Through Spain, Over the Pyrenees, Into France

Day 115, Mile 5,005

We didn't think we'd see internet for a while because France doesn't do the public internet thing (we think everyone has it at home or on their mobile), but after enjoying our morning bakery stop, complete with a baguette, apple turnover and espresso), a local woman from the village of Houeilles snatched us and brought us home with her and is sharing her home, food, wine (two glasses by noon), etc, hence the real live internet connection.

Because of the length of our journey, it is nearly impossible to plan our route in detail.  (Amy probably spent a total of two hours planning our six hundred miles through France, likewise Brian spent the same amount for Spain).  We just said to ourselves, "How do we get from Portugal to France, using mostly small roads?"  Consequently, as we are peddaling, each corner we round, each village, and even each region of the countries are a surprise.  After riding our bicycles out of the mountains of Porugal and into Spain, we were pleasantly surprised to arrive in the wheat growing region of Spain.  For days and days we cycled through the flat and gently rolling farmland.  On and on the wheat fields went, (who knew this was in Spain??), and our legs said "thank you, thank you for the break!"

Like Portugal, we rode through the small rural villages in Spain.  Churches still dominated the center of town and still provided us with the water we needed for our journey.  The roads continued to be peacefully quiet, and likewise the villages (and villagers) were mostly asleep.  We'd enter the town, built now mostly out of some kind of mud/straw adobe type material, and witness the shuttered up houses and attempt to find some groceries.  It was a struggle until we started heading to some larger towns.  We witnessed the bread truck, the sausage truck, the fish truck, and the vegetable truck arrive at different times in different villages, so we think that is how people in these small towns get their food.  We did get some bread from one of these, when our route coincided, but they didn't stop outside our tent blaring their horn to announce thier arrival like they did the village houses.

We have found that the distance we can travel each day is much less than, say, in Texas.  Everything we do is slower, whether it is navigating the road network (some signed, some not), finding water, a bathroom, or a store, and even just shopping for food seems to take twice as long.  We've gotten into a European rhythm, though, and are relishing each new sight and smell.

After a few hundred miles of flattish riding in Spain we started heading up into the Pyrenees Mountains that divide Spain from France.  Despite our lack of planning, these we knew we were headed to and looked forward to the crossing.  We started climbing up with small mountain pass after small mountain pass for a couple days.  When the wind whipped up on our third day of mountains,we put our heads down and kept on peddaling:  Finally, the winds got so strong, we simply couldn't ride anymore.  We resorted to pushing our bikes up the incline, trying to find a plqce to camp out of the wind. 

After a couple hours we found a place to stick ourselves for the rest of the day and tried to wait out the wind in our tent.  It howled all night long and was still blowing the next morning, but we were able to get over the pass.  We had one more 3000 foot climb that day to get us over the mountains and into France.  Up and up we went, with storm clouds swirling, but the wind was mostly gone (for now).  We reached treeline at about 5 pm and had only a mile to go before crossing through the tunnel and into France.  And when we did, we faced a complete whiteout on the other side.  The winds were howling and nearly blew Amy right off her bike. 

We actually pushed our bikes DOWNHILL for a while as the steep road, fog whiteout, and side winds wreaked havoc with us.  After mounting our bikes again, down and down we went.  We got below the clouds and wowzers, France was beautiful.  Green STEEP hillsides, stone farmhouses dotting the valley below, and peaks all around us.  We found the most amazing campsite that night on the edge of a farm field, out of the wind and below the clouds and we slept a deep, deep sleep.

We are now about 200 miles into France and may have found the closest thing to heaven on earth.  The villages, the country villas, the bakeries(!), and the riding have all been delightful.  We're making our way towards Switzerland and should be there in 10+ days or so.