Thursday, September 17th
At 5:45am the bells started ringing throughout Montserrat, then it started raining I wondered whether this was a daily ritual. By 7:30am the sky was clearing and the day was looking perfect for our ride into Barcelona.
The first groups were already visiting the church and abbey before we started breakfast.
And there was Barcelona still in the distance, but "only" 65km of cycling away!
It seemed closer with a telephoto lense though.
A final look back, before the big descent - too fast for me at times, and my Garmin played up for the next 30km as well.
The sky is clear and we put in some quick kilometers and leave the rocky outcrop far behind.
Coffee is in a small bar on the outskirts of Olesa. I thought I had organised the orders, but then everyone managed to confuse the owner when they paid their bills. She was OK, and said "because you're not from here, you all look the same to me".
We entered a more built up and industrial area, with a strange (old?) pedestrian bridge over a rather ugly river.
The navigation became difficult, the road very busy, and the tension in the peloton was building - time for a circuit breaker?!
So we stopped for a cold drink, split into smaller groups, and started the 10km climb to the top of the hills behind the city.
Our first view of Barcelona was as spectacular as I expected it would be.
And off to our left was the Torre de Collserola and Tibidabo.
Celeste II is still looking good, and riding as well as the first day.
The Sagrada Familia is still in its usual place, but from this angle it has the new "suppository" building as a backdrop.
All the team made it - those who didn't wear team uniform had to take the picture!
From here there was a quick descent, a bit of smart navigating into the busy city, and a relatively easy arrival at our hotel.
The bikes shared the underground car park with someone's beloved Fiat Bambino/500.
The BA van had to park outside because of the narrow, low and steep entrance into the same carpark.
And so we had A nice salad for lunch, a rest, and then headed off to (yet another) meal.
Which seems like an appropriate place to end this blog...
And get prepared for the start of another ride, and another blog!
Adieu, bona nit!
Wednesday, September 16th
The WiFi didn't improve during the night, and the water got colder, if that's possible. All in all, not a particularly nice experience in the Gran Sol.
Leaving town we got a (telephoto) view of the castle overlooking Solsona.
And finally left the Pyrenees behind.
Not far along the road we arrived at the Miracle Abbey - the miracle being some children of the 15th century having the Virgin Mary appear before them...most people don't believe what children say, unless it's about the Virgin Mary.
While we visited the monastery, the bikes waited outside - no chance of theft here, we expect...
The road says 8% down, but we cam up and it was definitely greater than 10%.
The Lord vacuums in mysterious ways...a robot cleans the floor in a church next to our first coffee stop of the day.
And one of the villages "giants" waits for her appearance at the next annual festival, complete with giant chicken!
The country is now dryer than anything we've seen since Bordeaux.
Great minds? We all ended up in the same square via different approaches! Three of us spent half an hour in a nearby shop while a local woman did her weekly shopping, and then put the lot on credit - time goes slowly in Spanish country towns.
After a climb to the top of a (windy) ridge we came across one of several wind turbine "farms" in the area. We also got our first view of Montserrat in the distance.
Here's a picture for Joe - funny, we didn't hear anything, or even feel sick.
On a 10 kilometer dirt road, we started to get closer to our destination. Perhaps we should have bought our MTB's as well!
You can't tell, but these windmills are turning quite quickly!
We're not worried by a bit of dirt - well, maybe some of us with nice new carbon bikes might be...
Still looks as good as new. That's the €28 jersey I bought in Solsona the day before.
The final push started a long way out. - we still have a 20km anti-clockwise loop to do as we climb.
Half way up we see tomorrow's descent an feel glad we didn't have to come up this way today.
Finally in the square outside the monastery and hotel.
The weather is glorious, and while there are still a lot of people around, the place is clearly beginning to shut down for the day. The day tripper already queuing to get on the funicular railway down to their buses and/or train home.
The setting is quite spectacular.
My room has a (wasted) copy of the Bible in Catalan.
Montserrat is dedicated to the Moraneta - the black Virgin and Child. She is the patron saint of Catalunya. There were no queues, so I paid her a visit.
Outside, the sun is beginning to set, and you can see where one of the many walks ends.
And in the distance, our final destination - Barcelona!
The crowds have now gone, but a few of us go the evening Vespers to hear the monks and the boys choir sing.
Before the celebratory dinner which "officially" ends this ride.
After formalities, John does his Rindercella performance...I saw this on Lands End to John O'Groats 5 years ago.
It's an ode to Spoonerisms, and it goes like this...
Once upon a time, in a coreign fountry, there lived a very geautiful birl;
her name was Rindercella. Now, Rindercella lived with her mugly other
and her two sad bisters. And in that same coreign fountry, there lived a
very prandsom hince.
One day, the prandsom hince decided to have a bancy fall. He invited
people from riles amound, especially the pich reople. But Rindercella
could not go because all she had to wear were some old rirty dags. So
she just cat fsdown and scried. She was a kitten there a scrien, when
all of a sudden her gairy fodmother appeared. And she waived her wagic
mand...and all of a sudden there appeared before her, a cig boach and
hix white sorces to take her to the bancy fall. But now she said to
Rindercella, "Rindercella, you must be home before nidmight, or I'll
purn you into a tumpkin!"
So Rindercella went to the bancy fall, where she met the very
prandsom hince, who she had been watchin through a widden hindow. She
and the prandsom hince nanced all dight till nidmight...and they lell in
fove. Suddenly, the mid clock struck night; Rindercella staced down the
rairs, and just as she beached the rottom, she slopped her dripper!
The next day, the prandsom hince went all over the coreign fountry
looking for the geautiful birl who had slopped her dripper. He came to
Rindercella's house. He tried it on Rendercella's mugly other...and it
fidn't dit. He tried it on her two sigly usters...and it fidn't dit. He
tried it on Rindercella...and it fid dit, it was exactly the sight rize!
The next day, Rindercella and the prandsom hince were married and they lived everly hafter happward.
Now, the moral of the story is this: If you ever loll in fove with a prandsom hince, be sure and slop your dripper!
Tuesday, 15th September
Happy 70th birthday Bill! And thanks Bike Adventures for the nice jersey present...
We were promised "one of the best days you will have on a bike", and they were right. Almost immediately, we turned right, crossed the river, and headed into an almost wild landscape of rocky crags - effectively the last of the Pyrenees of the ride.
We couldn't believe that this hole in the cliff had formed naturally - Tony D suspected that dynamite might have played a role, and I agree - perhaps there was a shortage of gravel when they built the road?
The river must be dammed further down - no wind, that's a good sign.
Although it was overcast as we continued to climb, we never thought it would rain. The light through the gorge is almost "Turner-esque" (if that's a word).
We passed through the first of half a dozen tunnels on the long, but gradual, ascent to the first of the day's mountain passes.
We suspect that dynamite would have played an important part in the construction of this tunnel too.
From the top of the first pass - if you look carefully, you can see the road and some of the tunnels far below...
The King and Queen of the mountain (Douglas and Hilly) take time out for a chat with John as they approach the top. That was our opportunity to catch them!
Looking back to the small town of Alinya half way up the climb - the road curves around the cliff on the right.
Graham and Robin managed to chat all the way up - well, part of the way up, anyway...
After a short descent we stopped at the only bar/cafe/restaurant of the day! The four hunters in the bar couldn't believe how far we had cycled, especially given our average age.
Down from one pass, and ready to climb another...
And half way up there's a zoo of all things!
Several times during the past few days we've seen large numbers of birds of pray circling around the cliffs - someone more knowledgeable than me thought they were Vultures.
If you look closely again, you can see a stone house built into the cliff face...
...don't strain - here it is. At times today we could have been in Arizona (or is that Kansas?).
The top of the last pass, but not a deer in site.
We saw several natural water sources during the ride - at this one, some of the locals had come to fill up for the week. We did the same.
Time for a stretch and a chat before the long descent into Solsona.
But not before a short, but sharp, climb - this is the view back to where we had been earlier.
Almost there - unfortunately, we had to follow this tractor laden with manure all the way into town!
Unusually, we arrived before the van (and the luggage). What else to do but have a beer and visit the nearby Lidl (supermarket like Aldi) for some take-ways.
The hotel looked good, but we might have been in Torquay - the WiFi was only available in reception, and the hot water wasn't available at all...
The centre of town was a couple of kilometers away, but there was nowhere to eat near the hotel so we walked in.
As in larger towns, there's an old town, and the rest of the town. Solsona has a nice old town with a cathedral and gateway just near the river.
So the search for the "perfect" place to drink and eat commenced...
We found two tapas bars in a small square and tossed a coin - unfortunately, after a jug of champagne sangria (to celebrate Bill's birthday, we decided we needed a little more than these places were offering. Besides, the ground sloped and there was no toilette in the bar...we're not getting any younger.
To cut a long story short, we found nothing in the old town, settled for a rather dodgy, and empty, restaurant by the river, and had the best meal - cooked by an even dodgier barman come waiter come cleaner come chef with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth!
It just goes to show that in Spain nothing is at it appears.
PS. Apologies for the delay in recent posts - the Internet has also been dodgy these past few day.
