To Albarracin

Targasonne should have been a three day stop over, but on the second day the heavens opened and we where drenched in snow. Snuggled up in a local bar over the Plat de Jour of Tripe stew (it was pretty good, only the last bit looked a bit too much like a pig’s intestine) and free internet the conclusion was inevitable; lets head straight to Albarracin. So we left those amazing lines of Targasonne and headed south through a very wet Spanish Pyrenees and down to Albarracin. Yet another massive 8 hours of driving, although this was more eventful, we had the celebrations of achieving a whopping 50miles to the Gallon, meaning the less fuel the van drinks the more we can drink. But within in sight of Albarracin we couldn’t change gear. My clutch just wouldn’t work. I managed to get the car going by starting it in gear and could just change between them, so we crawled the last miles, in the centre of Albarracin I couldn’t even change anything and we cruised to a halt in a parking bay two miles short of our goal.

The parking (camping) at Albarracin

There was nothing for it but to sleep in the van and see what we could sort out the next day, neither of us being mechanics we could only guess and hope it was just the clutch cable that had gone. The next morning our limited Spanish was put to the test, we ascertained there was a mechanic one kilometre down the road and headed off with some hope. At the garage a young mechanic asked us to wait for the boss who on arrival whisked us back up to the van to have a look. He immediately diagnosed the problem; we had a small brake fluid leak which also powered the clutch. A fill up, another bump start and we were back in business with only a thirty-two euro bill, most of which was for the extra can of brake fluid we bought encase of further leakage. Our broken Spanish had prevailed and we had a good hour of amusement watching the mechanics repeatedly getting into the wrong side of the van to drive. The hardest bit of the whole job was when the mechanic dropped the cap to the brake fluid tank into the engine and the younger mechanic was sent for to try and fish it out.

The snow and roof of Albarracin

The mechanic reckoned the clutch should now be fine till be get back to England, but to check the brake fluid occasionally. So a day later than planned we finally arrived at the bouldering of Albarracin. We thought the snow had been deep up in the Pyrenees, but here it was nearly a foot in places and very cold. We knew that Albarracin was high at 1300m, but didn’t expect this much snow, especially in April. The snow has meant a lot of the problems where wet, but we found an amazing roof section to while away the afternoon on, including the first 7C of the trip.
One thing you also start to realise about life on the road, especially a trip like this in Spring, is that when things aren’t perfect life can get pretty boring. Life revolves around sleeping, eating, climbing, eating, reading, climbing, eating and then sleeping. It’s cold and damp outside so almost all of the above except the climbing is done in the van. It’s the little things that get you through the day, the enjoyment of a good book, making sure the cheese and sausage of lunch is good and trying on a limited budget to cook a descent dinner. Tonight’s delicacy of Spanish sausages and ham in red wine and tomato sauce with veg and potatoes was particularly good. But tomorrows will be the left over sauce with some extra veg with rice and if we’re unlucky so will the next days. It’s not all glamorous on the road.