Being down to my last two meals and not wanting raid Jean’s larder, (lean as it is) I decided to go in search of food. The very nice Frenchman next door assured me of a small shop 4km up the road in the next town (he was wrong but close).
As I set off (on the wrong side of the road) a flock (I suppose that would be a peloton) of cyclists streaked down the road.
This was the flavour of the whole day – I had unwittingly stumbled upon one of the most popular cycling climbs in the region. Further up the hill a ‘peloton?’ of about ten touring cyclists sped down – all weighed down by panniers like mine (although not for me today, being out shopping and travelling light). They all seemed to be the same difficult / dangerous age as me and nearly all blokes.
I found the shop two towns further up the pass. Its fare included wine at Euro 1.25 a bottle and everything else I needed but for the elusive camping gaz with screw top. Even nicer everyone I spoke in town seemed to catch what I said first time and replied in lovely clear Spanish.
Having got that far up the pass I decided to go for the summit. On the way I actually passed a lycra clad fellow of my similar difficult age on a racing bike, I gave him the benefit of doubt that he did not have the low ‘granny gear’ that I had. I never saw him again – perhaps he was having a coronary somewhere behind / below me but being stoic about it.
A bit further up my speedo registered by first 100km. By the time I reached the top (cima) of the pass (that would ‘col’) the rain had set in and my downhill run was a cold and soggy affair. 
On the way down I spotted an information board relating to the cave paintings walk and Eight Villages walk in the surrounding mountains. I wonder I never heard of this gem of a place before – Erehwon - certainly the nicest part of Spain I have ever come across.
