Barcelona, Spain, to Angers, France.... the start...

Well it's January sixth and I have just finished with my third day of peddling. A cold windy day in southern France. The Plan is, as of now, to bike from Barcelona, Spain, to Angers, France, where I will be studying this coming semester. The route I will take is more or less 1,030 kilometers or 640 miles. I have from when I left, January fourth, tell the second of February to complete my journey. This being more than enough time to physically make the ride, but the problem is that it is January, and yes it is cold. So far it has only been a bit cold and windy, no rain, no snow, which I am sure at some point I will encounter.

Day one: Barcelona, Spain, to Girona, Spain (105 km)

January fourth presented perfect weather for biking. The only problem was I was a bit unsure of my route, or at least of how to actually get out of Barcelona. After about an hour or so I was successfully in the outskirts of Barcelona and was fortunate to find another biker who had taken me under his wing in order to make sure that I got headed in the right direction. We biked together for a good 12km before parting ways in a small pueblo called Mataro. From there it was on to Girona. The riding was a bit more difficult than I had expected. This is the first time I have toured with a full load on my bike. After six hours on the saddle I was happy to see that I was approaching Girona. Once in Girona I needed to find a small street where a pension was located, cerrer sequia, a street which apparently everyone in the town had never heard of, everyone except for one old lady with a dog. Now when this lady first approached me she was on her way to recycle two bags full of wine bottles, and when she first asked me if I needed help with directions I thought I could smell the alcohol wafting off her breath. I was a bit hesitant to follow here for she seemed a bit off in the mind, but my interest was sparked, that being an interest in her story and to see if she actually knew where the street was or if she was just in need of someone to talk to. To my amazement about 10 minutes later we were at the street I had asked to find, and we parted our ways, myself thanking her for her help, and she thanking me for translating from Catalan to Castilian. Finally making my way to the Pension I had found on the Internet, I walked in to find that they had given the room, which she said I did not need a reservation for, away. lucky within a half hour I found another place that was actually cheaper and in a better location. Girona itself is really quite a nice city. It is very decorative, everything is covered in lights for the holidays, and there are about four different little artisan markets spread throughout the city.

Day two: Girona, Spain, to Le Boulou, France (74 km)

Day two was great, and ended up being a lot easier than I had expected. I had heard the night before that a large cold front was coming in so it was absolutely necessary that I make my way into France. That being because there is a mountain range that separates France, from Spain. In making my way to the mountains and the boarder I first stopped in a small town called Figueres, home to the Dali museum. Unfortunately, with my bike I was unable to enter and was left to admire the architecture from the outside. The mountain pass was really not bad, that is going from Spain, to France. If one where to try and cross going from France, to Spain, they would find a bit of an obstacle in front of them. for once one crosses over into France, it is all down hill until getting to Le Boulou. Le Boulou is a very picturesque little mountain town,  from which it is very easy to see the snow capped mountain range the Pyrenees.

Day three:  Le Boulou, to Narbonne (86km)

I woke up to a nice brisk grey morning that quickly turned to a clear cool sky.  I was making great time, but was a bit concerned about the weather.  For two days the people I had spoken with talked of a huge cold front coming in, what I didn't know was this would be my last day before the winds actually presented their full force.  Day three ended at a Fast hotel just south of Narbonne, where I could re-energize with some food and shut-eye.  I could definitely feel the effects of peddling with so much weight, my quads were starting to burn and not recover quickly enough, this is why I decided that at the next stop, Carcassonne, I would spend a day without riding.  Little did I know what I was in for on day four...

Kilometer total after three days, 265.

Doreen, all loaded up in Barcelona, ready for day one.

Outside of the Dali Museum in Figueres, Spain.

Just over the pass and into France.

Le Boulou, as stated in the picture, 

The street where the family run hotel was located in Le Boulou.