The First Seventy Years: 147 - Sierra de Guadarrama
...The Sierra de Guadarrama just north of Madrid served up some testing climbs but it was nothing that we could not handle given a bit of determination. Seven days and seven hundred kilometres later we arrived at the home of our Halifax exile...
Eric Biddulph and his companion continue their cycle tour of Spain, there to pay homage to a Yorkshireman who lay down his live in the Spanish Civil War.
Eric’s book The First Seventy Years can be obtained for £10 by contacting http://mary@bike2.wanadoo.co.uk or telephoning 01484-658175.
Slipping out of Bilbao after disembarking we were faced with a long climb. We had decided to apply the same routing policy that had proved to be so successful in England. Drawing a line on the map of Spain from Bilbao to Madrid we wrote down the names of all the towns and villages. This approach did sometimes have a downside; more hills were encountered. It did ensure however, that we stayed well away from most of the busier roads.
The Sierra de Guadarrama just north of Madrid served up some testing climbs but it was nothing that we could not handle given a bit of determination. Seven days and seven hundred kilometres later we arrived at the home of our Halifax exile. Having lived and worked in Madrid for many years he was the perfect host. His Spanish wife spoke limited English but his son and daughter, both in their early teens, were fluent in the language.
Not wanting to miss the opportunity to explore the capital we took a train into the centre. Madrid has not attained its status because of any physical, climatic or economic advantage. It was chosen as the location for capital city because it is right in the geographical centre of the country. It was considered that such a position would make it easier to administer the country. It is the blueprint which has been followed by a number of other nations in recent years; Brazilia in Brazil; Lilongwe in Malawi; Dodoma in Tanzania. The city is pleasant to visit but does not possess any characteristics which cannot be found in greater abundance in many other European capitals.
Heading south towards Lopera we stayed mainly on the high ground of central Spain. Only occasionally did we encounter any major rises and falls. Passing through Montoro we had a feeling of great anticipation when we came upon a road sign pointing to Lopera. Riding through the olive groves for several kilometres we eventually came to the town. This was a significant moment for Gavin. It was marked by me taking a photograph of him standing with his bike at the side of the Lopera town sign.
The nephew had arrived to pay homage to his illustrious uncle. Gavin had been given the name of Carmelo Medina Casado as a contact upon arrival. We rode up to the entrance of the town's secondary school for our appointed meeting with our mentor. Immediately prior to his arrival we were subjected to a great deal of attention from the pupils who crowded up to the school railing and bombarded us with numerous questions.
Carmelo duly arrived and led us to the town hall where the mayor and his staff were awaiting us. After an introductory welcome in the mayor's office with Carmelo acting as interpreter we were taken to the house where we were going to sleep. This was in the old part of town. Nearby were the ruins of the offices of a trade union; blown up by Franco's followers during the civil war and never rebuilt. All the furniture in Carmelo's house was covered with white sheeting. These were taken off in recognition of our visit; visitors being a rare occurrence.
Carmelo, born and bred in Lopera was a lecturer in Spanish history at the University of Jaen. As a consequence he lived some sixty kilometres away for most of the time. He had studied at the University of Leeds. He had a particular interest in his country's internal conflict during the civil war years.
After a shower and change of clothes we joined the mayor and his entourage for dinner at one of the town's restaurants; honoured guests for the evening. The following day we were taken on a conducted tour of the battlefields during that traumatic period in the life of the town. This was not before we had visited the monument to the memory of Ralph Fox. Set in a small garden built for the purpose it was a poignant reminder of the carnage which occurred in this region in December 1936. Many of the trenches and concrete emplacements from that era still remain. Neglected and overgrown they stretched the mind to imagine that here in the heart of this quiet olive growing region Spaniards were killing fellow citizens and anyone else who held a contrary view of the direction in which the country should proceed. Our guides pointed out the location where Ralph Fox had laid down his life for an ideal; a reminder that ideals are universally held.
