Sex on Fire

This is the obvious lazy pick for a song but for our newer readers I should remind you that sometimes the connection is to the artist not the song.

Last night we ended up at the pizzeria immediately next door to the hotel....an easy, lazy option. The pizzas were large enough to use as bus steering wheels and the house Rioja was inexpensive so we were happy.  We even managed to save a little pizza for today's lunch.

This morning we rode up a hill.  My sex wasn't on fire but my legs definitely were.  It was a 16 mile climb but the really horrible bit was the last 8.  These 8 miles started with mostly 6-8% grades, which fast became 8-10%, then 10-12%, then 12-14% and, as a final grand kick in the testicles, we had a bit of 17-18% before we finally reached the top.  Hardest hill I have done in a very long time and done hauling full touring gear.  I didn't walk and I didn't cry but it wasn't pretty.

The remaining 40 miles were mostly down or flat and everything was fine until we came to an occasional slight incline when all you could hear were two very tired old men crashing down into bottom gear as quickly as they could then muttering rude words while they inched to the next crest.

In other news the weather continues to be perfect and the scenery very lovely.  The drivers are incredibly considerate and we haven't had a single close pass or aggressive horn blast.

As the song suggests we are in Leon and have found our modern city-centre hotel and de-gayed the beds.  We are now sitting on the  balcony sipping (well...guzzling) San Miguel and wondering how the hell we are going to walk out to dinner with legs that no longer function.