Cycling 2750km from Belgium to Spain (Ep. 20)

All Music by “Under the Skin”: https://open.spotify.com/artist/0AvLxd0MOteC026aTgu8KX
Intro music by NRA lab, Audio File ID: 119647
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From freezing mornings that send us diving back into our sleeping bags, to downhill rides that feel like cycling through a wind tunnel, today was a test of layers, grit, and numb fingers. Along the way, we met Hans—a man who has already walked 10,000 km from Stockholm to Spain and still plans to cross oceans on foot. His story makes our shivering descent feel like a luxury. We pedal through Soria, a land where pigs roam oak forests, acorns shape the flavor of jamón ibérico, and villages with towering churches stand almost empty. By evening, we pitch our tent in what seemed like a peaceful clearing, only to discover a pig farm just behind the trees. A cloud of flies and an army of ants greet us as we cook salmon with vegetables and rice, but the north wind soon sends them packing. Surrounded by the perfume of pigs and the glow of a golden sunset, we end a long, cold, beautiful day on the road—reminded once again that travel is never glamorous, but always worth it.

Hey everyone, we are Lean and Whim, a couple from Belgium. We have set out on an epic cycling journey from Belgium all the way down to the southern tip of Spain, over 2,750 km in 32 days. Join us in our video diary as we ride through stunning landscapes, tackle challenges, and experience all the surprises along the way. Subscribe and hop on for the ride of a lifetime. [Music] [Music] [Music] A couple of days ago, we overheard some pilgrims on their way to Santiago de Compostella talking about a cold front heading towards Spain. A newspaper article confirmed it. The first snow was indeed expected in some regions of Spain. We had already felt its arrival over the past few days. Sharp, biting winds from the north, giving us an early warning. Just last night, as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon, that icy wind drove us straight into our tent. Temperatures dropped to near freezing overnight. Because we climbed so high yesterday, today starts with a descent, which means even colder. The wind cuts deeper as we pick up speed downhill. My body tenses, locking itself into the saddle. Not even back in Paris with my worst saddle source did I sit this stiffly on a bike. Who would have thought I’d be nearly begging for gloves on this journey to southern Spain? But we don’t have any, so we grit our teeth and bear it. [Music] In the first village we come across Metalleras. We stop at a gas station to toss our garbage. That’s where we meet Hunts, a somewhat scruffy looking man who set off on foot from Stockholm 2 years ago bound for the Northgape. His story is written on the part he pulls behind him. After reaching that goal, he decided to continue through Belgium and France to Spain, where we now find him. From here, he plans to cross the Atlantic to Argentina, passed through Ushaya, and eventually reach Alaska. Just yesterday, he celebrated his 10,000 km on foot. An incredible feat. He expects to reach 80,000 km before his journey ends. So, yes, he’ll be walking a while longer. If you’d like to know more about Hans and his story, check out his Facebook page, Soy Hans, [Music] we continue on one of the few asphalt roads this region has to offer. And because paved roads are rare here, this one’s busy, mostly with heavy trucks. They push us tight against the right hand shoulder. The road climbs again, which luckily helps us warm up. Bit by bit, Vim starts peeling off his thousand layers like an onion shedding its skin. [Music] [Music] a Plateau stretches out before us, wide and hushed. After the crowded roads of this morning, the silence here feels almost like a gift. From the side of the road, a bark startles us. A dog chained so short he can barely move, throwing all his energy into those 2 m of freedom. We pedal on, wishing him a kinder life than his chain suggests. Heat. Heat. [Music] [Music] [Music] [Applause] [Music] Heat up here. [Music] [Music] In the distance we can see the mountains of the park natural Monao, they rise to more than 1,500 m. We ourselves are already at about 1,000 m, though you’d hardly guess it while riding across the flat expanse of the plateau. [Music] [Music] [Music] [Music] As we ride across the plateau, the landscape opens into fields of sunflowers. They thrive here in the dry continental climate, often without a drop of irrigation. At harvest, each plant can yield up to a kilo of seeds, most of them pressed into oil. A cheerful crop, but also a practical one. Resilient, sun-loving, perfectly suited to this land. [Music] [Music] [Music] Heat. Heat. [Music] [Applause] [Music] [Music] Heat. Heat. [Music] [Applause] [Music] Scattered among these fields lies small romanesque churches, each with its own quiet dignity. Even the humblest village chapel carries history in its stones. In some of these churches, you can still see 12th century frescos, faded saints who have watched over shepherds and travelers for 800 years. In one of the villages, a delightfully quirky statue of a group of piglets catches our eye. Clearly, they are proud of their pig farming here. We have entered the region around Sora, known for its long-standing pig rearing tradition that goes back centuries. Sora’s continental climate with cold winters and hot summers helps pigs build up a good layer of fat. The wide temperature swings are perfect for raising healthy animals. The region also offers an abundance of acorns, a key part of the pig’s diet. Those that feed on acorns produce especially flavorful meat, what the Spanish proudly call eerico. [Music] Sunlight glints on wooden steps. Lives like dancers in our heads. Whispers flow through open air. Slice it thin with utmost care. Come on. I’m on either table glow. Nutty, silky, rich and slow. My heart belongs to we go. [Music] Through golden fields the pigs will roar. Acorns dropping calling home. Sunflowers stretch toward the sky. A secret only Spain can hide. Come on. Come on. Go. You make the tapas table glow. Naughty, silky, rich and slow. My heart belongs to we go. [Music] Come on. Come on. Be very cold. Your salty kiss steals the show. From village bars to mad flow, we all sing. [Music] [Music] This is indeed a better spot than the one we saw just a few meters earlier to set up camp. At first glance, the little clearing seems quiet and welcoming. Only later do we discover that just behind the line of trees hidden from view lies a pig farm. We notice it not by sight, but by the sudden arrival of dozens of flies who clearly consider themselves uninvited dinner guests. And as if the buzzing weren’t enough, a busy column of ants winds its way around our tent, tirelessly carrying crumbs and treasures far too large for their tiny bodies. They seem as determined in their work as we are in ours to turn this spot into a home for the night. Despite the lively company, nothing can take away the joy of cooking a warm meal on our little camping stove. Tonight the pan crackles with fresh salmon cut into hearty chunks dusk together with onion, crisp green bell pepper, sweet kernels of corn, and a base of nutty brown rice. The fragrance rises in gentle waves, a comforting contrast to the sharp chill that lingers in the air. [Music] It feels almost decadent preparing something so flavorful in the middle of nowhere surrounded by pigs, flies, and ants. But perhaps that’s the magic of days like these. The simplest meals transform into feasts when earned by the road. As the north wind picks up again, the flies finally surrender and disappear into the night, leaving us in peace. The ants, of course, remain undeterred by wind or cold, marching with single-minded purpose. [Music] We eat slowly, watching the last light of day dissolve into shades of gold, rose, and violet. There is a faint perfume of pigs drifting in the breeze. Yes, but it’s the sunset we all remember, not the smell. A sky wide and endless. A meal that warms us from the inside out. And the quiet knowledge that even in the most unlikely places, beauty has a way of finding us. [Music]