Two Wheels Passion. We have been driving for several hours, we are returning from a trip that has squeezed every last drop out of us. The fatigue is evident, it has taken its toll on us and the conversations have practically ceased. The soundtrack is playing a classic Spanish rock song. “The kilometers go by without stopping, a fast road to nowhere, more and more in a hurry to get there.” Does it sound familiar to you? If the answer is yes, then you are already an old school guy, hahaha. That’s right, it’s Barricada and her song “Passion for Noise”, if you don’t know it, I recommend you listen to it.

The dashed lines seem to have no end, I maintain concentration but I am frankly bored. I’m starting to miss the action of the last few days. I have already managed to convince myself and assume that I will not take my ass off the seat until I see my house, my foot will remain on the gas pedal for a couple more hours at least.

When I completely abandon myself to the noble art of driving, something catches my attention, and also that of my traveling companion. As if it were two dogs seeing a cat, we remained completely still, straining our attention and with all the muscles in our bodies tense. I think we both saw something on the highway, in the distance. If our radar does not fail, which is still a form that has not been completely defined, it could be a spot to ride a bike.

I quickly swerve and take the first exit. We try to figure out how to access that enormous mass of stones that draws our attention, with such magnetism that we would do everything in our power to get to it. It’s like a drug, something that makes you nervous at first but then takes you to the top, providing indescribable pleasure and satisfaction. Now nothing will come between her and us, we will try to tame her, we will avoid security or anything that gets in our way but we will have to leave a mark in the form of a photo of our time in that place. The truth is that our dark intentions do not go beyond our strong passion for two wheels.

Once our objective was achieved, we restarted the path in almost the same conditions in which we were just a while ago, but something has changed, a smile adorns our face and the silence has transformed into an animated conversation about what we have just done.

See you in the next spot. enjoy cycling responsibly, or not, but enjoy.

David Cachon

Text: David Cachon // Photography: Ismael Ibañez

Location: Frías (the smallest city in Spain) – Burgos – España

Location:

The Ebro river as it passes through the lands of Merindades, in the north of Burgos, leaves on its banks the beautiful city of Frías, the smallest in Spain. Its surprising silhouette on a rock is framed by the imposing Humión peak, the highest in the Montes Obarenes Natural Park.

In 1202, Alfonso VIII granted Frías charters and favored its economic development. Frías, which previously depended on Navarra, returns to Castilla. Already in 1435, Juan II granted it the title of City. He changes it to Pedro Fernández de Velasco for Peñafiel. Who wanted to subjugate the city, taking away its privileges and privileges, getting the people to revolt against him, thus giving birth to the Captain’s Festival, celebrated the weekend following June 24.

Frías is part of the guide “The most beautiful towns in Spain”