Page 37
France
Spain 
to Gibraltar (U.K.) 
DAY 115
Ax
les Thermes, France to La Seu d'Urgell, Spain (via Andorra)
I
had spent the night in a hotel so I was warm and dry and so was my tent which I
had draped all over the room for the night. I packed and lugged my two bags
downstairs which required 2 trips up and down the 4 flights of stairs, leaving
the bike and bike bags in the room. I would come back for them later. My plan
was to take my bags to the campsite by taxi, load them into my locker and return
to the hotel in the same taxi to fetch my bike and bike bags. I would then begin
the day’s ride from there. But there was no taxi to be had, none on the
streets and no answer when I called, maybe because it was early, not 6:00 yet.
So I hauled my bags back into the hotel, left them in the lobby, and walked to
the Casino for breakfast. (I am not sure what casino means in French but it
doesn’t mean a gambling place.) At breakfast I saw one of the riders, Ron
Morlino, who is on the ride with his grown children, Julie and Trueheart. I knew
Ron had a rental car so I asked him if he was going back to the campsite after
breakfast and whether I could have a ride. Of course he said yes, sweet man that
he is, and he not only took my bags and me but my bike as well. What a break for
me!
I
climbed for hours, the weather was cold early on but not wet, it was hard work,
but the work kept me warm. It was Monday, the day after Easter, which is
apparently a holiday in France for very few shops were open. The only
opportunity for my customary midmorning coffee and a sweet roll (now that I am
in Europe) was a smoky bar, not an agreeable option for me. But I had plenty of
snacks in my bike bag so I did not go hungry.
When I finally reached a place called Pas de la Casa I thought I was at the summit. But I soon learned that Pas de la Casa wasn’t the pass or the summit like I had hoped it was. There was still 5 km. more climbing to reach the summit! Pas de la Casa is just over the Andorran border and is a duty free shopping mecca for the French and Spanish and for tourists. I walked up and down the very steep streets of Pas de la Casa, pushing my bike, and saw that the shops had expensive merchandise for sale like cameras, watches, jewelry, leather goods, perfume, pistols and other weapons. The streets were crowded with cars and there were throngs of shoppers on the sidewalks gawking at all the displays. I wanted a souvenir hat pin but there were none to be found. I was ready for lunch but couldn’t find a place to buy food or eat and watch my bike at the same time. I had an uneasy feeling about leaving it unguarded there.
I
got back on my bike and began climbing. I was now on the mountains that once had been so distant. The
scenery was gorgeous and there was snow everywhere except the road. The sun was
shining and it wasn’t cold. When I reached the ski area, Estadi D’Eslalom, I
stopped to take a picture of my bike in the snow among the skiers. I met another
rider, Alan, there who offered to share his packed lunch. We sat on the deck in
the sun under the NO PICNIC sign and enjoyed our sandwiches of cheese, salami,
and crunchy fresh red peppers. The skiers obeyed the rules and were eating
baskets of fries and sandwiches purchased from the restaurant. It was a sunny,
warm spot for lunch despite the fact that we were surrounded by snow.
After lunch, I began to climb again, up, up, up until finally after 35 km. of
climbing, I crested the Pyrenees at Port d’Envalira. The altitude was 7702
feet. I stopped there for a photograph with the altitude sign and to put on all
my warm clothes for the descent. Then it was down down down. The DRG said, ‘Nice
long fast curvy outstanding 7% and 8% descent ahead.’ Actually the descent was
marked at 9% and 10% part of the time and it was awesome, almost making all that
climbing worthwhile.
In every Andorran community I kept an eye out for a souvenir shop where I could buy a hat pin but I was riding through ghost towns, every shop shut for the siesta time. Eventually though I did get the hat pin and rode across the border into Spain. No formalities at the border, the customs official just waved me through. Cars though were detained and searched for duty free goods. Along the way to the border I had noticed empty packages discarded on the streets. Apparently people had opened their purchases and thrown the boxes out the car window in an effort to avoid paying duty at the border.
Once across the border it was only 10 km. to
the campground, Camping Envalira. It was on a rushing river, there were green
grass and dandelions about a foot high which we flattened when we pitched our
tents. That night the rushing river muffled all the usual nighttime noises of
coughing and snoring.
Adios!
Alice
DAY 116
La
Seu d'Urgell to Monistrol de Montserrat
When
we first saw the unmistakeable craggy profile of Montserrat, looking tiny in the
far distance, we didn’t realize we’d actually be riding up one side and down
the other side before the day was over. It was a 147 km. (91 mile) day, and
hilly, but it was do-able because although there was plenty of climbing there
were also many downhill miles. The weather was fine and the countryside was
beautiful. Red poppies grow wild along the highways and in the fields and are a
bright and beautiful accent against the green grass and other vegetation. Blue,
pink, yellow and white wild flowers grow in profusion beside the roads along
with the red poppies.
It
was all uphill to the top of Montserrat but the views were wonderful. Montserrat
is the religious center of Catalonia and people flock there to worship Mary. A
monastery, museum, hotels and shops have been built at the top of the mountain.
The fast riders had a chance to make a visit to the monastery and museum but
when I reached the turnoff it was too late in the day. The steep, curving
descent to our campground in Monistrol de Montserrat was fast and fun.
We
were camping at the dirt soccer field in Monistrol de Montserrat, the city at
the bottom of the mountain, but it wasn’t raining and it was a gravely sort of
dirt so it was fine. I only had time to get my tent up and wash my face before
making a dash to dinner. The dinner was at a hotel 1.5 km. from camp but I had
the good fortune to be offered
a ride in the last TK&A van going there. I appreciated that stroke of good
luck. After dinner I walked back looking for a telephone so that I could call my
mother and send email. The phones in France were fine but the phones in Spain
have been frustrating to use. I usually have to try many times to send e-mail
and use many pesetas before finally getting a good connection.
Adios!
Alice
DAY 117
Monistrol
de Montserrat to Barcelona
For
once we did not get up in the dark. We were camped at a soccer field and because
the big floodlights had been left on all night it was as light as day at 5 a.m.
when it should have been dark. I found it easier to get up and get going than
usual. We were riding to the coast; Barcelona is a port city on the
Mediterranean Sea. On the way we rode through what was obviously an important
wine producing region for there were miles and miles of grape fields and big
showrooms where wines could be sampled and purchased. Our Checkpoint was in the
parking area of the Canals and Munne Cava, a grand building on which no expense
had been spared, making it obvious that there must be good money to be made in
wine production. Of course I couldn’t sample the wines because I had to ride
my bike, but I did go inside to have a look. Some riders were purchasing wine
and arranging to have it delivered to our campground in Barcelona. One couple
had 18 bottles delivered! That astonished me because of the storage problem but
they said they had space enough in their two lockers to accomodate the 18
bottles. Wow! There’s not space in mine for even one bottle. Even though I
knew Barcelona was on the coast it was still a surprise to crest a hill and see
the Mediterranean before me. The ride along the coast was the hardest part of
the day because of a strong headwind combined with hills. It was the fourth
hilly day and my legs knew it.
There
were several glitches in the DRG apparently because a number of us got lost more
than once. I was lost three times! That means I got to put on some extra miles,
climb more hills, and ask local people for help in getting back on course. We
were staying at Camping La Ballena Alegre (The Happy Whale), it was on the beach
and only 10 minutes by bus to the city center. TK&A had rented enough beds
for everyone in ‘chalets’ and trailers, with 4 or 5 riders assigned to each.
Or we had the option of camping. When I saw how tiny our crackerbox of a chalet
was I chose to camp and set my tent up outside the chalet. The chalet had 2 tiny
bedrooms, a very small kitchen and a bathroom. Three people had to sleep in the
bedroom that had a double bed and a bunkbed because the second bedroom had only
one bed. It reminded me too much of the cramped and miserable night on the
ferry. I would have far more space and fresh air in my tent.
The
campground had a little market where one could buy food and other supplies so
that was a convenience but the small laundry was overwhelmed. I could not have
my laundry done there. The meals we were served in the campground’s cafeteria
were marginal and worse than the quality was the attitude. There was no butter,
no one could have two of anything, and we were scolded for trying or asking.
There was no coffee at breakfast in the morning and when someone inquired why,
was told that there were too many of us! That problem was rectified for the
second breakfast by supplying hot water and individual packets of Nescafe.
The
no-coffee issue is sure to come up again, especially in Asia. Most of the riders
are Americans and they take it for granted that coffee is an integral part of a
breakfast. And they like it hot, but it is almost sure to be
lukewarm at best. The milk that is provided to be mixed with the coffee
for those who like cafe au lait or white coffee as it is sometimes called, is
nearly always piping hot. That brings up the cereal issue. Americans have the
custom of pouring cold milk onto their cornflakes or similar cereals but the
only milk available for us is the hot milk. Now I don’t know what the
Europeans pour on their cereal at home, but I do know that hot milk is weird on
cornflakes and makes them instantly mushy. But if that’s the way it is, so be
it. Just eat it or chose not to have cereal, that’s what I figure.
One
day not so long ago one rider sitting beside me at breakfast just sat staring at
her food. When that had gone on too long to be a blessing on the food I asked
her if there was a problem. She replied, “I think I am going to be angry”,
then went on to explain that her coffee was in a bowl (because there were no
cups) and it was cold, and hot milk was in her cornflakes. She then picked up
her bread and cheese, stuffed them into the bowl of sugar cubes and left the
room. I wanted to laugh because it seemed funny to watch an adult have a fit
over such little things, but so many are the stresses and so tired are the
riders, that coffee in a bowl was just the last straw for her and not a bit
funny, not at that moment anyway. Actually she was lucky that day to have her
cereal in a bowl. We often have our cereal in a cup or a glass, even a stemmed
wine glass if that is all that is available. If there are no spoons we eat it
with a fork.
Back
to The Happy Whale campground, I went to bed right after dinner and a
shower, worn out by four days of hard cycling. I was already in my tent
snuggled into my sleeping bag when I was treated to a spectacular thunder and
lightning storm, followed of course by tons of rain. On and off during the night
I checked the corners for leaks but there were none! Apparently I have finally
learned how to stake my tent properly.
Adios!
Alice
DAY 118
Barcelona
Layover Day
We
had a day to spend in Barcelona and of course I wanted to see it all. But there
was The Laundry Problem. When we found that most of us could not have our
laundry done at the campground (because there was only one dryer) some people
had washed their clothes by hand and hung them out. But for that to be
successful you need good weather and what we had was an overcast day and on and
off rain. I didn’t want a ton of wet laundry going sour thank you very much,
so I decided to cart my laundry to Barcelona and find a place there to do it. I
caught the bus that comes by the campground every half hour or so and was soon
in Barcelona. I didn’t expect to find a laundry in the high rent area of town
near the Placa de Catalunya where I had disembarked or along the fashionable La
Rambla where tourists and locals alike gather to stroll, eat, and shop so I
popped into a hotel and asked directions to a laundry. I was told that they are
not the custom but there was one on a small street in a remote area. The map I
had was poor and with few street names but he marked the general area and I set
out to find it. I walked for hours asking directions over and over and when I
finally found it it was closed! The afternoon closing time was 2:00, it was just
2:00 then. The laundry should reopen at 4:00. Two hours to wait! But by this
time I was determined to get my laundry done, reminding myself of Biker Al and
how she becomes obsessed with her laundry, so I sat on a nearby bench and worked
on my pocketmail device for the two hours. The laundry did reopen promptly at
4:00 and I could put my clothes into a machine immediately. The lady there would
put them into the dryer for me so I was free to go sightseeing for 2 hours or
more, I just had to make sure that I returned before the 8:00 closing time. I
had seen enough of the back streets of Florence and the underprivileged who live
there, I wanted to go back to where everything was pretty and right with the
world, back to the La Rambla street and to the waterfront. I was concerned about
finding my way back to the laundry later so I drew a map as I walked complete
with street names and arrows pointing the way to turn.
I
walked to the port and tried to take a picture of the grand monument to
Christopher Colombus that stands in a rotary there, but the light was wrong from
every side and the pictures were disappointing. I walked up the La Rambla
gawking at everything and savoring the beauty of Barcelona’s old buildings,
street lamps, sculptures and fountains. La Rambla is a very wide street that
runs downhill to the waterfront ending in the rotary with the Columbus monument.
There are wide sidewalks in front of the shops, restaurants, and hotels and 2
narrow one way streets, one one each side for auto traffic. In the center of La
Rambla is a wide, brick paved pedestrian mall, planted with rows of trees and
adorned with ornate lamps. Vendors selling souvenirs, newspapers and postcards
have set up shop there. There are colorful stalls selling gorgeous cut flowers
and elaborate bouquets. There are vendors with cages stacked high of many kinds
of birds: chickens, parakeets, quail, canaries, parrots and many I did not
recognize. I watched as two terrified squawking fat brown hens were stuffed into
one shopper’s basket and tied into place so they couldn’t escape. There are
entertainers on the street who work for whatever people are moved to to give
them. In short, one could easily spend a whole day on La Rambla and have an
enjoyable time.
I
treated myself to a coffee and a gorgeous slice of chocolate mousse in a Moka
shop and succeeding in stifling the urge to order a second piece. I bought a
souvenier Spain pin for my cap and I wandered through the narrow streets of the
Gothic quarter getting myself thoroughly lost until at last I stumbled upon the
grand Gothic Cathedral, too big to fit into a picture and poor lighting, but I
tried anyway.
Finally
finding my way back to La Rambla I was tired and hungry and running out of time.
I had noticed several restaurants during the day named Pans, the Spanish
equivalent of Subway I think, so I stopped in one of those for a sandwich. It
was delicious, a foot long in a French bread roll, and filled with fried pork
filets and onions, and dressed with a dijon mustard sauce. Much tastier than
anything in a Subway restaurant and the most delicious food I’ve had in Spain.
Then
I hurried back to the laundry, getting lost only once, and arriving in time to
collect my clean, dry clothes. By this time I was really very tired and willing
to give up trying to see everything. I found my way to the bus stop and returned
to the campground, totally exhausted and only wanting to go to bed.
Adios!
Alice
DAY 119
Barcelona
Layover Day, plus Gibraltar departure
Right
after breakfast I attended a class given by one of the massage therapists,
Randy, on how to stretch with your bicycle, thinking that knowing just what to
do would surely encourage me to make stretching a priority. Randy explained that
as we cycle our muscles grow stronger but that that also shortens them.
Stretching returns the muscles to their proper length, maintains their flexibility
and improves posture. I had already noticed those problems with
myself so I paid attention and even stayed for the second session of the class
to get a double dose of instruction and practice. I have to say that I felt
better after stretching, I always do, but I haven’t succeeded in making it a
habit or a priority. I’ll keep trying.
This
was the day we had to pack and leave for Gibraltar, but we wouldn’t be leaving
until evening. That meant that as soon as we were ready for the trip, we would
have the afternoon free. At the stretching class I had made plans to go with
Beth back to Barcelona for a few hours, so I hurried to get ready for the trip.
I took down my tent, I packed everything into my gear locker but kept out what I
would need for the bus trip to Gibraltar, and I delivered my bike with
handlebars turned and pedals removed to the big van in which all the bicycles
would be hauled to Gibraltar.
Then
I met Beth and soon we were on the bus whizzing into Barcelona. We both wanted
to see some of Gaudi’s work as I hadn’t seen any and she hadn’t seen
enough. We were headed for Parc Guell, a special residential site the architect
Gaudi was commissioned to design and build by Count Guell. Seventy homes were
originally planned but in the end only two were built. They are fanciful and
colorful, like gingerbread houses with piles of frosting embedded with colorful
tile mosaics for the roofs and with delightful chimneys the like of which I had
never seen. What an incredible imagination Gaudi had! There also should have
been a market, a church, and other public services and what stopped the project
I don’t know. But what is there is outstanding, singular, playful, colorful
and fanciful. There are two wonderful water fountains, sculptures of dragons
finished with tile mosaics. There are stone garden walls and a stone viaduct
that are like beautiful sculptures themselves, there is nothing about them that
is ordinary or that I have ever seen anywhere else in the world. I could hardly
believe my eyes! Why does everything need to be so rectangular, vertical or
horizontal, I asked myself. Gaudi’s work is much more interesting and very
importantly, it is fun and full of joy. Perhaps the finest structure in the Park
is a magnificent circular and curved mosaic-tiled bench that encircles what was
intended to be the town square. I tried but I could not capture the bench or the
essence of Gaudi in my photographs. At Park Guell the home where Gaudi lived the
last years of his life serves as a museum where one can see photographs of Gaudi
and learn a little about the man and his life. The house is furnished with
furniture that he designed. We couldn’t sit on it to see whether it was
comfortable, but it was beautiful and unique.
While we were at the Park a group of young schoolchildren arrived, and
squealing with delight at what they saw, sat down and busily began trying to
draw Gaudi houses on their papers. Maybe one of them someday will pick up where
Gaudi left off.
There
are other works of Gaudi’s in Barcelona, most notably perhaps, the Sagrada
Familia, an enormous cathedral that is still incomplete on the inside. It was
too much for Gaudi to complete during his lifetime and apparently now there is
discussion about whether to leave it unfinished or not. Inside scaffolding and
cranes are in place or so I have heard for I did not have time to see it myself,
so perhaps work is already underway.
We
returned to the campground just in time for dinner and immediately afterward
lined up to board the busses for the trip to Gibraltar. I think everyone was
dreading the 16 hour trip but in the end it wasn’t all that bad. I was the
last one to get on the first bus and since they were limiting each bus to 45
passengers that meant there were a few open seats and I was one of the lucky
ones with an empty seat beside me. When all 4 busses were finally loaded we set
out on our journey. My bus, #355, was too hot and had squealing brakes but
otherwise was okay. We were told that there would be stops every two hours and
sure enough they were. The first stop occurred earlier than that and lasted for
40 minutes so that the bus drivers could eat dinner. After that we stopped every
two hours at whatever place the drivers could find that wasn’t already crowded
with too many other bus passengers. There are huge restaurants built along the
road to handle hundreds of bus passengers at once, but even so the lines for the
toilets were long and sometimes the 20 minute stop was hardly enough to get a
turn. One did not tarry inside one of those places if not necessary because they
were smoke filled and noisy. Because of the many stops our sleep was disjointed
but I at least did manage to nap part of the time and felt as least as well as I
normally do after an all night flight.
Adios!
Alice
DAYS 120 – 121
Arrive in Gibraltar and Gibraltar Layover Day
We
arrived in Gibraltar without incident and just about 16 hours after our start.
We had to drive across the airport runways which intersect the road into
Gibraltar and I thought that a
unique experience. There was a delay at the British (Gibraltar) border because
several riders did not have their passports or any other picture ID. They were
made to get off the bus and given a reprimand but then were allowed to reboard
and enter Gibraltar. They were told they would not be able to leave without
passports. (Their passports were in their lockers but the gear trucks hadn’t
come.) We drove around to the back side of the mountain to Catalan Bay where our
hotel, The Catalan, was located. The drivers didn’t stop at the hotel but kept
going until they found themselves in a jam and could go no further. Some fancy
backing up had to be done but eventually all the busses were turned around and
headed back to the hotel.
It
took at least an hour of standing in line to get room assignments so the brunch
we were anticipating was set back and eventually became lunch but by whatever
name it was certainly welcome and highly enjoyed. I was starving. During lunch
some of us made plans to go see ‘The Rock’ as it is called. We waited in
front of the hotel for the bus which never arrived so we started walking into
town which was not so far away, only a few kilometers, but a bus ride would be
quicker and we were hoping one would appear. It did and we rode to the cable car
station where we paid for a ride to the top of the Rock. What a great view! Of
course we could see the city of Gibraltar below us and the big harbor, and on
the back side we could see our hotel. We could also see Spain and Africa for
Tangiers is only a few miles away. But what Sharon and I both really were
interested in seeing were the monkeys, which live on the slopes of The Rock and
for which Gibraltar has become famous. These monkeys are thought to be Barbary
Macaques, descended from pets that were brought here from Africa and escaped.
Here they are called rock apes, but they look like big tailless monkeys. We
found them to be entirely adorable and very gentle. They didn’t mind if I
stroked them and one was even bribed with cashew nuts to sit on my shoulder. The
taxi drivers, who constantly bring tourists to see the apes, feed them bananas
and nuts and play with them every day until the apes have become very tame.
Apparently the apes have done some damage to the paint on the cable car building
at the top for I saw a sign apologizing for the state of the paint, explaining
that the apes have damaged it, and that discussions were underway about what
could be done about the overpopulation of apes. It would seem that Gibralar also
has an over population of seagulls. There are hundreds of them flying above the
cliffs and why they could be doing that I don’t know. Do seagulls eat bananas?
After
taking the cable car down the mountain we walked through the shopping street of
Gibraltar. Most shops were closed but that was okay because we didn’t want
anything. We were trying to find a bus or taxi but couldn’t. On
the way back to the hotel we stopped at the gear trucks which had just arrived
to get the things we’d need for the night. They were parked at least a half
mile from the hotel so we took only what we needed. Then it was dinner time, but
that was delayed because the van of bikes had just arrived and we had to help
unload it. At last everyone was seated in the dining rooms, and dinner started,
at least an hour later than scheduled. It was to be a sit down served dinner
which we prefer because it is so much more civil, but the service was very slow
and we were in our chairs for at least two hours. That is too long to spend at
dinner. It was already past bedtime for most of us by the time the main course
was served.
On
my second day in Gibraltar I had hoped to take a ferry to Tangiers for the day
with some of my friends. But my conscience and good sense won out, instead I
stayed behind working to get current with the web page writing. It took me the
entire day without a break to do it, but at last it is finished. In a few
minutes it will be dinner time again. It is lovely to have all these meals just
appearing before me. I could get used to this! In the meantime I will find a
telephone and try to send these messages.
Good Bye! Alice
Spain
The Pyrenees Gaudi's Castle
Italy
Odyssey Riders
