Riding from the rain in Spain (it's a pain!)

To anyone planning a cycle tour, ever: If it rains just one day of your tour, you will wish you spent the extra money on waterproof panniers. Especially if you are camping.

We rode for about 3 weeks without even seeing a cloud in the sky. Steve even started saying things like "y'know, a little rain might be nice" as we slathered on the sunscreen and sweated onwards. The first indication of a weather change came one night a couple of days ride out of Granada, as we set up camp in the mountains just outside of Riogordo. We watched the clouds pouring over top of the limestone peaks like water from a bucket, the alpine climbers inside of us screaming "run!". All the panniers got pulled off the bikes and stuffed inside the tent, making for a very cozy night inside our superlight shelter. But in the morning, though the clouds kept threatening, no rain came!

We pushed onwards, thinking we had outridden the storm, and had a nice dry night outside of El Chorro after having a beer in the local climbers bar. The next morning, we rode less than 3km before the skies opened up. And I mean completely opened up! It was like standing under a high pressure shower, the thunder and lightning rolling together into one big rumbly flash. Luckily, we found a section of cave overhanging the road with just enough ditch to house two bikes and us, just in time to stay dry.

The hiding cave, just before the skies opened completely

For the next 3 hours we huddled in that ditch, waiting to see if it would at least lighten up enough for us to make a move. Cars zoomed by, most waving at us sympathetically, one even stopping to offer us a poncho! It eventually became clear that this storm wasn't going anywhere, and we were getting cold, so out came the giant grey garbage-bag-like square ponchos that serve as our emergency rain gear. They definitely aren't the most "streamlined" fit! I really wish I had a picture of us two billowy poncho ghosts on wheels riding into the storm, but it was much too miserable to take my camera out. The ride into the next town was also pretty miserable as I tried not to think about how wet my everything was getting.

It seems like the next week was spent running (or rolling) from the rain. One night in Ronda it poured for a solid 15 hours, keeping us huddled in the tent until after noon. Every day we would ride towards the section of blue sky up ahead, only to be rained on by the darkness above us. On our last night in Spain, we slept on a hillside near the port of Algeciras and didn't even try to keep things dry when it started raining-we just went to sleep in the mud and let it rain on all our clothes and gear. I had hit the point of not caring. We'll dry out in Africa, right?

The view of the port from our hillside in Algeciras

Well, 6 days later, and after more rain near Tetouan; we're finally dry. And I only had to throw away one tank top that had molded beyond saving. Not much of a loss considering Morocco is no place for tank tops... but I'll write more about that later. For now, we've finally outridden the rain, dried out the panniers, and are back to roasting in the hot Moroccan sun.

A stormy night in the mountains outside of Ronda