 We reluctantly left behind Lagos to catch a train to the border with Spain. Lagos was a beautiful coastal town with lots of small cafes, bars, and clubs – a little pocket of Portugal where the first language is English. Although it’s off-season the atmosphere was still fun and we met some interesting locals. The train system was a little confusing, but we eventually found a place in an open door cargo bay with our bikes. Two trains and a boat trip across the border later, we were in Spain.
We had to travel 20Kms in an hour, before nightfall, to get to Huelva to catch a train to Seville. After just 300 metres Sam noticed that my back wheel was badly buckled. A spoke had snapped. We stopped to fix the spoke only to realise that I had neither of us had a spare spoke and even if we did have one, we didn’t know how to replace it. With the light quickly fading I tried fixing the wheel while Sam rode a mercy mission into the town centre to get us some spare spokes. With the thoughts of Portugal I had little hope of Sam finding a bike shop, but remarkably he did. With some ingenuity we somehow got the spoke in place and trued-up the wheel, well almost.
By the time we set out it was dark and Garmi was now telling us that we had to ride 50Kms, not 20Kms. With little other option we got spinning. At first there was the slight glow of the sunset, but it quickly turned into blackness. We could see little except for what we could make out in the moonlight or the approaching car’s headlights. At one point on a dark highway Sam hit a large stone that got stuck in his tyre. He stopped to remove it, but I didn’t notice him slowing down and I careered into the back of him, pushing his bike onto the near lane. He quickly recovered to stop 10 metres ahead, but unfortunately, my bike threw me sideways. There were no cars coming from behind and as I got thrown from the bike I rolled on the bitumen along the white line. A little shaken I moved off as far as I could to the side of the road to check all my arms and legs were still attached! Sam was a little shaken and came quickly to see if I was ok. A traffic jam of cars in the other direction was lining up to see the carnage, but unfortunately for them we were both fine. We both apologised numerous times and got back on the bikes.
 With great expectations we did eventually get to Huevla. We found the train station and from what we could make out there was a train departing in an hour for Seville. We waited the hour, cold and hungry, only to find that the train wasn’t going to Seville but arriving FROM Seville. The next train was the following day at 7am. We got ourselves to a hostel and in French/English/Spanish (Frengrish) got a room for the night and to sleep at about 2am. We both hope tomorrow is more fun.
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 Sevilla is going on my list of cities-that-I-could-definitely-live-in. After parking our stuff Saturday afternoon we set off for a lap around town without the heavy panier bags. We did a city tour on the cheap following a tourist bus, saw troops of mountain bikers jumping down flights of stairs, rock climbers scaling bridges, some great city art and we found the greatest bakery ever.
 Today was even better. Beautiful buildings, orange trees lining every street, vast squares with bars spilling out and people mingling, tapas restaurants, concerts in the streets, and a second trip to the greatest bakery ever. It just feels cool here. Sevilla, me gustas tú.
We’re back on the road tomorrow, Malaga here we come.
 We needed to start putting in some big days. It was 240 or so kilometres to Malaga. We planned to do 100Kms on this day and get to Osuna, but we started early and got a good head start. We travelled 20Kms before we ate breakfast on the side of a country road out of seville, where the air was smelling like manure and blowing a frosty breeze across the olive plantations.
It’s no surprise that when you cover a lot of kilometres you see a lot of things, mainly a lot of dead things. We came across a hundred dead rats, cats (three times), dogs, birds, and rabbits. A sad reminder of how these country roads can effect the local environment.
 Early in the piece we had a big downhill where Lachlan took a massive wrong turn and had to peddle all the way back up! For most of the day we were cycling into headwinds but Lach saw a tractor in the distance and had the idea to catch it up and let it pull us along in its slipstream for a couple of k’s. It was a great idea which saved our legs and helped us ride at 27Km\hr without raising a sweat! All in all, it was a long tiring day of riding but we never cease to be amazed by all the small towns, huge plantations and wonderful views. When we got to Osuna, we thought that if we put in another 20+ Kms we would have an easy day tomorrow. So off we went to El Saucejo.
I tried out some spanish to find a place to camp, but of course we couldn’t really understand the response. A few kids tried to buy our spare tyres and we eventually set up the tent under an olive tree. Without asking the owner of the plantation we were unsure if we were able to sleep there or not. We were both incredibly tired and decided to stay anyway. We ate about 50 sandwiches each and passed out at about 7.30. It was fricken freezing!
 We woke this morning to the sound of a farmer on his tractor. Wondering if he had seen our tent we quickly packed our things and got cycling. There were no crowds with pitch-forks so we assumed he either didn’t see us, or didn’t care. We rode to a village called Almargen to have breakfast. The work we did up-hill the day before paid off and we got there quickly. Breakfast in the warm sun in the middle of the village attracted some attention. A (probably crazy) old man in a wheel chair tried speaking Spanish at us, but we understood about 0.2% of what he was saying. We showed him the map hoping he might be able to give us an indication as to where we should travel to get to Malaga, but all he could say was “Malaga, Malaga”. We left and relied on Garmi for our expert advice.
 Out of Almargen we cycled up-hill for what seemed like an eternity. Finally we reached a peak of the mountains just out of Teba and from there it was almost all downhill to Malaga. I hit 70Kms\hr before the speed wobbles gave my brain the idea to stop peddling. Sam was a little more wise and took in more scenery going down the hills. It can be a little hairy when large trucks pass by. As they approach they suck you towards them, and after they pass, they push you away.
We spent the afternoon traversing the streets of Malaga trying to find an appropriate hostel without 50,000 stairs leading up to the front door! We eventually found a great little hostel near some bars which we are contemplating on staying in for an extra day…
PS Don’t eat olives directly off the tree, they taste awful.
 We spent the day walking throughout the beautiful city of Malaga… actually we spent the morning walking throughout Malaga, the afternoon we enjoyed ourselves with a few good scotchs in a few bars and pubs.
I’ve been to Malaga briefly before, but I hadn’t seen the sights. What a wonderfully crafted city steeped in a generous amount of (probably arab?) heritage. We enjoyed getting lost in a maze of winding streets in the old section of town with detailed buildings from a bygone era. I understand where Picasso may have  got some of his inspiration from, or maybe it was just the cheap booze?
We eventually got to bed at 1am with the intention of rising at 7am to do 100Kms the next morning. At this stage we were both in denial at the fact that we had 5 days of 100Kms riding per day ahead of us.
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