The Spanish Inquisition

Granada – Hostal Sierra de Baza, Spain

I guess I never spent much time pondering Spain. I mean, I knew a few things about the Iberian penninsula. There was the Spanish Inquisition. I assume that happened around here. But what was it all about? Witches or something? I guess I should know because I took a bunch of European history. But Spain was always kind of on the periphery really . . .

Don Quixote was Spanish. But, to be honest, we haven’t seen a single wind mill since we’ve been here. 

Did the Spanish commission Christopher Columbus to find the Indies or India by sailing to the west? I think that’s right. The Spanish were moving and shaking back then – discovering the new world at the same time they were banishing the Moors. Who knew? 

And then, later, there was the Spanish Armada. I think they gathered a whole bunch of ships, sent them up to wallop the Brits – probably because the English were no longer Catholics – or for some very good reason like that – but the Spanish ended up getting walloped themselves. Is that right? And the fact that the British won, does that prove that God was on their side? All our favorite sports stars seem to think that God plays a big role in their victories – so why not? 

Modern Spain. They have some pretty good tennis players. Nadal, Alcaraz, Sanchez-Vicario.

I think they have good bikers as well. Indurain. I guess he was a while back – when I used to pay some attention to the Tour de France – before the world figured out that it was like doping central . . . 

Anyway, based on the number of riders we saw today, Spain has to be a biking power now. I mean, we must have seen hundreds of people out. Lots of old men on e-bikes. But there were some serious riders as well – including half-a-dozen super-fit-looking folks with NORGE kits. Guessing they are Norwegian national team people down here for a training camp or something. 

Oh, but I skipped the most exciting part. Caves. Some of the earliest cave paintings were found in Spain. And today we rode through an area where half the people live in caves even today. I guess the particular soil and rock type around here makes it so the caves are not all humid and musty all the time. And the caves have a constant temperature of around 67 degrees Fahrenheit – making them pretty nice when it’s really hot in the summer. 

Sadly, we didn’t have an opportunity to actually go in one of these dark dwellings, but they look pretty cool.

Sorry. I started out with the idea that I would tell you how we had very few pre-conceived notions of Spain. Which is true. I guess I thought it was really arid – kind of like Mexico. And maybe not bring interesting. But that was about the extent of my thoughts on the subject. 

Boy, the reality is a lot different. Mountains. Greenery. Olives and almonds growing everywhere. Flowers blooming. Changing landscapes. Castles. Beautiful biking.

Bottom line – Spain is pretty darn nice!

Nice as it is, though, we are, I guess, Spanish lawbreakers already. Pulled over by the police and everything . . .

We started riding from Granada this morning with the idea of making it to a campground at around 65 miles. On the longer side, for sure. But, as per usual, it was not the distance that was the problem. It was the climbing. Lots and lots of climbing.

All good, though. We really enjoyed the ascent out of Granada. Super beautiful. With one of those mountain lakes with the striking blue color. And lots of friendly bikers along the way. 

But by the time we went over the first big mountain pass we were tired – and we still had maybe 35 miles to go. So we decided to take a little short cut . . . Well, not exactly a short cut. We would just hop on the autovia (essentially Spanish highway) for a little while. More direct. Less up and down. And, when the wind is at our back – like it was today – we can cover some quick miles on roads like this (kind of like Ruta 5 is Chile).

So it’s almost like a short cut . . .

After we biked a while on the Autovia, Diana said she thought it was funny that we were just blowing right through the “No Bikers” sign.

This was confusing for me. 

I pointed out that there was a sign that specifically allows cycling – and walking and tractors – on the highway. 

“But the sign is red. Don’t you think that means that none of those things are allowed?” 

“Yes, it’s red, but there’s no line through the biking and walking,” I countered. 

But as soon as I said it, I knew . . . “Hmm. That makes sense that red means not allowed . . . I was wondering why there was a sign that specifically allowed all these things on the highway . . . Seemed kind of weird . . .”

Still, we were already going. Not much to do until the next exit. And, anyway, we had just decided to skip the campground and take the fast road to the nearest hotel – about 8 miles down the Autovia – so we were committed . . . 

Cars are honking at us now. 

Have I mentioned that I hate breaking rules? I know, I know – it seems like I have a Picasso-like personality (Picasso! There’s another Spanish thing that I knew about before this trip . . .) – all don’t paint inside the lines and everything. But it turns out that I’m just a terrible artist . . . there’s no intent there . . . The paint just kind of spills out of sloppiness… I’m really pretty straight and narrow, really. I guess I inherited that from my Mom. I’m not sure she has broken a rule in her life . . . (My Dad and I tease her about this, but she’s a pretty amazing person actually. She might not break rules, but when she doesn’t think they’re right she works pretty darn hard to have them changed…)

Anyway, now that I know we’re not supposed to be on the Autovia I’m looking for a way off of the road. Diana – she doesn’t care – it makes absolutely no difference to her that she’s outside the lines; as long as the road is faster, and “we’re not hurting anything” she would rather just keep going – but, nonetheless, we agree to take the next exit.  

Right around this time a police car passes us. 

“I guess they don’t care,” Diana says. “They didn’t even slow down . . .”

We continue toward the exit. But as we approach,  I see that there’s a car parked on the ramp that leads off of the highway. 

”Hmm. There’s your police car,” I tell Diana.

Sure enough, as we approach an officer gets out of the car and waves us over. 

He tells us about 47 times that biking is not allowed on this road. 

“It . . . Is . . . Very . . . Dangerous,” he says. (He’s super careful with his English, which is much better than he seems to think it is.)

“Biking . . . Is . . . Not . . . Allowed.”

”Si, si,” I say. “We’ll get off.” And I point to the exit.

As I said, I hate being a rule breaker. The only thing I hate more is having an authority figure tell me I’m breaking the rules . . .

Diana – she doesn’t care. Doesn’t bother her a bit . . .

But after Officer Slow Annunciation is finished telling us we can’t bike on the road for the 32nd time, we head for the exit. 

Now we’re taking the service road next to the highway. Wouldn’t be that bad – except we are, by this time, tired and hungry. And the road varies between terrible pavement and, even worse, ripio. Also, instead of an easy-to-follow, steady grade, the service road is up and down, it twists and turns, it dead ends randomly – leaving us to figure out that we need to take a tunnel under the highway to continue. All in all, not ideal. 

Fortunately, this only goes on for a few miles before we reach our new destination: the Hostal Sierra de Baza. It’s weird – like so many roadside/truckstop type places. Taxidermy all over the place. Wild boars. Giant deer. That type of thing. 

And a giant, half-built building next door – with an abandoned parking lot in the basement. Of course, being half built isn’t that strange – except that this place looks like it’s been half-built for about 37 years. I guess maybe they started the construction before they realized they didn’t need to construct a new version of Telemark Lodge in this particular location . . . I mean there isn’t even skiing around here . . .

So now we’re enjoying our little home for the night. Hoping we’ll find a campsite tomorrow. Of course, that will necessitate somehow escaping the hostel without biking on the highway – which may be a difficult task because there is nothing here but the highway and the service road – such that it is . . .

Alright – now for some post-Google-Search updates on Spain . . .

The Spanish Inquisition was not about witches. Or at least that was not the main point. The idea was to wipe out heresy. And, I guess, back then there was lots of heresy in Spain. There were all the Muslims – left over from when the Moors ruled. Supposedly many of them moved into caves in this area in order to avoid the inquisition. And there were lots of Jews as well. 

The Spanish – and their co-conspirators in the Catholic Church – were, I guess, ruthless. They tortured people that they suspected of heresy. Killed them too. Especially if they refused to renounce their Judaism or Islam. All throughout Spain and in Mexico.

Three hundred plus years of Christian love . . .

So crazy how brutal the world was. Now, I know that the world seems brutal now as well. And it is. But, really, as I understand it we are still enjoying what is probably the most peaceful and prosperous era of human history. (On this topic, you should read the book Sapiens – by Yuval Noah Hararri – if you haven’t already. Great book. Among other things, talks at length about how much less brutish the world is now than ever before . . . (It was written before the Ukraine war and the Palestinian conflict so maybe a little less accurate, but the general point still stands, I think: there is not as much disease, and torture and brutishness are not what they once were…))

After all, if you think about it, there aren’t that many times in human history that a couple like us could travel through all of Central and South America, through Morocco and into Spain and Europe without encountering a single war, or, really, any act of violence along the way. 

Even today’s version of the Inquisition was pretty peaceful. Nice officer. No torture. Didn’t throw us off of a bridge or anything. Just told us to take the ripio – over and over again. Not that bad, really. So civilized these days . . .

Although I think it would have been another matter if we really thought we could bike on the highway. Pretty sure I would have argued the point:

“But there’s no line through the bike, so biking is clearly allowed.”

“You must renounce your highway heresy!”

“I can’t do it. I won’t do it. There’s no line…”

“Okay. Off the bridge with you.”

Diana? She would immediately tell the officer that she agreed, bikers are not allowed… She’s much too practical to care about principles like this…

Hopefully we keep the no-violence-along-the-way record intact tomorrow. 

Doesn’t seem like there are any more big exciting cities or castles until we reach Valencia, but if every day is as beautiful and fun as today we’ll be in good shape. And if you are aware of more exciting things we should check out, let us know . . .