94km, 972m climbing: Foix – Mauvezin-de-Prat.
“Oh, look. A bird show! With snakes and turtles! I like turtles.“ I pointed at the paper place mat while Yann and I waited for our meal the night before we left Foix.
74km, 811m climbing: Saint-Martin-Lys – Foix.
When I was 15, I got to attend the 14th Winter World Games for the Deaf (now called the Deaflympics) in Davos, Switzerland. I was not athletic at all back then so I was there to spectate and to cheer on a deaf guy from my school who was on the Canadian hockey team.
As it was cheaper to fly to Frankfurt, Germany and then catch a train to Davos, we had the opportunity to do some light exploration of Germany as well. Neuschwanstein castle was on our itinerary: it was to be a side trip from Munich. The hostel our group stayed at in Munich had rooms too small to place an adult chaperone in each room. I ended up in the chaperone-free room with 4 other girls.
95km, 1163m climbing: Saint-Génis-des-Fontaines – Saint-Martin-Lys.
When we left Thuir on the 26th, I said, “It’s strange to think we’ll never be back here.”
Well, we came back. We arrived around lunchtime and decided to return to the same bakery for the third time to have another jésuite. The baker recognized us and remarked, “These jésuites are really addictive, aren’t they?”
(If you don’t know what a jésuite is, I’m not going to ruin the surprise.)
80km, 1206m climbing: Cadaqués – Saint-Génis-des-Fontaines.
It was time to leave Spain.
On top of not having gotten much sleep thanks to the jerk wind that whipped our tent all night long, we didn’t have a lot to eat for breakfast. When we reached Llançà, I went into a grocery shop and took photos of food that interested me while Yann guarded our bikes.
Banana. Croissant. Yogurt. Fish.
94km, 888m climbing: Girona – Cadaqués.
I would have liked to visit the Dali Theatre-Museum in Figueres. We had even come so close the day we rode into Esponellà.