What are our limits? Children, people, partners, parents can push our patience.  A pyhsical challenge tests our bodies.  A cognitive conundrum stretches the grey matter. Finding these limits, we realise the capability of our minds and bodies.  In the years since our last trip when life’s got tough, reflecting on our limit-busting cycle across the Himalayas, I’ve remembered anything is possible. We’ve been facing physical and mental mountains again in the Pyrenees.  Recharged by a two week break, our bodies and brains rediscovering their limits from the heat, peaks, passes and winding valleys of these amazing amigos.

Seaside time in Sa Riera was bliss.  Lounging on nudie beaches, a kitchen to cook in and washing our sweat-sodden-scorching-cycling clothes.  My childhood BFF’s joined us for the last few days on the coast.  A lot of ‘life’ happens in the gaps between our visits to the northern hemisphere. Reconnecting away from the hustle of everyday life is a gift. 

From the coast, we had another week with beautiful friends at a 1000 year old farmhouse / castle. Tucked in the foothills of the Pyrenees.  Cut off from civilisation, time slowed down.  Nights sharing meals, stories and movies. Days hiking trails from the doorstep. All sandwiched between reading books by the river and pool.  We’re grateful to include moments like these in our budget-adventure, the pay-off from the limits we reached in our NZ working lives.

A sad farewell to a fairytale week. Cycling into even hotter days.  The mercury teetering up to 36 C, with climbs now a given, we’ve found new limits.  The Pyrenees more than make up for the challenge.  Jagged peaks atop rounded, smooth rolling bases and U shaped valleys. These giants were shaped by glacial monsters millennia ago.  As the shaded towns of the lower valleys dissolved, the bucolic melody rose with the sound of cowbells. Herds left to graze in summer pastures and mountain forests. The low clanging chorus a sweet aid to our sweaty climbs.

From the castle break, we shared a spectacular Spanish world cup win at our first campsite before restocking the panniers in O’Lot and climbing to Campdevanol.  Situated by the ‘El 7 Gorgs (pools)’ on the Torrent (river) d’Estiula, our day off was spent exploring the wild swimming pools up the valley.  Picnics on the shaded banks, diving into clear waters and sitting in silence amidst the forests.  The Donkey and Horse tempo tapping in again, infused by new memories with friends.

A change since our last visit to Europe two years ago, and properly post-Covid, has been the costs of campsites and groceries.  Pre-warned the food would be cheaper but the campsites more dear from France to Spain.  Tough cycling from the El 7 Gorg through Gaurdiola de Berguedā and halfway up a climb landed us in our most expensive campsite yet.  Thirty seven Euros for a pitch was hard to swallow.  This year is a test case for what we need to live our lives this way, it’s our first and last time cycling in ‘peak’ season (July-August-early Sept) across Europe.

More hairy cycling, only ever up or down in the Pyrenees, before grabbing some respite dunking our t-shirts, hats and heads in the Gosol’s central fountain. On up winding climbs to a one-horse campsite just on from the town of Fornols.  These small mountain towns and steep sided valleys reminding us of the precipitous conurbations in the Himalayas.  Stacked on peaks like the bride and groom on a tiered wedding cake.  In summer the visitors come, but winter would be a lonely time for these distant settlements.

A hot winding climb followed by a delicious descent into La Seu D’Urgell. With days off and climbs ahead it was our last chance to stock the panniers at a proper supermarket.  The trade off, bikes get heavier but you save pennies in the long run. We’ve been reminded that if you like to cycle-tour, you better like to eat!   The happy halo effect of bike-life, calories can’t come fast enough.  Snickers (sweet sweet chocolate bar of the gods) salty snacks and sugar laden carbs at sunrise, sunset, or a simple side dish.  Ice creams, full fat cokes and double desserts to re-plenish the reserves.  Leaning in to our mid-forties, it’s been a great excuse to eat like a teenager again 😉

Luckily it was quick 100m ascent from D’Urgell to the tiny town of Castelbo for our first day off. Maria and her family run the campsite and have had a local restaurant here since 1936.  Greeted off the bike with complimentary cold beers and smiles.  A more local, relaxed stay, away from the madding crowds bought us back to budget.  Bathing in the river and evening walks climbing the ruins of the namesake castle. Basking in sunsets and swooshing swallows at days end.  A perfect recharge.  

The deeper in the Pyrenees the higher the climbs. 1000 metres the next day from Marias to a cross-country ski-chalet on the peak of Estaciō de Sant Joan de l’Ern.  In contrast to the hospitality and kindness in Castelbo, we were moved on when we tried to share a picnic table with a family, being told that ‘in Catalonia we tell the tourists to go home’.  These interactions can happen anywhere, a reminder for two left-leaning-lads that a right-wing proprietary view even covers a picnic table in the mountains. Of course, neither view is right or wrong and we know nothing of the families situation who took umbrage to our hostile-picnic-table-takover. 2024 is a bumper year for national elections around the globe, and as some surprise results lean to the left this isolationist and separatist mindset wins out in many places too.  For us, travel is a reminder we’re all pretty similar. Humans living as honestly and simply as we can. And there’s joy, education and expanded minds in experiencing and sharing cultures, heritage and national assets.  Seeking and creating harmony in a world that we all must share, seems like a positive philosophy.

Another change since our last trip has been better maps to aid our journey. Though coming off Sant Joan de l’Ern, we were taken down a steep goat trail.  Committing from the start, boys and bikes were soon tumbling head over heels, panniers and parts flying off in all directions! Bruised, battered and knackered, insult was added to injury as we met our first cycle on a main road to camp Llavorsī before heading on to Espot. Towns now Alpine in their feel, serving the supple summer hikers, and shadows of ski-lifts on the distant ridges for the winter crowds to come.  

Espot was our base to explore the Aigüestortes i Estany de Sant Maurici. With time running short, we hiked off the day after arrival for two days in the national park. Crystal clear sapphire lakes, as blue as melting snow.  Mountain peaks and smooth boulders jutting through a lace like blanket of green.  Intersected by scree slopes and pack-ice-patches to scramble and slip over.  Staying in Refugi Colomina we shared a bunk room with 50 people (pretty overwhelming for our usual two-person-tent-life, a memorable experience non-the-less) before an epic 1,300 metre descent.  Forgetting we’d be on foot vs wheels we took two days rest as the DOMS hit hard on our return to basecamp, doh!

Then it was our final climb in the Pyrenees.  Saving the best (or worst, depending how your cup is filled) till last.  1,200 metres of monster-goodness in the heat, headwinds – and for the last 400 metres – dust and rock laden road with the busiest summer traffic we’ve encountered so far.  As always, the challenge kept us going as we ran out of water just before the peak and bolted down the descent. 

It was a 1,400 metre roll downhill into France for the last full day in the saddle.  The train back to Bordeaux then on to Ireland this Friday to catch up with the other side of our family and friends. As we finish this first leg, in the after glow of rediscovering our physical limits, away from the comfort of our 9 to 5 lives and reaffirming what it is to be in a strong partnership under these conditions, we’re remembering the benefits of living a life less ordinary.  Never in doubt for how lucky we are.  And totally stoked to share it in breaks and blogs with you all, the peeps we love.

We’ll be coming back to you in September from Morocco.  The Atlas Mountains, edges of the Sahara and who knows what other surprises, challenges and limit-busters lay ahead. What’s for certain, more adventures, magic and memories for Donkey and Horse!

Enjoy your winters and summers till then bambinos.

Adios / Au revoir / Ka kite / Laters 😉

T&B / D&H