Monday 27 February - Minas de Riotinto

Where's Bertie? He's in an Aire in the town of Minas de Riotinto. Exact location: 37.69620, -6.59734.
Weather: Sunny, but only around 14 degrees and with a cool breeze.

I'd read that the Aire here in Minas de Riotinto tends to be popular and full by lunchtime, so we stuck to the usual plan and arrived at around 1030. So often we are lucky, but not today. No room at the inn and no sign of anyone moving (and all bar two vans were Spanish, so more likely to be here for the long weekend, rather than northern European visitors who are likely to move on any day of the week).

Across town we headed to check out a car park listed on Park4Night. Not to our liking was the answer (the kids with a substantial slingshot were particularly offputting!), but I made use of the adjacent supermarket anyway. Coffee and a crossword allowed us to procrastinate over the 'what to do now' question, then we headed back to see if any spaces had opened up at the Aire. Maybe they had, maybe they hadn't, but with a constant stream of motorhomes arriving, it seemed that spaces would be taken as soon as they were vacated.

Once again, we parked just up the road whilst I surveyed our options. The decision: we weren't going to visit Minas de Riotinto after all, but were heading off to another town 11km further north.

"There's a space!" Mick suddenly exclaimed. He'd just seen one motorhome pull into the Aire and two pull out.

"Quick!" I cried. Down the road we hared with haste, and straight into a free space. Jolly smug we felt for the next half an hour, until two Spanish vans left one after the other and it was an hour before their spots were taken. I don't know how many other vans have come and gone for the rest of the day (several dozen, I would say), but there are currently 15 in this 13-space Aire, and another four parked along the road.

Mick's cold has hopefully reached its peak, as he's not been feeling well today, but he was still persuaded to join me for a 2km stroll straight after lunch. Such was his lethargy, that he didn't even ask me what it was we were going to see, the answer to which would have been this:

Standard shot

Panoramic shot

I'd seen a photo of this hole in the ground before arriving in Riotinto, but there was nothing to give scale so I had it in my mind as being the size of a small Roman amphitheatre. Then I did a bit of reading and discovered that this is the largest open pit mine in Europe and at one time was the largest in the world, measuring 1.2km long, 900m wide and 350m deep. The water now covers a significant amount of its depth.

Our figure-of-eight walk to and from took us through the Barrio Ingles de Bella Vista: the English Neighbourhood. The engineering of the mines and associated railways was carried out by British Engineers, who built a neighbourhood to house its workers. The houses are big and grand, and apparently the one that's open as a museum is very English inside, but from the outside nothing shouted 'quintessentially English'.

Depositing Mick back at Bertie, I continued for a walk around the town - except I didn't find much that was town-ish (a few bars, a few shops, but nothing that made me think I'd found the main area - assuming there is one). I also didn't stumble across the mining museum, nor any signs pointing me towards it.

I did find this mural

I'd like to visit the mining museum, even though it is apparently all in Spanish (I know enough Spanish now to get the gist of what I'm being told, at least in writing), but Mick's state of coughing and spluttering is such that it would be impolite at best for him to be in an enclosed space with strangers. So, I either go by myself not at all.

I don't even know if it's open tomorrow, on the public holiday, with their website not being so useful as to list opening hours. We'll see what the morrow brings.

Sunday 26 February - Berrocal

Where's Bertie? He's spending one final night at the Aire at Berrocal.
Weather: Sunny intervals. Mid-teens.

We took a short walk through the village centre last evening on our way back from the bins. The hubbub could be heard as we approached, and there was quite a gathering in the square, including a brass band (although they weren't playing whilst we were there). Most people were dressed completely normally, but there was a smattering of fancy dress of various quality (from a princess dress to someone fully painted blue). We didn't stay long, with chores still to do and the evening cooling down.

Having visited the Rio Tinto yesterday morning, today I took myself off in the opposite direction, into the 'hills' (they're very little hills). I'd chosen my route based on paths and tracks on the maps, and it didn't work out entirely well, with one of my paths having been recently (by appearances) obliterated and replaced by a bulldozed track. That would have been fine, save for the gradient, which felt akin to an Olympic ski jump, and the loose surface, which was comparable with a plate of ball bearings. As I stood at the top and looked down it, I thought I was going to have to turn back, but examining the map I decided that if I could just get to the bottom, I'd be on good paths from there. So it was, but the rest of the route, via the summit of a pimple that wasn't notably bigger or smaller than those around it, wasn't overly exciting.

It looks a reasonably sensible gradient from this angle. It wasn't.

See?! 

Hills

I was mainly on good tracks

Activities that aren't worth writing home about filled the middle chunk of the day, then as Mick (full of cold and having a quiet day) was reading his book this afternoon, I finished off the socks I've been knitting:

This trip's knits to date. I didn't think the hat would get any use in Spain, but it has. As for the socks, I'm generally a fan of the West Yorkshire Spinners birds range of sock yarn, but I've decided I don't much like this one (Bullfinch). Good job they're for Mick!

We'll be on the move again in the morning, after a lovely peaceful few days here. What a contrast to everywhere else we've been on this trip, being at times silent, but otherwise with the sound of birds, donkeys and the bells of grazing sheep (plus occasional passing motorbikes on the weekend; we said on the drive in that the road would be attractive to motorbikers). The view must be the best of the trip so far too.

Saturday 25 February - Berrocal

Where's Bertie? He's still in the Aire at Berrocal.
Weather: Sunny start, sunny intervals later. 4 to 14 degrees.

Bertie ended up being one of four vans here last night. A multi-national gathering, with one Swiss, one French, one German and us. The others have left today, and as I type Bertie is all on his lonesome.

The day didn't start as planned. Mick got all his stuff together last night for a 15km run this morning on a route that I thought looked pretty good. Then he woke up this morning with my cold. Inevitable really, as it's not possible to avoid germs when living in such close proximity.

Having decided not to do his run, he still volunteered to come with me when I said I was going to walk down to the river and back - 2km each way.

We were in the shade for most of the way down the rough, stony path, and odd patches of frost were seen on the grass. Maybe that's why, having established that there is a bridge over the river, we didn't turn back as planned, but crossed the bridge to complete a circuit, using a (sunny!) Via Verde that runs along the other side of the river. (The Via Verde runs along the bed of the old mining railway.)

Very pleasant surroundings, we agreed, even without the unusual feature of a red river. We had it pretty much to ourselves too. Three illegal motorbikers passed us (just as we were standing by a 'no motor vehicles' sign bearing pictures of both a car and a motorbike) and, after we left the river to complete the circuit, two mountain bikers.

The 4km stroll I'd advertised to Mick turned out to be an 8.5km circuit, but definitely worth doing.

Here are a few snaps:

We had good intentions to walk into the village centre later in the day to see what was going on for Andalucia Day (posters had advertised various activities, although given that one of them (if we translated it correctly) was a sex education talk to adolescents, it seems it's not all fiesta-esque!). I'm not entirely sure what happened, but we failed to go out for the rest of the day.

We shall put that right now - aside from anything else, we have rubbish that needs to find a bin and the nearest bins are in the direction of the village.

Conrad: Sorry there have been so few food photos. Circumstances are conspiring against our usual eating out habits. Mick did take a snap of his (somewhat rustic) lunch yesterday, but I fear this is a poor substitute for a snap of a meal out!

Friday 24 February - Berrocal

Where's Bertie? He's at an Aire on the edge of the village of Berrocal. Exact location: 37.60665, -6.54427.
Weather: Wall-to-wall sunshine, except for a brief period with some cloud late afternoon. 4 degrees at sunrise and only rising to around 14.

It's Andalucia day on Tuesday - a public holiday hereabouts - and thus it's effectively a long weekend. Having experienced before how busy motorhome parking can get during holidays in Spain, we were focussed this morning on timing our arrival in Berrocal at around 1030. Having got away from La Palma del Condado in a timely manner, a remarkably wiggly road saw us gently climb first through grassy, rolling cow-filled pasture, then into sparse forest. Eventually, only about 7km before our destination (total journey: 32km), we started descending again, before the final small climb to Berrocal.

Even though what I knew about Berrocal made it appeal greatly to me, it seems it's not a popular spot: we arrived to find just one other van in residence and they left about ten minutes later.

A while later we set out for a look around the village. It's a small place, but very tidy and well presented.

S along the valley from a viewpoint by the village

Village street

Looking past the front of the church into the square.

See the people gathering in the last snap above? As soon as I'd taken the photo, one of them approached us. Had we been in the UK the purpose of the approach may well have been to admonish for taking a photo including children (yes, that has happened to me in the UK). Today it was to tell us that there was a flamenco thing about to happen in the Square.

We took a seat situated nicely in the sun and out of the wind and for the next while we baked whilst observing what I can only describe as an alfresco Zumba class with a flamenco twist.

We were just as interested in the lady in the doorway on the right, who we named 'Bathilda Bagshot'. After watching what was going on for a while, she disappeared indoors, then emerged with walking stick in one hand and a flimsy food bag in the other (slippers on her feet). Off she went somewhere, then returned with the bag full of eggs.

Flamencan Zumba?

Back at Bertie we decided to move him down to the dead-end road just below where we'd initially parked him, giving the benefit of this view from his door...

...and no shade in the morning when we will appreciate early solar gain through his cab windows (he didn't get the sun in his original spot until gone 11am, and it's forecast to be 4 degrees again tomorrow morning).

After lunch, a period of work before the laptop was stowed and we took a walk out to a viewpoint to the S of us. The view from there wasn't ideal, but another distance down a rough downhill track allowed us to see up the Rio Tinto:

We'll hopefully get a better view of the river tomorrow (as in, we'll descend all the way to it), but this snap probaly confirms how it got its name.

I did a bit of reading about said river today, and also about the big wild fire that devastated this immediate area in 2004, decimating the cork oak production and halving the population (through people no longer having a livelihood and moving away, not by death). Handy that I've been learning Spanish for the last three years, as I couldn't find any information about the latter in English.

Some information signs aren't very informative. No idea what bridge this was talking about (there wasn't one obviously nearby), and a bit of context to go with the mention of the English would have been useful.

Thursday 23 February - La Palma del Condado

Where's Bertie? He's still in the Aire at La Palma del Condado.
Weather: Wall-to-wall sunshine, but cooler (max 17) and with a fresh wind.

I am the chief planner, and that includes for walking and running routes, even if I'm not going to be partaking of them. Thus Mick set out this morning for a 10km circuit that I'd loaded onto the Gaia App on his phone, and onto his watch. Looking at the route, he questioned the fact that one section didn't seem to be on path or track, but as I'd downloaded it from a selection of 560+ routes put on Wikiloc by a local runner, who had clearly run it himself, Mick was prepared to give it a go.

He came back having thoroughly enjoyed himself.

The first thing the route did was to take him upwards, giving him a view back down to the town:

Some wide tracks...

...then took him to the 'pathless' section where it turned out a network of trods led him around the back of a motor test track/racing circuit:

Alas, he didn't take a snap of the significant water obstacle that he then had to tackle in the next dip. He reached the other side of it only to realise that he should have turned before it, and thus he had to renegotiate it in the other direction. 

Sand was a significant feature underfoot, but he agreed that more difficult surfaces are all good training.

Meanwhile in Bertie I'd taken a glance at a map and noticed another town 15km to the west of us that looked worth a visit, and I was minded that we should go there today. Mick was less keen, perhaps in part because all of his running tops absolutely honk and if we were going to stay here then laundry was on the agenda.

With the laundrette located in a pedestrian backstreet, off to the town square we headed for a quick coffee (the wash cycle was 33 minutes; the walk between laundrette and square about 3 minutes).

Mick went in to order (I'm trying not to share my lurgi with anyone) with instructions to choose a cake for me. As he was dithering over their fine display, the server suggested a particular item as a local speciality.

We did also have coffees, but they took a while to arrive, by which time we'd eaten the cakes.

We couldn't quite put our fingers on what the local speciality was. It looked like some sort of a fritter or flat, square donut soaked in syrup, but it had a texture more like egg custard. Whatever it was, I'd happily have another one.

I'm not sure we'd have sat at that outside table for much longer even if I didn't have a timer in my pocket counting down to the washing machine finishing its cycle. Don't be fooled by the fact that Mick is wearing shorts in that photo above - sitting in the shade it was chilly, even with a fleece and a light jacket each.

Back to the laundrette, a cycle in the drier, then back to Bertie for lunch followed by an afternoon of laptop bashing.

Onwards tomorrow to a location that I'm optimistic is going to be reasonably lumpy. The downside of inland + altitude is that it will be cooler, but I'm prepared to forego some warmth for a lumpy landscape. Mick is a little less convinced. We'll see how it goes...

Snapped on our way back from town. As we walked through the park on our way into town these geese, that had been in an enclosure yesterday, were guarding the main path. They really weren't happy to see us and they got so close in chasing us that I thought I was literally going to be goosed.

Wednesday 22 February - La Palma del Condado

Where's Bertie? He's at an Aire in the town of La Palma del Condado. Exact location: 37.38412, -6.55796.
Weather: Wall-to-wall sunshine, but a bit cooler (18 degrees).

Mick arrived back from his run this morning just in time to see me driving off. A bit alarming for him, as I'd assured him he didn't need to take a key and I would be there when he returned. He correctly surmised that I was only going to the service point, and that is indeed where he found me - getting ahead of the mid-morning rush.

Back to our parking spot for Mick to have his breakfast and get changed, then we were off. I'd been in two minds whether to include La Palma del Condado in our itinerary, as my main aim for the next few weeks is to find places with undulations, and I reckoned La Palma would be flat (in all honesty, I've not paid enough attention to the map to know that the other places I've put on the list will be lumpy; I'm just assuming that as we move further inland we will find hills), but as my legs are not quite ready for hills yet, it was to La Palma we came. First, though, we made another quick pit-stop at the same petrol station as we'd visited on our way into Umbrete.

It's normal at no-cashdesk petrol stations in Spain to have to nominate the value of fuel you want before you fill up. We've become accustomed to looking at the price per litre, working out how much capacity we have, and doing the calculation before going to the payment screen, and on Monday we wanted €80. The problem was that there was no option between €60 and €100 (there is also a 'full' option, but there's a reason we don't chose that one). So, on Monday we put €60 in, then this morning thought we may as well swing by to put the other €20. I'm sure the attendant recognised us, but he wasn't to know that we had only driven 2km between the two transactions.

It was only 40km to La Palma, so we were here by late morning, but having given Mick the choice of looking around before or after lunch, he chose the latter. We thus walked around a completely dead siesta-time town again. But, like Umbrete yesterday, what a smart place! The style of architecture didn't strike me as typically Spanish either, such that if I'd been abducted by aliens and dumped in La Palma, I wouldn't have immediately thought 'Oooh, I'm in Spain!'.

Typical town centre street - they like their wrought iron hereabouts.

First square we stumbled upon

Main square with another impressive church (closed)

Just around the corner - big imposing buildings in every direction.

Service Point at the Aire, complete with ET-bearing mural.

Tuesday 21 February - Umbrete

Where was Bertie? He spent a second night in the Aire at Umbrete.
Weather: Wall-to-wall sunshine and warm (22 degrees).

Good news: my quads were feeling much better. Bad news: my immune system isn't thanking me for Sunday's effort and for the first time in over three years, I have a cold.

I thus had a nice gentle start to my day whilst Mick went out to run a 10km route around the nearby olive plantations.

Back at Bertie, showers were preceded with the decision to pop a bit of extra water in Bertie's tank. A good job we did, as the first 15 litres (we were filling via a water container and funnel rather than moving Bertie to the service point) didn't move his tank off 'empty'. After a little bit of thought, we realised that the last time we put any in was on 11 February, and then we only filled to 60 litres. I think this says a lot about our level of cleanliness*...

I was just cleaning down the cubicle post showers, when I started hearing bits of a telephone conversation going on outside. Popping my head out of the shower room door, I asked Mick whether something was on fire, as one of our neighbours seemed to be talking to the emergency services and was describing a blaze. Sure enough, in the olive plantation in front of Bertie was a big plume of black smoke. Ten minutes of excitement ensued involving the police and the fire brigade. The latter had it extinguished within a couple of minutes of arriving.

Continuing our trend of only visiting towns when they're dead in the mid afternoon, after lunch we went for a look around Umbrete. What a smart place it is! My theory is that it's the proximity to Seville (commuter belt), meaning that there's more money there than in most places we visit.

The first square upon which we stumbled

Impressive church (but closed)

An Ermita and a Convent. All of these places had information signs outside

Having seen the town, there was nothing else to keep us in Umbrete, so we resolved to leave mañana.

^{(*I say that tongue in cheek. In the same way that we can wash a whole day's worth of dishes in less than a litre of water, it's amazing how little water you can get away with for a thorough flannel wash.)}

Monday 20 February - Umbrete

Where's Bertie? He's at an Aire a couple of kilometres away from the centre of the town of Umbrete. Exact location: 37.36889, -6.16812
Weather: Overcast but warm.

My first task having rolled out of bed this morning was to look at the options as to where we go next on this trip. I came up with enough places that, if we were to stay at all of them, and for the maximum 3 nights each, then we would well and truly miss our Chunnel back to the UK at the end of next month. The one I picked for today wasn't for any merit other than that it was close to Seville, so it was an easy hop that would leave us most of the day free to do some work.

With that settled, Mick grabbed his towel and took himself for a final shower before we left, only to return a few minutes later reporting that there was no water, not just in the shower, but anywhere on site. This was a minor inconvenience for us, as we were going somewhere with a service point, but more of an issue for those people in small vans without toilet facilities.

A short while later, we pulled up to the exit, paid our bill (no discount offered for the lack of facilities!) and headed the 1km to our first stop of the day: a supermarket.

The next stop was 5km further on (LPG at 99.9c/litre), then 1km (Decathlon - incredibly we've got four weeks through the trip without visiting a Decathlon. They didn't have the item we went in for, but we still managed to make a couple of purchases), then it was 12km before we dived into a petrol station, with Bertie's fuel light having come on during the drive here. It's a peculiarity in Spain that you'll have a cheap petrol station without a manned cash desk, yet there's still an attendant who will do the fuel-filling bit of the process for you, whilst you stand around wondering why you couldn't just do it yourself. Another kilometre, and at the Aire we arrived.

After yesterday's exertions, various bits of my body are sore today*, so other than walking around the supermarket, Decathlon and a few gentle laps of the Aire, I've not done anything. Hopefully my legs will feel sufficiently recovered tomorrow for us to take a look at the town.

^{(*The sore quads were expected, and I've certainly had them in a worse state than this. Unexpected was the bruise in the small of my back. I usually run with my phone in a pocket on the side of my leg, but the skirt I wore yesterday doesn't have that option, so I had it in a pocket on the back of the waist band. I've carried it there many times before, but now that I think about it, probably not for any great distances, and whilst it feels like it's held securely and not bouncing, there must have been enough movement to leave a bruise.)}

Sunday 19 February - Maratón de Sevilla

Where's Bertie? He remains unmoved in the Aire in Seville.
Weather: Mainly overcast, with just a bit of sunshine in the middle of the day. 14 to 24 degrees.

I've long felt that I ought to run a marathon at least once in my life. Indeed, I selected one in 2019 and duly trained for it. It was due to take place in April 2020 when, of course, nothing took place.

Seville Marathon is rather a contrast to the one I originally intended to do (12000 runners vs 400; flat tarmac vs not flat trail), but after Mick ran here last year I could see its benefits. In particular, the logistics are really easy, in that the Aire is within easy walking (and even easier cycling) distance of the start/finish.

Thus, at 0730 this morning, an hour before the start, I was still sitting around in my pyjamas. I left Bertie at 0800 and, in hindsight, I could have waited another ten minutes as it only took me about 5 minutes to get to the start (Mick had set out earlier, as he was on foot at that point, whilst I took the bike).

Fourteen degrees said the two thermometers at the start. With a bit of a breeze, it felt like a good temperature for a run.

The crush to get through the gates into the starting pens had me fearing for my life, but once through there was plenty of space. Curiously, even though I'd been able to hear the tannoy announcements from Bertie before I set out, once in the starting pens I heard nothing. Thus, the first indication that the race had started was when those in front of me shuffled forward. It took just under 5 minutes to get across the start line.

Mick cheered me on, handed me gels, and filled up my water bottle (handy to have a small bottle, even though drinks stations were frequent) at 12km, 22km, 27km and 36km.

He also snapped a photo of me at 12km as the route crossed a bridge, back to the E side of the river.

By 36km I was ready to be done and moaned that running 42.2km on flat roads is harder than covering 130km on technical trails in 24hrs.

I'd set out with two targets:
1) to enjoy myself;
2) if compatible with (1), to run under 4hr30.

I failed on both - but only marginally. On the plus side, I didn't hate the experience (unlike the Tissington Half, of which I hated just about every step), but nor did I enjoy it (as I did Thunder Run 24hr last year). My finish time was a bit annoying, in that I was still on target at 39km, when I started getting cramp in my calfs. I was moving fine between bouts of cramp, but then would have to stop, stretch and carry on. I would have had some salt tablets with me, if I could have located in what safe spot I'd stored them for the trip (probably along with the missing foot cream).

So, maybe if I'd had the salt tabs, the last 3km would have gone better. Maybe if I hadn't had shingles (followed by a thigh strain, no doubt due to all the time spent sitting around with shingles) and lost some training, the last few km would have gone better. I'll never know, but certainly if I'd been more diligent with my strength work I'd have been in a better place.

I crossed the finish line in 4hr32, so not far off target (2). Close enough, I think, to not feel that a rematch is essential.

Having crossed the finish line, I promptly lost the ability to breathe. It's been so long since that last happened (2019) that it hadn't occurred to me that it may return to plague me (in the absence of having a card in my pocket telling anyone concerned that I wasn't having an asthma attack, and the worst that would happen is that I might faint (at which point my pharynx would unspasm, or so a doctor once reassured me), it's a shame I didn't have Mick to hand).

A minute or so later, I was fine again. A medal was put around my neck, then I found the goody-bag giver-outerer (mainly drinks, including a beer, plus the obligatory orange, because we are in Spain), and a couple of hundred metres later I was out of the finish area where Mick was located exactly where he was supposed to be.

Reunited with Mick, medal around my neck, clutching a banana.

Same snap but facing the other way, with the thermometer behind me reading 25 degrees. Most others I'd seen on my way to the finish said 24 degrees. 

It seems that I'm far from the only runner staying at the Aire. I was fourth lycra-clad woman in the queue for the shower when I wandered over there a while later. The water wasn't even pretending to be tepid today.

Verdict: I'm happy to have 'run a marathon' ticked off the to-do list, and Seville's course has great merit, taking in many of the best sights of the city, although I can think of better ways to sightsee!

I'm also now pretty convinced, as many have reported before me, that off-road ultra distance events are easier than road marathons. Aside from the variation in foot fall in the former, the longer off-road distances tend to involve plenty of walking in amongst the running.

Alas, I'm now in limbo, as the 24-hour event that was next on my agenda has just been cancelled, and I've not decided on what I'm going to do next instead.

These chaps were done and on their way for a roast dinner by the time I crossed the halfway mark!

Friday & Saturday 17-18 February - Seville

Where's Bertie? He's in an Aire, in the port on the S side of Seville, where he also spent 4 nights at this time last year. The price has increased since then from €12 to €14 per night (electricity is available for an extra fee).
Weather: Fri: Mainly overcast, some sun, very windy, but warm. Sat: Cloudy start with a couple of brief showers, clearing to sunshine by late morning. Warm.

Last year we arrived in Seville on the Thursday, only to then realise that the location for collecting Mick's marathon race number was 10km away across the city. I went by bike to pick it up on the Friday morning. This year we took the race number logistics into account, arriving in Seville a day later, allowing us to swing by the exhibition centre on our way.

I'd identified a huge Bertie-friendly car park (the access road proved less Bertie-friendly, but he made it through) a kilometre away from the exhibition centre. There I left Mick and Bertie, set off on foot, arriving within minutes of the doors opening. Five minutes later, I was on my way back to Bertie, having profited from last year's experience and knowing exactly where I was going (and being blinkered to the stalls and activities that lay between the entrance and the collection desks). 

Onwards then to the Aire, situated in a big car yard, which is still as unattractive as it was last year, but it serves its purpose well. For most people, that means going into Seville for a look around. For the second year in a row, it's likely we won't do any touristing, except for that done by Mick on his run tomorrow and me on the marathon route on Sunday.

The less eyebrow-raising of the two electric hook-up points at the Aire. We've not partaken of this offering.

Saturday

Whilst Mick went out to run 24km along the river, amongst hundreds of other runners, and with plenty of activity on the water to entertain him too, I did a bit of organising. My kit is all layed out for tomorrow and Mick's phone now has the marathon route marked on two different mapping Apps, plus he's got pins in Google Maps telling him where he's going to cheer me on with notes on how far through the route those places are.

Snapped by Mick during his run. The building site on the right used to be a car park and is where we stayed in Colin-the-Motorhome back in 2016.

I also got the bike out of the boot for the first time on this trip, for Mick to use tomorrow, and having pumped its tyres I thought I may as well put it to good use by cycling, rather than walking, the 1km to the supermarket to pick up some salmon for tea. 

Mick got back just as the day was getting toasty, and not long later off I went for my final pre-marathon jogette. I headed over to the start/finish area, where a thermometer in the street told me it was 24 degrees (although not shaded). The forecast for tomorrow morning says it's going to start at a pleasant 12 degrees then build to 22.

My mid-run snap

Back at the Aire we confirmed simultaneously that the water temperature in the showers here hasn't improved from last year. Our showers were both short by virtue of the temperature being on the cold side of tepid.

Thursday 16 February - Osuna

Where's Bertie? He's still at the Aire in Osuna.
Weather: A few clouds building for a short while mid-afternoon, but otherwise wall-to-wall sunshine. 20 degrees.
Mick ran relatively early this morning. I waited until the day had warmed up (in the interests of last-minute heat acclimatisation, having seen Sunday's weather forecast). Then it was lunch time, then there was a bit more work to be done (I'd already tap-tapped away whilst Mick had been out). Finally, at around 2pm, it was time for us to head out to have a look at Osuna. Bad planning really, as we should know by now that mid-afternoon = deserted town. That doesn't detract from the architecture though, and there's lots to see in Osuna, even if the majority is of a religious bent.
We didn't have to go very far before we started spotting information signs
Buildings spotted down side-streets drew us to them. This one now houses the courts. 
On the edge of the main square, this sign told us that Calle Tia Mariquita is one of the town's most picturesque streets. We walked five sides of the square before we found it about twenty paces away from this sign:
Hmmm. This is Calle Tia Mariquita. In what way is this picturesque?!
This is looking left from the end of the allegedly picturesque street. A far more appealing place, no?
Up was then the direction to a huge church of which I failed to take a snap, but this is the view from outside.And in another direction
And a selfie to celebrate the fact that we've finally got some t-shirt weather!
Behind the church was the historic university and as its door was open we nipped in for a look at the courtyard. It was the only building we found to be open, having hit the closed-for-siesta period of 1430-1600.
Outside the historic university building.
Another square with another huge church. There's no lack of churches, convents, monasteries and hermitages in this town. 
Verdict: it's a really nice town and well worth spending a couple of hours wandering around (more if some of the visitable locations are open). There's quite a few way-marked walks hereabouts too (we ran out and back on one of the nearby Petit Randonees this morning), so if we were passing by, we'd happily stay here again to explore further.
^{(News from the Aire, which emptied out by mid-morning and has since gradually been filling back up, is that some ignorant twat was today apparently confounded by the (completely standard, by Spanish design) service point and rather than tipping their toilet waste down the sewer hatch, they poured it down the grid below the fresh water tap. It didn't go down the restricted drain there, so spilled all across the surrounding area. Even if it started as an honest mistake (and I struggle to see how that could happen), you must be the most selfish breed of ignorant twat (sorry for the repetition; I'm struggling to come up with a different description) to continue to pour your toilet waste when it starts spilling. I bet they rinsed their cassette with the fresh water tap too, rather than the one on the other side of the pilar (that lies immediately above the sewer hatch). Fortunately, there's a drinking water tap out on the street, so that's where we've filled our bottles. We've since seen some kind motorhomer hosing the area down.)}