Postcards from Provence and beyond

Today was always a big landmark day in the ride. The day we reached the border of Spain and crossed back into France. It’s hard to believe that we have cycled that far.

Of course, it should now go without saying that we were up early and ready to go by the time the sun rose. But today, we broke the habit of the ride and stopped for coffee, before we left Girona.

For once, the coffee shop was open at 8, so we (well Andy), carried the bikes down the narrow, twisting stairway from the apartment, and we walked the 5 metres to order coffee.

It was worth it, as the coffee was superb and under each cup was a little bit of motivation for the day ahead …

Mine read ‘The windshield is bigger than the rear view mirror for a reason’ and as you know from previous blogs, we are great believers in always looking forwards, rather than back. So that was really rather apt

And Andy’s was ‘If you want to make the wrong decision, ask everyone. If not. Trust Yourself’ that couldn’t have been better.

We had some people asking us if we really felt we were capable of doing this ride. Did we know what the hills were like? Had we considered the heat we would be facing? Wouldn’t we be better doing a more well used route? But we trusted ourselves, the route we’d planned, wanting a challenge and trusting that we would be able to deal with anything that happened along the way. And we have loved every moment of it.

So feeling bright and breezy after coffee, we pushed our bikes over the bridge and across the tiles under the arches around the square, before hopping on and starting to pedal out of Girona. After some of the towns we’ve cycled out of, this was easy and it felt as if we flew out of the city, quickly leaving the motorway junctions behind on our way towards Figueres and on to the Spanish border.

The truth is that we were being given a considerable push by the wind, which was already quite strong, and  for most of the time acting like a little hand on our backs up the hills.

The wind was going to be a big factor today, as Storm Kirk had arrived on the west coast of France & was already causing problems. For us, the wind was due to increase during the day, with a wind speed of 95km per hour predicted from the afternoon and into the evening. So the sooner we could arrive in Collioure the better and if we could get there with the wind in a favourable direction then that would be good. The idea of slogging into a headwind of that strength isn’t great.

So we took advantage of the stiff breeze and accepted its help with a smile, only cursing a little when the road turned so it was side on, and we had to lean into it.

Within a few kilometres of leaving Girona, we started to see France as a destination on the signs, which put a smile on our faces and a little more power in our legs.

The Pyrenees, to the left looked dark..

Yet the hills on the border in front of us were catching the light, looking both pretty and pretty big as we cycled towards them..

We diced with the traffic as we approached Figueres, the first time we felt a little invisible on the road since arriving in Spain. But cycled into Dali’s birthplace and stopped for a breather and a snack, before we took the final road out of Spain towards the border.

Cycling out, we left all the traffic behind. We pottered on, the wind still catching our sides from time to time as we rode towards the last village in Spain, Espolla. From there it would be a final ride up to the Col de Banyuls, before we were back in France.

We stopped in Espolla for a coffee at the village bar & meeting rooms. It was a characterful place, like so many others that we have found ourselves in, during the last couple of weeks. Here though, there was the added interest of the record of sangliers killed by the local hunt, hanging on the wall, next to a collection of photos of the activity from 2016.

Then, we had nowhere left to go, but back into France. The starting point of Madrid was firmly in our rear view mirror, nearly 1000 km behind us, and the start of the cycle home to Provence was just across the hill. So we set off and found ourselves on a peaceful road snaking its way up the hillside.

By now the wind was strengthening and it started buffeting us, whipping the olive trees into a silvery frenzy, as we rode through the groves up to the Col.

The views back into Spain were beautiful, but the only way was up, so we kept going.

Then we could see the marker on the Col above us, which was great, apart from the fact that we knew with the twist in the road that we would be cycling into a headwind for the final bit. That would be fun!

As soon as we turned, we really appreciated the power of the wind and forced the pedals round to make the last couple of hundred metres to the Col. There was a time that I would have got off the bike and pushed this bit, worried about being blown off, but not today. I was getting to the top come hell or high water!

And then we were there, although we nearly weren’t, as a particularly vicious gust of wind nearly knocked me off my feet.

Spain was laid at our feet to the left and the Mediterranean was stretching away to the right. We were standing with our bikes half-in  each country and it felt so good. This line on a map that creates so many changes never ceases to amaze me, different language, different foods and a different way of life just for the sake of being one side of the line or the other. 

But there was no time for deep thought, as we could hardly stand upright … So we dropped a few metres into France, sheltered behind the hills and celebrated the moment With a little video that just shows how strong the wind is

Then, we set off for Banyuls, snaking down the steep hill, taking it carefully as the wind picked up pace, swirling around us.

We dropped quickly through steep hairpins, glad that we hadn’t climbed that way, as it was decidedly steeper than coming out of Spain.

We passed through vineyards for the renowned local wines, steeply terraced ancient terraces that cling to the hillside and can only be tended by hand. Just the thought of climbing up the steep tracks to access them was exhausting.

But in a short time, we emerged onto the seafront at Banyuls. The wind was stripping leaves from the trees and the palms were dancing, so we didn’t stop, other than to take stock of where we needed to go next and set off along the Corniche road.

We had abandoned the idea of riding a second Col, which would have dropped us into Collioure due to the wind, but almost wished we had stuck with it as we set off along the main road.

Not only was the wind picking up even more, but we had been lulled into a sense of security, bucking along the main roads in Spain and we’re given a sharp reminder that not all drivers are that respectful of cyclists.

Even in October the road was busy, and we ground our way up the hills along the coast almost flinching as another lorry, car or bus seemed to pass within inches of our shoulders. It wasn’t the most pleasant ride, but there were no other options, so it had to be done.

Finally we turned off, and cycled through the port in Port Vendres, past a beautiful yacht, although Andy was a little more attracted by the Golden Retriever that crossed in front of us.

And then we caught sight of Collioure, a stunning village set against a sparkling turquoise sea. It was even more beautiful than I had imagined it would be.

I’ve wanted to visit here for many years, but we’ve never found ourselves nearby, so this was the perfect opportunity and we would have another 2 nights here so that we can enjoy it properly, rather than simply have a fleeting glimpse.

It looked magical and as we walked along the harbour, past the restaurants it was wonderfully vibrant too.

We had booked a little apartment right on the seafront, and after carrying our bikes up another twisting staircase we opened the door and stepped onto the terrace. The view was spectacular and we felt the stress of the last bit of the ride slip off our shoulders into the sea.

I wasn’t going to waste an opportunity and had pedalled my swimming costume almost 1000km for this moment, so we got changed, walked across the path and into the sea.

Yes it was chilly, but it was just what we needed and we bobbed in the water, breathing in the sea air, simply enjoying the moment.

After about an hour, the clouds started to build and then the wind really hit. We saw the restaurant owners dashing to take down awnings and sunshades, taking the decision to close early, when the chairs started to blow across the paths.

The 95kph winds had just arrived!

It was still ridiculously warm though, so we wandered into town, bought what we needed for supper and sat out on the terrace watching the wind scurry across the sea, getting moist with spray and watching the Plane tree just in front of us thrash in the hefty gusts.

It was ethereal and beautiful

We raised a glass of wine to toast the ride through Spain and our mind turned to the last few days we will cycle back to Sète and then home. You can see today’s ride here

It’s so hard to believe that this adventure is nearly over