2,000 Miles, Two Dog Chases, and a Farmyard Escape
October 14 in France
Day 44: Gien to Auxerre (66 miles / 3,550 ft.)
We enjoyed breakfast in our own little house in Gien, with toast, yogurt, muesli, and coffee. We were on the road around 9 a.m., greeted by a beautiful sunrise over the Loire River. Unlike yesterday’s relatively flat ride, today we would be heading into the hills, with nearly 3,500 feet of climbing.
The countryside was beautiful, with rolling hills, small villages, and plenty of churches to photograph. The clouds made for some dramatic pictures, especially against the old stone buildings.
Near Saint-Firmin-sur-Loire, we came across the impressive Pont-Canal de Briare, a bridge that actually carries a canal over the Loire River! Completed in 1896, this remarkable engineering project stretches more than 600 meters across the river. It’s quite a sight, especially when you consider that boats travel across it instead of cars.
Then, in Briare, a minor miracle occurred. We found an open post office and finally mailed our postcards! Apparently, it is possible to buy international stamps in France after all.
We continued through the countryside, stopping occasionally for pictures of churches and interesting buildings. In Saint-Fargeau, we came across an enormous château with a fascinating mix of medieval and Renaissance architecture. Parts of the castle date back to the 10th century, and its impressive red-brick walls and towers are quite a sight. Unfortunately, we couldn’t get inside, but that didn’t bother us. We often enjoy these magnificent buildings just as much from the outside.
By the time we reached Mézilles, we were ready for lunch and on the lookout for a French boulangerie. We found a wonderful little bakery and picked up a premade sandwich and a sweet treat for dessert to share. Even better, we found a quiet, secluded spot for a picnic.
Then things got interesting.
One of my creative routes took us down a gravel road that gradually became narrower and narrower. Eventually, we crossed a creek and somehow ended up in the middle of a private farmyard. The gates were closed, chickens were running around, and two large barking dogs were making it very clear that we weren’t welcome. Lisa was particularly concerned that a farmer might appear and release the dogs on us.
Fortunately, no farmer appeared, and Lisa managed to find an escape route through the farmyard and directly on route. We got ourselves and the bicycles out without becoming dog food.
I should mention that this was our SECOND dog encounter of the day. Earlier, two large dogs had chased us down the road. Luckily, I was armed with my trusty water bottle and managed to deliver two direct shots to the face, one for each dog. Both finally decided we weren’t worth the trouble.
In Toucy, near the church, we reached another milestone: 2,000 miles since leaving Lisbon! Naturally, we had to stop for our traditional mileage photograph, using our hands to make the numbers while carefully positioning Lisa’s camera. After several attempts, we got the shot.
From there, we continued north through more rolling farmland and little villages, including one with a rather interesting name. I’ll let the photograph tell that story.
Finally, we rolled into Auxerre, and what a beautiful town! Situated along the Yonne River, Auxerre has a wonderful historic center filled with half-timbered houses, narrow streets, and impressive churches. We settled into our apartment right in the center of town and took a short walk to explore.
This is also Burgundy wine country, with the famous vineyards of Chablis just to the northeast. The region is especially known for its dry white wines made from Chardonnay grapes, although our evening was more about food and relaxation than wine tasting.
Dinner was simple and perfect after a long day: premade lasagna, salad, and, of course, a cheeseboard and a few other snacks. Afterward, we wandered through the old town again, taking pictures of the beautiful buildings illuminated at night.
Then it was early to bed. Another adventure awaits tomorrow!Read more
No Stamps, No Hills, No Problem
October 13 in France
Day 43: Orléans to Gien (57 miles / 910 ft.)
We slept in and enjoyed a simple breakfast in our Airbnb: coffee, our favorite little premade waffles with honey, rice pudding, and the last of the lemon cake Angélique had sent with us. Then came the morning workout of maneuvering two bicycles down three flights of stairs.
Before leaving Orléans, we wrote a few postcards. France may be the easiest country in the world in which to buy a postcard and the hardest place to find an international stamp. We tried several towns and multiple businesses displaying the postal symbol, but no luck. Lisa even stood in line at what she thought was a post office before realizing it might have been a bank. At this rate, we may beat the postcards home and have to hand-deliver them ourselves.
This would be our flattest riding day of the tour as we followed the Loire upstream toward Gien. Enormous clouds filled the sky, looking magnificent and vaguely threatening, while a 10 mph tailwind pushed us along at nearly 19 mph.
We stopped at a large sandbar and wandered along the river looking for glass and other little treasures, finding one small piece of green river glass. Later, as we crossed toward Châteauneuf-sur-Loire, rain was falling behind us and downriver to our left, while our route to the right looked clear. We chose optimism but took shelter beneath the umbrellas of a café that also sold lottery tickets and displayed a postal symbol while, naturally, selling no international stamps. Coffee and a croissant seemed like fair rent for our dry seats.
About thirty minutes later the rain let up, and we continued through small Loire villages, stopping for churches, châteaux, and anything else that caught our attention.
In Germigny-des-Prés, we stopped at a tiny church built in 806, one of the oldest in France. Inside is a rare mosaic from the time of Charlemagne.
At Saint-Benoît-sur-Loire we visited Fleury Abbey. The monastery dates to the seventh century and became an important center of learning during the Carolingian era, although the beautiful Romanesque basilica standing today was built mainly during the 11th and 12th centuries.
Then we reached Sully-sur-Loire and one of the most beautiful châteaux either of us has ever seen. The 14th-century fortress rises directly from its moat, with round towers and a perfect reflection beneath those enormous clouds. We circled through town several times, bought sandwich supplies at Carrefour Express, and found a bench overlooking the château for another memorable picnic.
With about 19 miles remaining, the tailwind continued doing its generous work. We rolled into Gien around 3:30 and stopped at a shop selling local products. The wonderfully helpful young man introduced us to an aged Crottin de Chavignol, a small goat cheese from the nearby Sancerre area. As it matures, it becomes firmer, drier, sharper, and much stronger in flavor but without the smell. This one definitely had personality.
We also selected two locally brewed beers and a jar of raw lavender honey. The honey was produced by an 80-year-old beekeeper who is nearing the end of his honey-making days, so we felt especially fortunate to carry one of his jars away with us.
After groceries and a short tour of Gien, with its old stone bridge, church, and brick château overlooking the Loire, we checked into a house with several rentable bedrooms, shared facilities, and massive lavender plants growing outside in the garden. Just as it happened once in Japan, traveling in the quiet season worked in our favor. Nobody else had booked a room, so we had the entire house to ourselves.
We walked back into town for the sunset and evening lights, then satisfied our craving for Indian food by sharing a dish at Namaste, only a few blocks from our house. Back in our temporary private mansion, we assembled our own French cheese platter with the strong, dry Chavignol, a firm nutty cheese, and a creamy blue, and finished with a little chocolate.
Two rides of more than 60 miles are waiting for us before our next rest day. The forecast looks good, our postcard stamps remain elusive, and the Loire continues to lead us east.Read more
Rewinding a Day in the Loire Valley.
October 12 in France
Day 42: Amboise to Orléans (67 miles / 1680 ft.)
Right now, I’m lying in bed in our Airbnb with the fan blowing over us as Lisa falls asleep beside me. Our legs are tired from nearly 70 miles of riding and another 10,000 steps exploring Orléans, so tonight’s story seems best told backward.
Just before crawling into bed, we walked home through an incredibly quiet and peaceful city. It was after 10:00, but we never felt unsafe. The cathedral dark against the silver sky, the streets were nearly empty, and Orléans felt calm enough to belong entirely to us.
Before that came another memorable evening around a WS dinner table.
Petra and Sébastien had originally agreed to host us through Warmshowers. Unfortunately, after five years and five tours, I made a rookie mistake and also reserved a nonrefundable Airbnb for the same night. We decided to use the room but asked if they would still like to meet for dinner. Thankfully, they did.
Petra is originally from the Czech Republic and teaches English, primarily to adults. Sébastien works for the département, an administrative area somewhat comparable to a county, specializing in mapping and public planning.
We began in the kitchen with a sweet wine, then moved to the dining room for Georgian eggplant rolls filled with walnut paste and a fresh salad. The main course included rice and little pastry parcels filled with spinach, ricotta, and cilantro. Then, because this is France, out came three cheeses with bread and red wine, including Sébastien’s favorite, Comté.
The conversation continued until nearly 10:00, when we began our 30-minute walk back to the Airbnb.
Before dinner, we had checked into our apartment, showered, rested, and caught up on FindPenguins. We had arrived earlier than expected because this had been one of our fastest and smoothest days of the entire trip.
A gentle six-mile-per-hour cross-tailwind helped us click off more than 40 miles before noon. After that, it was mostly smooth sailing into Orléans.
Rewind a little farther and you’ll find us searching a small town for lunch. We navigated to the local boulangerie-pâtisserie, only to discover it was closed. A little more searching led us to a grocery store, where I found a savory crêpe filled with ham and soft cheese. Lisa picked a chicken sandwich, and we shared olives and potato chips before getting back to business.
Before lunch came mile after mile beside the Loire. The route passed Chaumont-sur-Loire, Blois, Beaugency, and Meung-sur-Loire, with château walls, church towers, old stone bridges, and villages appearing along the river. Large birds gathered in the shallows and on the sandbars, occasionally lifting into the air as we approached. We also passed local cyclists and a few other bicycle tourists following the Loire.
The early morning may have been the most beautiful part. We initially rode above the river, watching the rising sun filter through layers of clouds and illuminate the valley below. Eventually, the route descended to the water, where the broad Loire, islands, wetlands, and autumn colors guided us toward Orléans.
Now rewind all the way to 6:45 this morning, one of our earliest wake-up times of the entire trip.
As we prepared to go upstairs, the garage door was open and we said goodbye to Rose as she left for school. Then we joined Anthony, Angélique, and Louis for scrambled eggs, toast, leftover lemon cake, and delicious Egyptian coffee.
There were more stories around the table before Anthony left for his 40-minute motorcycle ride to work. A little later, Angélique took Louis to school. She returned, we finished preparing the bikes, and at about 8:40 we rolled away from another wonderful Warmshowers family.
And that is how we ended up here, another beautiful day along the Loire running backward through my mind.Read more
Châteaux, Chain Earrings, and New Friends
October 11 in France
Day 41: Chinon to Amboise (57 miles / 1760 ft.)
The Loire Valley is magnificent!
Our morning began by carefully finagling the loaded bicycles down the narrow staircase from our tiny apartment. Once that mission was accomplished, we rolled out of Chinon and into one of those nearly picture-perfect days of riding.
The route followed the river valley before climbing into the nearby hills, giving us views across vineyards, changing leaves, caves carved into the limestone walls, and château after château. We passed Château d’Ussé, continued along the Loire through Villandry, and shared the route with a handful of other touring cyclists. It is a quieter time in the valley, but we certainly weren’t alone.
Early in the day, we passed another touring cyclist while we were “hightailing it” and didn’t stop to talk. His name was Xabi, originally from the Basque Country but now living in Barcelona. We figured that was probably the last we would see of him.
When we reached Tours, we discovered professional team trucks and preparations for Paris–Tours, one of France’s famous one-day bicycle races. If we had planned better, Tours might have made an exciting overnight stop, but at least we took a few pictures beside the trucks and soaked up a little of the atmosphere.
We explored a bit more of the city, including the impressive Saint-Gatien Cathedral, and then crossed paths with Xabi again. This time he was riding with Jules, a young French cyclist he had met along the way.
The four of us stopped beside the American Monument fountain, which honors the American Expeditionary Forces’ Services of Supply based in Tours during World War I. We made sandwiches, drank a couple of unusual Dr Peppers, and traded cycling and travel stories.
Before parting, we noticed that both men had pierced ears, so we gave each of them a pair of the earrings I make from bicycle chains. They immediately put them on, which made the gift even more fun.
From Tours, we pushed east toward Amboise, sometimes beside the Loire and sometimes wandering inland on one of my patented zigzagging routes. Despite our creative navigation, the riding remained beautiful through vineyards, small villages, and quiet roads.
By the time we reached Amboise, Xabi and Jules had beaten us there and were enjoying beers below the Château d’Amboise. Inside the château’s Chapel of Saint-Hubert is the site traditionally identified as Leonardo da Vinci’s tomb. We joined them for another round of stories, then Xabi stayed with us for one more cold drink before we finally continued to our Warmshowers hosts.
Anthony and Angélique welcomed us with a tour of the house and an amazing private basement suite with a bedroom, shower, refrigerator, laundry, and all the privacy we could possibly need. After getting cleaned up, we went upstairs and played with their three-year-old son, Louis, before sitting down to dinner with the family.
In true French style, dinner unfolded slowly. We began with sardines wrapped around green olives and served on toothpicks. The main course was what we all decided to call potato pie, covered with a delicate pastry crust that Angélique had decorated with the outline of a leaf. Next came salad with vinaigrette, followed by bread and two cheeses, goat cheese and Roquefort.
For dessert, I had a baked apple, while Lisa had a baked pear, both glazed with sugar and served alongside Angélique’s homemade lemon cake.
Their 16-year-old daughter, Rose, joined us and did a wonderful job practicing her English. We spent the evening hearing about the family’s bicycling, sailing, and travels through South America. Most amazing was Anthony’s four-year adventure across South America, which included canoeing alone on the Amazon. Every time we think our bicycle trip sounds adventurous, we meet another Warmshowers host who raises the bar considerably!
Once again, we looked at the clock and discovered it was after 11:00. Exhausted but very happy, we headed downstairs to our private little apartment for a good night’s sleep.
Tomorrow brings a big ride to Orléans, but tonight we fell asleep thinking about another beautiful day filled with châteaux, autumn colors, chance encounters, bicycle-chain earrings, and the kind of connections that make touring so special.Read more
The Loire Valley: Three Years Late, Right on Time!
October 10 in France
Day 40: Angers to Chinon (65 miles / 2,235 feet)
What a magnificent day in the Loire Valley!
After a wonderful night with Benoît and Angelica, we began the next morning with yogurt, bread, a delicious green rhubarb spread, and freshly ground Ethiopian coffee. We chatted about puzzles and looked at a retro stand up video arcade game Benoît had built himself. Once again, we found it difficult to stop talking and leave, but around 10:00 we finally rolled into the cool, sunny morning.
Our tired legs had us considering two possibilities: a shorter 45-mile route or the full 65-mile version. We wouldn’t need to decide until Saumur, so we started riding and waited to see what the day brought.
Apparently, a great night with Warmshowers hosts was exactly what we needed. We were cruising along at nearly 15 miles per hour, following the Loire through changing leaves, quiet villages, harvested vineyards, and long stretches of riverside trail with another self propelled boat crossing. We hoped to reach the Saturday market in Saumur, but a nice conversation with an English couple delayed us. By the time we arrived, the market was winding down, but the conversation had been worth it. We have seen plenty of markets, but we don’t always get to meet interesting people along the trail.
We found a narrow savory pastry that was something like pizza and shared a piece of pudding-like cake. We have no idea what either one was called, but they filled us up! Then we climbed to the Château de Saumur, the former palace of the Dukes of Anjou, for beautiful panoramic views over the city and the broad Loire River.
By then, the riding had been so enjoyable that the decision was easy: we were taking the longer route.
That carried us inland to the Royal Abbey of Fontevraud. We didn’t have the best view without stopping for a full visit, but it was still impressive knowing that this enormous abbey was founded in 1101 and became the burial place of Henry II, Eleanor of Aquitaine, and Richard the Lionheart.
After Fontevraud, we descended toward the river valley again through one of the most unusual landscapes we have ridden. The hillsides were filled with entrances to caves and old underground galleries carved into the region’s soft, pale tuffeau limestone. Over the centuries, these spaces have become homes, workshops, mushroom farms, and naturally cool wine cellars. We even rode through a few of the passages ourselves.
Sometimes we feel a little guilty that we don’t stop and explore every château, church, cave, and historic town. Are we missing something? Maybe, but then we remind ourselves that riding is not simply how we travel between the attractions. For us, the riding is the attraction. We experience a place through its roads, rivers, hills, weather, conversations, smells, and constantly changing scenery. That is what we love.
We followed the Vienne River toward Chinon, stopping for groceries before squeezing ourselves and all our gear up a very steep staircase to our tiny efficiency apartment. In France, the ground floor is zero, but after 65 miles, the first floor can still feel like the fifth!
Dinner was simple and perfect: lasagna, bread, olives, three different cheeses, and, naturally, a bottle of Chinon red wine. We caught up on FindPenguins and Warmshowers reviews, then decided our legs had earned an evening without another walk. We will hopefully explore Chinon by bicycle tomorrow morning, when the streets are quiet.
This ride felt especially meaningful because we were supposed to be here in 2023. Less than 24 hours before that trip, Lisa crashed and fractured her pelvis, and everything had to be canceled. Now, three years later, we are finally riding this route together.
The grapes have been harvested, the leaves are changing, the air is cooler, and most of the tourists have gone home. We may have arrived three years late, but somehow it feels like we are exactly on time.Read more
Angers: Cold Winds and a Warm Welcome
October 9 in France
Day 39: Bressuire to Angers (69 miles / 2500 ft.)
For me, it was not the best night of sleep. Our somewhat janky Airbnb felt old and dusty, my eyes were scratchy, and I finally took a Zyrtec in the middle of the night. Maybe it was allergies, or perhaps I was fighting off a cold.
I was also a little stressed. Our expected Warmshowers hosts in Angers, with whom we had communicated well before the trip, told us they would not be home until 8:15 p.m., after dark. Following some back-and-forth messages, we agreed it would be better to make other arrangements.
Fortunately, the alternative request connected us with Benoît and Angelica. In hindsight, that change was a blessing.
Both Lisa’s legs and mine were unusually sore. Maybe it was the six-hour car ride two days earlier, the previous day’s relentless headwind, the colder weather, or simply the accumulated miles. Whatever the reason, we both agreed that riding felt difficult.
We rolled away from Bressuire beneath gray skies, passing the medieval remains of its château. Built on a rocky promontory, it once had three defensive walls and dozens of towers. Its old stone gateway provided an appropriately dramatic beginning to our ride north.
Much of the day felt more like business than sightseeing. We pushed into the cold wind, concentrating on moving forward and dreaming about a warm room and a relaxing evening with our new hosts.
As we moved from the Bocage Bressuirais into Anjou, the landscape gradually changed. The thick hedgerows and pastures gave way to more open farmland and then rows of grapevines. Near the Layon Valley, vineyards stretched across the rolling hills, their leaves beginning to show autumn colors.
The most impressive landmark was Château de Brissac rising above the vineyards. Known as the “Giant of the Loire Valley,” it is the tallest château in France, with seven floors and more than 200 rooms. Even beneath the dark sky, it was an incredible sight.
The final approach to Angers carried us across the broad Loire at Les Ponts-de-Cé. We stopped beside the monument to Dumnacus, an ancient leader of the Andecavi people who once lived in this region. From the bridge, the wide river and its islands made it clear that we had finally reached the Loire Valley.
We arrived in Angers around 4:30 p.m., just in time for the evening rush. Students were leaving school, people were finishing work, buses and trams moved through the streets, and bicycles and scooters seemed to appear from every direction.
The changing bike lanes, tram tracks, one-way streets, and signs warning of a €150 fine for riding in certain areas made navigating feel like a puzzle in which every piece was the same color.
We jostled around long enough to see a few of the city’s large churches, including Saint-Joseph, and rode through the busy center. As the ominous sky began to sprinkle, we decided we had experienced enough urban confusion and headed toward Benoît and Angelica’s home.
For the umpteenth time, Warmshowers gave us exactly what we needed.
Benoît and Angelica were still finishing their remote work, but they welcomed us inside, showed us the shower and our wonderfully clean, dust-free room, and brought us water and glasses. Lisa and I both sighed with relief. I stretched out for a little while, while Lisa somehow found the energy to catch up on a little work.
Once they finished working, we gathered for snacks and Ch’ti, a northern French bière de garde with a little Belgian character. A slideshow of their travels played across the television, showing Japan, Colombia, and several bicycle trips. Naturally, every photograph led to another question, story, or shared memory.
Dinner began with salad and French shepherd’s pie, accompanied by one of their favorite red wines.
Then came the cheese platter!
Seven different cheeses were arranged before us, including both Benoît’s and Angelica’s favorites. Angelica joked that although she comes from Normandy, a region famous for cheese, her favorite comes from the Swiss mountains. Practically a traitor!
As always, the longer we talked, the more common ground we discovered: our love for our sons, travel, kindness, food, humor, puzzles, and owning different bicycles for different purposes. Their commuter bikes were only the beginning.
For dessert, we shared canelés from a bakery where Lisa and I had stopped earlier. These small pastries have a dark, caramelized shell surrounding a soft, custardy rum and vanilla center. They may now be my favorite dessert in the world. Benoît and Angelica made them even better by adding vanilla ice cream.
We sat around the table for nearly three hours, talking, laughing, and learning from one another. As the evening wound down, they offered tea or coffee. I chose decaf, but by then both Lisa’s eyelids and mine were drooping.
The day had begun with poor sleep, sore legs, uncertainty, gray skies, and cold wind. It ended in a clean, comfortable home with delicious food, laughter, and two more people we felt fortunate to meet.
Their cute white cat also made us feel welcome by snuggling against us on the couch while slowly claiming more and more space, as if its real goal was to push us onto the floor.
Once again, Warmshowers turned a difficult day into a wonderful one.Read more
A Ferry, a Headwind, and a Classic Blunder
October 8 in France
Day 38: Niort to Bressuire (60 miles / 3,800 ft.)
It was a slow-moving morning, beginning with breakfast alongside Thomas. We had bread, marmalade, honey, yogurt, and coffee, our now-familiar French breakfast. The yogurt was made from sheep’s milk, a first for us, and it was delicious.
After breakfast, we lingered over more conversation with Thomas, including a few more musical ideas for us to explore. Eventually, we said goodbye and rode to the Niort market.
We wandered among the cheese, produce, bread, and other local specialties in search of tomatoes, honey, and our favorite cheese from the night before, Cendré de Niort. The creamy goat cheese is aged on a chestnut leaf and was definitely worth tracking down. Once our bags were a little heavier, we finally pointed the bikes toward Bressuire.
We had 60 miles and nearly 3,800 feet of climbing ahead of us. The morning temperature was around 49 degrees, and a stiff wind quickly established itself as the day’s nagging little enemy.
Despite the chill, the early riding along the winding Sèvre Niortaise was beautiful. I also had a surprise planned for Lisa: a tiny self-service ferry near Sciecq. When we arrived, the ferry was waiting on the opposite bank, so we pulled a chain to bring it across, rolled our loaded bicycles aboard, and then used another chain to pull ourselves across the river.
It was something neither of us had ever done before, which always makes a bicycle tour more fun. It was even a little romantic, just the two of us hauling ourselves across the quiet river toward a ruined château.
On the opposite bank stood Château de Mursay. The château became the home of the poet and soldier Agrippa d’Aubigné during the late 1500s. His granddaughter, Françoise d’Aubigné, spent her early childhood there before later becoming Madame de Maintenon and the secret wife of King Louis XIV. Today, the remaining stone walls form a peaceful garden of ruins beside the river.
From Mursay, we left the flatter Niort plain and entered the Gâtine poitevine. The landscape changed into rolling farmland, pastures, small woods, ponds, and fields divided by thick hedgerows. It looked gentle compared with the Pyrenees, but the constant short climbs gradually added up.
That was my classic blunder for the day. I assumed that leaving the Pyrenees meant we were in for an easier ride. Instead, we found rolling hills, stiff legs from the previous days, and a chilly headwind that seemed determined to stay with us all afternoon.
Our route carried us through Champdeniers, Saint-Marc-la-Lande, and Mazières-en-Gâtine before twisting through the medieval town of Parthenay. From there, we joined La Vélidéale, following an old railway line north toward Bressuire.
The former tracks have been converted into a long, peaceful greenway through the Gâtine and Bocage bressuirais. The gradual railway grades were certainly easier than the surrounding roads, although even the trail had more climbing than we expected. We passed old stations, wooded cuttings, farms, pastures, and the occasional opening with views across the rolling countryside.
Above us, the sky was brilliant blue with puffy white clouds, but the photographs did not show how cold it felt. With the wind, colder temperatures it seemed at least ten degrees colder.
We finally rolled into Bressuire around 5:00 p.m., tired but happy to be there. We wandered around town taking pictures, visited a grocery store for supplies, and then found our Airbnb.
Unfortunately, the advertised shared kitchen would not be available to us until 8:15. The accommodations were not quite what we expected, but we made do. Eventually, we abandoned our original dinner plans, picked up a pizza and French fries, and ate in our room.
It may not have been the easy post-Pyrenees day I had imagined, but it was still another beautiful one. We explored a lively market, crossed a river by pulling our own ferry, visited a château, followed an old railway, and watched an entirely different region of France unfold around us.
Not bad for a day that began with a classic blunder.Read more
6 Hour Drive for 6 Cheeses
October 7 in France
Day 37: Lescar to Niort (6-hour drive / 3-mile ride)
Lisa and Isabelle woke early to practice yoga while Jean-Michel and I prepared breakfast. We shared more stories over coffee before facing the unfortunate truth: it was raining, and we had a rental car waiting at the Pau airport.
Jean-Michel generously offered to drive us and our bicycles there. We gladly accepted, loaded everything into his van, and avoided beginning the day with a wet ride. At the airport, we unloaded the bikes, took them apart, and somehow squeezed them and all our gear into the rental car.
Then came the six-hour drive to Niort.
Vincent and Frédérique, our Warmshowers hosts near Espelette, had recommended several beautiful towns along the way. We had great intentions, but the rain, our late start, and our decision to avoid toll roads made the drive longer than expected. The smaller roads gave us a closer look at the countryside of southwestern France, but there would be no sightseeing stops today. Those towns will have to wait for another trip.
Driving for six hours was surprisingly more tiring and stressful than riding through the Pyrenees!
Right on cue, the skies brightened as we approached Niort. We easily found the rental-car return, and an employee came outside with two coffees while we unloaded the car and reassembled our bicycles. That felt like exceptionally good service!
Before riding to our Warmshowers home, we stopped for a celebratory cold drink and watched a different part of France unfold around us. The mountains were gone, the landscape was flatter, and we had suddenly entered another chapter of the trip.
Thomas soon messaged to say he was home and ready for us. We took our time riding the three miles to the house, doing a little sightseeing and stretching legs that had spent far too long folded inside a small car.
Thomas greeted us, and Bénédicte returned home soon afterward. While our laundry was finishing, Thomas mapped out a walking tour of Niort’s old town. Lisa and I spent about an hour and 20 minutes exploring the historic center and the area around the Sèvre Niortaise. Niort’s massive twin-towered medieval keep rises near the river, and the city serves as a gateway to the waterways and green landscapes of the Marais Poitevin.
When we returned, their 11-year-old son, Guilhem, was home from school and his after-school juggling activity. Naturally, we needed a short juggling demonstration before dinner.
The meal began with sweet melon from southern France, followed by ratatouille, rice, and Bordeaux red wine. Then came the grand finale: six cheeses made from sheep, goat, and cow’s milk from different regions of France.
We nibbled our way around the platter, discussing the flavors, textures, and which ones melted most beautifully in our mouths. Thomas, Lisa, and I agreed that our favorite was the local Cendré de Niort, a raw goat’s-milk cheese with an ash-covered rind that is aged on a chestnut leaf. It was creamy, soft, and perfect spread across a piece of bread.
Guilhem’s English teacher knew he had American visitors, so he had been assigned to learn some new English words from us. We settled on cantaloupe, zucchini, and Strider, the brand of balance bike without pedals that he first learned to ride. It seemed like an appropriate word to learn from two visiting cyclists!
We also found plenty of similarities between Guilhem and Sebastian, including their interests in music, Playmobil, One Piece, and Astérix and Obélix.
Bénédicte left before the cheese course because she was singing in a concert, and Guilhem eventually went to another room to finish his homework. That left Thomas, Lisa, and me around the table doing what Warmshowers people seem to do best: discussing the differences and similarities between our countries, lifestyles, religion, and a little politics, but not too much.
Thomas also gave us a fascinating introduction to electronic music. After leaving a job he had held for 20 years, he is now searching for his next position while volunteering at a radio station, researching musicians, and studying trends in electronic music. We discussed Tortoise, the experimental Chicago band that mixes elements of rock, jazz, dub, and electronic music. We did not listen to anything that night, but Thomas gave us plenty of new musical ideas to explore later.
Once again, the conversation and friendly banter were so enjoyable that time disappeared. When we finally checked the clock, it was approaching 11:00.
It had been another fabulously interesting day. The six-hour drive may have been more exhausting than climbing mountains, but it ended exactly as we hoped: with wonderful food, new musical ideas, laughter, and another family we felt fortunate to meet.Read more
One Last Dance with the Pyrenees
October 6 in France
Day 36: Pierrefitte-Nestalas to Lescar (64 miles / 5900 ft.)
Our route was supposed to take us directly toward Pau, but the night before, Michel looked it over and suggested a detour back into the Pyrenees. He pointed out two more magnificent cols that he insisted we should not miss: the Col du Soulor and the Col d’Aubisque.
The weather forecast was nearly perfect, so how could we say no?
In the morning, our clean laundry was waiting in a neat pile outside our bedroom door. It was one more thoughtful gesture from Nathalie and Michel after an already wonderful stay. We enjoyed a breakfast of bread, fresh marmalade, and coffee before saying goodbye and rolling out at about 8:15.
Michel even climbed onto his motorcycle and guided us through town to make sure we found the correct road. Having our own motorcycle escort felt like a fitting beginning to what would become one of our most memorable days in the Pyrenees.
The first part of the ride would take us uphill for nearly 21 miles, eventually carrying us more than a mile above sea level. Michel had certainly not steered us wrong.
The road climbed through the beautiful Val d’Azun, passing Arras-en-Lavedan, Aucun, and Arrens-Marsous before beginning the serious ascent toward the Col du Soulor. Above us rose the steep, jagged peaks of the Pyrenees. Sheep, cattle, and horses grazed across the high pastures, their bells echoing through the valleys.
At one point, we watched a farmer and his dogs moving cattle down from the higher elevations for the winter. It was one of those timeless mountain scenes that made us slow down and simply watch. The beginning fall colors had also brought out numerous photographers, all trying to capture the same magnificent landscape we were riding through.
As we climbed higher, the air became cooler and the views grew even more dramatic. Lisa and I started debating whether this ride or yesterday’s climb over the Col du Tourmalet was more beautiful. Eventually, we decided there was no point trying to compare them. They were completely different experiences, and both were magnificent.
Along the climb, we kept leapfrogging a mother and father who were supporting their son as he tackled the same two cols. They cheered for us each time they passed, and we cheered for him. That little roadside camaraderie helped us click off the kilometer markers one at a time.
We reached the Col du Soulor at about 4,836 feet. It is one of the classic passes of the Pyrenees and a frequent companion to the neighboring Aubisque in the Tour de France. We stopped for a few photographs but did not linger long. A brief descent awaited us, followed by the final climb toward the Col d’Aubisque.
The road connecting the two cols may have been the most spectacular part of the day. It clung to the mountainside through the Cirque du Litor, with tunnels, cliffs, and enormous views into the valley below. Portions of this dramatic balcony road date to the 1800s, when it was built as part of a route connecting the Pyrenean spa towns.
Then came the final push to the Col d’Aubisque.
At approximately 5,607 feet, the Aubisque is one of the legendary mountains of the Tour de France. It was included in the Tour’s first great Pyrenean stage in 1910 and has appeared in the race dozens of times since. Standing at the summit beside the three enormous Tour de France bicycles, it was easy to imagine generations of cyclists suffering their way up the same mountain.
We spent more time at this summit, especially since the café was open! We celebrated with fries, an omelet, and bread. I had also been carrying a chunk of Camembert in my bag for a couple of days. By this point it was extremely soft and mushy, which made it perfect for spreading over the eggs and fries. Gourmet French mountaintop cuisine!
From the Aubisque, we began an incredible descent through Gourette and Eaux-Bonnes toward Laruns and the Ossau Valley. From the summit, the route would carry us downhill for nearly 30 miles toward Pau.
That morning, we had also received a message from our expected Warmshowers hosts canceling our stay. In five years of using Warmshowers, it was only our second cancellation. They simply seemed to have run out of the energy needed to host and left us searching for another place at the last minute.
Fortunately, another request was answered by Jean-Michel and Isabelle in Lescar, just outside Pau. Once again, the Warmshowers community came through for us.
As the long descent carried us away from the high mountains, both of us felt a little sad watching the Pyrenees slowly disappear behind us. These mountains have become one of our favorite places in the world to ride.
As I get older, I sometimes wonder whether I will ever return to certain places. There is so much of the world left to explore, but the Pyrenees keep pulling us back. After beautiful weather, unforgettable climbs, reunions with old friends, and several wonderful Warmshowers experiences, it was difficult to imagine that this might be our final day riding among them.
We made quick time into Pau, where we did a little sightseeing, found snacks and cold drinks, and stopped at an outdoor store so Lisa could buy a new jacket. From there, we continued to Lescar, the historic first capital of Béarn, arriving shortly before our hosts would be available at 6:00.
When we reached the house, Jean-Michel was outside preparing to return what he called his “special bicycles” to their garage. He took us over to see them, and we immediately recognized the same style of trishaws we use with Cycling Without Age in Iowa City.
Then came the truly surprising connection: Jean-Michel, like me, had helped start a Cycling Without Age organization in his own community.
What are the chances?
After Jean-Michel returned the bicycles, Lisa and I cleaned up, and Isabelle arrived home from her painting and sculpting class. Together, we prepared a dinner of duck, pasta, salad, and vegetables.
Both Jean-Michel and Isabelle are retired, but they fill their days with volunteering and helping others. Isabelle teaches French to immigrants, while Jean-Michel stays busy with Cycling Without Age. They also share our love of mountain biking, hiking, and spending time in the mountains. They recently purchased a second home near where we had stayed the previous night and were already inviting us to return.
The stories and laughter continued around the table until someone finally looked at the clock. It was nearly 11:30!
Once again, a day that began with beautiful roads ended with new friendships and another reminder of why Warmshowers has become such an important part of our travels.
“Bonne nuit, faites de beaux rêves.”
Good night, and sweet dreams.Read more
The Tourmalet and the Niners
October 5 in France
Day 35: Bagnères-de-Bigorre → Pierrefitte-Nestalas (40 miles / 5,500 ft.)
We had been waiting for this day for the entire trip. We woke at Aude’s home near the base of the Col du Tourmalet at about 7:30, and the weather forecast looked good. Aude prepared the perfect power breakfast: warm grains with chunks of apple, yogurt, honey, and bread. After saying goodbye to our dear friend once again, we pointed our bicycles toward one of the most legendary climbs in cycling.
From Bagnères-de-Bigorre, the road gradually rises through the Campan Valley before the official climb begins at Sainte-Marie-de-Campan. From there, it is about 17 kilometers of steady climbing, gaining more than 4,000 feet before reaching the summit at 6,939 feet.
The temperature changed with the elevation. It was cold near the bottom, hot while we were working our way uphill, and cold again when we stopped pedaling at the summit. The road climbed past forests, open mountainsides, grazing animals, and the ski village of La Mongie. Above us were blue skies mixed with clouds, with the higher Pyrenean peaks spreading in every direction.
Other cyclists were climbing too, and everyone seemed to understand the importance of the day. There were greetings, encouragement, and the quiet camaraderie that develops among people suffering toward the same summit.
The Tourmalet has appeared in the Tour de France more often than any other major mountain pass. It was first crossed in 1910, during a brutal 326-kilometer stage through the Pyrenees. Octave Lapize was the first rider over the summit and went on to win the Tour that year.
A few years later, Eugène Christophe broke his bicycle fork while descending the Tourmalet. Under the rules of the time, he had to walk to a forge in Sainte-Marie-de-Campan and repair it himself. Stories like that helped turn this mountain from a simple road over the Pyrenees into one of cycling’s most sacred places.
Near the summit stands the enormous metal cyclist known as the Géant du Tourmalet. The statue is commonly nicknamed Octave in honor of Lapize. It is brought down from the mountain each winter and returned to the summit every June in a celebration accompanied by hundreds of cyclists. (Unfortunately it was brought down two days before our climb but we got a photo with it at the base in its winter home).
Reaching the top felt every bit as special as we had imagined. A group of Australians gave Lisa a huge welcome, cheering as she crested the summit. We celebrated with a beer and met Sean, a younger cyclist from New York taking a long journey before entering the working world back in the United States.
Eventually, the cold convinced us to add layers. Lisa put on tights, I added leg warmers, and we both pulled on jackets for the descent.
What a descent it was.
We dropped through Barèges and the upper Bastan Valley, with the road twisting down from the rocky high mountains toward greener forests and villages. Our speed approached 50 miles per hour. Part of me wanted to let the bicycle go and chase my lifetime record of 59.5 mph, set years ago in Park City, Utah. But I am not quite that young anymore, and I would like to live to ride another day.
We continued through Luz-Saint-Sauveur and down the river valley toward Pierrefitte-Nestalas, where another Warmshowers experience was waiting.
We arrived before Nathalie and Michel were home, so we found a bakery, bought a snack, and enjoyed a couple of drinks in the park. When Michel arrived, we learned that it was his 69th birthday. With Michel at 69, Jim at 59, and Lisa at 49, we immediately declared ourselves the Niners.
Their home was filled with thousands of objects, photographs, carvings, books, magnets, and artwork gathered during a lifetime of travel. We kept discovering pieces of ourselves in their home: African woodcarvings, marbles on display, Pink Floyd playing, travel magnets covering the refrigerator, and even some of the same books we have at home.
Michel had worked as a tunneler in several countries, and every object seemed connected to a story. He also shared our love of bicycles and motorcycles, with an eclectic collection waiting in the garage.
The evening unfolded naturally. Nathalie hurried off to an exercise class. A farmer friend stopped by with chestnuts and stayed for a beer. Michel’s phone played birthday messages, including friends singing to him in French. His daughter and son-in-law called from Cuba, where Michel once lived for four years and which still holds a special place in his heart.
Dinner was chicken, rice, vegetables, and several hours of stories and laughter. We talked about travel, local farmers, gardens, food, different cultures, the environment, and the beliefs that connect people even when they come from different countries.
Many French families take genuine pride in buying produce, poultry, yogurt, and cheese directly from nearby farmers. Small gardens provide tomatoes, peppers, and other vegetables, while visits from farming friends are simply part of everyday life. Supporting local people does not feel like a special movement here. It feels normal.
It is difficult to explain how people can meet through Warmshowers and feel connected within only a few hours. But once again, openness, kindness, curiosity, and a shared desire to understand the world made strangers feel like old friends.
We climbed the Tourmalet today, but the mountain was only half the story.Read more
Aude and Dandelion Wine
October 4 in France
Day 34: Oloron-Sainte-Marie → Bagnères-de-Bigorre (61 miles / 4735 ft.)
We knew we had another difficult day ahead, but we adjusted the route to keep the climbing near 5,000 feet for another metric century. Rain was expected late in the afternoon, and we were a little nervous about both the climbing and navigating through Lourdes, so we hoped to get an early start.
Most of all, we were excited to revisit Aude, one of our favorite Warmshowers hosts. She welcomed us when we last toured through the Pyrenees and even made a beautiful fig pie for Jim’s birthday. If you have actually been reading our posts that long, perhaps you remember it! Ha ha!
Our first major climb carried us through the Bois du Bager, a beautiful forest of towering beech and oak trees near the Col du Cerisier. From there, we dropped into the Ossau Valley and continued through the rolling green foothills of Béarn.
This was mostly a riding day, and that felt good. Many of our days in Japan involved constant stopping, navigating, and sightseeing. Here we could settle into a rhythm and simply ride. The mountains rising around us, the green valleys, and the first changing colors of fall provided plenty to look at.
Because it was Sunday, the countryside seemed especially active. We passed cyclists enjoying their weekend rides, mushroom hunters carefully searching the forest floor, and people whitewater rafting on the Gave de Pau. Apparently everyone had chosen a different way to play in the Pyrenees.
We followed the river toward Lourdes, where we stopped for cold drinks and found a peaceful place for our picnic. We had taken a rest day in Lourdes two years ago, so this time it served as our only major stop rather than a sightseeing destination.
Leaving Lourdes, we climbed another quiet ridge near the Croix Blanche before descending toward the Adour Valley and Bagnères-de-Bigorre. We arrived about an hour earlier than expected and celebrated with a couple of cold beverages overlooking a beautiful church.
Aude was still preparing for a short adventure of her own beginning the next morning, so we picked up a few snacks and sat beside the river. From there we could admire the mountains and quietly think about tomorrow. If the weather cooperates, we hope to climb the Col du Tourmalet. We will save that story for tomorrow, assuming we make it…
At about 5:00, we rode to Aude’s house, cleaned up, and settled in while dinner cooked. We took a short walk around town before returning for rice, green beans with chorizo, cheese, and Aude’s homemade dandelion wine.
Her roommate Natasha joined us, and the four of us spent the next couple of hours around the dining-room table sharing stories and laughter. Eventually, everyone looked as though they might fall asleep right there at the table. We finally surrendered at about 10:30.
A challenging day of riding ended exactly where we wanted it to, sharing food, unusual homemade wine, and laughter with an old friend in the Pyrenees.Read more
Bonjour, Col d’Osquich!
October 3 in France
Day 33: Espelette → Oloron-Sainte-Marie (62 miles / 5,469 feet)
It was hard to wake up this morning. The sun rises later now, and our little bungalow beside the stream was so quiet and peaceful that neither of us felt any urgency to move.
Eventually we staggered around and went outside to visit our new friends: the two donkeys, the miniature horse, and the full-sized horse. We fed them a few more chestnuts, which they treated like candy. They took each one so gently from our hands that sometimes they were almost too careful and knocked it onto the ground. We could have happily stayed there all morning.
We finally packed up and ride over to Frederique and Vincent’s main house for breakfast at 8:30. We had hoped to be riding by nine, but the conversation was far too enjoyable to rush. Breakfast was wonderfully French: healthy and simple: bread, cherry jam, fruit, yogurt, and a little Camembert. By the time we said our goodbyes and rolled away, it was closer to 9:30.
We knew we had a full day ahead of us. Sixty-two miles made it another metric century, with nearly 5,500 feet of climbing mixed into the deal. Before leaving Espelette, Jim made one important stop to buy a small jar of crushed Piment d’Espelette, the town’s famous red pepper. It seemed like the proper souvenir from a village where peppers hang from white façades like Christmas decorations.
The route carried us east through the green folds of the French Basque foothills. We moved from the historic province of Labourd into Lower Navarre and eventually crossed into Soule. The roads rose and fell through pastures, forests, and small farming valleys beneath magnificent skies. The temperature was nearly perfect, and we made good time despite several climbs that demanded our attention.
Along the way we passed two women carefully searching beneath the chestnut leaves for mushrooms. Autumn foraging is serious business here, and they were completely focused on finding whatever little treasures were hiding on the forest floor.
We also practiced one of the few French words we know well.
“Bonjour!”
“Bonjour!”
It works surprisingly often.
At Lidl we gathered the ingredients for a picnic: hummus, ham, bread, chips, and two Cherry Cokes. After the delicious cherry jam at breakfast, we had apparently developed a temporary cherry addiction. We found a quiet place beside a beautiful church, made our sandwiches, drank our Cherry Cokes, and prepared ourselves for the biggest climb of the day.
The Col d’Osquich rises between Saint-Just-Ibarre and Musculdy, crossing the old boundary between Lower Navarre and Soule. The sign at the top reads 500 meters, modest by Pyrenean standards, but our loaded bicycles made sure it felt like a real mountain pass.
The Tour de France first crossed this country during its legendary 1910 journey through the Pyrenees. The Col d’Osquich later returned to the Tour in 1919 and again in 2006, when it was rated a Category 3 climb. We were moving considerably slower than the professionals, but we still celebrated beside the summit sign as if someone might be waiting with yellow jerseys.
Beyond the col, the road descended into the Soule valley and carried us through Mauléon-Licharre before turning toward Béarn. The profile looked friendlier, but the rolling hills and long stretches of gradual one-percent climbing slowly drained what remained in our legs. A one-percent grade sounds like nothing until it continues mile after mile at the end of a metric century.
We reached Oloron-Sainte-Marie at about 4:00 and wisely decided to check into our Airbnb before shopping. Or at least it seemed wise until we walked toward the grocery store in an enormous downpour. A pizza place tempted us, but we remained committed to our highly sophisticated French dinner of microwavable lasagna, salad, and assorted treats.
Once the rain eased, we wandered through the quiet historic streets. Oloron-Sainte-Marie sits at the meeting point of the Gave d’Aspe and Gave d’Ossau, two mountain rivers that join here to form the Gave d’Oloron. The city itself grew from two once-separate communities, Oloron and Sainte-Marie, which were finally united in 1858. Tonight the rain had chased almost everyone indoors, leaving the old quarters and river bridges unusually peaceful.
Back at the apartment, we caught up on FindPenguins, checked in with friends, and relaxed. Tomorrow we ride to visit Aude, the Warmshowers host who welcomed us in the Pyrenees two years ago. After that, if the weather and our legs cooperate, we hope to tackle the legendary Col du Tourmalet.
It is 9:45, the posts are finally caught up, and two tired cyclists are winding down for the night.
Bonne nuit from Oloron-Sainte-Marie. 🇫🇷Read more
Hello France, No Coffee, & Donkey Candy
October 2 in France
Day 32: San Sebastián → Espelette (53 miles / 5365 ft.)
We ate our usual touring breakfast in the hotel room: yogurt, banana, muesli, baguette, jam, juice, and whatever else remained in our food bags. We even had instant coffee, but the electric kettle looked like a small science experiment. For possibly the first time on this trip, we decided that no coffee was better than questionable coffee.
Starting a cycling day completely uncaffeinated felt strange, and we continued joking about it for the next several hours.
We took our time leaving San Sebastián, roaming around the city on our loaded bicycles and finding one more postcard to send to a friend. Even in the busier areas, riding felt safe as long as we paid attention. Eventually, we left the city and continued east along the coast toward Pasaia.
Coastal riding is not always our favorite. The views are beautiful, but bicycle lanes, intersections, traffic, pedestrians, and constant navigation require much more concentration than a quiet mountain road. Still, the harbor at Pasaia and the rugged shoreline beyond it were worth the effort.
The real work began with the climb over Jaizkibel, the green mountain ridge separating Pasaia from Hondarribia. This is one of the famous cycling roads of the Basque Country and has often played an important role in the Clásica San Sebastián. Near the crest, we stopped at the stone Santa Bárbara tower, one of several 19th-century defensive towers scattered across the ridge. From up there, we could look across the coastline toward Hondarribia, the mouth of the Bidasoa River, and France.
After descending through Hondarribia and Irún, we crossed the Bidasoa into Hendaye. Just like our crossing from Portugal into Spain, there was no checkpoint, no dramatic welcome sign, and no real indication that we had entered another country, although we could feel a difference. After all those miles through Spain, entering France felt surprisingly anticlimactic.
We were sad to leave behind the pintxos and a language that I can navigate much more easily than French.
France quickly began to feel different. The coastal area was far more touristy, camper vans seemed to be parked everywhere, and traffic increased dramatically. We also had to adjust to French drivers. They gave us plenty of space, but often passed sooner than Spanish drivers, who tended to wait patiently until they could move almost completely into the other lane.
The coarse surface of some of the departmental roads made approaching cars sound much faster than they really were, which is taking a little getting used to.
We climbed above Hendaye and stopped at Château d’Abbadia, the striking neo-Gothic château and observatory built for explorer, geographer, and astronomer Antoine d’Abbadie. From there, our route followed the Corniche Basque along the cliffs before passing through Saint-Jean-de-Luz.
Eventually, we turned inland and followed the Nivelle River valley through Ascain and Saint-Pée-sur-Nivelle. Somehow, the countryside seemed to become even greener after crossing into France. The roads also became smoother and more flowing, and despite the traffic, we enjoyed the rolling ride toward Espelette. We were especially motivated because we had Warmshowers hosts waiting and hoped to arrive before 5:00.
Espelette immediately looked like the village we had imagined. White Basque houses with deep red shutters lined the streets, while strings of brilliant red peppers decorated shops and façades. These are Piments d’Espelette, or Ezpeletako biperra in Basque. The variety is called Gorria, meaning “red,” and the peppers are traditionally hung on buildings to ripen and dry before being ground into the famous mildly spicy powder.
We stopped for photographs, a cold drink, and a look around the Château des Barons d’Ezpeleta, which now houses the town hall, library, tourism office, and exhibitions. Behind it, we found a small arboretum honoring Espelette native Father Armand David, the missionary and naturalist who helped introduce thousands of Chinese plant and animal species, including the giant panda, to Western science.
Then the day became even more special. Our Warmshowers hosts, Frederique and Vincent, are both 59 and have traveled together throughout the world. They had lived in many different parts of France before finally deciding that this was the best place in the country to settle. Two years ago they bought an old farm and have been remodeling it with ideas from both of them. Vincent is a master carpenter and has completed much of the newer woodwork himself, using wood he harvested from their own forest.
Their beautiful home and property were absolutely amazing, but our sleeping arrangements were yet to be seen. Vincent led us down several little lanes through their land until we reached our own bungalow beside the river.
In the adjoining pasture lived two female donkeys, a mother and daughter, along with a horse and a miniature horse. Vincent gave us a bag of chestnuts to feed them and explained that chestnuts are like candy to the animals. They certainly seemed to agree.
Our quiet little bungalow had everything we needed: a shower, washing machine, comfortable bed, and complete silence. After cleaning up and settling in, we walked back to the main house for a magnificent dinner of pasta with a creamy white sauce, ham and mushrooms, bread, and four French cheeses: Comté, Bleu d’Auvergne, Morbier, and Camembert. Fresh fruit and white wine completed the meal.
The food was wonderful, but once again, the conversation made the evening. Frederique and Vincent shared stories from their travels and their life together, and we kept talking until about 10:30, when Lisa and I were nearly falling asleep at the table. We did not want the evening to end.
After saying bonne nuit, we switched on our headlamp and followed the dark lanes back to our bungalow. The donkeys were sleeping in the woods, but sometime during the night, one of them must have awakened craving more “candy.” She gave us a loud reminder that she was still out there.
I was asleep again within about a minute.
We say this often, but this truly felt like a place we could return to someday and stay much longer.
Portugal 🇵🇹: 14 Days / 594 Miles / 57,120 ft climbing
Spain 🇪🇸: 17 Days / 780 Miles / 59,520 ft climbingRead more
San Sebastián!
October 1 in Spain
Day 31: Elizondo to San Sebastián (49 miles / 3,045 ft.)
We began our morning with breakfast and a little more time with Amaiur and their two-year-old daughter, Goiztiri. Joseba had already left for work, so after saying our goodbyes and thanking them for an unforgettable Warmshowers visit, we rolled away from Elizondo.
The day began by following the Baztan River out of the valley. Near Oronoz-Mugairi, the river changes names and becomes the Bidasoa. Much of our route followed the Bidasoa Greenway, built along the former Tren Txikito railway that once connected Elizondo with Irún. The little train began as a mining railway before carrying passengers and freight through the valley until 1956.
It was another amazing stretch of riding, following the river through a narrow green valley beneath heavily forested hills. We had some light rain, but never enough to ruin the day. The wet pavement, low clouds, and first touches of fall color gave the mountains a completely different feeling from the bright sunshine of the day before.
The serious climbing began after Lesaka. The narrow NA-4000 carried us over Alto de Agiña, down toward the San Antón reservoir, and then back up to the Aritxulegi tunnel. The route wound through the forests of Aiako Harria Natural Park, surrounded by steep green mountains and almost no traffic. Near the tunnel, we crossed from Navarra into Gipuzkoa and officially entered another part of the Basque Country.
The climbing kept us warm, but the long, wet descent toward sea level was another story. By the time we reached the bottom, Lisa’s fingers were frozen. Luckily, we found a welcoming coffee shop where a ham-and-cheese croissant and warm cups of coffee gave us both food and something hot to wrap our hands around.
From there, we joined the Arditurri Greenway, another old railway corridor. This one once carried minerals from mines in the mountains to the port at Pasaia. Today it follows the Oiartzun River before linking into a surprisingly complete network of bike lanes through Oiartzun, Errenteria, Pasaia, and all the way into Donostia-San Sebastián.
Once again, entering a large city turned out to be far easier than we had imagined. We simply followed one bike trail into another until the mountains opened to the sea. I could not help thinking about how difficult it would be to navigate loaded touring bicycles into the center of Chicago!
Reaching the coast was spectacular. Dark storm clouds hung over the city while the ocean remained a brilliant blue below them. Large waves rolled toward Zurriola Beach, where surfers were taking advantage of the rough water. Zurriola is San Sebastián’s most exposed beach and the heart of the city’s surfing culture, so even under threatening skies there were plenty of people in the water.
Still carrying all our gear, we took a short bicycle tour along the waterfront and through the city before checking into our hotel. It was much nicer than we expected, with a little balcony and a great view. We relaxed for a while before setting out on our next important mission: pintxos!
We wandered through the narrow streets of the Parte Vieja, stopping for little snacks and drinks along the way. The old town was rebuilt after a devastating fire in 1813, although the Gothic Church of San Vicente, the oldest church in the city, survived from centuries earlier. We also found a small souvenir shop, picked out some postcards, and sent them on their way.
Eventually, our wandering led us to a beautiful place overlooking the ocean for sunset. The colors never became quite as brilliant as we expected, but watching the clouds, waves, and fading light over the Atlantic was still a perfect ending to the day.
Then it was back to our balcony for a few snacks and drinks before calling it a night. Between the rain, river trails, mountain passes, frozen fingers, city navigation, surfers, pintxos, and ocean views, we were exhausted. It was another completely unique day, and another one we will never forget.Read more
Over Artesiaga and Into the Baztan Valley
September 30 in Spain
Day : Pamplona to Elizondo (49 miles / 3050 ft.)
Pamplona is a bustling city, and it seems like the farther north we travel in Spain, the earlier people become active in the morning. Maybe it is just our imagination.
After a late breakfast in our hotel room, we finally rolled out around 9:30. Before leaving Pamplona, we took a relaxed cruise through the city, riding past the Citadel and following one interesting street after another until we eventually circled back into the old town and Plaza del Castillo. There we stopped for coffee and a slice of the famous tortilla de patatas (one of Lisa’s favorites).
We continued wandering past old bridges, parks, and some of the city’s grand government buildings. Pamplona felt remarkably quiet, safe, and easy to explore by bicycle while people headed to work and students made their way to school.
Leaving the city, we picked up the Arga River and followed its green corridor through the Esteribar Valley. The buildings gradually disappeared, the hills closed in around us, and the ride became quieter with every mile. The route passed through the same beautiful river valley as the Camino de Santiago before continuing toward the mountains.
At the Embalse de Eugi, we stopped beside the water for a picnic of bread, hummus, and cheese. From there, the real climbing began as we entered the thick forests of Kintoa, also known as Quinto Real. The name reaches back to the days when the kings of Navarre collected a levy for livestock grazing in these mountain forests.
Our climb to Puerto de Artesiaga was a little over five miles and carried us to nearly 3,250 feet. The narrow road twisted through beech forest and open mountain country with very little traffic. There was, however, plenty of evidence that cattle, horses, sheep, and goats roam freely up there. We were amazed by how much manure could fit on one little road!
The reward was one of the most spectacular descents of our lives. The landscape reminded us of Switzerland, with animals grazing across steep green mountainsides, deep valleys falling away below us, and an enormous blue sky overhead. The narrow road curled down the mountain in one switchback after another, almost completely free of cars. We reached speeds over 40 miles per hour as we dropped nearly 2,500 feet toward the Baztan Valley.
After reaching the valley floor, we rolled through Irurita and followed the river into Elizondo. The town sits on both sides of the Baztan River and serves as the administrative and commercial heart of the valley’s fifteen villages. Its stone houses, wooden balconies, small bridges, schools, shops, and stately old buildings make it feel much larger in importance than in size.
Naturally, our first stop was a café for pintxos and cold drinks. We sat in the town square until a little after 4:00, when our Warmshowers host, Joseba, arrived with his two-year-old daughter, Goiztiri. After playing in the square for a while, we walked back to their flat nearby, had a few snacks, cleaned up, and relaxed while waiting for Joseba’s partner, Amaiur, to return from Pamplona.
That evening we shared tortilla de patatas, cold tomato soup, freshly cooked vegetables, tomatoes, bread, cheese, and dry cider from the cooperative Joseba belongs to. Somehow, in only six hours, we learned an incredible amount about Basque culture, cheese, cider making, music, language, bicycles, and everyday life in the valley.
Joseba told us about the txalaparta, the traditional Basque wooden percussion instrument played by striking long boards. We also learned about the kirikoketa, an older tradition connected to making cider. People rhythmically pounded apples with long wooden mallets, turning the work into music. It was one more example of how history, food, work, and community remain connected here.
After dinner, Joseba interviewed us for Xorroxin Irratia, the local Basque-language radio station serving the surrounding valleys. He is working on a project about bicycle culture, especially using bicycles for everyday transportation, and wanted to hear what daily cycling is like in Iowa City.
We also took an evening walk through Elizondo. People greeted one another on the streets, families were out walking, and the entire place had the comfortable feeling of a small Iowa town, only with mountains rising above the rooftops and far more people enjoying an evening stroll.
We finished the night sitting together, talking and playing with Amaiur before heading to bed around 10:00. Once again, Warmshowers gave us much more than a place to sleep. It gave us a doorway into a family, a culture, and a community we never could have experienced on our own.Read more
Buen Camino, Buen Pintxos, Bueno Everything
September 29 in Spain
Day 29: Estella-Lizarra to Pamplona (35 miles / 3235 ft.)
With a shorter day and less climbing ahead, we slept a little later and took our time leaving Estella. The morning was cloudy and chilly, so we rode around town to see a few more sights before heading toward Pamplona.
The riding between the two cities was amazing. We repeatedly intersected the Camino de Santiago and sometimes rode directly on it, traveling opposite the normal flow of pilgrims. We must have passed at least 100 walkers from all over the world. Everyone shared the trail graciously, and a few seemed surprised enough by our loaded bicycles that we probably ended up in their photos.
All day we heard, “¡Buen Camino!” along with genuine smiles and gratuitous nods. It is the traditional greeting among pilgrims, wishing one another a good journey. Naturally, Lisa and I began modifying it: “Buen Velo,” “Buen EuroVelo,” “Buen whatever,” and anything else that made us laugh.
Near Puente la Reina, our route connected with EuroVelo 1 and EuroVelo 3, the Pilgrims Route. This is one of the Camino’s most important towns, where historic pilgrimage routes come together before crossing the famous medieval bridge over the Arga River. From there, we continued through rolling farmland, vineyards, little stone villages, and the foothills of the Sierra del Perdón.
Puente la Reina also became the site of Lisa’s first touring flat in what we estimate is nearly 5,000 miles. The timing could not have been better because it happened beside a café filled with delightful pastries. A piece of wire nearly as thin as a hair had worked its way through the tire.
We found an outdoor table, ordered coffee and pastries, and repaired the flat. Unfortunately, we had not kept track of which spare tubes were actually still good, and I installed one with a tiny hole. After enjoying our pastries, we discovered the tire was flat again. Luckily, I had not put the wheel back on the bicycle yet, so the second repair went quickly. Buen flat!
As the day continued, the clouds separated and the sky became a magnificent blue filled with puffy white clouds. I could not stop taking pictures. We eventually reached a newly paved descent where our speed climbed past 40 mph before the landscape opened into the Pamplona basin.
We always get a little nervous approaching a large city, but Pamplona’s bike lanes made the arrival surprisingly easy. Our route brought us past the University of Navarra, the massive green space surrounding the star-shaped Citadel, and toward the old city. Pamplona is one of the first major cities on the Camino Francés, although most pilgrims begin farther east in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port or Roncesvalles.
There was one final climb after reaching our hotel. Our room was on the third floor, which in Europe means carrying the loaded bicycles up four levels because the ground floor is numbered zero!
After cleaning up, we headed back out on foot. We walked past the bullring, explored the old town, and wandered through Plaza del Castillo, or Gazteluko Plaza, the lively heart of Pamplona. Of course, we found a place for pintxos.
While eating, we met a Swiss couple traveling south from France for two months with their children. As if that were not adventurous enough, the husband had previously spent three years traveling from Switzerland through Africa. Encounters like that have a way of making our little bicycle trip feel almost ordinary.
Darkness settled over the city as we wandered among illuminated gates, plazas, and government buildings. We eventually found a grocery store, gathered supplies for breakfast, and were in bed by 9:30.
Another one of the best days, although we seem to say that almost every day.Read more
Champagne Gravel and a Traveling Wine Glass
September 28 in Spain
Day 28: Vitoria-Gasteiz to Estella-Lizarra (48 miles / 2150 ft.)
After breakfast with Ainhoa, Hodei, and Lur, we said goodbye as they left for school around 8:15. Our legs felt revived after a full day away from the bicycles, and finally, this felt like the kind of day bicycle touring is supposed to be.
We quickly joined the Vía Verde del Ferrocarril Vasco-Navarro, a greenway following the old narrow-gauge railway known locally as El Trenico. From 1927 until 1967, the little train connected Estella with Vitoria-Gasteiz and towns farther north. Today, its former railbed creates a peaceful route of gentle grades, tunnels, bridges, and miles of mostly wonderful crushed “champagne gravel.”
Peaceful, except for the wind! We were immediately hit by a 22 mph headwind. The surrounding hills occasionally protected us, and as the trail changed direction, the headwind became a crosswind that tried pushing us off the path in the open areas. We continued pressing forward, and eventually the wind eased.
The trail carried us away from the broad plains surrounding Vitoria, through the quieter hills of Álava, and finally into Navarra and the Río Ega valley. There were few people, almost no cars, and surprisingly few barking dogs. We stopped briefly for a snack and to handle the details for our evening accommodations, but otherwise we simply kept riding and enjoying the trail. We also captured plenty of video, hoping to make a video film of one of our favorite riding days.
https://www.instagram.com/reel/Dd2B5vYoRL6/?stk…
Upon reaching Estella-Lizarra, we bought groceries, checked into a hostel filled with Camino de Santiago walkers, and settled into the familiar routine of drinks, snacks, showers, and laundry. Apparently, we are still on the Camino! We returned to the store for dinner supplies and cooked pasta and potatoes in the shared kitchen.
Estella grew into an important medieval city because of the Camino, and pilgrims are still everywhere. That evening, we wandered through the illuminated Plaza de los Fueros, the heart of town, surrounded by arcaded buildings and the neoclassical façade of the Church of San Juan.
We purchased a glass of Spanish red wine, and without any concern, they let us walk away with the actual glass. We wandered around the square for more than 30 minutes before returning it. In the United States, alarms might have sounded and security might have been called. Here, the glass was simply trusted to find its way home.
We keep saying, “This was one of our best days of riding,” but every day offers something different. This one was especially quiet, peaceful, and exactly what we needed.Read more
Coins, Pintxos, and Kindness ❤️
September 27 in Spain
Day 27: Rest Day in Vitoria-Gasteiz (5 mile walk)
We had an actual rest day! I never even looked at the bicycles. Lisa saw them once, only because she retrieved the water bottles to wash them.
We slept late, enjoyed breakfast at the flat, and wandered back into the city. Our first stop was the Sunday flea market in Plaza de España. I searched through old coins hoping to find something from the 1800s, but settled for three coins for one euro. We also searched unsuccessfully for an old marble. We usually bring home a marble from each trip because it is small and easy to carry, but perhaps the tradition is evolving into finding any little flea-market treasure that catches our attention.
Next came the pintxos festival. Pintxos are the Basque version of tapas, small but carefully created bites often served on bread or held together with a toothpick. They are meant to be sampled with a drink while moving between bars or stands, making lunch as much a social experience as a meal. After trying some food and drinks, we were more than ready to return to the flat for a nap.
Later, Koldo, Ainhoa, and their children finally arrived home. Meeting them in person was an absolute delight. Hodei means “cloud” in Basque, while Lur means “earth” or “land,” beautiful names that we will certainly remember.
We played cards, visited a playground, laughed together, and shared stories and a wonderful dinner of tortilla de patatas, salad, cheese, and Rioja wine. The hours passed much too quickly.
This is the true gift of Warmshowers. Sometimes you meet people from a completely different place and almost immediately feel like yourself around them: comfortable, calm, and exactly where you are supposed to be. We arrived as strangers trusted with their home and left feeling like we had found another family.
We know we will be friends forever, and we truly hope Koldo, Ainhoa, Hodei, and Lur will someday visit us in Iowa. What a special evening and a perfect rest day.Read more
VITORIA! A Warm Welcome to the Middle Ages
September 26 in Spain
A Warm Welcome to the Middle Ages
Day 26: Balmaseda to Vitoria-Gasteiz (55 miles / 4300 ft.)
We enjoyed a quiet morning in our hotel, a former convent that had been converted into a beautiful place to stay. We were on the road before 9:00, which felt pretty early by Spanish standards.
The route began along the Cadagua River before turning through the green, wooded hills of the Basque Country. We crossed back and forth between Bizkaia and Álava, eventually climbing through the foothills near Gorbeia Natural Park before reaching the broad plain surrounding Vitoria-Gasteiz.
Numerous cycling groups were out enjoying their Saturday morning rides. It was a delight seeing so many cyclists, and it helped us make good time toward Vitoria, where our first true rest day and a medieval festival were waiting.
Along the way, we stumbled into the San Miguel festivities in Murgia. The plaza was filled with music and groups of friends cooking for a potato competition. It was another one of those unexpected experiences we never could have planned.
Because of a little confusion, our Warmshowers hosts, Koldo and Ainhoa, were near San Sebastián when we arrived. They arranged for their friend Raúl to meet us in a plaza. He greeted us warmly and carefully guided us through the city to their flat. We were incredibly touched that Koldo and Ainhoa trusted us with their keys and entire home even though they were not there.
“Make yourselves at home and enjoy the city. Feel free to help yourselves to anything in the fridge or use anything in the house—no problem at all.
See you on Sunday—have a great trip!”
After settling in, cleaning up, and resting briefly, we walked into Vitoria-Gasteiz’s medieval quarter. The old center is known as the Medieval Almond because of its shape, and for the weekend its narrow streets were filled with more than 200 food and craft stalls representing the Christian, Jewish, and Arab cultures that once shared the city.
We watched acrobats and a giant work their way through the packed streets, browsed the artisan food, jewelry, and craft stalls, and ordered some roasted pig that turned out to be pork served in a kebab box. It wasn’t quite the medieval feast we imagined, but it still tasted good!
We had dreams of staying awake until 10:00 for the fire show, but after riding, eating, and fighting our way through the crowds, our first true rest day sounded even better. We returned to the flat feeling incredibly grateful for Raúl’s kindness and for two Warmshowers hosts who trusted us enough to say, “Make yourselves at home,” even when they weren’t home themselves.Read more
Climbing into Another Year
September 25 in Spain
Day 25: Vega de Pas to Balmaseda (45 miles / 3650 ft.)
Jim’s birthday ride!
The day began with a late breakfast that Booking.com reviews had described as “wonderful.” The reviews mentioned meats, cheeses, fruit, yogurt, and packed lunches. Instead, we received coffee, juice, three small pieces of baguette with jam, and a magdalena, Spain’s little breakfast sponge cake. We had hoped for more because a seven-mile climb was waiting right outside the door.
As we climbed out of the Pas Valley, we spotted a group of cyclists ahead and decided to catch them. They were from Madrid, and it was fun having some camaraderie as we climbed together toward Puerto de las Estacas de Trueba. Once again, we found ourselves riding into the clouds.
The pass carried us over the Cantabrian Mountains at nearly 3,800 feet and from Cantabria into Castilla y León. As we crossed over, the climate changed noticeably. The air felt cooler and fresher, with a hint of fall in the trees. Most of the leaves were already brown from the dry, hot weather, but a few showed flashes of crimson and yellow. The views were spectacular, followed by a long, warm descent alongside the Río Trueba. We soon found ourselves riding with another group before parting ways in Espinosa de los Monteros.
We had pushed on because we expected to find food at the market, but it was already closing. A couple of bakeries saved us with traditional premade sandwiches, which we ate on a bench before continuing east through the green Valle de Mena. Lisa settled for a hot dog in a baguette, while I had chorizo inside bread. Both were simple, traditional choices that hit the spot.
The final miles followed the Cadagua River into the Basque Country and Balmaseda, meaning my birthday ride crossed three different regions of Spain. Balmaseda has long been a gateway between Castilla and Bizkaia, tucked between the mountains along the river.
Upon arriving, we celebrated with patatas bravas and cold drinks, checked into our hotel, and hit the town. We eventually found a wonderful family-owned café run by a Venezuelan family. Their youngest son, Alan, spoke English and helped us order, and then cooked what may have been the best cheeseburgers we have ever eaten.
The night ended back in our hotel room with a nightcap and birthday cheesecake.
Happy Birthday, Jim! ❤️Read more
Wrong Turns, Rock Music, and Two Passes
September 24 in Spain
Day 24: Puente Viesgo to Vega de Pas (61 miles / 6265 ft.)
Have you ever had one of those days when you kept making wrong turns? That was exactly how our morning started. It felt like we had never toured before and were just learning how to read a map. Maybe all the coastal traffic and crowds had thrown us off our game, but we finally shook it off once we reached the mountains and countryside.
The route gradually carried us into the Valles Pasiegos, three green valleys shaped by the Miera, Pisueña, and Pas rivers. Cows grazed on steep hillsides among scattered stone cabins traditionally used by farming families as they moved their animals between seasonal pastures.
The beautiful weather continued, and mushrooms were springing up along the damp roadsides. Autumn mushroom gathering is a popular tradition across northern Spain, where the cool temperatures, frequent rain, and forests create ideal conditions. We also encountered plenty of motorcycles enjoying the winding mountain roads.
We knew our two biggest climbs were waiting late in the day. The first followed the Miera River deep into the narrowest and most rugged of the three valleys. Somewhere across the valley, a rock band was practicing. We never saw them, but their music echoed through the mountains and gave us an uplifting distraction from the climbing.
The final section to Alto del Caracol gained roughly 1,150 feet in less than three miles at an average near 7%, topping out around 2,675 feet. From the summit, we could look back into the Miera Valley before enjoying a magnificent twisting descent into the Pisueña Valley.
Then came La Braguía, our second mountain pass. It climbed for about five miles, gaining more than 1,500 feet at nearly 6%. Whenever we climb these mountains, the reward of looking back into the valley and seeing how far we have come makes every bit of tough riding worthwhile. This is the kind of touring we love, far more than fighting traffic through coastal cities.
From La Braguía, we descended through open pastures, stone walls, and Pasiego cabins into the Pas Valley and Vega de Pas. Crossing two mountain passes late in the ride made it a tough day, but the descents into those valleys were some of the most beautiful riding we have ever experienced.
We reached our rural accommodation around 5:30, completed our usual “chores,” and walked into town looking for dinner. We found the only place open, but naturally, they didn’t begin serving until 8:30. That gave us an hour to decipher the menu and talk about the day.
With help from our very patient waitress, we ordered cocido montañés, Cantabria’s traditional mountain stew made with white beans, berza greens, and different cuts of pork. We also shared a pizza and a bottle of Spanish red wine. It was the perfect dinner after a long mountain day.
Afterward, we enjoyed a quiet moonlit walk back to our hotel through the cool mountain air.
Until mañana. ❤️
P.S. A mile 39.1 we have 1000 miles for the trip so far.Read more
Sunrise, Shortcuts, and Spanish Tortilla
September 23 in Spain
Day 23: Llanes → Vargas (62 miles / 5,780 ft.)
We woke early to catch the sunrise peeking over the Bay of Biscay, then started climbing. It became another beautifully picturesque day of climbing and descending through green mountains and river valleys.
We passed through Colombres, known for its grand “Indiano” homes built by emigrants who returned wealthy from the Americas. After crossing from Asturias into Cantabria, we followed the Nansa River and stopped to watch the fish below.
Of course, I found us another nice shortcut. It followed a trail that was almost rideable, which means it was mostly unrideable.
Later we found a café where two coffees, a slice of tortilla española, and a chocolate croissant still cost about half what we would expect to pay in the United States.
The route continued through Cabezón de la Sal, a town historically connected to salt production, and along parts of the old Camino Real through Riocorvo and Cartes. This centuries-old road once connected Spain’s northern coast with the Castilian plateau.
A swarm of motorcycles added some extra excitement to our final descent into the Vargas area. We ended at a lovely guesthouse in the countryside, where we ate a tapas-style dinner on the terrace while watching the sunset. Afterward, the owner and another couple joined us for a long conversation about travel, kindness, politics, food, and nearly everything else. It was a wonderful mixture of Spanish and English, helped along by an owner who loved practicing his English.Read more
Clouds, Blowholes, and a Dinosaur Egg
September 22 in Spain
Day 22: Arriondas to Llanes (40 miles / ___ ft.)
We woke in Arriondas with the town once again engulfed in clouds. After another beautiful breakfast spread, we started along the cool Sella River before climbing through Bode and Tresmonte into the hills between Monte Moru and the Sierra del Sueve.
Eventually, we climbed above the clouds and caught our first view of the Bay of Biscay, something Lisa had dreamed of seeing since she was a little girl. We stopped near the top and looked toward the brilliant blue ocean while clouds still filled the valleys behind us. From that peaceful mountain viewpoint, it took only about five minutes of descending to reach the beach.
We stopped for coffee and a snack, then walked along the shore searching for sea glass. Lisa found what may be the largest rock anyone has ever decided to carry on a bicycle tour. It resembles a dinosaur egg and it’s a perfect souvenir for Gopal!
After passing through Ribadesella, where the Sella River reaches the sea, we continued east along sections of the Camino del Norte. Pilgrims normally walk west toward Santiago, so once again we had a steady stream of Camino walkers coming toward us.
Before reaching the Bufones de Pría, we found a vending machine and bought two icy cold Cokes. Our hotel had encouraged us to pack sandwiches from breakfast, giving us everything we needed for a magnificent picnic near the cliffs.
The bufones are blowholes created by waves entering caves beneath the limestone cliffs. The trapped water and air become pressurized and escape through openings in the ground, producing geyser-like sprays and a deep roaring or whistling sound. The ocean was fairly calm, so we didn’t see the giant sprays they can produce during rough weather, but hearing and feeling the air rushing through the rocks was still impressive.
Then came the most adventurous part of the day. Our route became a narrow, rocky singletrack that was nearly impossible to ride. Sharp rose bushes and sticker bushes crowded both sides of the trail and large rocks from the singletrack. At one point Lisa disappeared behind me, and I later learned she had fallen directly into the stickers while being attached to her pedal!
We finally escaped the craziness and reached a gravel road that felt as smooth as pavement. From there, we continued along the coast through small villages and past one beautiful beach after another. The water here is locally called the Cantabrian Sea, the southern portion of the Bay of Biscay. Its English name comes from Biscay, the Basque province farther east.
Traffic increased as we approached Llanes, but so did the scenery. Limestone cliffs, hidden coves, green pastures, and blue water seemed to surround us. We arrived in Llanes, a medieval fishing and whaling town squeezed between the sea and the mountains.
Our hotel check-in couldn’t have been easier. The woman was friendly and immediately helped us secure the bikes in the hotel garage, which always brings a huge sense of relief. After cleaning up, we ventured back out to find a laundromat and some dinner. Naturally, we found a kebab shop, because that is often what we do. It was good, easy, and perfectly timed while our laundry dried.
We dropped everything back at the room and went out once more to enjoy the town and the sunset. Every day seems to get better, and the pictures will never fully capture this one. We took plenty of video too, so maybe another Instagram video will appear under Jimboyvw or JimC.
What a day!Read more
Loving Asturias Riding!
September 21 in Spain
Day 21: Oviedo to Arriondas (48 miles / 4610 ft.)
Surprisingly, we slept well despite the late night bar scene outside our hostel. A full breakfast spread got us started, and we walked to the parking garage to find our bikes still safely hidden under the cardboard. We rode back to load them up, taking care on Oviedo’s slick stone streets while cleaning crews hosed away the remains of last night’s San Mateo festivities. We passed the cathedral, listened to its bells for a bit, and within three miles were out in the countryside.
Then the fun began. Low clouds rested in the mountains, sunshine warmed us as we pushed east, and the roads wound past cows, horses, apple trees, vineyards, and green pastures. Farmers had been moving cattle between fields, leaving plenty of evidence on the road. We also saw about ten cyclists, mostly older gentlemen on road bikes. Then I remembered I probably fit that description myself.
The hills gave us a ridiculous rhythm: descend at 30 or 40 mph, then immediately shift into our easiest gears and climb the next one at 4.5 mph, sometimes on a 14% grade. Some winding stretches reminded me of Kentucky. A few open views almost looked like Iowa, though the mountains quickly put an end to that thought.
Around mile 30, we stopped to eat the croissants we’d saved from breakfast. By then the morning clouds were lifting, and we just kept enjoying the ride through the hills toward Arriondas. We were near the Sierra del Sueve, with the Picos de Europa farther east. The coast is close, too: the Sella River runs from Arriondas to the sea at Ribadesella.
Rather than fight for a spot at a crowded café, we bought snacks and drinks at the grocery store and had a picnic in a park along the river before our 4:00 hotel check-in. Now we’re relaxing and planning a quiet evening, maybe with a stroll by the water when it cools down. It was chilly this morning but warmed to about 75°F, just about perfect.
Lisa and I keep catching ourselves saying, “This is the best day.” Today really was some of the best riding we’ve ever had.Read more
A Rest Day, Asturian Style
September 20 in Spain
Day 20: Grado to Oviedo (26 miles / 3700 ft.)
We went to bed under clear skies and woke with our hostel completely engulfed in fog. After breakfast, we hit the road for our “rest day,” which somehow became nearly 30 miles and and 3,700 feet of climbing.
We began with an easy coast into Grado for its Sunday market. We wandered among booths filled with cheap shoes and clothing, produce, meats, honey, and local cheeses. We left with honeycomb, cured sausage, and a piece of four-month-aged Afuega’l Pitu blancu, one of Asturias’s oldest cow’s-milk cheeses. We chose the white variety without paprika.
From Grado, we followed the Río Nalón valley before climbing away from the river toward Oviedo. We had discussed skipping Monte Naranco and having something closer to a real rest day, but the weather was beautiful and we were enjoying the ride, so up we went.
The long climb led to the Monument to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, standing high above Oviedo with its arms stretched over the city. We weren’t alone. Tourists arrived by car, hikers walked up, and quite a few cyclists made the climb before bombing back down.
At the top, we met a couple from Florida who had hiked up. Most of the other hikers looked like they had barely exercised, but these two were covered in dirt and looked as though they had been backpacking for days. They were ready to find a taxi for the trip down. We enjoyed our snack, the views, and then earned our reward with a fast descent into Oviedo.
For more than 24 hours, we had been worrying about our hotel’s rule forbidding bicycles. Separating ourselves from the bikes is never our favorite thing. We rode first to the recommended parking garage, unsure whether they had received my email. The attendant greeted us kindly, led us to a tucked-away corner, and then said in his best English, “It’s free.” Once again, a small act of kindness nearly brought tears to my eyes.
We unloaded everything at the hotel, rode back in our street shoes, locked the bikes deep inside the garage, and piled cardboard around them for a little extra camouflage. With security cameras watching, we decided they would be safe for the night.
After showers, snacks, and some rest, we headed into Oviedo for the San Mateo Festival. Oviedo is now the capital of Asturias, but it was also the capital of the medieval Kingdom of Asturias. Each September, San Mateo transforms its historic streets into a huge celebration with live music, food stands, local vendors, children’s activities, street performers, and fireworks.
We casually wandered through the crowds, listened to music, and eventually split a pizza. On our way back, we found a quieter live performance and stopped for a while. We were too tired to make it to the 10:00 p.m. fireworks, which may have been a wise decision. Our street was lined with pubs advertising hours from 11:30 p.m. until 5:00 a.m., so whether we actually got a restful night remained to be seen.Read more
