Day 36 – Banylus Sur-Mer to Platja D’Aro (Pyrenees)

¡HOLA MOTHERFUCKERS!

I didn’t get the best sleep last night. THANKS WIND!!!  I cycled into town to get some breakfast and make myself feel better. I caved into the idea of a pizza breakfast and justified it to myself by thinking about all those delicious calories I would have to burn off, mmmmmmmmm

It was time to say ‘au rivoir’, but getting out of France was tough work. The col du Banylus was well and truly in the way. To start me off, it hit me with a 4% unpaved road, covered in large stones and gravel. I got off and pushed as I only had 1 spare inner tube and didn’t want to  risk it. I was whinging like a little bitch unaware that these were the salad days and just ahead was the wall. The real climbing was in front of me and was intimidating. The road was once again paves, but was a 2km long 10-18% cycling nightmare (oh yeah and it was 35C)

As I was making my way up it slowly, trying hard to think of anything else, I got passed by a dude on a cyclo-cross bike, who was adamant on conversing with me. NO CHANCE MY MAN. I could barley muster a word, let alone have a chat.

Eventually I reached the summit and he was there. He was waiting for his friend who was currently working his way up. We had our conversation and it turns out he was a pro cyclo-cross rider (it made me feel better about him passing me so easily).

To the north, I could see far into France and to the south, Spain. I had a lovely introduction into Spanish cycling with a long ass decent which had me singing some ‘Gypsy Kings – La Bamba’ over and over again.

At my 1st point of Spanish human contact, I gave out an over excited Hoooooooooooooolaaaaaaa, and then ordered me a cafe con leche. I’m much more comfortable with the Spanish lingo.

I set my sights a further 100km South and got to it. I was out of reach of the Pyrenees and rejouvinated simply by the thought that IVE CYCLED ALL THE WAY TO SPAIN!!!!

To be honest, the place smelt of strong toro shit and I saw 2 kittens that had fallen victim to roadkill, but I wasn’t going to be dispirited.

It was starting to get dark and my legs were beginning to feel heavy. But all was good as I found myself at the coast once more. The beach scene was still alive, the problem was as that I was not. I just didn’t have the energy to join in. I got comfortable on the sand and listened to a local restaurants house band smash out some Spanish classics, until I fell asleep hobo style

“¿Como está bitches?

-Arturo Mendez (Spanish language news)

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