Wednesday's Stage 17 of the Vuelta a Espana heads back to
Cantabria, in the north of Spain. It’ll be a far cry from the high altitude of
the Sierra Nevada and the stifling Andalucia heat. The 180 kilometre stage from
Villadiego and Los Machucos involves 3 climbs, all in the final half of the
race. The second, a category 1 climb is the Puerto (or Alto) de Alisas, from the town of
La Cavada.
'Tainted 'mural on the way up the Puerto de Alisas. |
Region: Cantabria
Height: 674m
Access: La
Cavada
Distance:
12.6km
Average
Gradient: 4.9%
Altitude
Gain: 614m
Access: Arredondo
Distance: 8.9km
Average
Gradient: 5.8%
Altitude
Gain: 513m
Whether
it was the difficult to understand signs, the maze of roads or just
simply my inability to combine the two together, I was looking forward
to travelling further west along some of Cantabria’s
quieter and more direct thoroughfares. Up until now, never being far
from Spain’s busy coastline had made the possibility of finding a remote
road all the more unlikely. The first two hours of a brand new day
were, by comparison, the complete opposite.
Following the Rio Asón gently uphill between Ramales de la Victoria and
the tiny village of Arredondo, I passed another cyclist who had briefly
stopped by the side of the road. With a climb not far ahead, I decided
to slow down and wait for him to catch up. We were heading towards the Puerto de Alisas,
which is one of the most popular climbs in Cantabria. Regularly
featuring in the Vuelta a España since its introduction in 1979, it’s a
category 1 climb, averaging 5.4% over its 9.5 kilometres.
Though not
incredibly steep or soaring at an unremarkable 674 metres, the climb
was high enough to offer us magnificent views of the Cantabrian
coastline to the north. But what was most absorbing of all was our
conversation. Antonio was the cyclist’s name and he was on a 60
kilometre round trip from his home in Solares, a small village close to
Santander.
Antonio: it's always a good feeling when you get to the top. |
While
unable to articulate a word of English, Antonio, of course, spoke
plenty of Spanish and a little French. Despite my own limited array of
southern European vernacular, we somehow managed to string a
conversation together for the duration of the climb and the descent that
followed. In fact, the biggest stumbling block was our shortness of
breath three-quarters of the way up the pass. It’s always difficult for
me to converse in any language when cycling up a near 7% gradient.
La Cavada |
We
of course, discussed cycling, mountains, French and Spanish ones
mainly, and even families. He was 51, married and had a daughter aged 9.
Another benefit of cycling, and just about any sport or common
interest, is not only the people you meet but how easy it is to initiate
a conversation. I’m not exactly sure why I waited for Antonio, up
until then a perfect stranger, to make the climb. Normally, I’m just
happy to ride alone at my own chosen speed. What I do know, however, is
that sharing the experience with someone else, and on their own home
soil, made it all the more memorable.
Used, abused or disused?; I don't know. |
Today little remains of La Cavada’s artillery factory, save for its archway, the Puerta de Carlos III, which once regally guarded its entrance. It’s now the site of the Town Hall, the library and a cannon museum, which faithfully displays various artefacts that have endured over time.
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