I got up around 8am after another good night’s sleep at the hostel. I sat down for breakfast and chatted to a bloke from Sheffield who was stopping in the same room. The same as yesterday but instead of the chocolate donut it was a croissant, great value for money I thought, again.

I had packed my things, and sent a route I'd planned on my phone last night to my SatNav, it was the AP-7 motorway for the first hour and a half, then a stop near 'St Juame' where the Spanish landmass juts out into the sea half way down the coast between Barcelona and Valencia. I had no idea what was there, but I guessed looking at google maps it may provide a good photo opportunity with panoramic views of the Mediterranean sea.

The motorway route wasn't boring, I was enjoying the billiard table smoothness and free flowing traffic, it made covering the miles easy and comfortable. The views too, again at many points along the route; the Mediterranean sea on my left and mountain ranges in the distance. It was totally overcast with grey clouds at first and a few spots of rain fell but nothing more. 

As I passed the junctions directing travellers off to Salou, I broke from under the grey clouds into blue sky. I was ahead of the weather front moving in, I'd stayed dry and the planned stop was approaching.

Turning off the motorway following the directions on my SatNav screen I was led to where the land met sea, along a mixture of arrow straight flat roads with a few sections of long left right sweeping corners.

Passing a caravan resort there seemed nothing else and still another 1km to the planned stop. Closer, with the sea back into view I spotted a gathering of camper vans and cars in the distance, not quite the pin in the map I'd programmed but I could see how to get there. The tarmac stopped though and I was onto a wide sandy track. Luckily the sand was mostly hard and I stood up on the pegs, kept the throttle open and imagined I was competing in the Dakar rally. But random patches of soft powdery areas suddenly tested me and I could feel the front wheel sliding from under me. I slowed down.

Arriving safely, at the makeshift car park there was a beach bar. So along with a great spot to take a photo of the bike with the stunning panoramic back drop of a mountain range across a bay of the Mediterranean, I could sit and have a cold bottle of lager. http://www.lacentraldelkite.com/

The next leg was to the guest house I'd booked in Valencia city, Rio Turia B&B, using my phone the night before. It was the first one I found that offered parking with a reservation at an additional cost of €15. I'd sent a message asking to reserve a parking spot for a motorbike. They'd messaged back almost straight away thanking me for my booking and saying they were looking forward to my arrival.

I used the SatNav to avoid tolls and motorways and enjoyed the next few hours on the bike under the blue skies with the hot sun beaming down. The ETA at the guesthouse was 3.30pm and it was around that time I arrived at the finish point as directed by the satnav. A busy main road in the middle of the city. No sign for the 'Rio-Turia B&B’. I parked on the pavement and got my phone out, double checking the address this time in google maps, I was in the right spot. Maybe it was a scam? I rang the number on the booking email and as soon as I pressed the dial button 'Romania' appeared on the screen. Oh dear. 

It rang a few times, someone picked up. "Hi, it's Michael, is this the Rio Turia B&B?" I asked. "Hi Mike, yes, are you wanting to park your bike?" I certainly was! I explained where I was stood, "I'll meet you there, stay where you are" the guy said. And from a gated doorway just where I was waiting, out stepped a Spanish guy who spoke almost perfect English. The next doorway on the street was a metal shutter, he pressed a fob and beckoned me to ride in. Another underground multi-storey like car park with my own spot for the night, like the first night in Marseille. I couldn't have been happier.

He showed me to a lovely room with a double bed and French doors opening onto a small sheltered courtyard terrace. He handed over a large bunch keys, explained which was which: gate on front door, front door, apartment door, my room door, escalator, car park shutter and then left me to my own devices.

I relaxed a while, changed into my casual clothes, had time to give the bike a quick clean then decided to get a taxi to the beach to save an hour’s walk. I was on the beach by 5pm and stopped at the first beach bar for a lager. Taking it all in.

From there I wandered down the front all the way to the port, then cut back into the city streets, strolling around and walking up and down alternate streets to see as much of the city as I could.

After a few hours of not seeing a restaurant that particularly took my fancy, I searched 'English food near me' in google and one of the first on the list was Finnegan's Irish pub. It was back closer to my guest house and said it served food late. So I continued through the streets of shops, cafes & businesses to Finnegan's. It was around 9pm when I got in, it wasn't busy and I ordered fish and chips. It was a large plate of 5 small battered cod fillets stacked on a wooden skewer over a plate of small McDonald like fries. They were delicious and I struggled to finish all the fish, I had to leave some chips, not like me.

I settled in for a few whiskey and cokes as being an Irish pub it had my favourite whiskeys - Jameson and Bushmills, and pecked at the last chips, the plate hadn't defeated me yet.

Back at the guesthouse later I'd plan tomorrows schedule, with a carton of chocolate milkshake I'd managed to bring from a supermarket in Barcelona, another great day on my journey coming to a close.