Adge – Gallician

100Km

Today was a bit exhausting. Even though it was largely tailwind it was just a day where it felt hard work. If you can get emotional windburn that’s what we got.

Theoretically it was meant to be easy – we just follow the little green man and he takes us along the coast.

Turns out the little green man (AKA eurovelo 8) is about as good at navigating cities as I am. What he tends to do on maps is just stop and reemerge the other side of the city. Makes for a frustrating time guessing which direction to go ever 50m at junctions. Laura’s mantra was “as long as the sea stays on our right it’s fine”.

This works well until you have so many different bodies of water you can’t tell what’s sea – canals, basins, étangs, rivers…

Oh and when bike paths turn into ankle deep sand you can’t even tell whether youre going to accidentally ride into the sea!

To add to the challenges of the day we had ice creams with questionable cone structural integrity. It’s a hard life.

Just when we’d had enough we arrived at a campsite that didn’t take tents. Just about sums up the day.

Mirepessiet – Adge

99.6km

I’ve been in France two days and already my baguette beacon is becoming quite refined. Yesterday I saw a baguette before I saw a human. I also used my cycling jersey to store my baguette once I found one which made me feel awesome. Today I managed to follow the trail of locals with a baguette under their arm to locate a boulangerie. Success!

My internal alarm clock has become nicely attuned to the birdsong at dawn. Laura was less than impressed with a 5.30am UK time wakeup call. It required a cup of tea in bed to entice her out into the elements.

The day started with little promise as it started chucking it down whilst breaking camp. Luckily Laura and I were able to don matching bright blue waterproofs and take on the world.

Today we glided through more vinyards, along canals and rivers heading to the coast with a lovely tailwind.

Cycle paths were sometimes incredible and sometimes did the typical British thing of just stopping with no warning.

I branched out from pasta and tomato sauce for the first time and also had the novelty of a campsite with a table, a fantastic receptionist who loved how mental I’d become (Had a great laugh with her involving me asking for campsite stickers and us charming her into lending us a plug)… oh and a bouncy castle

Lagrasse – Mirepeisset

96.5km

Today I met a horse/zebra/leopard and got very excited. I think the excitement might have had something to do with the prospect of company. I was so excited I didn’t even notice the hills I was crossing.

Olive has started joining in with my melodious singing, putting a squeak in every time she sees an Olive grove… or maybe every time I change into a certain gear, who knows.

This one’s for the Rudins: it turns out the people in Carcassonne are normal people and not meeples that Joe controls!

I found a wild Laura and fed her baguette to make her my friend. She had to listen to my 3weeks worth of pent up verbal diarrhoea all afternoon. Poor Laura!

We introduced her to France with some brutal headwinds and about a million vinyards.

I wonder whether it was out of shear exhaustion from her journey or bordem from listening to me ramble but she managed to fall off her bike 3 times today, largely by forgetting to unclip. That’s enough drama for one day!

Argelès – Lagrasse

118 km

Today was the day I predicted Laura would arrive and save the morsel of sanity I had left. Unfortunately I found a message when I awoke to say I’d got the wrong day and she’s not coming until tomorrow.

In light of this I decided to prove my insanity/make use of the extra day to venture inland.

Discovered what an étang is…

Found a baton of cheese…

And found what would be a perfect wee wild camp spot if it had been 50km further on. It looks like it’s designed for cycling adventurers!

Had a blissful day with with the wind on my back (all is forgiven for the last few days) flying through the vinyards.

Even made a cycling friend – a man with panniers as big as mine. I stopped to ask him where he was going and it turns out he was just going out for a picnic and a ride for a couple of hours! I was very proud when I told him about my plans and he kept saying “supeeer!”

I also saw a mule for the first time in my life.

Figueres – Argelès (France!)

Distance 63.5km

What do you do when you’re in a city that’s still asleep at 8am and you’re full of beans (AKA pizza) and still have 3hours until your train? I was ready to head out in search of Gaudi inspiration with Olive when I suddenly realised I was in a city with public transport that could get me there without getting lost. Genius!

Whilst the city slept off it’s hangover I once again donned my tourist hat and headed out and pretended to be a chimpanzee in a stone jungle.

When it did come to train time I felt like a bit of a fraud. I was overwhelmed with guilt that I was cheating and not cycling. When I got over it though I realised I was probably the only person in Spain with such appreciation for the invention of rail travel.

Who knew it could be so comfortable to travel so far at such speed? Once again British infrastructure was outshined (outshon? Neither look right) by the continent. There was even a billboard on the train so I could tell when we hit 160kmph… two whole days of cycling in one hour? As if that’s even possible?!

It was a joy to be back on the bike. Time was occupied by reflecting in how incredible Spain had been and preparing all the poses I was going to do in front of the welcome to France sign.

There was an ounce of disappointment when I reached the border and there wasn’t even a sign! Not even a cattlegrid to segregate the cows. Cañada sin frontier (cows without borders). Nonetheless I took a snap where I think the border was.

I have been thoroughly impressed by my first few hours in France. I was happy as soon as I crossed the imaginary border and saw a “give bikes space” sign as the first sign in the country! All things non-cyclists might not appreciate the importance of, but very exciting to me:

• Top notch tarmac
• Bike lanes
• Bike direction signs
• Water – in multiple forms in fact – waterfalls especially created through vinyards, riverbeds with actual rivers in them, a wild exciting seascape, fords less than pedal depth

• Campsites
• Boulangeries…

I am incredibly excited for all the boulangeries ahead.

Day 17: El Catllar – Barcelona 97km

Day 18: Barcelona 10km (on foot!)

Yesterday’s cycle was almost a dream. Only almost because of the persistent headwinds, but… I hear rumours they’re due to change in my favour!

Got a fantastic send off from Valentin who cycled with me for the first 10miles (after a leisurely double breakfast, introduction to the neighbours horse/cats/chickens and mandatory play with Kuki the dog). I was set up for the day with cycling friend happiness and grand plans for all the artwork I can inflict on Joe when we get home to mimic Valentin’s house.

Cycled through the beach tourist metropolis and eventually emerged the other side. Who’d have thought I’d actually be glad to see some mountains to climb to escape from the proper tourists and some hairpin bends to intermittently escape from the wind!

Took myself out for Easter high tea by buying a fancy Easter chocolatey pile of awesomeness.

After multiple rounds of Freddie Mercury’s Barcelona, i.e. every time I saw a sign for Barcelona, every kilometre, we eventually made it into the city!

Woke this morning ready to go so had to go and find a suitably big hill to walk up before (second) breakfast. The great thing about going out so early was I had it all to myself!

I’ve then spent today exploring the beautiful intricacies of Barcelona. What a gem. I feel like you’d need a month to see even half of it! Maybe only giving myself a day wasn’t enough.

When I got back to the hostel I actually had to go and apologise to Olive for neglecting her for so long. The sad thing is she’s covered in smogy rain dust and despite having been locked up all day she’s the most dirty she’s been the whole trip.

El Pinell de Brai – El Catllar

87km

The Meg midge feast continued with a vengeance this morning. I should have has breakfast before I opened the zip because as soon as the midges knew I was up there was no stopping them. I had to cycle miles down the road in search of a breath of wind (the irony of this will become apparent) before I could stop and eat.

The midges weren’t actually aware I was awake for a blissful 5minutes. I imagine that in that time one found me but then went back to report to Midge Mayor. Midge Major is a spritely old fellow with a purple sash and a French moustache. Midge Major has the ability to rally the troops… and by that I mean the ability to find every midge within a hundred square miles; and get them to come and hassle me whilst I’m trying to de-camp.

For the first day in a while I actually started with a descent and found myself a good breakfast spot quite quickly.

Because of the hill the first 20km flew by. Then we ground to a halt due to the headwind from hell. Said headwind continued for the next 70km.

The only thing keeping me going was the prospect of a real bed (and the litre of milk I eventually opened after carrying through the mountains for a couple of days).

Kindly warmshowers host Valentin had offered to host me. Arriving at his house was like heaven. Such a beautiful place and so peaceful. Artwork on every surface and a beautiful garden that will soon have fruits galore weighing down it’s trees. I sat on an actual sofa and cuddled his dog. Flippin fantastic dog too.

For anyone wanting to see evidence of my suffering my whole right hand has swollen up with a midge bite:

La Virgen de la Vega – Morella

98.45km

I made two discoveries today:

1. Fresh bread

2. Spiritual enlightenment

When my ride out of the campsite took be straight up a hill this morning my legs weren’t best impressed. When my road turned into a ski slope I thought I was going mad.

The arrival of fresh bread made everything fall into place. I was so excited about the prospect of lunch I didn’t even notice the hill with bread in my panniers.

I thought I was becoming emotional about the prospect of downhill. On second thoughts I think it was spiritual. I’ve never been religious so this is a first for me (definitely been spending too much time on my own!). As I was flowing down the hills I seemed to find peace with the world. Maybe it’s Easter having it’s effect on me – the ressurection of my legs.

I’d love if I could put into words what I felt. I think it was the pure power of the elements around me – roaring wind and wild, untamed mountains. I felt at one with mother earth and both part of her magic and totally insignificant.

Wow. I said to Olive. Maybe this is what the whole of the rest of the trip is going to be like? Olive had no idea what I was on about, she just sat there being awesome and photogenic.

Unfortunately my dream came crashing down when I turned into the wind and started going backwards uphill because it was so powerful. This is my forced smile of “this wind is too much”:

After seeing the forecast is booked a hostel for tonight – and I’m glad I did – it’s blowing a hooley out there! The prospect of a roof over my head also allowed me to brave the storm and go and explore Morella. It’s an incredible place, atop a hill (why so many hills?) With quaint streets, grand city walls, bustling alleys and steep stone steps. Oh and of course, more fresh bread…