This is me. In this picture it appears that I am waxing poetic on the wonders of BikeCat and Girona. Prepare for more of the same below.After some snow-related airport difficulties and a very pleasant day wandering Barcelona, everyone was settled in Girona and ready to ride. That is of course, until we woke up to the sound of some impressively torrential rain hitting the cobbles outside. After some pause, we decided that we were not going to let a little rain faze us and rolled out the door. Then came the thunder! Loud, jarring and moving ever closer. We pondered this development, and decided in the interest of safety to roll down the hill to one of the many cafes in Girona and wait it out with some coffee. Not a moment too soon, as it turned out, for shortly after we arrived at the cafe it began to hail. And not the piddly wee hail we get in Philly sometimes but the larger, helmet-cracking sort. Although this weather is very unusual for Girona, it refused to let up. Jaume suggested that we go off to lunch and leave the ride for the afternoon.
Waiting for the sun...with coffee!
This is what the roads looked like on the way to lunch. Crazy! Lunch was, characteristically for the BikeCat tours, a gastronomic delight. Several courses of local Catalan dishes, served with liberal amounts of vino tinto, made us quite forget the rain outside. By the time we left I at least was stuffed to the gills and looking towards a nap more than a ride. But this is Spain, and a training camp to boot, so of course we got in the saddle for a nice warm-up spin. By this time the weather had cleared, and so, bathed in late afternoon sun we popped out for a 30ish km ride that culminated in a good little climb and a useful descending clinic.
Day Two
The first day of real riding dawned sunny, though chilly. Today is the Coast to Tossa, a ride I remember well from last year. It starts with a smooth 30k warm-up past the medieval town of Llagostera, where we hang a right for the climb up the Tossa pass. Then follows a quick descent that quite literally deposits you on a sunny Mediterranean beach. I've never experienced a post-climb reward quite so satisfying as digging my toes into warm sand and looking out on the ocean (or sea), and that goes double when you're here across the pond!
A peaceful rest in Tossa.
Unfortunately, here is where the ride starts to get difficult. While gorgeous, roads that follow sea cliffs have an energy-devouring tendency towards UpDownUpDownUpDownUpDown. Like last year, this was a tricky portion of the ride for me...each individual climb is short, though steep, and for the first 2/3 I felt plenty strong. But, like last year, I hit a point where I was dreading the next up-turn and only able to spin my lowest gear. But the beautiful thing about this camp is that whenever you hit that point (as on these climbs I often do), you have only to remember that hey, this is SPAIN. I am in SPAIN riding my BIKE. I am not home, at work. The flippin Mediterranean is right next to me. I need to stop my mental whining and get my bum up this bloody hill!
And it helps too to have Jaume riding next to you with words of encouragement and setting a pace you can handle. Unlike the average tour, these rides feel like you're out with a good friend...who just happens to know all the great rides in Girona and rolls with a van full of anything you might need. Here I must give thanks to our indefatiguable support driver, Bernat. I can think of few things less fun than driving a van at 15 mph for 5-6 hrs a day, and yet he does it with a smile. Muuuuuuuchas gracias, Bernat!
Day Three (almost caught up!)
Last night, at another incredible dinner, methinks I enjoyed the food and vino tinto a bit too much given the difficulty of yesterday's Tossa ride. Today I woke up...a bit groggy. Not hungover, I swear...but...groggy. Fortunately, I had no trouble willing myself onto the bike (see above, re: whining) and by the time we were a few kms out of Girona, both my legs and my head felt just fine. Probably this is a mental effect of being in Spain.
Today's ride took us into the Volcanos region, near the foothills of the Pyrenees. We got a view of the mountain we'll be climbing on the last day...looks cold up there at 2000+ meters. But we don't need to worry about that until Saturday.
The Volcanos ride was a manageable 115 km, featuring two long, steady climbs before lunch and rolling hills back to Girona. Although not able to hang with the strongest menfolk at the front of the climbs, my boyo Darco (a sprinter by trade, and so disinterested in pushing it on the hills) and I were able to share pacing duties with the other chica on the tour, Nonnie (another sprinter and my former teammate). It's a good group to ride with, especially as we spend most of our time in a 3-person no man's land between the Fast Climbers and the Slow Climbers.
It is truly a wonderful thing to be riding here, fast or slow. To look up from the wheel in front of you and see snow-topped mountains alternating with medieval castles and cathedrals puts you, your legs and your machine in perspective. Symbols of nature's untouchable power and humanity's incredible ability to create, both of of which will long outlive you and your riding days...it makes you grateful to be there, to be riding, hell, to be alive (as cliche as that may be).
But before I really fall off this cliff of maudlin philosophizing and cause everyone reading this die of boredom or excessive eye-rolling, I'll happily return to my insular individuality to take a nap before dinner. My apologies for the length of this post. :)
