(There's no room in this caboose for TV journalists and doctors talking endlessly about Covid numbers. I'm sticking with my trusty iphoto collection for my diversion. Hope you are all hanging in there. Make a cup of tea. Take care and stay warm.)
It was a long way to fly to Spain in 2015 so we packed a lot in. First a pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago for Dave and Spanish School for me, and then we tacked on a wonderful bicycle trip with our friends Stew and Cyndi.
We didn't take the easy way for this last project, like letting a cycle company organize the tour. No, we rented bikes in Girona, Spain and told the tour guides we didn't need their services, we'd be just fine for a week with our maps of Catalonia. They seemed skeptical.
We stuffed everything we needed into our panniers and away we pedalled to the Mediterranean coast.
It wasn't all a piece of cake. A flat tire was no problem for our mechanics but navigating is a challenge when you're trying to stay off busy highways and the map doesn't show all the psychopaths, I mean cycle paths.
We took a few wrong turns but mostly sailed along happily past farmland and pretty hilltop villages, and only once, by accident, got onto a busy highway with no shoulders and almost no room for bikes.
Stew was riding at the back, the ass-man it was called, and said the mirror of a motorhome missed Dave and me by less than we want to know. One of those close calls I don't like to think about.
The weather, the landscape, the friends, the food, and especially the freedom of travelling by bike on paths and quiet roads was fabulous. That's what I remember.
Picnic lunches were the best. Food is our fuel on bike trips, so all the money in the kitty goes towards fancy cheese, serrano ham, olives, bread and wine.
And then the tapas! And pastries! Cafes and bars were constantly calling out to us.
Such gorgeous old buildings and tiny streets in every sleepy town. Bikes were the perfect slow, quiet way to explore.
We could see our destination in the distance on our last day, the town of Figueras, but the only route there was a highway and we weren't going near it.
Stew disappeared into a culvert, we followed like lemmings across the storm drain, and lo and behold, a small lane led us into the city.
One of the craziest and most entertaining artists ever is Salvador Dalí who was born in that town.
His biggest artwork is this museum itself which he designed to house his sculptures and paintings. If you're ever in Figueras don't miss it. Easily the most unusual art museum I've ever seen.
It was a bike trip to remember! I want to travel like that again when a pandemic doesn't keep us tied to our living room and if creaky old age keeps its distance for a few more years. So far so good.
Bike tourism really is the best.
We focused on the quality of our kilometres, not the quantity, so the distances we rode were never onerous, never painful. Most days we pedalled an easy 35-55 km, not the gruelling 110 km we've occasionally done on past trips.
Economical and kind to the environment, biking is slow but efficient, active but relaxing, you're unencumbered with luggage but have everything you need, you're always hungry but burn off your calories, your mind and body are happy, your itinerary is flexible, you travel with friends and feel free as a bird.
If this sounds tempting to you there is also the option of e-bikes. They're in our future, but way down the road for these four purists!
