Porto Pollo

At the end of yesterday's ride, I was completely spent. After stashing my bike, I more or less collapsed in the hallway, next to my luggage, until I learned my room number. Two women (other guests) regarded me with some disdain as they passed.

I have certainly completed longer rides. I have completed rides that entailed more climbing. For some reason, Saturday's ride took a lot out of me.

I had absolutely no intention of riding the next day.

A good night's sleep made all the difference.

In earlier times, our inn had been a mill where they pressed olive oil. We were out in the countryside; the closest town was nine miles away.

Porto Pollo, and its beach, beckoned. It helped that the road to the coast followed the river, and was essentially flat.

We had the place nearly to ourselves, even though it was a warm weekend day. It is the off-season, and the locals must be busy with the routines of daily life. We found a spot of shade near some trees, floated and splashed and swam in the sea, and had a nice lunch at a beachfront café.

In other words, we enjoyed a relaxing day, one that would be typical for many a vacationing tourist along the Mediterranean. Except that our version required 18 miles of bicycling, with a whopping 250 feet of vertical ascent.

Tomorrow, we will return to our regular vacation routine.