The Big Climb!

Paul and I awoke with great anticipation for the big climb up to O Cebriero. It's a straight climb of about 10 kilometers. On our last trip, I remember it being a brutal day of pushing my bike uphill for four or five hours. It was very cool and the mountain was covered in mist. Paul waited for quite a while at the top while I slowly made my way up the mountain. On this trip, either I was in better shape (again, I like to think the ten extra pounds I am carrying are all muscle) or the angels and my dad were pushing me up the mountain. The day was not nearly as hard as I expected and I arrived at the top about 45 minutes after Paul. I only had to push my bike twice and for only short periods. I was astounded as was Paul. Perhaps I had trained better than I thought. We took in the sights at the top and celebrated with those we met as we climbed up together. It is something joyous to celebrate a shared effort with complete strangers who become instant friends as you climb together. What Paul and I had forgotten is that the arrival at O Cebriero is not the end. It marks the beginning of Galicia, which is a region of lots of ups and downs. The area is very hilly so there is no real respite from a hard day's ride. Following another set of climbs, we finally began our descent into Galicia. Paul took the downhill carefully as he was nervous about the performance of his bike. The back wheel was rattling something awful and he had to loosen his brakes to make the climb. Our goal for the night was Samos, a small town with an impressive monastery and a 900 year old church that is quite a sight to see. It's a good thing we saw it on our last trip because there was not a room to be found in Samos. After our long day of climbing, we were forced to continue onto the next town. We felt reasonably assured we would find something there since it was a larger city. We couldn't have been more wrong. Like Mary and Joseph, we went on a hunt for a room, only to be told time and again, there was no room. We were very nervous at this point. It was getting late and we were tired. After getting a list of numbers to call, we finally found a place 5 kilometers out the city. With trepidation, we had no choice but bike on. As we pedaled on, first downhill and then up, we started wondering whether five really meant ten kilometers and if we were ever going to arrive. We did and quickly settled in for the night. Our clerk who checked us in, became our candidate for the hardest working man in Spain. After we cleaned up, we headed down to the bar for a drink. It turns out he was also on bartending duty. As the restaurant filled up with the dinner crowd, it became clear that he was also the waiter. In between orders at the bar and in the dining room, he also answered the phone and continued to check in arriving guests. When he took our dinner order, I jokingly asked if he was also cooking. With a bemused smile, he said sometimes. When we went down to breakfast the next morning, there he was again.