When, in a few days, we return to the UK there will be ‘ artists ‘ in the pop chart that we have never heard of, and may only have been at infant school when we left. There will be celebrities of the chef variety and otherwise that we have no idea of the names of or care much about. New cars will have unfamiliar shapes and the bank notes of Scotland will be as baffling to us as any tourist.
Fake branding.
Things will have changed in 3 and a half years and I can only hope that someone has cut the grass. We are older that is just simple mathematics, and there are times when the wrong light makes us look as if the journey has aged us. There are other moments when I can be convinced it has kept us young.
Phyllis – Seattle WA.Dennis – Seattle WA.
You left us just after we had got to Seattle and were full to the brim with emotions of a project completed. We have now crossed the USA from coast to coast twice, which makes us part of a special club of sorts. If we had to pick, and of course it would be as hard as choosing which one of the twins you would save in a house fire, it would have to be The Northern Tier. The next person you ask on this subject will probably put these the other way around just to confuse you.
From the garden.Good cheer with fine friends.
We have met wonderful people, crazy people, slightly confused people and people who have just the very vaguest grasp of reality. People who just a moment before have been total strangers have stepped forward to offer us help. We could have made it without them, but my goodness it would have been far, far harder.
Chris Cameron – Seattle WA.
If you set out on a bicycle to travel the world you will make the sort of friends that you can count on. The sort of people you want by your side at a lion hunt. You will be invited into people’s homes without a moment’s hesitation. We are lucky enough to have a whole legion of theses ‘ trail angels ‘. In Seattle we had hospitality beyond our wildest dreams. If you are reading this because you met us on the road somewhere on the journey, we thank you.
My bike renovated by Rosebud – we know he put the front rack on wrong!
Chris Cameron of Rosebud Bicycle Builds came around to give our bikes the bicycle equivalent of a Rock Star Spa weekend. He did the same sort of thing in year one, which is why we look so good after all these miles. We have tried to look good, smell fragrant and smile throughout the more than 31,000 miles and it is thanks to a few good mechanics and the best equipment on planet Earth that we have managed this most of the time. Most of the stuff we use we hand over hard cash for. A few things we get a deal on – Thank you Big Agnes Tents of Colorado USA and Showers Pass Waterproofs of USA. These are the best in the business.
Padding for flight.Bagging for flight.
If you have stumbled upon the blog while searching for some sportswool socks – welcome. If you are here for a bit of inspiration, or to find a route, get out there and tell them we sent you. There are lots of you reading this who should be working – you need a rest anyway, and will be far more productive in 20 minutes time after a bit of a distraction. If you just can’t sleep, pull up a chair and grab a Scotch. It is good to have you all.
Tom – Baltimore MD.Kathryn – Baltimore MD.
We are now in Baltimore guests of the wonderful Tom and Kathryn, with our flight back to the UK just 2 days away. Thanks to South West Airlines everything got here and for no extra charge for oversized – a bit of charm helped, and a €150 fee got waved. If Sir Richard’s people do a good job and the bikes come off the other end with everything there and unmolested Virgin Atlantic will remain our favourite way to get across the pond.
Gallery – Baltimore MD.Church with Poe’s grave – Baltimore MD.
If we can meet any of you on our way from the North of the English Midlands as we ride up to Scotland, make yourselves known. If you are in Scotland, on the West coast or on many of the islands then we will be passing by your door. We will be trying to show you our home country through this blog. I hope it all works out and the sun shines and the wind drops to a breeze that keeps away the midges. This last kick of the ball should be fun. Let’s see what happens and as usual we have almost no plan.
Offerings on the grave of Edgar Allan Poe – Baltimore MD.Offering on the grave of Edgar Allan Poe – Baltimore MD.
When you do not feel good on a bike, there are few worse places, and no one to blame but yourself. Leaving Rodez, I was in a little dark bubble of misery and inward contemplation. What makes it worse, no worse than that, much worse. Is seeing Esther going so well every time I could raise my head. Some days you ‘have the legs’, as they say, and Sean Kelly says rather a lot.
Signs are improving – quality stock ahead.
She could, at any moment, have given me ‘the look’. That over the shoulder glance that Lance Armstrong gave Ulrich, and which became known as ‘the look’, before pulling away at impossible speed and a dizzying cadence. The only thing that could stop such a tour defining moment was the knowledge that I have the tent, the credit cards and the washbag.
I think that makes 3 ‘ Cols ‘.
We climb 900m at 3% and are surrounded by Beech Trees that are yet to come into leaf. This is hard, much harder than can be justified by 3%. Back home when we do endurance races, you know that during the 8, 12 or however many hours of the race, you will have good and bad moments. Sad to say, but if I am on a high, I love being near someone who is not, and I can put in the gutter. There is a strange thing that happens when you have a number pinned on you and not all of it is nice. Same with politics I guess.
So, how good is this then?Best cycling road?
Here, it was the road and me, and just at the moment it was the D29 that was winning. We go left, and over the 907m altitude on the gps. Laissac comes up next on the D523, which may perhaps be one of the most perfect cycling roads in the known universe. I swerve to avoid a pro rider from Skill Shimano, who has come up so fast and quiet. You know, there will be carnage when we are all driving whisper quiet electric cars. He descends at a speed that only people being paid to do so should attempt.
Can not remember the name of these.3,000k done – a small celebration.Picture perfect.
Left, onto the D95 and we start the valley of the River Lot. The map shows zigs and zags, and we expect a punishing climb to end the day. Jubilation indeed then, when it is a descent, and steep at that. Down we drop, towards St Geniez d’ Olt, home of all things Marmot. I will give you the Wiki translation to see if you can make any sense of it:-
We stood next to bells like this – it is too close to jazz, and loud.Descending to the Lot.
“According to legend this name dates back to the fifteenthcentury. Where two children of ten years living with their father in a poor house on the lot, had a pet hamster. An evening thunderstorm, frightened the poor animal fled. The children began to pursue and caught him in the mountains. But the storm was raging and they had to take shelter in a hut. When they returned to the village on Lot had overflowed and washed away their home and their father. The children saved by instinct Groundhog left her no more, they were called brats. By extension over the years, this name was given to all residents of Saint Geniez d’Olt.”
Computer work in Saint Geniez d’Olt.Shop fronts Saint Geniez d’Olt.River Lot in Saint Geniez d’Olt.
We camped at La Bossiere campground, which fronts the River Lot, and at a very reasonable, €10, suggest that you should do the same. We went through the 3,000k in Europe and over the 20,000k in total mark today and the distances are starting to wear out bits of the bike. I have a problem with the front mech, which I solve. But Esther has a problem with a seized pedal, which no amount of WD40 can cure. Good to know then, that in a moment of prescience, we have with us two of every washer and bearing in the pedal.
Saint Geniez d’Olt. Window.Mural of local Marmot legend.
The local Fiat garage, we are told is where to take your unhappy velocipede. Which is just what we do the very next day and call it a ‘rest day’. We are very taken with the little town, and in what has become a feature of the blog of late, Esther wants to move here. You can see why it would not be an unreasonable thing to wish for.
Mr Fiat.
We pick up the bike from a smiling ‘Mr Fiat’ and all is well with ‘Tapas’, as I call Esther’s bike (mine is called Sebastian, after a horse in a Eastern Block children’s television show about the White Horses of the Lipizzaner Stables. This was just about the only thing broadcast in 1967 for kids, and the main horse was called Boris. It left a lasting impression in Black and White).
In what looks like being a repeat of, ‘the story of the Marmot’, it starts to hail and thunder, with lightning so close that you can see it’s path against the hills of the valley opposite. We catch a lull in the storm and ride back to the tent hoping not to ride into any 4cm deep holes in the road, that are now hidden in 20 meter long puddles. The storm continues for hours, testing the waterproof qualities of our Big Agnes tent. We do not brush our teeth and hope to go through the night without needing to urinate.
Hail that has bounced of our tent.
At what is just a 3-season rated tent, the ‘Big Agie’ tent does very well indeed and we are dry-happy-camping-touring cyclists in the morning. We take the D998 and ride up and through low cloud. Again, this may be up with the leading contenders, for ‘the best cycling roads’. You must, as a matter of some urgency, buy a house here. You will not regret it one little bit. But do keep in touch and have a well appointed guest room.
This could be the view from your house.I can not imagine this in any National Park back home.The Lot, running fast and wide.
We follow the River Lot, which is running fast and very swollen. The morning however, is brightening, clearing any lingering mist. The vegetation is lush beyond belief. Even an idiot could be a gardener here. We are just in the right place at the right time for the perfect lunch. The town of Marvejols at 2.00 pm, and we are sat next to the local Museum curator, Mr Lapointe. Great company and absolutely as mad as they come. A lovely man.
Mr Lapointe.
Slightly, and I will have to use the technical term here, pissed we ride on and take a right turn onto the D2, Gorges de L’Enfent. Our map tells us this is a ‘bad road’. We assume that it means ‘bad, as in challenging if you are driving a wide RV and not Michael Jackson ‘Bad!’. We start at 900m and a barmy 21’c and go upwards with every pedal stroke. There is so little in full leaf here. At 1,000m the first Birch are opening tender leaves to a very early Spring warmth. At 1,100m we ride over a white line, evidence of a club hill climb here, and it is down to just 12’c. This is the highest we have been so far in France.
You have been warned.Beautiful gorge.Just coming into leaf, it is well over 1,000 m
It changes to almost mono Pine cover, and we descend a little through what could be the landscape of Northumberland. We camp at Serverette, on a closed Municipal Campground. The town is grey with granite grey houses standing on grey granite outcrops. It is unfussy architecture. You can not get fussy with rock this hard, it will destroy you or send you mad if you try. It is a 1,100m camp for us and just 6’c before we get in the tent and thick mist is rising as a smoke, from the river.
Serverette in morning light.
Morning as cold as we have had. We ride on the D987 with finger ends tingling. There are many walkers out, which is something we have not seen before. 1,130m a new high for us in France and it is only just Spring here today. There are swathes of Daffodils and more Cuckoo calls than ever. Peat brown streams are rushing, crazy and swollen with the heavy rain. Every little culvert and small valley is a torrent of wild water.
Pilgrims route.
1,300m in height and we come to a church on what is one of the routes of the Compostelle walking pilgrimage. It is very popular, in a sort of Pennine Way with a bit of Spirituality, sort of way.
1,300m and a church by the roadside.
We pass into the Haute-Loire department and it is now just 7’c with trees almost bare of any leaf or bud. We have a warming soup in a bar. The regulars, all of whom will have been born, work and will die within a 5k radius are sitting on well used bar stools. To a man, and one woman, they are displaying a passion for strong tobacco and equally strong spirits along with a disregard for any European-wide legislation. Were they capable of standing, I would be at least 80cm taller than the next tallest person in the bar and it has to be said, ‘there is not a looker amongst them ‘.
Long nights of winter.
Two framed ‘multi thousand piece jigsaw’ hang, framed in the room, testimony to long, dark winter nights.
Wild Daffodils by the thousand.
This is Wolf country, and what we witness next is something I thought I would never see. I am closing in on a field of sheep when one of them breaks away from the flock and runs towards me barking and snarling. This is the origin of the sheep dog. This is a white dog that lives with the flock to protect it and goes back well before all the tricks and the stunts of the modern sheep dog.
A big and very aggressive dog is in amongst this lot.
He runs at me, hackles up and snarling, keeping pace on the other side of the fence. This is amazing, and done all on instinct. He turns and gives Esther the same treatment as the sheep just stand and watch. This is what your Dulux dog, Old English is designed to do, and most of the breeds called sheep dogs before the Collie came along and turned the job into a branch of show business. I am amazed beyond words.
The end of what has been a short, but cold and brutal climbing day, comes in the little town of Saugues. Which is rather nice.
Paul Young I think it was, who sang about the benefits of traveling light. “Where ever I lay my hat, that’s my home”, he proposed. The record was very good, a guilty pleasure for someone whose music collection back then, never strayed very
Cyclists and sailors share a passion with observing the wind.
far from Progressive Rock. Now, substitute Paul’s hat, for our ‘Big Agnes’ ultra light tent and we would be joining in with the choruses. In 15 months of travelling, never once reaching into your pocket and finding the reassurance of a set of house keys, the tent has been our place of refuge, our one and only constant. We turn up at the end of the day and pick a dusty bit of soil for the place where we will pitch the tent. Within 10 minutes it is home. It’s technical shell in effect offers less protection from harm than a ‘tea towel’. But if you pick your wild camp well, and have a bit of luck, it is so comfy. A good night in a tent will always be better than all but an exceptional night in a hotel.
Evening light in old town Teruel, Spain.
The best time for sleep in a Spanish hotel room is between 4 in the afternoon and about 9. After that you can forget sleep until 1 in the morning or later. Spain can not walk, talk or open or close doors without making a heck of a lot of noise. This is as much of a rule and a certainty as gravity, so adjust, get used to it. As the rain hit against the window of our hotel room in Teruel, camping almost lost all of its appeal. So another night in a hotel.
Easter procession, Teruel.Easter procession.
But the hotel was booked out this being Spain and this being Easter, families were coming together. Twenty minutes on the WWW. and we got a room elsewhere and were pushing our bikes through the narrow streets. Tonight is one of the big procession nights of the Easter celebrations and Teruel is one of the best places to be. It starts at 8, but by 7 we just step outside and join the throng making their way into the old town squares.
Darkness falls on the procession.
This is a big night. The rain has stopped, but we are just under 1,000 meters high and it is cold. We pick a spot and within minutes the head of the procession is coming towards us and will take the best part of two hours to pass. I thought it was an amazing experience but beyond that I have no idea what to make of it all. One thing is for sure, from the little girl taking part for the first time, to the town patriarchs, it was an important day.
First time at the procession.
We wake to heavy rain and wind and there is fresh snow on the hills around Teruel. Within the first 5k we have climbed constantly and just as it flattens out I pick up a nail and flat. Bugger and thrice bugger. If you tried to get a nail that is flat and harmlessly lying there to stick up and go in your tyre, you couldn’t do it. We continue along the N420 towards Alcaniz and it begins snowing on us. It is 5’c, but then we climb and it is 3’c and snow is settling around us. Cars coming towards us all have lights on.
I have been happier. 3'c in Spain.Snow on the hills.We could be doing this back home in Scotland.
We stop at Perales del Elfambra, a small village at just under 1,200 meters. We know that the road gets higher from here onwards and ask about rooms. A plate of toast and two mugs of coffee and we are going no further. When we set out the next day the wind has gone and so has the snow, but it is very obvious what a good call we made. It is still 3’c, but bright and we have a tailwind. Up we go to over 1,400 meters and there is ice on the roadside puddles. This is a remote area and we pass through the second highest village in Spain.
Remote and very exposed riding. 3'c once again.
We drop 200 meters and go through a series of villages pinched and stretched out in the base of narrow canyons. Every time this happens it is narrow roads with crash barriers tight to our elbows. The holiday traffic makes this tense biking. We turn onto the N211 and go back up over 1,000 meters and amongst Pines.
High valley communities. But the sun comes out.Tight roads and we descend.Amazing roads through show off geology.
Sweating, freezing cold and overheating at the same time, I change base layers. We are at 650 meters, the lowest all day and have done 82k. We sneak off the road, find a pitch and have the tent up just in time for a heavy shower of hail. This would be unpleasant back at 1,400 meters. Oh how we love our tent and all the little bits of tech equipment that makes this comfortable.
Final few kilometers.Wild camp at the end of a hard day.Morning ride.
We arrive in Alcanize just as the congregation are spilling out into the square. This is a stroke of luck for us as we are told about an off road route just where we want to go. The nice people we meet in the square tell us how to find the start, which is good because it is not signed. As ever, it is an old railway. It takes in some amazing scenery and takes you down all the way to the coast. The surface is challenging for our heavy touring bikes and we are down to 6kph and swinging from side to side to get a smoother line.
Alcanize and the church should be open.The bike path is here somewhere.On the bike path.Old train tracks make great paths.This bit is smooth.
Eventually, one of these bigger rocks is going to make this a very unhappy day and leave us with a big ‘bank holiday bike problem’. We give in and climb out at a remote village. Taking a compass bearing, we join roads in the direction of the coast and then pick up the N420 once again. We are back up to speed as we go down hill at 50 kph. We wild camp, this time under Almond Trees for a bit of a change.
Climbing away from the path.Now my geography would not have put it here at all.On the N420.Wild camp.
9.30 in the morning and already 18’c is much more like it. We have eaten a vat of porridge, topped with banana and raisins, and are ready for the hills ahead. Crickey, there are lots of them and some go on a bit. We do appear to be having a string of good fortune with hills. We go up at 5% and come down a 8% every time and have done since Portugal. The view from the N 420 is ‘Lord of the Rings’ with a bit of ‘Narnia’. Geology has been given a free hand to express itself here and we take it all in from the shoulder.
Roadside trees from the N 420.Stunning landscape from a section of the old 420.The old 420.
The traffic on the N 420 is busy, very busy. And here is the thing. Time and again we witness crazy overtaking on blind corners and diving into gaps that do not exist. Only people with faith and a strong belief in an after life would do this. This is southern European driving at its Bank Holiday worst. We follow the gps for a spell on the old road. There are more wine terraces and some vines are coming into leaf along with the other trees. We are just over 200 meters now and Spring is here.
Spring is here, perhaps even the start of summer.Our friends Pau and Gaelle.
You could have predicted this. It is now over 30’c and we come to our first 10% climb at the tail end of a long day. We find a rhythm and get up it. A car stops and people come running back towards us. I am being hugged and have two happy smiling people who I do not recognise. We only know four people in Spain so my brain has failed to join together the conclusion that two of them could randomly find us here. We accidentally biked with Pau and Gaelle in New Zealand over a year ago now and here they are. Now that is more impossible than getting a nail in your tyre.
Entering the village of Argentxxx
We are trying to get to the house of the other two people that we know in Spain. Google map and the gps are having a bit of a dispute which the gps finally wins and we have another 20k to do, with much of it uphill. We have done 80k already and the gps log shows the last 10k has a series of violent switch backs which may or may not be uphill. Oh, this has been a hard day. With 98k we pull up at our friends Hotel. Thank goodness the last bit turned out to be down and not up. There would have been tears.
Casa Argentera - absolutely fabulous place to stay for the biker, hiker or runner.A view near the Hotel. Just look at the road down there.
This is an amazing area to walk or ride a nice light road bike. That would be a pure joy indeed. In fact we have not come across a better area in Spain to bring the beloved Carbon Fibre joy of your cycling passion. In fact have a look at our Hotel web site here and book a week. You deserve it.
Just because we are able to, we have a complete and total collapse of all energy. We have to work out how we are going to get into France next. We are on the very cusp of Spring and the whole idea is not to get ahead of it. We have had a bit of a taste of winter riding and it is not much fun.
THE SPORTSWOOL DIARIES 