motorcycle – gobriantravel

Spain 12.

Sept. 30, 2026,

Hi Everyone,

After taking pictures of the tapas, I decided to forgo a formal dinner and just engorge myself with tapas. I selected several, which you can see from the pictures were all delectable. The tapas, accompanied by beer and wine made for a most pleasant evening. Spain appears to have a male dominated culture if one can deduce from the population at the hotel bar. There were about 20 males present in groups of 3 or 4 arriving from 9:00 to 10:00 pm. Everyone was watching the soccer game and there were no females present.

I awoke this morning perfectly rested and prepared myself for my ride today. I had planned all my rides in advance with my TomTom GPS. All my rides leave from my hotel and bring me door to door to my next hotel. I usually allow for 2 stops for coffee and several stops to take pictures. My route was supposed to be 4.5 hours long and 6 hours with the appropriate stops. I arrived at my hotel 8.5 hours later.

When riding a motorcycle, there is always an adventure at every turn. Today was no different. On planning my route, I forgot to eliminate dirt roads. On leaving Albecete, I immediately found my self on a dirt road. On engaging a dirt road, I usually hope that the road will improve in 15 minutes. I hour later I was still on dirt. The problem with a dirt road is that I can only use the 1st and 2nd or 3rd gears as I don’t want to go over 25 km/hr. This also burns a considerable amount of gas which brings me back to my usual problem of running out of gas.

Eventually, I found myself on a reasonable terciary road. At that point, probably due to all the shaking, the electric wire from the GPS to the bike gave out. It is impossible to drive in Spain on secondary or tertiary roads without a GPS. You will be lost even before you start. Several cars stopped to help but no one had a solution. I played around with the wires for a while without success. There is an unwritten code among those who ride motorcycles, that if a bike is stopped at the side of the road, you must stop and offer assistance. This has happened to me on multiple occasions.

The 1st bike to come by, and therefore the 1st to stop, was ridden by an English fellow and his Ukrainian girlfriend. Great, at least we could communicate. He was a retired industrial mechanic and an expert on motorcycles. He unfortunately could not get the wire to work. He had multiple tools with him and suggested that we remove the seat and search for a burnt fuse. Still no success. In case of emergencies, I always carry an external battery pack. Needless to say, I did not have the correct wire attachment. He suggested that we go to a ‘China shop’ similar to our Dollar Stores, run by Chinese people; which are present in every small town.

He accompanied me to the next town where we found the store. There, we went through several isles, eventually finding the correct wire attachments. He then skillfully rewired my GPS to the power bank. I don’t know what I would have done without him. I don’t know if I can call CAA from Canada here in Spain! After taking pictures and telling him that I would include the storey and pictures in my blog, he lead me back to my route. They then took off at a speed that I could not follow.

The rest of the route was a motorcyclist’s dream ride. After leaving behind the arid, mostly flat land from Albecete, I arrived at the costal mountain range. The GPS lady told me that the next 73 km would take 2:15 hours. She was wrong. It took me almost 3 hours as I had to stop to rest and occasionally take breathtaking pictures. There was a hairpin turn every 30 meters. There were ‘S’ shaped turns, curves, hills and steep slopes. The views were spectacular. Many times I stopped to take photos peering down cliffs. The weather was warm, sunny with cloudy periods, occasionally threatening but no rain.

I arrived at Dania, a seaside port which I will explore tomorrow. I am staying at Hotel Rosa, a 3*- 4* resort hotel a few hundred meters from the port. The hotel is wonderful, resembling an older hoscienda. My room has a balcony overlooking the garden and the pool. My ferry boat leaves tomorrow at 5:00 pm so I will take the entire day to relax. When I consider the jet lag, 2 triathlons in 3 days, my trip to the ER for treatment of a UTI, my hair raising 2 days of intense motorcycling, I think that I need a break to reset. After all, I am 77.

Love,

Brian

Australia-New Zealand 9

Oct. 22, 2025,

Hi Everyone,

It’a amazing, that when you are travelling, you can have good days, better days and fabulous days with only the occasion blip. Today, after breakfast, I elected to do a walking day to give my 9 hour, motorcycle bum a rest. I walked down from my hotel to the waterfront, passing through the town. Tauranga is a lovely town, doubling as a beach resort and a large industrial port. The downtown area has the usual amount of shops with a number of them specializing in hiking and sporting equipment. I did a lot of browsing but no purchasing, responding to the sales people that I was only a tourist vacationing.

I found myself at the waterfront overlooking an old railway bridge which took me across the bay. The bridge had a walking lane used by hikers, runners and bicyclists. It was 800 meters long. I walked across and found myself on a road that followed the beach on the other side. I walked for an hour and eventually a car stopped to ask me if I was lost and could she give me a lift. Her mother was in the back seat and was probably about my age. I told her that I was from Canada and that I had just completed a triathlon as she had notice the number tatoued on my arm. She drove me a few kms to the local bus station. She explained to me that she was of Mauri origin. The Mauris are the original settlers here, arriving from Polynesia several hundred years before the white man. Mauri culture is very evident here as many of the villages and mountains are in Mauri language and are unpronounceable and difficult for me to memorize. There are only 5 million people in all of NZ, many of whom are Mauri. On the bus, the stations are announced in Mauri and English. We could take a lesson from them in Quebec. Our native Indian culture is visibly lost in our everyday lives.

The bus took me to Mount Maunganui and the bus driver asked me politely if I was going to hike up the mountain. When I acknowledged that was what I was here to do, he responded ‘that is what I figured.’ I took that as a compliment as I guess that he also had seen my tatous. I had a cappuccino and muffin for lunch and spoke with a young couple from Italy, travelling around and working as cooks. I suggested to the young lady, Noel that they might find work in Whistler as they were quite interested in the fact that I was from Canada.

I asked the waitress about how long it would take me to climb the 300m mountain. She looked at me and suggested that I try the climb tomorrow as I had just consumed 1 muffin and 2 cappuchinos. I started up the mountain and asked a few young people if I could climb up the mountain in 1 hour or so. They politely smiled. There were several paths to take, longer with a gentle slope or shorter but steeper. I took the latter to go up and the former to walk down. On my way back I spoke to a young fellow who lived here and then with an Estonian waiter who is a sea captain. You meet so many people when you travel alone.

All of the pictures below were taken in Tauranga and on Mount Maunganui.

Love,

Brian