Day 8 - Salardu to Sort

Sunday, September 13th

There had been rain overnight, including the odd thunder-clap, but the morning dawned more or less sunny. Most still put on wet or warm weather gear, the warm being more useful than the wet.

This is the view back to out overnight stay as we started the big climb of the day - starting from out front door, and continuing from yesterday afternoon.

I think most people saw the clouds in the south east as more foreboding than they really were.

The climb of 800m in 13km wasn't nearly as bad as most expected, but looking back always looks worse than looking forward (well, almost always).

The scenery is spectacular, and the summit higher than we had been on this trip so far.

However, doing the climb over two days, and on a major road made it much more acceptable.

Here comes Graham - as I said, looking back is worse than looking up.

The final 5km to the summit involves a series of switchbacks, which are in fact more gentle than a straight climb.

The Val d'Aran is a major ski area of Spain, and being at the same altitude as Mt Kosciusko it's clearly a much better place to ski than Thredbo or Perisher. At this time of year, it's cool, but definitely not cold.

We've climbed from way down there!

Bob and his wife Maggie arrive at the summit and the cafe.

Graham, Tony W, me, John and Tony D "rugged up" for the descent.

There are a few obstacles on the road, especially important to avoid going down...cow pats being one, cows and horses being another.

Going down one always thinks that going up would be more difficult...

Brian avoids taking the "escape road" because of failed brakes!

We take a 5km "detour" following the old road which proves much more interesting and quiet than the newer "freeway".

13km up, 13km down, and 30km past a dam, and then a river to our destination. Pity the slight headwind meant we had to pedal occasionally.

There was a bit of confusion/disagreement about whether to stop for lunch or push on - we compromised and had a coke instead.

The rivers here are now flowing into Spain, but the recreational activities remain the same...

And there's always someone to take pictures for the record.

We arrived in Sort at a perfect time for lunch, so most of us had the fixed price menu about 500m from our hotel. The paper table mats used a 1959 Picasso drawing of Catalunya's national dance, the Sardana.

And the smoked salmon salad and blue cheese risotto were delicious.

The rest of the group checked into the hotel while the stragglers debated God knows what, while the remainder of the locals smoked and had a lover's quarrel - the walls have ears, everywhere.

While most of us rested, some of us still had bike maintenance to do.

The pool looked inviting, but the water was not heated.

I went for a walk and watched a lone kayaker practice his slalom manoeuvres.

It was Catalan national day two days ago, and there will be elections in two weeks - it's an important time for the Catalans.

Our hotel also runs canoe trips, but why "Rubber River"?!

Robin quite liked this dog outside our evening restaurant stop - in the end, we Googled it's breed to be a Shar Pei.

After a slow start, and a bit of confusion at the tapas bar, we had a great (!) meal, topped off by a "slider" (at least, that's what they're called in the USA). These were the best mini-burgers we'd had.

The house white and red weren't bad either...

Bona nit.