Day 8
A late start from Gibraltar bought on by a combination of laundry delays and Damian losing his key somewhere between the back and the front of his bike. A diversion to Terifa, the southernmost point of Europe and a pause for coffee and a sort of "Junior Kick-start on Acid" event as Damian manoeuverd his bike up by the sea wall for a photograph. It was a triumph of determination over common sense. Speaking of common sense, the run from Tarifa to Cordoba had several mad moments. First, there was the surreal experience of a Spanish bike shop dropping everything to fix Phil's punctured rear tyre and then only wanting 10 Euros for it. Then there was granny in the bar next door while we waited, rustling up seven really rather good hot chicken and tomato sandwiches and wanting 20 Euros for it including coffee and water. Then there was the completely bonkers construction site that was the road formerly known as the N351 (to keep me on my toes it became the N451 and was disguised as a quagmire). Finally there was the frenzied attempt at navigating through the back-alleys of Cordoba that was so nearly successful, except it was thwarted by a full-width removal van in one of them. I grabbed some photos of the resulting rout (aka U-Turn). An utterly charming hotel near the stunning mosque. Feels like Africa!
