Bike touring – Page 2 – Less Car, More Life

We could just transfer trains in Paris. Or….

We could stay in Paris for a few nights!

After quite a bit of countryside riding, with the food and lodging challenges taking their toll, we decided to just take a train from Limoges to…somewhere. Somewhere closer to Belgium which was on our want to go list. The easiest train from Limoges went to Paris, with just a few stops. Unfortunately we would not be getting on at the beginning of the run, the train was an Intercity coming from Toulouse. There was the usual medium stressful drama of getting the bikes and bags on the high boarding train, but two women, one taking her bike off the train, whom we helped, and another just boarding the train with no bike, both jumped in to help.

Two very nice Dutch cyclists whose names we failed to get were on our train. We had good platform chat and shared bike touring tips. They rode off to catch their connecting train in Paris.

We headed to our favorite neighborhood in the 12th, our fourth time in this area, this time at the Adagio Apartment Hotel.

Back to our favorite neighborhood bar, Bar & Beer Picpus.

And to Le 217 Brasserie Restaurant for dinner.

The joy of being somewhere familiar. Other nomads will understand how pleasant it is to walk out your door and know where the market is, where the metro is, how to pay for it, and how to get to the fabulous greenway down the block. And, as an added bonus we have our Amis des Louvre cards and they were still valid.

Somehow this was my first steak tartar of our time in France this year. Worth the wait as it was delicious.

The street life in the 12th is wonderful. So much density, wide sidewalks, and folks who take their house cats out for a walk.

This was the biggest and most curious missing cat poster we’ve ever seen. There were two attached to the front gate of a large apartment building.

Our Friends of the Louvre cards continue to more than pay for themselves. Once again we visited using the special members only entrance, and went to two of the special exhibits. The first was The Experience of Nature, Art in Prague at the Court of Rudolph II.

This work of art has a fascinating back story: Artwork recovered after the Second World War Provenance: Baudson collection, interior decoration (?), Paris; possibly acquired on 21 May 1941 by Jane Weyll, art dealer; auction Paris, Drouot, Baudoin, 16 December 1942, no. 41; acquired by Karl Haberstock, Berlin dealer, in 1943 for the Führer Museum in Linz, no. 2687; work recovered at the end of World War II; Central Collecting Point in Munich, 15 July 1945; transported to Paris on 25 June 1946; retained by the 3rd Commission for the Recovery of Works of Art and handed over to the Musée du Louvre on 22 December 1949 by the French Office for Personal Property and Interests; awaiting return to its rightful owners, should provenance research underway establish proof of spoliation or forced sale.

We’ve been to so many museums that display artwork still in limbo from WW2. It’s so moving to read the stories, and to see exhibits where remaining family members have made sure the work goes to a museum where it can be seen by the public, and the story of the family told, rather than disappearing into a private collection. The business of special exhibits also fascinates me. Imagine being able to put together an exhibit from not only the Louvre’s huge collection, but to borrow works of art from other world class museums to realize your theme?

Detail of animals from a painting by Roelant Savery, a Dutch Golden Age painter.

Rich and I decided we would have loved to been at the museum staff meeting where they discussed how to get visitors to venture into lesser known and less crowded parts of the museum. Maybe it was an intern who had the fantastic idea of placing 99 works of Haute Couture in the decorative arts wing?

Louvre Couture. Art and fashion: statement pieces.

Azzedine Alaïa, a Tunisian couturier who museum I visited with our friend Nancy on our previous Paris trip.

It’s not just inside the museum that we spot works of art. These new 100% electric buses are worthy of admiration. I call these the Bubble Butt Buses. Are they coming or going? That is the rear of the bus.

The push me pull you bus. Sadly we didn’t get to ride one, but I could see the seats in the rear were arranged in a conversation seating style.

Sunset bus glamour shot! I used the clean up feature to remove a car from the photo which is why the bottom left looks odd.

Bicycling in Paris is a blast. Rush hour can be pretty crazy but if you head out after rush hour it’s fantastic. You do have to be careful of the Parisian cyclists- they ride ‘em like they stole ‘em. Prepare to be buzzed with just inches to spare, and be super cautious when stopping at red lights or for pedestrians. You might get rear ended.

Our own bikes! Without panniers. So light and fun to ride.

The front is construction scaffolding free.

A mini Statue of Liberty, or Liberty Enlightening the World, and Le Tour Eiffel.

And back out in the afternoon for a visit to the Musée Cognacq-Jay.

During our last visit to Paris this museum was closed after a brazen robbery.

The museum has an exceptional collection of fine art and decorative items.

Our final day was a lot of walking. We were over our intense tiredness and ready to put some miles on our feet. Cimetière du Père-Lachaise.

What’s your one funny Paris tip? Ours is that the cemeteries all have public toilets.

New clothing! I ventured out for some shopping. Last dinner at Le 217 Brasserie.

Shhhh…don’t tell the French we bought our breakfast bread the evening before!

I can’t take many photos while cycling in Paris. Too much going on and a valid fear of crashing.

Gare de l’Est. We arrived nice and early, ready for the train dance.

But wait! What’s this? Smiling cyclist? Empty platform?

A very nice SNCF staff member saw us waiting with our bikes, confirmed which platform our train was leaving from, and let us on the platform early.

I’m sitting and reading my book, the bikes and bags are stowed, and all before any other passengers arrive.

The Happy Travelers celebrating a successful train boarding.

We needed that Paris break. To stop moving for four nights and rest. We slept a lot. We had breakfast and lunch in our studio apartment with kitchenette, and dinner out. After our month in Paris last year, four days felt short, but we knew our way around and had plenty to see, and eat. So we’re headed north now to the Ardennes and a few new countries!

Out into the countryside, Bordeaux to Limoges. For better and for worse.

Yes, we do stay in a lot of small privately owned atmospheric, charming, quirky places. But it can be a relief to check in to a corporate hotel. Here, leaving Bordeaux.

We love cities. When bike touring and when not on bikes. Public transport, loads of food options, museums, great people watching. But the countryside has a lot to love about it too: birds and animals, tranquility, beautiful scenery, quiet cycle paths and long stretches of empty roads with nice pavement. No museums but lots of history. There are the downsides too: not a lot of lodging options, even fewer food options – grocery stores and restaurants are a bit more simple, not a lot of choices. And those lovely roads? They go up and down a lot for no damn good reason.

Now that’s a bike lane on a bridge! And so much pedestrian space to the left. Pont Simone Veil crossing the Garonne River leaving Bordeaux.

Three routes converge on a partially sunny day; Eurovelo 3 is international, Route 80 is a French National Route and the last is a local route.

“Twin-foudre wagons. Built in the late 19th century, they were primarily used for transporting wine.
The numerous imports from Algeria and Spain transited through Béziers and Sète.”

Stopping to read about the wine wagons led to finding this article about the Algerian wine industry, which of course led to a rumination on colonialism- as it does.

Repurposed rail lines are fascinating. Imagine all the wine that went through this tunnel.

We are firmly in the Bordeaux wine region now.

Buttery yellow stones and blue shutters.

The wine industry has created wealth for so long.

Happily rolling along, looking for a lunch spot.

We’re carrying our little chairs but it’s nice to find a bench with a view.

A quiet riverside road in Branne, along the Dordogne River.

Better know a French river, the Dordogne. 118 km long.

More local yellow limestone buildings. And Rich.

I love that this little dirt road has a name: Chemin des Grandes Bayches.

Getting close to Saint-Émilion, a very famous wine town.

Which wine chateaux is this? No idea, but it’s sure pretty.

The town of Saint-Émilion. Beneath that lovely skyline heaves a mass of tourists on this Sunday of open chateaux. Actually, it was only awful if you were trying to park a car. On bikes it was fine.

We didn’t stay in Saint-Émilion, too busy. We headed to Libourne. On a bend of the Dordogne and at the confluence with the Isle River.

I took a quick dislike of Libourne riding in to town. It seems to suffer from ‘famous town adjacent’ syndrome. Folks were not friendly. Car drivers were downright hostile, and it managed to be both dead, with little activity in the streets, and hectic, with car drivers behaving as if they were negotiating a busy crowded downtown. It’s a difficult note to strike, dead but hectic, but they managed it. The first restaurant we went to, where our hotel had made a reservation for us, only had tall tables available. The last thing two tired cyclists want to do is perch on backless high stools to eat. We said no thanks and headed to the Vietnamese restaurant, the only other place open on a Sunday. It was quite good and with an impressive wine list. That must be expected in this area of famous wines.

The wind may have been adding to our crankiness. There was so much seed fluff blowing around that my eyes itch just remembering it. Leaving Libourne. Later nasty car drivers!

Attitude adjustment at the hyper market on our way out of town – the Wall Of Gazpacho! My favorite cycling lunch.

Who could stay irritable when faced with these cartoon-character-like sheep?

Or this cute calf grazing in a vineyard?

Quite a lovely color scheme going on, the luscious green and bright white.

Fantastic dinner at the wonderful Le Domaine du Haut Preau chambre d’hote. Run by a Belgium woman who does everything just perfectly while being so welcoming.

Back onto the Voie verte Galope Chopine. We didn’t make it far before the first informational sign beckoned us.

All about the folks who worked lighting the lamps for the trains, and who were usually blamed for any crashes. This gives you a sense of the detail on the trail side signs.

In a world of neon cycling clothing, be the fuzzy pink sweater.

Second lunch in Barbezieux-Saint-Hilaire, with a chateau view.

The view from the wall of the chateau. You can see Congnac noted on the map.

Châteauneuf-sur-Charente, where we spent one night in a BnB in an old old building. Full of old old furniture.

Hello kitty. Creaky floors and loud plumbing is forgiven.

A plus for small countryside towns is that the locals aren’t tired of tourists. We reliably get into conversations in small towns. Here it was with the restaurant owner who had moved from Chile decades ago. She told us about the fears of the US tariffs destroying Cognac sales, and by extension, the town we were in. She also walked us through the local dialect a bit – the name of which I cannot remember.

Cartoons by the town dentist. At the Beaujolais Nouveau party: “It tastes a bit of banana.” “A taste of cherry, no??” “There’s red fruit too.” Final snail “It’s a shame it
doesn’t taste like real wine instead!” Local wine humor.

“This is the only heaven where angels are not welcome.” I don’t get this one.

Heading out of town to the riverside path called Le Velo Flow.

The Charente River. I feel like we’re collecting French river badges. 381 kilometers long.

It’s a beautiful river, with clean water which attracts swimmers, kayaks, and boaters.

At Mosnac. Rich is grinning because I convinced him to ignore the sign saying path closed due to construction. Since it was VE Day the crew wasn’t working. It was a beautiful stretch of river.

Time out for some artistic close ups of grape vines.

How do we get anywhere, with all the photo stops?

Our bikes posing for their glamour shots.

Trois-Palis. We’re on our way to Angoulême, which we have just figured out is up on a hill.

Such a fascinating town, Angoulême. Full of young hippy types, and hipster folks, against the backdrop of an old fortified city.

We noticed an animation school and did a little googling: Angoulême hosts 40 animation and video game studios that produce half of France’s animated production. Wes Anderson‘s The French Dispatch was filmed in this city. We were not imagining all the young arty folks.

Football being shown makes for a lively evening on the plaza.

I was hoping for the Green Mouse sign to be lit up after dark, sadly it was not. But how cute is that little pipe smoking mouse?

The town is on a plateau overlooking a meander of the river Charente, and has the nickname “balcony of the south west.”

The gorgeous murals I saw climbing up to town, and didn’t stop to photograph, made sense given the city’s visual arts connection. Here’s one from our ride down.

Now brace yourselves for my new favorite river: the Touvre.

For starters; only 12 kilometers separate its source from its confluence with the Charente. Yes, a 12 km long river.

It has four sources, four springs (Le Dormant, Le Bouillant, La Lèche, and La Font de Lussac, the most recent of which appeared following the Lisbon earthquake of November 1, 1755. Chronicles of the time tell us that “on the same fateful day, an underground noise was heard, and shortly afterward, the earth opened up, and a torrent laden with red sand flowed out (…).” This is from the trail side info signs.

The Touvre has an average flow rate of 13 cubic meters per second. Experts will tell you that the volume of water flowing here is disproportionate to the surface area of its topographical watershed (which covers only about 100 km). Really, some seriously good info signs.

It wasn’t until the early 20th century that science finally unraveled the mystery surrounding the origin of this water (which allows the Touvre to double the flow of the Charente). Several explorations then established the existence of a system known to geologists as the Rochefoucauld karst.

Scientists discovered that a formidable network of underground rivers extends over 450 km beneath the Braconne forest and in the La Rochefoucauld region. It was gradually formed by the infiltration of rainwater into highly soluble limestone rock, and by the inflow of water from the Bandiat and Tardoire rivers.

The springs of the Touvre constitute the second largest resurgence in France after the Vaucluse fountain. And if you’ve read this entire bit you too have now earned your Touvre River badge. Congratulations!

The path only hugs the Touvre for half its 12km length, so off we went on Eurovelo 3, la Flow Velo, Tour Charente, and one I can’t even read.

Again, just amazingly detailed history signs. Our average speed was going down down down with all the stopping and learning.

Tiny little tunnels that ran under the rail line originally for small tractors and livestock.

Separating free France from occupied France in World War 2.

Really, how can we get anywhere when there is so much to learn, and then we need to stop to eat.

And cute dogs to snuggle. This is Cola, his owner, a lovely Irish woman, had been living in France for over twenty years.

More stops for artsy photos. More up and down roads where the rail trail, the Velo Flow, couldn’t follow the rail line.

An old mill which powered the forge which made cannons for the French military.

How do you even keep a building this old standing?

Another quirky, cold, not super well run lodging.

The Velo Flow crossed over a newly restored trestle. Nontron has some tourist gold with this bike path and a lovely town.

Oh wait, divert to cute cafe in Saint-Jean-de-Côle where the town was prepping for a flower festival.

Delicious cookies at the Pink Elephant Cafe.

Carry on! Headed to Jumilhac-le-Grand for the night. Highly rated BnB, two restaurants in town. What can go wrong?

Both restaurants closed. We threw ourselves on the mercy of the one bar open, not serving food that Friday night, and the lovely proprietors fixed us what she claimed would be a very simple meal. It was lovely.

The group of ex-pats outside the bar happily absorbed us into their evening drink and chat and we spent a pleasant evening.

A view of the privately owned Château de Jumilhac and gardens. Imagine keeping that repaired and running.

It’s a beautiful town, Jumilhac-le-Grand. Us after going from thinking we can choose between two restaurants, to pleading for food from the one place open. But again, lovely lovely people.

Leaving Sous le Chateau Chambre d’hote. Very comfortable, very well run.

Out of town up some more hill under the watchful eye of the school cat.

And this stallion who looked like he was spoiling for a fight.

Just after this handsome horse there was a field with a huge bull standing very close to the road with his herd of ladies on the other corner of the field. At first I could see no fence at all between me and him. As I got closer I could see one single strand of wire – electrified? Maybe? The wire barely came up to his chest. I wish I had a photo, he was like an anime cartoon bull, so muscle bound and very angry looking. I was way too nervous to stop, seeing Rich riding away in his red cycling jersey made me think this bull was not up for photos.

Our favorite sign of the trip. Richard the Lion Hearted Route.

Who are the friendliest cyclists? The Spanish! We saw him twice in one day (failed to get his name), he was headed to Limoges that night, we had one more night on the road to Limoges.

Downside of road riding, not many places to stop for a picnic lunch. This shady wall came through for us.

Flavignac. It’s on a Camino Route. It’s on a bike route. The one new Chambre d’Hote will probably do quite well with a steady supply of hikers and bikers.

An easy walk into town along a small lake.

What had been part of the owners barn was now accommodation.

We had a short day into Limoges so we tried to wait out the rain before heading out.

Breakfast was pretty slim so we were tempted by the pizza machine. But heavy rain and no shelter made us decide no.

Limoges! Arrived in the rain. Got a chance to walk around.

We stayed for two nights, which was honestly one night too long. Other than the porcelain museum, Musée national Adrien Dubouché, which had an extensive collection of pottery, there was not a lot to recommend Limoges.

A cute old town, but it was quite small, and ringed by unpleasant roads. Awful town in which to be a bike or pedestrian. On a hill. Long traffic signals. No bicycle infrastructure.

From Bordeaux to Limoges. Each heart is a place we slept.

We cycled for 8 days with no day off. Taking a day off in a small town, at a little pension or BnB isn’t super easy or interesting. But moving every day for 8 days isn’t easy either. It can make travelers cranky. Every morning as we pack up our panniers it seems like one of us packs something in the bottom of a pannier that we actually wanted out for the days ride – rain gear, seat cover, leg warmers, something- if we manage to get going without one of us having to reopen a bag it’s a miracle! And, the amount of route planning and lodging research that Rich puts in for each day is significant. He’s constantly adjusting his plans and figuring out where the grocery stores are that are on or close to the route. To go back to a familiar place, like Paris, is such a treat.

Spring 2025 tour so far. Up next, four days in Paris and on to…?

French Basque Country and the Atlantic Coast. And some rain.

Infrastructure like this makes us so impressed with France. Obviously new, and so wide with a lovely surface. On our way out of Saint-Jean-de-Luz.

We knew the weather was changing. And boy did it! We woke in Saint-Jean-de-Luz to heavy rain. Nothing to be done but put on rain gear and hit the road. It was Saturday am and the hotel rooms that were available in this beach town were quite expensive, so on we went after a one night stay. A quick stop at the grocery store for lunch food and I did stop myself from buying espadrilles from the colorful display inside the Carrafour City grocery store, but only just. Absolutely no room in the bags for another pair of shoes.

Hiding from the rain in the vestibule of a Church in Ascain. Rich went inside and told me I had to go in to see the cool wooden balconies.

It is a traditional Basque church. Église Notre-Dame-de-l’Assomption de Ascain.

The wooden galleries were new to us. We later learned in the Basque museum in Bayonne that they were added to accommodate the increase of population, and so women and men could sit separately. I imagine there was much making eyes and flirting going on across the way.

Seafaring was an important part of Basque life. I love the model ship with its wee Basque flag.

Churches with covered porticos are much appreciated.

But, time to leave the church and head up another hill. With another helpful/motivational sign. 5% grade. This was the second segment after a starting 7% pitch.

We topped the climb and the sun welcomed us to the downhill.

Whee! Pay no attention to those big grey clouds.

Focus instead on these fascinating stone fences. Walls? Enclosures?

Whoops. While we were focused on the stone fences the clouds had their way.

The little stand across the square was selling Gâteau Basque.

The houses had a look to them in this French Basque area, the Pays Basque.

White render (a surface coating), half timbered, and trim and shutters in the emblematic Basque red or green. The carved stone lintel usually tells the story of who first lived in the house when it was built, this one in 1662.

Blue shutters and wisteria. This is in Ainhoa where we spent the night in what we shall always refer to as “dead mouse room”. No body was found but the smell was pretty recognizable. Staff was apologetic and thankful we didn’t pitch a fit. Eh, we said, old buildings have their challenges. We left the window open, they comped us wine.

Stone fence AND a 1670 lintel stone! Pays Basque bingo anyone?

Not many photos on this rainy Sunday. We’re trying to get to Bayonne in time to visit the museum of Basque History.

Fragments of the old town walls still exist.

Rich demonstrates how narrow some Bayonne buildings are – just about a Rich and a 1/2, about nine feet wide.

We made it to the museum. So much information. If you don’t speak or read French it’s a bit of work to figure it all out, but worthwhile.

A really picturesque town, and very lively.

And one of the few towers still standing. This was the executioner’s tower, now a private residence.

The Nive river is running fast and high from all the rain.

Looking down the Nive, towards the confluence with the Adour River.

The look of a cyclist who knows she has a long day ahead of her. At least no rain!

Into the scrubby forests of the Atlantic coast.

And the wide sandy beaches of the Capbreton area. We are still on the Bay of Biscay.

Sand dunes and blue sky. A welcome change.

Still smiling. Long day and headwinds haven’t gotten us down yet.

And then the photos kind of stop for the day. After about kilometer 60 or 70 I just focus on pedaling.

It was a lot of this. But at least the weather was nice!

We made it! Giddy with relief and post shower. 90k/55m later.

Contis les Bains and our long shadows on the beach at 8pm.

The main drag down to the beach is packed with folks and noticeably car free. Space for restaurant and bar tables instead of parking.

If you weren’t on the Main Street you were up on the dune watching the sunset.

Sunset, happy humans, and a weathered fence.

The reality of bike touring is a lot of packing and unpacking of panniers. We each have two back, two front, and one handlebar bag. Good times. When you have so many one night stays it’s a lot. But, it all came out of the bags so it must all fit back in, right?

More Atlantic coast scrubby pine forest riding. This long stretch of bike path was just a dream. Lovely pavement, nice swooping curves.

Take a break. At the grocery store. Big shaded entrance so why not relax?

Riding by one of the lakes of Biscarrosse.

The sunsets! Biscarrosse Plage where we spent the night.

Breakfast fuel up for another day riding.

The campgrounds were filling up on this Wednesday, April 30th. Folks ready for the May Day holiday.

Giant sand dunes! Folks practicing paragliding.

Dune du Pilat in the background. Happy beach goers and a slightly cranky cyclist – this part of the coast is getting very busy. A long weekend and nice weather means lots of people out.

Pour some more coffee in him! That might help.

And tea for me. We’re in Arcachon, very close to where we will spend the night.

The beach stretches were fascinating. Boardwalks and such a mix of old and new buildings.

Rich wisely booked us out of the fancier beach area and in a more relaxed area of the fascinating Arachon Bay: Gujan-Mestras. Oyster heaven.

The oyster cabins. They serve oysters and wine. That’s it.

The potholes in the dirt path are filled in the oyster shells.

A friendly cat helped us enjoy the sunset.

On the jetty looking back towards the town.

Celebrating the night before the May Day holiday. The barbecue is raging. Couldn’t tell if they were barbecuing oysters or other seafood. Or hamburgers.

So many oyster shells. In most areas they are returned to the water to give the larvae of the next generation somewhere to hold on.

Kitty showed up again to drink at the doggie bar.

We’re off to Bordeaux for a much needed break. Three nights!

We expected this road, Avenue de La Cotê d’Argon (D1250), to be an unfriendly bike route. But look! New cycle path! Not all the way but along a lot of it.

May Day is a workers’ holiday, like Labor Day in the US, but way more widely celebrated. Little posies of Lilly of the Valley are sold at small road side stands.
La Fête du Muguet (Lilly of the Valley Day).

Why? In 1561 King Charles IX of France was given a posey of Lilly of the valley flowers as a present on May 1, and a tradition was born.

Vineyards just outside Bordeaux. We hear they have good wine here?

Who’s a good boy checking into the hotel? And sporting the French dog collar du moment – very wide.

A huge bricolage, or flea market. I’d call it an antique market. Book a container and ship it all home…oh wait, we don’t have a home!

A bottle drying rack and enamel ware pitchers.

Rich checking prices on bottle drying racks.

Bassins des Lumières, a WW2 German constructed submarine base now a light show exhibit.

Place de la Victoire has two stunning creations by Czech sculptor Ivan Theime to celebrate the culture of wine.

First, the mama and baby tortoises. Rich added for scale. I didn’t realize how lucky we were to get a photo free of other people- ok, kids.

And she is festooned with little figures, also holding or wearing grapes.

The red marble obelisk, same sculptor. Makes an imposing focal point to go with the more whimsical tortoises.

Since returning to France. The top heart is Bordeaux. We had seven days of riding, which explains why we were so tired when we got to Bordeaux.

The tired happy travelers enjoying a tram ride in Bordeaux.

Next up, some pretty rural and remote riding through the French countryside, roads that go up and down for no good reason, and a train to Paris.

Donostia – San Sebastián Bring us all the Pinxos. Then climb another mountain.

Looking out over Bahia de La Concha at night.

We both had been looking forward to coming back to San Sebastián. We visited two years ago while walking the Camino with Christine and Cecily and did a fantastic food tour that helped us all learn to love Pinxos. Not that much help is needed, but the scene can be a bit intimidating. Here in San Sebastián they prefer that you pay as you go, order drinks and pinxos and tap your card to pay. In less busy towns and cities you could pay once you were ready leave. When the popular bars open there can be quite a rush of folks piling in.

Stop one on our first night, Bar Txepetxa. A rather famous bar with photos of famous people on the walls.

Antxoa con jardinera. Anchovies with jardinera sauce, peppers, and onions.

Gildas: anchovy, olives, and
guindilla peppers.
Piquillo Peppers Stuffed with Tuna (Pimentos del Piquillo Rellenos de Atún).

Hungry from the ride. Need more Pinxos. Loads of youngsters outside, let’s try this one!

Belfast Irish Tavern! With Pinxos, of course.

Two boccadillas and another round of drinks.

A stroll around old town to keep our appetites up and admire the graffiti.

Probably the same food tour we did two years ago, Mimo Bite The Experience. An excellent tour.

Bar Martinez. We scored two bar stools at the side counter which meant we got table service. It was nice to have a menu to order off of. (We ate more than the stuffed peppers)

La Viña. Our final stop of the night. We had a nice conversation with the Spanish couple to our right after Rich copied her red wine order – it was excellent and we thanked her.

La Viña is famous for their Basque cheesecake, left. Anchovies on the right. Don’t get those two confused.

Basque Cheesecake. Our final dish of the evening. We over ordered and had two plates with two slices per plate! Time to waddle back to our hotel.

The street scene in old town is lovely and relaxed.

Through the decorative railing along the promenade.

This guy makes art in the sand. You throw coins onto the white sheet to show your appreciation.

On our first rest day we walked a lot and visited the small maritime museum which had a decent history of Basque seafaring history and a cute exhibit about animals on board ships.

On our second rest day we had a bus failure trying to get to an outdoor sculpture park. On line info was not just confusing but incorrect. There are two bus providers in town and we walked around searching for the stop for the bus that would take us right to the sculpture park. Fail. Asked people. Fail. Finally found someone who helpfully pointed us towards the stop, on a totally different street! and we watched the bus roll by since we were a block away from the stop. Schedule wrong. Next bus probably in 45 minutes. When Rich can’t figure out a bus system you know it’s confusing. So we walked around town, took a small community hill bus and had a lovely conversation with a young woman who grew up in San Sebastián but now works as a nurse in Edinburgh, Scotland.

Dinner in our neighborhood at La Cervecería del Antiguo. It’s fun to try a neighborhood place and enjoy inventive Pinxos.

Baked confit tomato with sheep cheese flakes and walnuts.

Gamberro bluefin tuna tartare and pulpo.

Heading out to ride to Saint-Jean-de-Luz, France. Only thing between us and France is another big climb.

Not every mile is beautiful and picturesque. I try to remember to take photos of the less glamorous parts of a ride.

Turning up the road to the Jaizkibel summit.

The spine is the Jaizkibel mountain range. Our climb started in Lezo and had a gain in altitude of 455 m (1,493 ft) over 8.0 km (5.0 mi).

Fueling for the climb with chocolate milk.

I never seek out climbs, but Rich loves them, and I’m never daunted by them. I say my spirit animal is a Shetland pony. I’m not setting any Strava records but I’ll get there eventually. Rich waits at the summit. So, big climbs are not a deal breaker. This one was again made fun by the Basque road cyclists. They are the nicest riders ever. I don’t think a single one went by me (me as if I was standing still and them in their sleek cycling kits) without a greeting. And the work crew chopping back vegetation for which traffic was held one way at a time? The guys in their fluorescent yellow with safety googles and gas powered weed trimmers and chainsaws? My personal cheering section as I ever so slowly rounded a hairpin turn.

And this is what I was wearing. Pink flowery top and a straw hat helmet cover. Sandals. Sun gloves. Hilarious.

Rich waiting, not at the summit yet, but up the worst of the climb.

At the summit. The view back to San Sebastián.

Rich and the summit sign. King of the Mountain!

I like the signs put up to inform cyclists how steep the road is. Motivational?

Mountain bikers, road cyclist, and faint words on the asphalt from
the Clásica San Sebastián road race.

A shade break at the Hermitage of Guadalupe. Familiar to us from our Camino which started in Irun, just down the mountain.

Across Etorbideko Zubia, the bridge over the Bidasoa River, the border with France.

We give the nod to France over Spain for bike infrastructure. But Spain wins for super nice cyclists and considerate car drivers.

Hendaye, a sunny day at the beach before the storm blowing in.

Over another hill. Coming into Ciboure, the town before Saint-Jean-de-Luz where we’ll spend the night.

More beach goers. It’s a Friday and this weather is not going to last much longer.

The happy travelers overlooking the Grande Plage of Saint-Jean-de-Luz.

Our Basque horseshoe. The blue dot is us in France again. We’re actually still in Basque territory, French Basque.

Celebrating with pizza right before the wind blew in. All the other outdoor diners headed inside. The next day’s ride will be a bit wetter.

So did we enjoy our Spain bike tour? Yes! The Coast around Barcelona was not our favorite, as we’ve explained we both avoid hot weather and I’m about as sun phobic as they come. I think we just hit the right season for us, any hotter and there would have been epic meltdowns. And, as I’ve repeated, Basque cyclists are so welcoming and friendly. Spanish car drivers are among the best around cyclists, maybe the Swedish are just a bit better but that’s also due to better cycling infrastructure that gives bikes their own space. Spanish car drivers behave admirably well around bikes even without much infrastructure. Food – yum! Late dinner hours – eh, we adjusted and slept later than we usually do. There is no fighting local customs. All in all a lovely small dip into Spain. And now we are even bigger fans of the Basque Country.

Basque Mountains! Basque food! Basque People!

One is amusing, two is a trend. Rich in front of the second Spanish town sign we found.

The drill when we arrive in a new town is as follows. Roll up to the hotel, Rich goes inside while I get the bikes ready to go stay wherever they will spend the night- garage, storage room, corner of the lobby, or occasionally our room. I empty the water bottles and stuff them all in one of my front panniers for easy carrying so we can rinse and refill for tomorrow. Rich checks us in, a new rule in Spain makes this longer than we think it should take. Not just scans or xerox of the passports but address, names, and signatures on either actual paper, or a tablet form. We haul all the bags to the room, frequently at the end of a loooong hallway, dump bags, shower, wash out the days’ cycling clothes and drape them all over the room to dry. If there is a heated towel rail we struggle to figure out how to turn it on to sped up the laundry drying. Chill for a bit then head out.

After a quick early (by Spanish standards) dinner we head to the procession route. It’s Good Friday. We stake out a spot right at a turn.

Charmed by the children in the procession. Note the thorny crown with small Jesus on it.

I guess due to the hill on which the Cathedral sits, these floats are on wheels. The other two processions we saw were not wheeled.

As the darkness came on, the drama heightened.

Even without understanding the full meaning, these processions are powerfull.

I spend some time imagining everyone ironing their robes and fretting over which shoes to wear.

We got a glimpse of snowy mountains as we headed to our Cathedral tour the next morning.

The old cathedral tried its hardest to fall down and the tour of the restoration is just amazing. Thank you for the tip Hannah!

Another city, another pretty chocolate shop.

A sculpture by Juan Jose Eguizabal
“El Caminante” The Walker.

“The Bullfighter” by Casto Solano. A popular spot to sit and snap a photo.

Dinner at a gem of a restaurant near our hotel, Restaurante asturiano “El Chigre ALI13”. This is a cachopo. An Asturian dish of pounded veal stuffed with ham and cheese.

What and where is Asturia? Another autonomous region of Spain.

We had never really heard of the Asturian region of Spain. This is our favorite part of travel, finding out about all the things we don’t know. As we headed into the Basque countryside on our bikes we would come to see and understand how different the culture is. At one point we said this is foreign on top of foreign!

Leaving Vitoria-Gasteiz, Easter Sunday, on a colorful trail through an industrial area.

Rain and a junior pro bike race. Rich started chatting with Mikel, a local cyclist, and he filled us in on the race and rode us down the big hill for coffee.

Our first taste of how friendly and welcoming the Basque cyclists would be. Thank you Mikel.

Even though it was Easter Sunday and we assumed most places would be closed the cafes were open until 2 pm, at which point everyone headed home for Easter lunch with family. We were glad to meet Mikel for many reasons, and I was so happy to have him explain to me that what the road cyclists were calling out to us was “Opa!” which loosely translates as “go up” in Basque. I’m not sure I have the spelling correct, but once I learned that did I call it out to almost every cyclist who passed me on the climbs? Yup.

We said goodbye to Mikel and headed towards Bergara. More tunnels.

And stunning new infrastructure too. This is a train trestle.

Crossing the Deba River going into Bergara.

One of the many beautiful buildings in Bergara.

It is Easter Sunday and we were wondering if anything would be open at all. Would we be able to find a drink and dinner? Answer, yes! The bars and cafe were all open and restaurants were opening up for dinner at 8 or 8:30. We joked that Easter Sunday in Spain shares a tradition with Christmas Eve and Day in the UK – go get a drink. Or a few. On our ride to Bergara I passed a group of young men standing outside a bar smoking and drinking. Oh fun, I thought, my favorite- young dudes drinking. I was greeted with Opa! Fuerte! Hola! and then Hello! when they saw my American flag! Where are you from? A quick exchange and they waved me on my way still cheering. Not what I was expecting at all.

We’ve learned to adapt to Basque time. Pinxos and a drink at 6:30, after a 6:00 paseo (stroll) around town.

Our 8:30pm reservation – the earliest we could get. We are the only ones in the restaurant for at least 30 minutes.

We’re finishing up at 9:30 and folks are just arriving and ordering drinks.

An after dinner walk around town. The lighting was so atmospheric and town so peaceful.

The rain soaked cobbles made for an extra pretty evening.

Ready to go the next am. We leave our hotel and immediately start our big climb of the day, up to the Elosua pass, 681 m/2,234 feet.

Ready to climb? Starting at 160 meters for a 510 meter climb with loaded touring bikes.

There’s Bergara, 30 minutes into our climb.

An hour into the climb and Rich finds a bench to wait for me.

Now we’re seeing other cyclists. Not many bike tourists on this pass (none) so we get loads of hellos and opas!

Clouds are coming in and another view of town, to the far left you can see the train trestle from the day before.

Rich had enough time at the top waiting for me that he set up a chair! He graciously gave it up for me once I arrived. My time was two hours up the climb. Not setting any Strava records, that’s for sure.

Starting down on smooth asphalt. A hint of rain coming on.

There is a little tiny Rich in blue. He’s off like a rocket sled on rails.

A turn onto a smaller less smooth road to connect us to a rail trail.

Lunch stop in Azkoitia. Iglesia Santa María la Real de la Asuncion.

The view down the Urola River. I love how folks hang laundry out the windows, but I would worry about wind taking my clothing and flinging it in the river. Good pegging skills I guess.

The wisteria on this riverside building. Dramatic.

It was so nice to know we’d find water taps.

This was a first. A bike wash station. Just as we headed out of town.

Our bikes needed it. They were still showing signs of our muddy Pyrenees crossing and gravel riding in the Navarre.

Our audience while at the bike cleaning station was a young mom and her tiny son on his scoot bike. He watched, fascinated, and his mom obliged him by spraying off his little bike when we were done. My Spanish is quite basic but enough to start a conversation, and the little US flags again did their jobs and she switched to excellent English for the rest of the chat.

Hanging with the locals in Aizarnazabal.

A day bike touring can feel so long. You really get to experience the changes in terrain and whiplash from city to town to countryside. No grocery stores in town but one bar sold some basics, so eggs it is for breakfast.

These stunning sheep across from our casa rural in Aizarnazabal!

Heading out in the morning after a scrambled egg feast.

Barely two minutes from the hostel and I’m already pushing my bike.

Headed through Zarautz to San Sebastián. But first, another hill.

Pastry break in Zarautz, a famous surf town and on the Camino del Norte.

We came through here two years ago, on foot, with our friends Christine and Cecily.

Camino Pilgrims headed to Zarautz and eventually Santiago de Compostela.

We leave the Camino (which we are riding reverse direction here) and head up a steep steep little path to avoid the busier road along the river.

Steep enough that Rich comes back to push my bike up some stretches.

Stunningly beautiful as we ride by farm land.

A perfect weather day. Sunny at times, cloudy at others, no rain. Just us, the road, and the occasional farm vehicle.

And there it is! San Sebastián. A three night stay awaits. And a lot of yummy food. But that’s for the next post.

The lower heart is Zaragoza, the long gap is the train hop to Pamplona, and then our horseshoe route in the mountains.

North to the Basque Country. A two train journey.

Zaragoza. Cathedral-Basilica of Our Lady of the Pillar behind us.

Our first train hop to get me out of the sunny Spanish coast was from Tarragona to Zaragoza. Rich could tell from the map landscape that it would not be a good idea, or fun, to pedal across the plains of Spain with a sun adverse travel companion like me. So trains it was. Mission: get Cheryl to greener northern climes. And it wasn’t even hot yet. So much for our Spanish bike touring, huh?

The Renfe media distances trains in Spain seem to have two distinct types of rolling stock.

These older train sets with narrow doors and three steps. This was our first train to Zaragoza.

With bike hooks – my nemesis. I can lift my bike up, but only if the train is not moving and I have loads of space. Rich is the bike lifter when it comes to trains.

The other type are these lovely wide doored newer train sets. Second train to Pamplona.

These newer cars have much easier access: one small step in and loads of leaning space.

Of course, you have no idea which train you will get. The waiting is stressful.

Bikes with touring gear on trains are not always, almost never, easy. Our first train hop ended up being the older and less bike friendly train cars. A train station attendant told us the bike car would either be the first or last car, so we waited at the beginning of the platform so the train would go by us and we could see the bike car. First car. Of course. High boarding. Of course. As we ran up the platform to reach the bike car, dodging other passengers and their rolly bags, we knew it would be a fire drill train boarding. Yank the bags off the bikes since they would be too heavy to lift up into the train. Rich grabs the bags and chucks them on the train as I stay on the platform with the bikes. Rich gets through the narrow door with one bike and by now the conductor is blowing his whistle so I grab my bike and attempt to jam it up the stairs as the doors start to close and I search for the door open button with both feet still on the platform and half of my bike through the closing door. We are saved by a super nice Belgium cyclist who is already on the train which started in Barcelona where he lives. He helps Rich get both bikes on and through a second narrow door to the bike hooks. Phew.

A strong rain had just passed so we got a nice ride to our hotel in Zaragoza and got to see this Zaha Hadid designed bridge.

When possible Rich books trains where we get on at the beginning of the run, and get off at the end. Mid trip stops like our boarding in Tarragona can be super challenging, especially if there are bikes other than ours and we have to navigate a bike dance – handlebars tangling, pedals hooking on spokes. Zaragoza was the last stop for this train so we had a calm exit. It would be a one night stay and a second train the next day. And that one ended up being a lovely low floor wide door media distance.

This was a fun first. The hotel brought out a ramp so we could wheel our bikes right into the lobby with panniers still attached.

The sky cleared and all of Zaragoza came out for a walk. Zaragoza is in the Aragon Region Spain. Not Basque yet.

Do I have room in my panniers for a cake? No.

A beer, a glass of wine, and a little bag of chocolates, which I do have room for.

After a quick ramen dinner we headed out to join the crowds waiting for a Semena Santa procession. Our second of the trip.

Rich deployed his long arms for over the crowd shots.

This was a somber and somewhat chilling procession. The drum beats were very loud and los penitentes in their capirotes (cone-shaped hats) were numerous.

Our next train left after noon so we had time for a workout in the hotel gym, breakfast, and a walk to see the Roman bath ruins in town. These were discovered (uncovered) in 1972 when a neighbor noticed something in a construction site. Now it’s a museum and the ruins are protected by a canopy.

Off and a slight backtracking to the Zaragoza Miraflores train station, so we’d have an end to end journey. Get on at the start, get off at the end in Pamplona. Pamplona is in the Navarre province of Spain. Still not Basque yet.

Riding into Pamplona old town for a one night stay.

Now the Pinxos feasting begins in earnest.

Hello my darling Gildas. Olive, anchovy, and guindilla peppers. Spicy sweet little peppers pickled in wine vinegar.

Water prep. We each carry two bottles and an extra liter water bag. Once we realized how often we find taps of potable water in Basque towns we stopped filling the water bags and saved the weight.

We would head out of Pamplona on a Camino route, such fun signage. From here we bike. No more train hops.

One route for walkers and one for bikers.

The Camino markers always make me happy. Fond memories.

The still snowy Pyrenees mountains in the distance. Hello friends.

The trail unwinds like a ribbon ahead of us.

It’s fun to follow a Camino route. This is the main Camino Frances. We got to greet pilgrims and be greeted with “Buen Camino”.

A countryside stay at Casa Nahia Alojamiento Rural in Lorca. Home made dinner and a bottle of wine. Still in Navarre.

I love a good livestock sign. This cow’s legs look short to me.

Oh, actual cows. And yes, they do look a bit short legged. With those distinctive Spanish horns.

A quick stop in the town of Estella to buy pastries and start on the Vía Verde del Ferrocarril Vasco-Navarro. We part ways with the Camino Frances here. (Still in Navarre.)

Town was super busy with market day and pre Easter holiday shut down so we took our pastries up the trail a bit.

The Via Verde is one of the area’s repurposed rail lines. Tunnels and bridges, oh my!

The surface was quite good for riding, such a treat to ride long car free stretches. The route has a few nice hilly diversions where tunnels have not been restored.

Happily listening to a podcast on my Bluetooth speaker and pedaling along.

A valley near Metauten reminded us of the Grand Valley in Colorado with stunning mesas. Maybe a little greener.

You can see from the map that we were flirting with the foothills. Pamplona to the right, and far left is Vitoria Gastiez. There were good trails keeping us to the valleys, but inevitable climbs up those ridges.

The Vasco Navarro Railway Nature Trail Greenway follows the route of the Trenico, which between 1927 and 1967 ran between Estella-Lizarra and Mekolalde (Gipuzkoa)Between Estella-Lizarra, Vitoria-Gazteiz and Bergara (Gipuzkoa)
**Length:** 133,7 km; 27 km in Navarre

Ancín, in Navarre. A stunning backdrop of oilseed rape. We know it as canola oil but it also used for industrial applications and animal feed. Most Americans call it mustard seed, and both are members of the Brassicaceae family and are cultivated for their oil-rich seeds.

Our destination for the night is not far away. The Easter holiday week has been challenging already and this night, Thursday the 17th of April is about to get even more logistically tough.

The rail trail gets us through the edge of the Codés mountains. Rail trails will only ever have about a 3-5% max incline, which makes riding them up quite easy, and riding down super fun.

This trail is loaded with benches and picnic tables, which is so nice. And some are even in the shade.

We arrived in Campezo/Kanpezu – finally in the Basque Country – and checked in to our hostel, Aterpe Kanpezu Hostel, showered, threw a load of laundry in, hung it to dry and then wandered into town. We knew that finding an open restaurant in this small town the night before Good Friday would be challenging- but we assumed one of the restaurants would be open. Open yes, for drinks. Food? Not so much. After asking at three places which all said the kitchen would not be open tonight we were directed to a restaurant down one the main road next to a gas station which had the worst reviews. A range of rude, bad food, slow service. Yippee! They lived down to their reviews and the kitchen didn’t open until 9pm, at which point two hungry cycle tourists would be desperate. Part of the challenge was that now in the Basque Country we encountered what may have been our first Basque only speakers. However, they did have the most delicious home made tortillas, the Spanish potato and egg omelette. So two of those and a drink later we decided we’d survive and headed back to old town.

We found a small Bodega now open and got ice cream bars. Then a bar for drinks and Gildas (anchovies, olives, and peppers). It was an odd food progression but you do what you need to do on Good Friday Eve.

We joined the rest of the town enjoying the car free main street and watching the children play while enjoying our drinks.

The Spanish do public spaces so well. And everywhere we visited we enjoyed the Paseo, the traditional 6pm evening stroll.

Spring blooms over a weathered fence in town.

As we were getting on our bikes the morning of Good Friday we heard this van honking as it rolled through town. We realized it was the bread van so we hustled over to buy bread for our picnic lunch. Basque bread van.

Headed to Vitoria Gasteiz for a two night stay. Only 38 kms, and all on rail trail, right? Not quite.

I’m not the only one who finds the cows picturesque.

The walled town of Antoñana and our fearless tour guide, Rich.

Good Friday Holiday meant a lot of road cyclists out.

Other cyclists meant we could follow them to a water source.

And then the sound of a sad trombone. There is a tunnel through the highest part of the mountain ridge that is not open, so the trail diverts up and over.

My little flag is blowing forward! Tail wind to the rescue.

The summit. It must have been one long tunnel, it was quite a climb.

We had a nice decent on asphalt before joining the rail trail again for our final stretch in Vitoria Gastiez.

It’s nice to get off the trail and into towns. In Spain churches are our first try for benches for lunch.

This one came with a friendly dog who would have happily shared our lunch. You know, to be helpful.

I think I will always recognize the shape of a Basque church and spire.

We made it to Vitoria-Gasteiz, which is the capital of the Basque Autonomous Community and where we will spend two nights.

Up next, our time in the Basque mountains and why I am now a huge fan of the Basque.

The Happy Travelers. Looking forward to a rest day in Vitoria-Gasteiz.

“Down the Spanish Coast, then Turn Right”

Spain has been on our bike touring list for years, but we hadn’t made it here yet. Lots of people ask us why not? First off, much of Spain is arid and sunny, two conditions Cheryl (and I) don’t really like in large doses. Second, bike touring routes and infrastructure are known to be better in Northern Europe, so it’s been hard to pass up easier trips (at least to plan) in Belgium, Switzerland, Austria, Chéchia, Italy; Germany, the Netherlands, and Scandinavia.

Last Spring we got so close to Spain, but some nice house sitting opportunities kept us on the French side of the Pyrenees. Finally, I’ve been working on redeveloping my high school French the past few years and didn’t have an interest in muddling my brain with my more recently learned Spanish again. Only one additional language Sim slot in this engineer’s brain!

Cheryl atop the Roman ruins at the Panissars Pass. Cheryl is ready for Spain!

The beautiful spring bloom near the French-Spanish Border.

But this year we were determined to give Spain a try and had a plan to ride the coast via Eurovelo 8 more or less to Barcelona and beyond. And if it started to get too arid or sunny for us, then we’d head up towards the mountains and green Basque Country instead. That’s the turn right.

Giving Cheryl a break pushing up the steep and rocky road after crossing the border. Is this really Eurovelo 8?!

At the bottom, someone appropriately added “MB-only!” Grafitti to the regional trail sign. A little too late for us, but luckily this hanging tube was not our fate.

Near the Spanish border, we opted for the quieter but hillier route into Spain over the Col de Panisares. Officially this seemed to be the Eurovelo 8 route on most maps and is also called the Pirinexus route, part of the Catalan greenway route network. The French side was paved, quiet, and delightful. But as always with bike touring, we were rewarded with some memorable views, and then punished on the Spanish side with more uphill kickers, steep rocky trails and unridable downhills. No cruising down into Spain.

Our first Spanish cycling underpass/drainage culvert. Not our last.

So our entry into Spain was a bit bumpy and we found ourselves at the somewhat grungy and noisy frontier town of La Jonquera at 5pm after just 50 hard earned kilometers. We didn’t have a reservation anywhere as I suspected the day needed flexibility, but there were no good options around. We’ve been without lodging before at 5pm, as it goes with booking on the fly cycle touring.

National Route 2 had a decent shoulder near Figueres. Sometimes you just want to get there!

Our hotel in Figueres old town. A bit of street construction meant no car traffic in front of our hotel and limited Saturday night bar noise -:)

So we decided to press onto Figueres on the main N-2 (II) road, as the official Pirinexus route had more dirt, hills, and would likely take us hours. We were both tired and a bit stressed, but knew this was just one of those days we just had to rally. To our pleasant surprise the N-II had a generous 6-foot shoulder the whole way to Figueres, and we made it there in less than an hour and a half, after a truck stop soda infusion. A shower and dinner at our atmospheric old town hotel and all was good.

Hotel Duran in Figueres is family run and had a classic vibe, a fine restaurant and even side rooms that were part museum of local life.

We set out the next morning after a brief stop outside the Dali museum. Salvador Dali was born in Figueres in 1904 and you can visit the large museum as well as the house where he was born.

Always fun to ride through the cobbled little streets. Catalan felt different than France.

Sunday bike touring days always surprise, such as this festival in Bàscara, complete with local Catalan dancing.

Although the dirt route was peaceful and had some nice natural beauty, I wished we had just taken the main road route up and over the pass. But again, I could find no info on the pass routes….not even a good blog. Maybe this blog will help people decide.

A random regional cycling route sign was appreciated, but better routes and signage everywhere would make this area more popular with people traveling by bicycle.

Ok, this train bridge still baffles this engineer; why are the webs of these precast beams on the top. It’s upside down, but I guess it works.

We soon figured out this part of Spain does not have as developed a bike touring culture. People ride for sport; roadies, gravel, and mountain bikers, but it seems a small number of long distance tourers. We met a few bike tourists along the coast, but most were Dutch, Belgian, or Canadian. (The French were notably absent.)

Finally some signage, helped by the overlap with some of the Camino de Santiago routes.

The first things that struck me in Spain was the lack of useful signage in this area. No map of the border pass cycle routes, a few town directional signs, and just a few randomly placed EV8 route signs. And never distances. Also, no indication how rocky and unsuitable parts of the Spanish side of this route are for loaded touring bikes. If you are riding into Spain on this coastal route, be ready for a significant decline in signage and infrastructure from France. Routes just end and this is the land of random, short cycleways to nowhere.

Peaceful cycling into Girona along the Ter River.

But Spain brought so much beauty and a completely different feel from France. Our trip has been perfectly timed for peak spring and the smell of blooming flowers, trees, and thick grasses abounded. The fresh Mediterranean Sea air filled our noses and coated us in a comfortable sheen of the promise of Spring and a new year. Forget the chaos of your home country.

The lively and beautiful arcades of Girona.

Watching the bikes go by at “Bagels and Beers” in Girona, which also has delicious “Burgels”.

We sort of happened upon the Medieval wall of Girona and couldn’t pass up following it along the city edge and University campus on our rest day.

Looking back at the Pyrenees from Girona.

Walking the wall offers a great overview of the city.

No trip to Girona is complete without visiting some of the famous road cycling stores, including “Eat Sleep Cycle” store and cafe.

The surprising Pont de les Peixateroes Velles, designed and built by Gutave Eiffel in 1876

Girona’s old town core is actually an ancient and vibrant Jewish Quarter known as “El Cell” occupied from the 12th Century until 1492, when the purge happened.

Spring light in Girona on the Onyar River

The next day we headed to Girona, a long time dream of mine due to its famous road cycling culture. The ride into Girona was nice on self-selected routes, but loaded touring bikes are an anamoly there, and we soon felt a little out of place as we rode into the main square heaving with people drinking, chatting, strolling, and shopping on a beautiful Sunday spring afternoon. Various kitted out roadies wizzed by and seemed unimpressed that we carrying all our gear for 3 months on our heavy duty human-powered transport machines.

Heading out of Girona to the south, we encountered a group road ride tour of foreign cyclists. They were focused on staying on their bikes, so we didn’t want to bother them. For us, just another day.

The roads outside Girona are popular with roadies for a reason.

How many famous cyclists have ridden this decent?

We had a nice little apartment to enjoy for two nights in Girona and it’s a beautiful place to explore and hang out. Mixing with the road scene heading out of town was a bit strange, as we’re used to seeing more cycle tourists, and it’s really popular with Americans, so funny to here so much familiar English after so many less visited places.

We were following the Via Marina for a while.

Cheryl in her latest high tech cycling gear: fuzzy pink Shetland wool sweater.

Soon we were at the Mediterranean coast via some more primitive rail underpasses/drainages. But the rare and heavy rains must go somewhere.

We started to realize that the EV8 on this stretch of coast would not be bike heaven.

Decent riding along some of the coast, but a little dull in places.

We mostly picnic, but today cobbled a pre lunch snack at a cafe despite it being 12:30…a challenge cycle touring is Spanish lunch is from 1:30-4pm.

The train line runs parallel to the sea along the coast north of Barcelona, making access between the sides challenging at times.

Morning departure from our fun all-inclusive hotel in Pineda Del Mar. They had just opened for the season and it was very good value. Fun to mix with holiday makers and get a nice cool swim in the pool.

Cheryl wondering if she was back in SoCal!

The promenades were lovely, but we could only imagine how welcome shade would be in the hot summers. We were already missing it in early April

The sea is beautiful along the Costa Brava.

But overall this stretch of EV8 is hit and miss.

Catalan architecture charms in the few old towns still left on this part of the coast between the sprawl

Our one night stay in Barcelona was pleasant at the Illunion Hotel in El Poblenou who kindly stored our bikes safely overnight.

We cycled towards the coast from Girona and spent two days meandering down to Barcelona. This stretch was not our favorite as the coastal sprawl felt a bit endless and the rail tracks make access between the coast and city sides challenging with loaded touring bikes as some access points are just stairs. But eventually we rolled into the northern neighborhood of Barcelona known as El Poblenou, which is also the core of the superblocks, which cleverly limit through traffic and prioritize pedestrian and bike movements. It was great and such a joy to cycle in most of Barcelona.

Morning school rush hour in El Poblenou meant an armada of kids, parents and bikes. Nice!

On our way south by the famous Sagrada Familia.

There are some beautiful bikeways in Barcelona, and very well used.

Fixing a flat is never fun. Really not fun on a busy road. Thankfully we were at the quarry turnout so had some space.

Cheryl ahead on a beautiful stretch of the C-31 from Garraf to Stiges. A rare shot without traffic as this road was almost constant cars and haul trucks to quarries. A shame.

Early dinner and drinks in charming Sitges. We still haven’t solved the mystery of a charming coastal spot with outdoor dining and no Gulls. Why are there no gulls here?

The April beach scene in Sitges. As we came into town folks were swimming.

Ok, another underpass to a trail on the oceanside of the tracks….nope, dead end at rock slope and tiny beach! Cheryl was thoroughly unamused.

Not the nicest stretch of Eurovelo and Cheryl not happy in a head wind and sunshine.

From Barcelona, we headed again out to the coast via the EV8, which is a nice route until past the airport, then forces you onto busier roads. It was a tough stretch as I had fixed a flat tire near the airport and then half way through the extremely busy coastal road from Garraf to Sitges, I felt my tire going soft again. Ugh! This time I really examined the tire and found the tiny glass shard culprit. This stretch would be ok on a fast road bike as the cars are very respectful, but on slow touring bikes, the constant traffic and haul trucks made it a somewhat teeth gritting experience. No pictures of the traffic as there are few places so stop and most is guardrailed.

Cool to discover The Torre Del Escorpions or “Scorpio’s Tower”, a funerary monument built by the Romans outside Tarragona in the 2nd century.

Our lovely view from our hotel in Tarragona

Tapas and Sangria in the main square of Tarragona. Set for Friday night people watching, Spanish style.

We were excited to see and moved by the solemn Semana Santa processions in Tarragona. We didn’t know at first why everyone was headed towards the Cathedral. We quickly figured it out.

The striking coastal Amphitheater of Roman Tarraco used to hold up to 12 thousand spectators until the decline of the empire 5th Century.

A big port for Mega-Yachts in Tarragona. The cannon isn’t really aimed at them? Is it?

Roman ruins = Feral Cats. This good looking kitty posed for us.

Cats also liked the real and just slightly gritty feel of the Part Alta, the historic core of Tarragona.

Colorful Tarragona Street Art. Cheryl snapped the pic before she actually read the words.

Orange blossom scents filled the air of Tarragona. So many orange trees as street trees.

Not a gentrified old town, Tarragona’s old city still is active with daily life.

The processions weaved through the city. We were in Tarragona for three nights and watched processions on two nights.

More crowds for the Semana Santa Procession. We felt lucky to witness this less touristy and more local version in Tarragona.

Real flames added to the drama as night finally falls.

The weight of the floats and human strength required to carry them was impressive. The folks carrying this heavy float marched in time and swayed in rhythm.

So after a really pleasant night in Sitges, we rolled onto Tarragona, where we spent three nice nights and rested prior to our turn inland. Tarragona is a small and ancient city with Roman ruins, a fascinating history, and great archeological museum by the old port. One of our favorite smaller museums with a great audio guide. It was also the start of the Semana Santa events, so we got to see two different nights of processions, each with a different vibe and purpose in the run up to Easter.

Finally leaving the pleasant and bike friendly Hotel Astari for the Tarragona train station. But where to next?

Oh, and some buttery Jamin Iberico on rolls.

We really liked exploring the layers of history in Tarragona for a few days. A bit of a hidden gem.

Where we’ve been so far on this Spanish Sojourn. It’s a big country. Each heart is a place where we slept.

Happy cycle tourists on the Spanish Mediterranean…at least for now.

Cycle touring days are like dog years.

Leaving the Vallée Verte, France, on a clear day.

Suddenly you look up and two weeks have gone by! But you think back and can’t believe it was only two weeks ago that we got on our bikes (March 31) and headed to the train station in Annemasse. A hop through Lyon to Avignon to spend the night, and then train to Béziers, and ride on to Narbonne. Phew. That sounds easier than it really is, which is why we spent two nights in Narbonne to get our bike touring mindset on.

Lyon’s wonderful bike lanes. Our long train transfer was between stations so we got to leisurely ride across town.

Rich’s American flag doing its job and attracting a chat from a local.

My panniers match the train. Although the high speed Ouigo train is not for us.

Our plan to get on our way was derailed by a long chat with another bike tourist, Martin from Holland.

Our plan was to use trains to get south and ride in Spain before the weather got hot. Neither of us are happy cycling in hot weather. We had been in Béziers on bikes before, but this time we’d ride out a different direction. After a good long chat with Martin who was also riding a Koga bicycle, it was time for a lunch stop.

Lunch in the shade alongside Le canal du Midi. We brought our little travel chairs with us this trip.

We decided to stay in Narbonne for two nights once we realized we’d be arriving quite late in the day, and it gave me an opportunity to have the brakes on my bike fixed.

Narbonne at dusk. Like a lot of French towns there is a focus on new public space, here a lovely newly redone stretch along the Canal de La Robine.

Narbonne Cathedral’s gargoyles. I would love to see these spouting water. But that would mean rain.

Canal de La Robine. The work on the canal side path is ongoing to the south.

The small black poodle being groomed inside this shop would certainly attest to the accolades on the sign.

The canal trail. This is going to be a lovely day on a champagne gravel (hat tip to Annie) trail.

Or will it? Blocked by fiber optic construction.

A 47 kilometer detour. Thankfully a local road cyclist stopped and told us the detour was a fine route, one he rides often.

So off we went, better know the marshes.

A bit windy. Was it a headwind or a tailwind? I can’t remember. (Kidding. It was a headwind.)

Lunch at the boules court in Bages and a chat with some locals. The flags doing their jobs again by drawing folks in and starting a conversation.

Still smiling. It’s chilly enough that my fuzzy pink sweater comes in handy.

Bicycle signage is quite good in France.

Peyriac de Mer, after a quick snack and map stop. Such a sweet street I stopped on an uphill climb to snap a pic.

Although he was technically closed for lunch the owner came out from his apartment behind the shop to sell us some much needed fruits and veggies and home made cookies. Sigean, still in France.

Out of Sigean the route climbed up a rocky pass. Definitely best suited to mountain bikes or gravel bikes, but here we go.

This look says ‘Yes, I did just fall in that mud puddle’. My rear pannier caught on a branch as I tried to skirt the edge of the puddle and I ended up in the puddle.

Ortleib panniers act like bumpers for the bike when you go over sideways. My bike and panniers were fine, I was very muddy with a few scratches on my left leg. Pride? Slightly wounded.

Still in France so the signage is still strong.

Headed down a very rocky route. Lots of walking the bikes.

Leaving Leucate where we spent the night and a bit of time de-mudding me and my gear.

Headed to Perpignan and our first good view of the snow capped Pyrenees mountains. Don’t worry, Rich says, we’ll have even closer views.

Getting closer to those mountains along a very nicely paved cycle path.

Are we riding or just always stopping to take photos?

Oh photos, definitely stopping for photos.

Perpignan. The French buildings and palm trees made me smile.

The Basse canal, an off shoot of La Têt River. Coming in to Perpignan from the north it didn’t look promising but once in the heart of town it’s charming.

Polite and obvious reminder of where your ciggy butts go.

The days are long, sunset at 8:30, so lovely long twilight light.

Oops – an entire bottle of red wine. And a lovely chat with a Swiss/Spanish couple. In light of what’s going on in the US some of our conversations have gotten more intense. Not confrontational, but intense.

Leaving Perpignan, next stop: Figueres, Spain. In the way: mountains.

Ok, next stop actually still in France. Brouilla. But it’s starting to look like Spain.

Through vineyards. That little orange speck is Rich. Who’s anxious to get to some mountain climbing? He is.

This low pass closes not for snow, but for risk of fires.

Unlike France, information on cycle touring routes was a bit spotty as we headed into Spain, but we headed up the pass optimistic about our new adventures coming in Spain. Stay tuned.

Bikes and trains. Pizza and rain.

Enjoying a view over Udine, Italy, on our one night in town.

Sometimes we get a very quick sense of how cycling in a region will be. We’ve cycled in Italy before, years and years ago, and were impressed with the smooth pavement and respectful drivers in Tuscany, but this part of northern Italy has not caught up with Germany, Austria, or France in welcoming cyclists. But that’s the roads, the cities are super walkable and beautiful. Udine was a lovely surprise with a pretty and walkable center.

Rich has his loaner umbrella ready, but the rain held off.

The warm glow of buildings in the twilight.

Pizza with mortadella, pistachios, lemon zest, and fiore de latte. Amazing.

With our deadline of a train from Milan we decided to make a train hop from Udine to Conegliano so we could make it to Treviso that day and spend less time riding in the rain.

Trains in Italy come with some predictable challenges: track changes. With loaded touring bikes a track change can be beyond hectic. Thankfully there were elevators at the Udine station so the track change at least didn’t involve stairs.

The look of a man whose patience with loaded touring bikes and trains is starting to wear thin. And is looking at 32k/20miles of rainy riding.

One of our less glamorous but very welcome lunch stops. Between the rain and the roads this pavilion looked like heaven to us.

Weather fit for ducks as we get to Treviso.

Outside our hotel in Treviso, trying to drip dry a bit before going inside.

We both had Treviso marked on our Google maps as an interesting place to visit – sort of a little Venice. An alternative to the magical city, with its own canals and own culture.

Canal side buildings absolutely bring to mind Venice.

Yes, a lovely view even in the near constant rain.

My Cleverhood Rain Cape had its time as I got really tired of wearing rain trousers and switched to tights and the rain cape.

The fish market (Isola della Pescheria) on an island in the Cagnan River.

Who wouldn’t be charmed by views like this?

You can see from this photo what Treviso has which Venice doesn’t: cars.

Our two nights in Treviso were fantastic. Even with a lot of rain. But the feeling we get in Venice, with no cars, not a whisper of car noise, is very different from Treviso. Definitely visit Treviso, but don’t be expecting the same scope of magic as one finds in Venice. It is much less crowded though, and a fairly short train ride from Venice for making a day trip one way or the other.

The arcades of Treviso made the rain less impactful.

They were a place to walk, to stop and chat.

And for restaurants to set up a charming scene.

What else did we find delightful in Treviso, the birthplace of tiramisu? Cicchetti, which are small bar snacks like tapas or pinxos, served alongside a beer or wine. A quick aside about bike storage in old towns. It’s not easy to find a hotel with easy and convenient storage for our bikes. The hotel Rich found in Treviso, Palazzina 300, were super accommodating and we were able to store our bikes in one of the owners’ fire wood room about a five minute ride from the hotel. Behind a locked gate and in a room stacked with wood for the winter. The owner pointed out the video camera watching the courtyard and assured us they would be safe.

The outside of a little osteria, cicchette on display in the window.

What? I can wander from place to place drinking and snacking? Sign me up please.

The charming and handsome waitstaff who help you choose your cicchetti from a glass case. Our second stop of the night.

Rich did a good job picking our first round. From the left, cod, zucca, and Gorgonzola and nuts.

My favorite was the zucca (pumpkin) and prosciutto.

Well fueled from our snack dinner (not really, Rich was super hungry the next morning.), we headed to the train station for a hop from Treviso to Vicenza, and then a 44k/27m ride to Soave.

We had a nice little ride through Vicenza.

Rich way finding through the narrow streets.

Piazza dei Signore. Italian cities and towns excel at big piazzas, plazas, and car lite or car free spaces.

Is that a bench? Then it must be time for a pastry break. That is a Pasticciotto, filled with ricotta based lemony filling. It got powdered sugar all over our clothing, which the mist then turned to sugar paste.

We were quickly out into the vineyards of the Veneto region.

Americans will likely remember the Soave Bolla commercials from the 70s and 80s, which probably gave most people a somewhat bad opinion of Soave wine. The ads were super cheesy and apparently, the wine not very good. But happily wine now made from the garganega grape is delicious, and in 2002 Soave received DCOG status and joined the ranks of well respected wine in Italy.

Soave Classico paired perfectly with the delicious pumpkin lasagna at Locanda ai Capitelli where we had a lovely stay and dinner.

A view of Soave over the vineyards as we headed out in the morning to ride to Verona to catch a train to Brescia to shorten our day to 58k/36 miles.

The harvest was in full swing. This nice workman smiled and waved when I stopped to take photos.

Garganega grapes waiting to be harvested. Such a lovely color. What would this paint color be named? Wine blush? Whisper?

And climbed a hill with a classic Italian view.

The riding was lovely at times, but again, not an area of Italy with very welcoming bike infrastructure. We saw plenty of Italian road cyclists, but not many other bike tourists, and precious few bike lanes or decent shoulders to ride on the busy roads. And no transportation cyclists. No one headed to the shops or to and from school. And the terrain can’t be totally to blame as much of our ride was gently rolling, staying on the edge of the foothills.

Traveling by bikes gives us such a range of experiences. We go from sweet little lanes,

To a coffee and chocolate break at a gas station cafe.

Verona! The Verona Arena is a Roman amphitheatre in Piazza Bra in Verona, Italy, built in 30 AD. And popular to visit on a Saturday in October.

But we can’t spend too long sightseeing, we have a train to catch.

Yay! Elevators at the Verona train station.

Laughing because… platform change! Second to last train of the trip.

Riding out of Brescia after our train hop, some nice new bike and pedestrian lanes.

My favorite sign in any language: Except bikes.

We had quite a bit of rain on this section of the trip. I don’t have a lot of photos of rain riding since it’s so hard to take pictures in the wet. And, since we were not quite into the colder part of the year we had a run of hotel rooms where the electric towel racks hadn’t yet been turned on for the season. No heated towel rack and wet weather makes it very difficult to dry our bike gear and other laundry. We had two days of riding still so when we got a working towel rail we sprang into action and did laundry.

A working towel rail – finally! At Hotel Touring in Cocaglio.

How many pizza dinners is too many pizza dinners in Italy?

We set out the next morning to ride to a town outside of Milan, Gorgonzola, 61k/44miles. As we approached Milan there were better bike paths and more folks out on bikes. We stayed outside Milan because the hotels in the city were quite full and expensive due to a pharmaceutical conference. Our hotel for our last night was close to the canal path that led right into Milan for our ride to town the next day.

Crossing the Oglio River and a photo bomb by a friendly local cyclist.

Espresso and gelato break in Caravaggio. With our days in Italy drawing down we knew we needed to eat gelato whenever possible.

Rich chatting with a local in Treviglio. This gentleman was a bike activist in town, pushing for the local routes to be improved and was happy to see bike tourists.

A restored water wheel that used to lift water from the canal to irrigate local noblefolks’ orchards.

You can see the buckets and channel that moved the water to street level.

Ciclovia della Martesana, a relaxing and popular canal path.

On the outskirts of Gorgonzola. Yes, where the cheese was first produced. We had it on (what else?) pizza that evening.

Our last evening in Italy. Tomorrow the ride to Milan and a train to Geneva.

Rich chatting with Massimo who saw our American flags and greeted us. The flags on our bikes are the best conversation starters.

We were in no hurry as we had several hours before our train left Milan Central. So we bumbled along the canal.

Into Milan, admiring the new bike lanes.

Hey! We have some of these Milan street cars in San Francisco.

Doobie doobie doo, somewhere else in Milan.

Cathedral de Milano. We had been expecting it to be rainy while we whiled away our hours in Milan so we were happy to ride around sightseeing and eating our lunch sandwiches in the Parco Sempione. But finally we headed to the train station.

That’s the train station at the end of the street.

We had a few things going for us with this final long train hop. First positive is that Milan Central is an end station, you reach all the platforms from the same level, so no elevators or stairs in case of track change. Our train started at this station so we should have a decent chunk of time to get our bikes into their reserved spots on one car, and ourselves into our reserved seats in the next car.

Up we go to the platform level on an inclinator. Still looking good and feeling positive.

Now we’ll just wait around until our platform is announced and we will proceed calmly to our train.

Ha! What really happened is that our train was late arriving and came in about 20 minutes late which put it cross platform from a Turin train arrival. The electronic tickets for just about everyone on our train did not work at the gates so the station agents had to check and let folks through one at a time – but with bikes we need the wide gates and for those we had to wait and wait and wait until we were just about the last folks to get through. With loaded bikes. Two trains unloading, and two trains worth of folks trying to load, equals one big mess.

At this point we just gave up. We figured the train wouldn’t be able to leave any time soon, so we just patiently shambled along the platform with everyone else.

Folks who were not convinced the train would wait for them started boarding many cars before their seats which meant the aisles of every car were impassable as people tried to walk along four, five, or even six cars to get to their seats. Our “reserved” bike spaces? Completely filled with giant wheeled suitcases by the time we got to our car. The palaver it took to get our bikes and panniers and us sorted was monumental. We were moving suitcases, bargaining with other riders, helped by a lovely young and patient passenger, and at first greeted with shrugs from the train attendants. They finally had us move to another car where the bike space had a few fewer suitcases in it, and we eventually got to our seats, hot, exhausted, and giddy with joy that we were on our final train ride of the trip.

Along with dinner Rich wisely bought us train wine during our station wait. We needed it.

Our final destination was a hotel in Annemasse where we would spend the night before tackling the climb up the Vallée. (We ended up getting a ride up the Vallée due to heavy rain and cold and exhaustion.) We told ourselves that if it was raining when we arrived in Geneva, or if we were too exhausted we’d just take the train to Annemasse. Another ha! The train tracks were being worked on and no trains running after 8 pm. We arrived at 9:30 and headed out to ride to Annemasse. Thankfully there is a first rate bikeway all the way so even in the rain it wasn’t awful. Just very wet.

Ah, Geneva Cornavin station. Now just a 9 km/ 5.5 miles to our hotel in Annemasse. In the rain. We made it.

Our loop in nights spent. Each green heart is a place we stayed. The far left heart is our good friends’ place in the Haute Savoie.

A few observations about our different experiences along the way. The Swiss are very no nonsense and straightforward. The bike infrastructure is good. Germany has really good infrastructure but it’s starting to be dated, and, with so many folks on e-bikes, crowded. Germans are gruff. They do not waste time being gentle. As I was pushing my loaded touring bike up a steep climb a man on an e-bike came down the hill. He took the time to stop and say to me “There are many steep hills ahead.”, with a rueful shake of his head at my blithe disregard of tough climbs. We could hear his internal question of why these silly Americans did not have e-bikes. A second German man cycling with his family, all on e-bikes, rode by and motioned to me with a wave of his hand and said “Come on, hurry. Keep up.” I snapped that my bike had no motor and when we encountered he and his family again they tried very hard to be nice. Was I holding a grudge? Why yes, I was.

By contrast the Austrians we encountered were more friendly, and the Italians! We were cheered up climbs with calls of Brava- Bravo! Almost every cyclist called out ciao ciao and smiled and waved. When I was caught in the bike race on a climb the spectators clapped and called out as if I was part of the race when I finally got on my bike to finish the climb.

Although the infrastructure for our northern Italy route was not yet in place it is underway. Alta Alia D’Attraversare is the website for the formal route we partially followed and which is mostly in place and being improved all the time. Worth checking out if you plan to cycle this part of Italy.

We’re in France until December 4th, the 12th arrondissement of Paris and then off to the UK for Christmas and New Year.

Cycling Bliss on the Alpe Adria

Apologies for the long gap in posts, but we’re now back in France and finally catching up on our past month of adventures. So how’d we get back to France from Salzburg? Cycling through the Alps and some trains of course!

Descending on the Alpe-Adria Route into Italy.

We really enjoyed our few days off the bikes in Salzburg, but as always, were eager to get back exploring. We find that more than two days off the bikes can put us off our game (like the Tour de France, eh?), so it felt good to roll out and head up the beautiful Salzach River towards the towering spires and massifs of the Alpes. Ok, maybe a little intimidating too.

Starting up the Alpe-Adria on the Salzach River.

The Alpe-Adria is a long distance cycling route that starts in Salzburg and covers 415 km over the Alps, all the way down to the Adriatic Sea at Grado, Italy. This spectacular route was (mostly) completed between 2006 and 2009.

Leaving the river and approaching Route 159 and the gorge; all looks innocent.

It was too hectic to take photos, so a bit of the narrow section from Google street view. Somehow looks calmer and no 18-wheelers in their views! And there is the train if you’d like.

This look after the gorge sums up my feelings. « That kinda sucked! »

The first day was about 65km to the pleasant and somewhat upscale town of Sankt Johann im Pomgau. It was a tougher day than expected for a number of reasons. It was all upstream and uphill, although there were not many big climbs. Second, we had a good headwind, which made even the flat river sections tiring. Finally, there is a gap in the route that requires you to ride on a narrow two lane road through a gorge.

The route continues on route 159 to Bischofshofen, but there was now a shoulder.

The worst section is from Salzachlamm to Werfen, which has about 5km without any shoulder, lots of trucks, and a barrier hemming you in on both sides. Yes, it was a bit sketchy and we had to grit our teeth a few times as large trucks approached at good speed from both directions. But it was daytime and we were fairly confident that the regional truck and car drivers would be looking for cyclists on this stretch.

Burg Honenwerfen loomed over us as we crested a small pass along the river. These valleys have been strategic trading routes for centuries.

So although we made it just fine, we asked ourselves, “would we ride it again?” No! So we have to recommend skipping it with a quick train train hop on the S3 (S-Bahn) from Golling to Werfen. It was the only traffic impacted gap in the otherwise enjoyable Alpe-Adria route, so we hope they figure out a solution in the gorge to make it a bit less stressful. It seemed that many cyclists rode to the restaurant near Pass Lueg and either turned around or perhaps got a shuttle as we saw no cyclists on the narrow and truck filled stretch. We now know why. It would be better if you’re on fast road or bike packing setup, as you’d be narrower and faster. For now, we can add it to the many stretches of road around the world we will only ride once!

But all good in Sankt Johann with a nice meal and white wine.

Day 2 of the route brought peaceful and rolling climbs away from the main roads. Our favorite kind of touring.

Turning up the valley towards Bad Gastein, there a few long tunnels with protected bikeways. Noise cancelling earbuds are awesome for loud tunnel stretches!

Ah, this is more like it, a new and separate bike/ped tunnel! Overall, we were impressed with Austrian cycle infrastructure as it seemed to have more recent investment than Germany.

Our next day to Bad Gastein was dramatic and all along quiet roads and paths. The profile was again mostly uphill as we continued towards the main spine of the Alps. But the long profile hid some of the up and down rolling terrain along the edge of the valley. It was fun (roller coaster!) but the last stretch up to Bad Gastein was very steep so required some pushing and patience.

The mighty falls in Bad Gastein are a constant sight and sound in the lower part of the city.

The heated rooftop infinity pool at Bade Schloss felt so good. There’s a sauna too.

And great pizza refuel at Pizza Napoli, which seems to be run by one passionate chef/owner.

The rewards of swing season cycle touring.

The terrace at Bade Schloss looking across at their sister hotel, the Straubinger Grand. It was chilly but atmospheric.

The reward was the « discovery » of Bad Gastein, as we hadn’t ever heard of it prior to this journey. We highly recommend a stop here and staying at the Bade Schloss hotel if possible. (It was a bargain in late September) It just reopened in 2023 with a dramatic remodel to three historic buildings, as well as a new 14 story concrete tower. Ok, the tower is a bit of a sight from afar, but the rooms and rooftop pool are wonderful. And the setting next to the roaring falls incredible. It’s a faded spa town with belle epoque buildings and a bit of a Wes Anderson vibe.

Fueled up for the short ride to the pass in our well used rain gear.

Constant cascades to please the senses, a slight reward for all the rain.

Getting close, but don’t panic, that’s not OUR train!

Buying tickets for the Tauerbahn in Böckstein. Only 4 bikes on this rainy late September Day. It’s about €10 each, a bargain to avoid a 1000m climb (and snow.).

The nice thing about stopping in Bad Gastein for the night was that it was just a relatively easy 7km climb to the train portal. Yup, the official Alpe Adria does not go up and over the highest passes, but utilizes the hourly Tauernbahn shuttle between the Austrian States of Salzburg and Carinthia. The 10 minute train ride takes cars and bikes through the mountain and is a fun way to feel both the accomplishment of a pass without the reality of a high pass, including weather challenges in late September. (Note that the tunnel will be closed until July 2025 for engineering works.)

A chance to chat with some friendly Germans from Düsseldorf. Apparently in summer, there can be over 100 bikes jammed in this train car

We emerged on the Carinthian side of the tunnel to even heavier rain, so decided to try to wait it out a bit before heading down the next valley. But fun to watch the cars load on the next train.

Contrary to our hope for sunshine on the southern side of the train pass; the rain just got heavier as we headed down the fairly steep and relentless switchbacks on the other side. My disc brake pads even started to crystallize a bit trying to control my loaded tanks’ speed. But eventually the rain ended and the terrain flattened out and we made our way to Spittal am der Drau for the night. Another relatively short but memorable day.

The amazing works of vertical infrastructure in the Austrian Alps.

And unlike most of Germany, plenty of public Trinkwasser

Rare spot to duck out of the rain on another mizzle-y day to Villach.

A welcome coffee stand for this coffee achiever.

The locals provided their own rest stops for cyclists on the Alpe-Adria. This sprawling one had lots of food, bike repair supplies and a guest book. All free with donation box -:).

The friendly but somewhat incongruous Hacienda Mexicana hotel and restaurant in Spittal am der Brau. The room was good, and I’d love to say we found good Mexican Food in the middle of Austria, but …

The next day was another relentlessly rainy day with few places to stop and escape the weather. This is definitely a challenge on many long distance cycle routes; there may be lots of nice benches and even tables, but there are rarely covered rest areas, so bridge underpasses or farmers barn overhangs become your best bets.

Lots of cool bridge and tunnel engineeing in Austria.

Overnight in Villach, an enjoyable stop at the recommended Palais 26 Hotel.

Typical picnic lunch near the Italian border. Focaccia with various toppings are the new go to quick snack at small stores and groceries Note my mini bottle of Serrano Hot Sauce -:).

As we rode over the second pass into Italy, we could notice the terrain and vegetation changing somewhat from the north side of the Alps. The most popular and scenic part of the route is the downhill decent from Tarvisio to Venzone along the former Pontebba rail route. It’s a spectacular route of viaducts, tunnels, and waterfalls.

Also so close to Slovenia here…it was tempting!

Heading out for an all downhill day from the lovely AlBuondi B&B in Camparosso.

The stretch of former railway starts here and is perfect cycling bliss.

The Pontebba Railway was converted into this segment of the route in the 2000s. There is a newer (and straighter) rail line that now traverses the pass and valley.

And too many tunnels to count…
(ok there are 22)

Always great to see a Critical Mass sticker elsewhere in the world. Not to mention an arty Woodstock -:)

Most of the original rail bridges were retrofitted for trail use.

After a relaxing night at an apartment in the old town of Venzone, we took the recommendation of our cyclist host and rode an alternate route to Udine via the west side of the river valley and eventually back through San Gabriele del Fruili to Udine. The route was very nice and had some steep hills, a surprise pro bike race, and a chance to sample its famous prosciutto.

Vemzone is a tiny walled town that you can explore in a few hours.

Venzone suffered two devastating earthquakes in 1976, but showed amazing resiliency by rebuilding most historic buildings block by (numbered) block.

This rubble in the center of Venzone is a reminder that not everything got rebuilt from the quakes.

Renato, our friendly and helpful apartment host in Venzone.

The sign for bicycle friendly lodging in Italy.

Bike storage for the night protected by cats.

The area around Venzone is now a seismic and building engineering research center, with various reinforcement and repair designs being tested in real time on historic structures.

The beautiful and broad Tagliamento River.

Off the Alpe Adria, but still nice regional routes.

The story of Ottavio Bottechia, the first Italian winner of the Tour De France was more intriguing than we imagined.

This giant roadside bicycle memorial in Girona del Fruili celebrated 100 years since his historic 1924 Tour win. His body was found injured and unconscious here in 1927 and he died shortly thereafter after. Was he murdered? Too liberal for Mussolini? The mystery remains.

It’s a nice reminder but we did notice that the Italian drivers were more agressive and less considerate than their Austrian counterparts.

Watching for the Eurasian Gryphons at the Riserva Naturale Regionale del Lago di Cornino

The gryphons have been successfully reintroduced and protected across southern Europe. We spotted a bunch with impressive wingspans up to 8 feet.

San Gabriele del Friuli is famous for its buttery and luscious prosciutto.

There was a bike race starting in the center of San Gabriele, so we got our prosciutto supplies and headed out of town a quiet way down into a steep river valley. Quiet, so we thought!

Suddenly not so quiet as the motorbikes cleared the way for the race.

Cheryl caught on a steep climb by the field. She was not amused but the spectators were.

Cheryl literally got overtaken by the peloton on her touring bike and we were still laughing about it.

Finally done with our Alpe-Adria adventure; the happy cyclists in Udine, Italy

So we almost did the entire Alpe-Adria route except the last flat stretch to Prado. We diverted west at Udine towards Milan as we had a hard deadline with our long distance train back to Geneva and hoped to find some more rolling hills. But more on that soon in our next post. Ciao!