Had it not been for a bit of pfaffing about in Les ( just Les) trying to find a hostel, and having to retrace our journey by a few km in order to discover that the sign for a 'hostel' Charlie had seen earlier was in fact a sign for a hotel, albeit a very modest, ie crapppy, one, today would have been a triumph. Or maybe a Ducati. Whatever the model, it would have enjoyed the sweeping bends along which we raced for about 30-40km after grinding through tax-though-not-traffic free Andorra.
It was good to get back into mountains. The sun came out. We crossed a few borders and bought a picnic lunch at an exotically different supermarket somewhere. And we found the biking roads again. Spain did us proud: excellent bends where I worked hard on the chicken strips of my new tyres, goodish road surface, blinding sunshine (it had been overcast when we left Mirepoix). And lots of other bikers, which is always a sign that you're in the right place (if you're a biker; not otherwise).
At the end of the day we had reached Vielha in the heart of the mountains and popped into local town for a tapas. We found it in full carnival mode - parade of children, old tyme dancing in the village square, chaps dressed up as women...the usual stuff. Had forgotten how the Spanish love to party, to parade in the street, to eat and drink together. Wish we could have joined in but....
Tomorrow we'd hoping to zig zag our way along the Pyrenees, north back into France, west a bit then south back into the National Park and up towards the ominously named Mount Perdido, maybe taking in some of the classic cycle cols
Still no idea about the passport: will they let me back into the UK without one?
No comments:
Post a Comment