Barcelona to Montpellier

Heather of five years ago would have been shocked that Heather of today is doing this trip. I never thought I'd be this kind of person, and yet here we are. Joel of five years ago would have been thrilled that Joel of today is doing this trip, as he had always wanted to be this kind of person but didn't know if he'd actually make it there. But we each seek out adventure and are confident in our abilities to handle whatever flavour of adventure arrives (see: the car keys story) so we tend to dive right on in and wing it, and it works out more often than not.

Case in point: Joel finally figured out how to use the GPS the day before we left (very handy!). We didn't bring my old and sad bike helmet, trusting that we'd find a better one in Barcelona (and we did). We shipped what we hoped would be the perfect 'kickstand' to Pittsburgh a week before we took off, trusting we'd figure out how to get it to Toronto before we left (it arrived an hour before we headed to the airport — thank you Emily, Matt and Ian, it works wonderfully for us). And we've been trusting heavily in our bikes and our GPS to help us out when some of the roads Google suggests for cycling look like they are more suited to mountain bikes than to fully-laden touring bikes.

Our "Thanks, Google…" roads have been gravel, mud, sand, and several stream and river crossings without bridges, including one where we had to carry over instead of ride/wade through.

But even with all that, the routes have been generally great. We've had some time on the highways, but most of our ride has been on smaller country roads. The landscapes in Spain look quite similar to those  of California, with additional olive trees and aspens planted in rows. Every day brings different landscapes, and we are really enjoying each of them.

​We spent one night at a specialty hotel whose rooms are all private bubble-rooms with clear plastic domes over the beds so you can stargaze — very romantic! ​While I did laundry, Joel made an amazing dinner on the camping stoves (salmon and Brussels sprouts poached in cava, served on butter rice).

"Why did we think this was a good idea??"

Much of the ride out from Barcelona had been flat. That started changing as we got closer to France and the Pyrenees, and the little coastal villages were separated by mountains in between. Worse yet, the last town in Spain is at sea level, and the border is 166 m above sea level.

(We're also carrying 128 lbs of bike and gear for Joel, and 96 lbs of bike and gear for me. He gets more weight because he's been training on his 20 km round trip daily commute, versus my 4 km round trip. He also carries the food, so his pack weight varies depending on how hungry we are each day.) 

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From Portbou at sea level to the French border at 166 m

Once we cycled past the graffiti'd checkpoint offices at the border (permanently closed and not needed in the EU), we were into France proper. We quickly found a group of seniors who had walked up the French side of the hill, and we immediately started talking. It was such a relief to be able to communicate effectively, and we talked nonstop! They were very taken with us and the idea of our trip, and our bikes — the men were all trying to pick up Joel's bike, and they were telling us to enjoy our youth while we could (though one woman told us about the yearly 800 km bike trip she does with a friend in Germany, which sounds fantastic). 

After lunch at the top, we rode down to Cerbère at sea level, filled up with water, then immediately (agonizingly) climbed our way back out of town. The highway had a more gradual climb than the one in Spain, so we continued along until we found a perfect spot on the coast to wild camp. We had dinner, watched a wild pig gallop on by, and then started looking ahead to the route to Montpellier. We had three days to cover 210 km, and the forecast was calling for rain the entire third day. So we did the only sensible thing: we decided to try to ride it all in two days.

We woke up to a glorious sunrise, and then continued down the hill to Banyuls-sur-Mer to fill up with water and ride back up another hill. After starting the morning with snow-capped Pyrenees in the background, the landscape soon transitioned to miles and miles of beaches and accompanying parking, and landscape and architecture that felt more like Florida. We spent some time at the beach, and spent the bulk of our day cycling alongside many more kilometres of deserted beaches (the carousels were just coming out as the Easter holidays start soon), and then on to the inland salt marshes. 

Our last town stop for water saw a lovely woman offering to fill our bottles at her house, and we headed on for our last push before nightfall. After cycling through fifteen kilometres along the canal on a narrow cycling path, the first flat spot we saw was near an abandoned building, which made a great lee spot as the wind was picking up. We made a speedy dinner, explored the abandoned building, and slept well that night after covering 100 km that day.

After another impossibly beautiful sunrise, we broke camp and were once again off on the canal path out of the estuaries and back to the beach towns alternating with vineyards. They were all setting up for holidays — go karts, trampolines, campgrounds, golf, all eerily quiet but soon to be bustling. Our road took us inland and then back along the coast, with a very strong east wind the entire way. Our last stretch before dinner was a 12 km dedicated bike way along luxurious sandy beaches between Agde and Sète. We had a seafood dinner in Sète and since dark had fallen, we hopped on a train for the last few kilometres to Montpellier, and arrived before the rain started.