sweeping views, quiet olive groves, and the occasional breeze that felt like a blessing.
The real challenge began in Parque Natural Sierra de Hornachuelos, where the road tilted upward once more. The climb toward Cazalla de la Sierra was steady but taxing, a gradual rise that tested both legs and willpower.
By the time I reached Cazalla, I was broken and battered—but also deeply satisfied. It was a day that demanded everything, and gave back in silence, scenery, and the quiet pride of pushing through.
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Day# 9: Cazalla de la sierra to Osuna (125.99km)
The morning unfolded in the gentle embrace of Parque Natural Sierra de Hornachuelos. Rolling hills, shaded paths, and the soft rustle of trees made for a peaceful start. It was the kind of terrain that invites reflection, with every turn offering a new vista and a moment to breathe.
But by midday, the landscape changed dramatically. The hills gave way to lowlands, and the road stretched out in long, straight lines flanked by endless sunflower fields. Beautiful, yes—but shade was scarce, and the sun was merciless.
I had planned ahead, knowing my destination: Osuna, famously nicknamed “the frying pan of Spain.” An early start helped, but the afternoon heat still pressed down like a weight. Every kilometer was a test of endurance and hydration.
Arriving in Osuna felt like crossing a finish line. The town’s historic charm was a fitting end to a day that demanded strategy, stamina, ...
But by midday, the landscape changed dramatically. The hills gave way to lowlands, and the road stretched out in long, straight lines flanked by endless sunflower fields. Beautiful, yes—but shade was scarce, and the sun was merciless.
I had planned ahead, knowing my destination: Osuna, famously nicknamed “the frying pan of Spain.” An early start helped, but the afternoon heat still pressed down like a weight. Every kilometer was a test of endurance and hydration.
Arriving in Osuna felt like crossing a finish line. The town’s historic charm was a fitting end to a day that demanded strategy, stamina, ...
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Day# 10: Osuna to Fuengirola (128.77km)
The final day on the bike was a celebration of contrasts. The route led me through the stunning area of El Chorro, a paradise for rock climbers and nature lovers alike. Towering cliffs, winding roads, and dramatic vistas made for a spectacular farewell to the rugged beauty of inland Spain. It was a ride filled with awe and quiet gratitude.
But the last 20 km—from Torremolinos to Fuengirola—was a shock to the system. After days immersed in rural solitude, the sudden rush of coastal traffic, beach crowds, and urban buzz was a shock to the system. The rhythm changed, the pace quickened, and the serenity gave way to seaside energy.
Still, rolling into Fuengirola, knowing the journey was complete, brought a deep sense of fulfillment. Ten days, countless climbs, and unforgettable landscapes—this ride was more than a route. It was a story written in sweat, scenery, and soul.
But the last 20 km—from Torremolinos to Fuengirola—was a shock to the system. After days immersed in rural solitude, the sudden rush of coastal traffic, beach crowds, and urban buzz was a shock to the system. The rhythm changed, the pace quickened, and the serenity gave way to seaside energy.
Still, rolling into Fuengirola, knowing the journey was complete, brought a deep sense of fulfillment. Ten days, countless climbs, and unforgettable landscapes—this ride was more than a route. It was a story written in sweat, scenery, and soul.
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