The &#8222;West Cape&#8220; is called Cabo da Roca. It is far less well known and not as frequently visited as the North Cape. Nevertheless, the place is very important to me because it is the most westerly point on the European mainland. It also marks the start of my 9th stage. This will take me to Tarifa and connect my network of stages to the North Cape, the Black Sea and Istanbul as far as eastern Turkey.
In my imagination, I saw sunny and friendly weather at Cabo da Roca. However in reality, the opposite takes place. Rainy and windy weather does not invite me to linger for long, but gives me the incentive to move quickly to Lisbon. Cycling along the Tagus River, I manage to catch a glimpse of a few sights such as the Torre de Belém. In the Portuguese capital, I treat myself to the famous and delicious puff pastry Pastel de Nata before heading to my booked apartment.
Unfortunately, it is still very rainy, wet and slippery, which leads to a fall on a cobblestone staircase in Lisbon. I myself am spared for once. My FLOW, on the other hand, is badly damaged and it is a bit unsure how to continue with the broken carbon frame.
The route takes me mainly through the interior of the Alentejo region with its many pine trees, olive groves and vineyards. Initially I &#8222;dare&#8220; to take the various roads with designations such as A, N, E, IP, IC, R, M, CM, EN although the Google app doesn&#8217;t always navigate me in this way. But I soon realize that, apart from the Autopista (A), all roads are accessible to bicycles. Now just arrived in Spain where new designations apply&#8230;
In Huelva, I make a stop in honor of the famous Christopher Columbus monument. The adventurer set out from here in search of the sea route to India, where he hoped to find gold, silver, precious stones, spices and other treasures. However, my route is not by water but along the coastal road along the Atlantic to Tarifa.
An unforgettable day of touring begins. It&#8217;s finally really nice, sunny weather again and because I&#8217;ve been a bit slow so far due to the bad weather, I have quite a long day&#8217;s ride of around 150 kilometers on the agenda today. I reach Matalascanas around lunchtime. From here, the route leads directly along the sea on the 30-kilometer-long sandy beach. According to various internet searches, it is even possible to cycle on the sand (albeit with some difficulty). At the end of the beach, there is supposed to be a ferry that takes people across the Guadalquivir river, depending on the number of passengers.
The start on the sandy road is a complete failure. No pedals&#8230; Because it has been raining heavily for the last few days, I get stuck in the sand with my &#8222;heavy&#8220; bike and luggage. So I walk without further ado and look for a road behind the dunes, where 4 x 4 off-road vehicles occasionally drive. But the sand is even softer there and it is simply impossible to move forward on the saddle. So I head straight back to the beach to take the recommended path. After an hour of wading, I&#8217;ve covered a whopping 3.3 kilometers. It&#8217;s almost impossible to make any real progress with the heavy vehicle, as the sand is very soft. This fact makes me wonder whether I should continue along the beach into the unknown or turn back.
However, if you don&#8217;t take the sand road, you take a &#8222;detour&#8220; of more than 200 kilometers. But with the current hourly average, I only get to the ferry connection after dark, if at all. I meet a jogger and immediately ask if the sand gets harder further ahead. Yes, a bit he means… Exactly what I wanted to hear and so I continue to fight my way forward. Sometimes I even trot as I try to make up some time, but this quickly turns into wading again, as the sand is simply far too soft to prevent me from sinking in. I&#8217;ve only covered 8.8 kilometers of this almost 30-kilometer stretch of beach. It is already 2.30 p.m. and I am once again very close to turning back before I am approached by a 4&#215;4 off-road vehicle, whose driver I stop to ask if he will transport me to the ferry. No, no time says the man at the wheel. But he takes the time to explain to me that the tide is gradually turning to low tide around 4pm and the sand is hardening, so I will probably be able to drive for a while.  With renewed courage, I stick to my original plan. I want to reach the ferry before dark. Shortly before 4 p.m. I can even drive a few meters. I let a little more air out of the tires. There&#8217;s only about 1.5 bar left. Which allows me to sit a few meters longer on the bike saddle. I also suddenly discover an interesting acceleration technique while riding. When I ride into the water, the sandy ground is harder. I finally manage to ride at around 12 km/h all the time. Hooray, on the last few kilometers my counter even jumps up to 30 KMH! The sandy ground is now rock hard&#8230; The next step is to wait. Wait, wait, wait&#8230;&#8230;I wait and stand alone on the riverbank. After what feels like an eternity, the long-awaited ferry arrives. Now in Sanlucar de Barrameda, I look for a car wash to get rid of the sand and get my bike back in shape. The wind is against me. The cell phone gives up the ghost. I find a power socket somewhere, mount my &#8222;night gear&#8220; and pedal off into the dusk. Shortly before my destination for the day, the port city of Cadiz, I face another unexpected hurdle.
Unlike the professional cyclists on the Vuelta, I am not allowed to cross the gigantic city bridge (longer than the Golden Gate Bridge). Bicycles and pedestrians are prohibited here (only my Google app thinks better of me and wants to navigate me across the bridge).
Now it&#8217;s getting uncomfortably cold in the dark. I have to get into the town somehow via the building and use my modest knowledge of Spanish to find my way around until I end up at a bus station. A bus to Cadiz is actually due to leave from there. Fortunately, the driver is really nice and let me stow my bike under his vehicle and get on. Then he says: Yes, there is no way to get to Cadiz by bike over the bridge.
Well, I finally reach the hotel and check in digitally straight away. All&#8217;s well that ends well!  This challenging day of touring will definitely find its way into my storybook.  Good night&#8230;. Tomorrow I&#8217;m only going from the oldest city in Europe to the southernmost.
It&#8217;s an honor.

The "West Cape" is called Cabo da Roca. It is far less well known and not as frequently visited as the North Cape. Nevertheless, the place is very important to me because it is the most westerly point on the European mainland.

Cabo da Roca – Lissabon – Beja – Huelva – Tarifa

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