Day 1,534

Back over the Pyrénées, again

Seriously, we are not trying to mess with your minds. We set off from Toulouse with a firm plan, a destination in mind - Barcelona Airport, and a flight to ??? Then we received a text from Jim, Tom's youngest son - ‘Why didn't we stay in Europe for another month and watch him smash the Barcelona Ironman?’. Now we'd known for a year or so the Ironman was happening, but we hadn't anticipated being anywhere near. Due to various circumstances though we were, so, flight plans on hold, we plotted a month's riding. We were halfway up the Pyrénées so it seemed a shame not to complete a crossing. 

At this time of year the third of the Grand Tour cycle races takes place, The Vuelta, and we happened to be a mere 2,000+ feet of climbing away from where the race would be passing the following day. The weather forecast was dreadful, a thunderstorm was promised and it duly arrived. We rode up that 2,000+ feet climb in some of the heaviest, if not the heaviest, rain we've ever experienced. I was feeling great though, better than I have since we set off again in March, and a bit of rain wasn't going to stop me enjoying the climb. 

We were soaked and feeling very cold by the summit. Fortunately Tom had booked a hotel for the night. We dried off and watched Stage 5 of the race, both very excited at the prospect of seeing Stage 6 in person tomorrow. The riders were expected around 2.30pm, so by 11am we were waiting. We rode up the final few hundred metres of the climb, to the cheers of others hanging about for the real thing. We walked up and down, again and again, checking out the best place to watch the riders. We cheered lots of other riders who had clearly just ridden the whole climb. Finally the Vuelta show began. First a few motorbikes, the odd team car, then the ‘caravan of freebies’, basically jazzy vehicles belonging to the sponsors who throw out freebies. I could have taken out a 5 year old and grabbed a T-shirt but decided I really couldn't afford to carry any more clothes and graciously left it, only for the kid's dad to grab it for himself. I was tempted to rugby tackle him for it but common sense prevailed. He donned the shirt, whilst the kid looked on in shock at his dad, no love lost there! 

Then more team cars, more motorbikes, above us a helicopter and finally in the distance Tom spotted the breakaway group. Within minutes they were on us, then past in a flash, no idea who was in the pack. A few minutes later the peloton arrived and in another flash had gone by. I forgot to scream out encouragement in my best Yorkshire accent to Tom and Ben, but waved my Yorkshire flag with pride, and just cheered very loudly. Then they were gone. 3 stragglers got the biggest cheers of the day as they rode, exhausted, up the final  few yards of the climb. Then it was team car after team car. I spotted the Ineos car, and waved my Yorkshire flag as if my life depended on it, the (very handsome) guy in the passenger seat gave me a big grin and my day was complete. Later that day we watched endless highlights but couldn't see ourselves on TV, shame, but what a fantastic time we'd had. 

We had another night of luxury in the hotel, then in the morning set off down the 20 mile climb the Vuelta had taken the day before. I think they climbed it quicker than we descended because the headwind was so strong. Inspired by the Vuelta though, we weren't letting a little bit of wind put us off.

The descent from the Pyrenees - Spot the Debs No. 1 (more later)

The views of the Pyrénées were stunning and we ended up riding over 70 miles that day. The mileage dropped over the next few days, we had plenty of big climbs, yep we were riding back over the Pyrénées yet again, crossing them for a third time in as many weeks! We rode through a forest of cork trees, some showing the scars of where the cork is harvested, but Tom assured me they would recover and we saw evidence of this further uphill. We stopped for a breather at the top and got chatting to Max, from the UK but now living nearby, and got an offer of bed and board if we passed, thanks Max! 

We continued on, climbing and descending, loving the views, old Roman bridges, and tiny villages perched high above us. We took a slight detour, uphill naturally, to visit a dolmen and then stopped to eat lunch at the stunning remains of a Roman aqueduct, the Pont-Aqueduc d'Ansignan, still, albeit with a little help, in full working order. Awesome to walk around, over, under and through it. The Romans first built a bridge here in the 3rd century, crossing the Agly River. Over the years it has been added too and modernised but the existing arches are firmly believed to be of Roman origin, and great that it is still in use, helping to irrigate nearby fields and entertain us cyclists. 

Then onto the highlight of these few days riding, the Gorges de Galamus. Created by the same Agly River, through vertiginous limestone cliffs, they are a short but dramatic ride. The road is extremely narrow, with the cliffs looming in places just feet above our heads, and the dramatic drop to the river below seemingly just inches away. We both agreed this was probably the most dramatic gorge of our whole trip, and boy, we've experienced a few! In summer months they operate a one way traffic system due to how few passing places there are. Fortunately for us we barely saw a vehicle, just 2 ladies in small camper vans wondering just what the hell they'd driven into! We're looking forward to the next few days, but can't believe we'll experience anything quite as dramatic.

Spot the Debs No. 2

Spot the Debs No. 3

Spot the Debs No. 4

Spot the Debs No. 5