Ávila has a way of making you feel as though the walls are the only thing holding the past in place, but San Martín reminds you that the neighbourhoods around the churches were once lively parishes of their own. The city had many such parishes in the Middle Ages, each with its own church, its own priest and its own sense of rivalry with the next. Today they mostly sit quietly, built of the same grey-gold granite as the walls, and a walk from one to the next shows how the town's life was once organised.
From here the ride heads north-east toward the beech forests of Ayllón, a long journey across the plateau and over the Sierra de Guadarrama before the land drops toward Segovia and the Ayllón mountains. It is a day of contrasts. Ávila's plateau is open and treeless, with wind that can shove you sideways on exposed stretches, and the beech woods of Montejo and Ayllón are a very different world, dim, mossy and gold in October. That is the best season, when the leaves turn and the fog sits in the hollows.
On the road, expect long, fast stretches and a handful of tighter climbs where the highway crosses the sierra. In winter the passes can ice up, and snow occasionally closes the higher roads, so look at the forecast before you set off. Early starts are rewarded because the Meseta light is flat and bright by midday.
You have all you need in Ávila itself, since it has about fifty-seven thousand people, plenty of fuel and a surprising number of good bakeries. A traditional start to the day is a coffee and a few yemas, which are sweet enough to see you across the plateau. Leave the bike outside the old walls, wander in on foot for a little while, and find the church at the point where the lanes narrow.