Wrapping Up the 2004 Season
Our 2004 cycling season ended mid-January
2005 in Spain with stiff winds and steep grades--a fitting close to a challenging year of
riding. I pushed my bike more miles in 2004 than in the previous 3 touring
seasons combined, even though I was carrying an additional 20 pounds of
camping equipment for 2 of those 3 years. It was the wicked combination of too
many hills with grades in the 15-20% range and winds over 40 mph that
repeatedly forced me
onto my feet. Sometimes I walked because the extreme conditions depleted my strength but
other times I just plain lost my nerve to be in traffic with fluky winds on steep inclines. Both Scotland and Spain dished out more wind
and grade than I could consistently master and had we pedaled instead of
motored our way around Iceland as planned, it would have been added to the list
of countries with extreme cycling conditions for the year.
2004 had been a 'catch-up year'--the year to visit places we
had expected to visit our first touring year, like Normandy and Brittany, and to
satisfy Bill's longing for a more northern route. But the harsh weather
and higher prices of the countries north of the European continent had us vowing
to be satisfied with what we'd seen 'up north' and to travel a more southern and
eastern route in 2005. Central and southern European prices are more moderate
and much of eastern Europe had felt like a bargain in 2001-3. The continuing
weakness of the dollar only firmed our resolve to retreat to less expensive
lands for our next touring season.
Home Again
(January 18-March 15, 2005)
More Weather Surprises
The heavy weather we rode through in 2004 made the
headlines for us throughout the year and when we returned to the Portland area, the weather was still
making the news. But while we trudged through deep snow for several days last
year while at home--something almost unheard of in Portland--this year we often did
our errands in flip-flops and T-shirts as the temperatures climbed into the mid
70's. Last year ice formed on the inside of our borrowed attic room window; this year we
wondered if the pitched-roof abode would become too hot for sleeping.
High pressure in Britain can bring cold, damp weather but high pressure in
the Portland/Vancouver area often diverts the moisture-laden jet stream to the north or south, or
both as happened this winter. The result was weeks of warm, sunny days when we
should have been hunkered down under endlessly gray skies and alternating
drizzle and downpours (which is what was funneled south to traditionally sunny
California). And it was so novel seeing Portland in its stunning early spring
bloom with a backdrop of blue skies instead of the traditional gray. Many trees
were covered with blooms that often are quickly tossed aside by the winds and
the rain. In addition to the trees, daffodils, pansies, hyacinths, camellias, and forsythia were all
bursting out in vibrant colors.
We managed to touch down at Portland International Airport in January a day after the region
thawed from an immobilizing ice storm and we left town just as the more typical rainy weather returned. Of
course, the newspaper and TV headlines portended doom because of the shortage of rain and
snow pack but we "stayed in the moment" and enjoyed the better-than-summer
weather in February
and March for our annual visit.
And the surprises in the skies weren't only coming from the weather as we
happened to be there for Mt St Helens' latest show. We went running for a better
view the evening that Helen dazzled Vancouver and Portland with
36,000' high spewing of gas and ash near sunset on one warm, summer-like evening.
Unfortunately, we weren't in time for a great photo but were glad to get a
glimpse and share in
the excitement of yet another eruption.
Tune-Up Time
But it's not just the unpredictable weather that makes each year's
interval back home a different experience. Last year was consumed with the
challenges and aggravations of building up new bikes and both last year and the
previous year my minor medical dramas added unneeded suspense. This year was
Bill's turn for the medical escapades. His much anticipated hernia surgery went
well and was early in our stay as hoped. He had 2 hernias on 1 side--both a
"direct" and "indirect" for those of you who have been there. Massive swelling
was his main complaint and he only had 2 markedly uncomfortable days in his
recovery process. His surgeon's blessing to bike a week after surgery proved
optimistic as the jiggling of brisk walking 10 days later stopped him in his
tracks. It was about 3 weeks after surgery
before he felt like resuming a more usual schedule of activities and it took until
the 3 month point until he felt almost back to normal.
Bill's right knee had laid him up last summer in England
but was x-rayed and declared healthy while at home. His sports medicine/family practitioner
recommended making smaller changes in his bike seat height to prevent re-injuring
his knee and a massage
therapist advised using stair work to develop a stabilizing knee joint muscle
that is underused in cycling. And he was surprised to learn that the alarming
discomfort in the saddle that has haunted him since mid-2003 was largely due to
a persistent prostate infection with its characteristically vague symptoms. A long course of Cipro
antibiotics cleared the infection and interrupted the big saddle height changes
he'd been making and that eventually seriously irritated his knee.
Buying Binge
Being back home triggers our annual shopping spree as prices
are lower in the States on sports wear, bike gear and electronics and we know just where to shop in Portland. Though we love PacLite Gore-Tex, the weak dollar
tipped the balance and we bought the more reasonably priced and slightly bulkier local brand
of waterproof jackets for 2005. Our new
Burley Rock Point cycling jackets have some great
features though, like black sleeves to hide the bike grease that so easily finds its
way to our cuffs and forearms and 2-way waterproof front zippers that our PacLite
jackets lacked. Burley has more confidence than I in their non-seam sealed
sleeve and side seams and fabric pit-zip zippers as I instantly visualized soggy arms in a
downpour. But I
loved all the other features on the jacket and set out to oh-so-carefully apply a
waterproof strip of SeamGrip where it was lacking. Bill opted for the
Burley jacket too but is going to be the control subject by not waterproofing
the zipper fabric on his sleeves. But the jackets have to wait until we are back in
Europe to show their stuff in their first downpour as all we could test in the
unseasonably pleasant Pacific Northwest weather was their overall riding comfort.
And though Bill promises that we'll be
hot this year rather than cold and wet as we were last year, I'll be testing some polar-grade
insoles for my Gore-Tex socks just incase. I am hedging my bets
and will also test 2 gel-filled cooling neck scarves and a more fashionable sun
hat. Almost all of our new gear this year are replacement items
instead of innovations. I guess that is the bonus in preparing for Touring
Season #5 as we have already solved almost all of the big problems and are now
just fiddling with the little details.
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The only innovation for 2005 is our "Ice Walkers", which are
miniature crampons to strap onto the arches of our Teva sandals when walking on
ice or in loose soil on slopes. Once or twice a year we long for more traction
when exploring
the surface of a glacier or scrambling up some scree-covered hillside, but the need is
so brief that it's not it worth hauling around hefty
footwear. I had been brainstorming designs for my own pocket-sized traction
devices for months but for $7 a pair these simple strap-on's were hard to pass
up. Bill says there are glaciers in my future, so I'll be able to give you a
field trial report soon. We bought mini-sized under-the-seat bags to keep our
new Ice-Walker's handy without the risk of puncturing our other gear.
The new gear purchases for 2005 that were real
time-consumers were the replacement electronics of a new
laptop and a new handheld computer for Bill. After longingly admiring the bigger-screened
laptops for over a year, the familiar compactness of the updated Fujitsu
P-Series Lifebook won out
again as
its footprint is smaller than a sheet of notebook paper. The first model
served us well for 3 years and amazingly survived the rough, jiggly life standing on
end in our panniers. The new model is of course faster and has more memory
and making back-ups is substantially faster and easier too. And a welcome
enhancement is an improved
screen that will allow us to both view our uploaded photos without being exactly in front of
it.
I hardly got to use the new laptop at all while we were at home as Bill
spent dozens (or hundreds?) of hours getting almost all of the new
features to function and loading it with all of the software that we love.
But even though I was unhappily sidelined, I knew that all of those hours were
buying me user-bliss as everything will work
just the way a hardcore, user-only person like me expects.
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Connections
Connecting with family and friends is one of the
highlights of our time back home. We always savor: catching up on the details of
changing lives, that special laughter that is fed by deep ties, the long
conversations that are fueled by shared history and look forward to the special
events like meeting a friend's new puppy. But
this year our State-side visit was also punctuated by events that made those
connections more poignant, like Bill's perky aunt's 90th birthday celebration, the memorial
service for a friend who died shortly after his retirement, and learning of the
depression-related
suicide of the spouse of a business associate.
These events underscored the realities of aging that we also
privately noted over the months
we traveled. It was both startling and
reassuring to hear friends with the same laments of aging: unwelcome skin
changes; worsening vision; once
reliable memory banks that show the early signs of faltering; more medical
procedures and more little ailments that elude diagnoses or complete healing. Dinnertime conversations
contained more talk of aging parents than maturing children and financial planning
issues were now open topics of discussion. We all struggle with the same issues:
how do you know when you have enough money to retire and
where to draw the line between
the peace of mind that comes with financial security and that that comes with
ditching a tiresome and too-consuming career.
The cosmic joke in the financial planning discussions was
realizing that our friend with terminal cancer is the person we know who is most at peace with
her financial situation. Unlike the rest of us, she has been given an
approximate exit date from this world and has totally rearranged her finances
around that estimate. She refinanced her home to have more cash available
and is buying more of those things that she always wanted.
She is implementing her financial planning strategy with a clarity about her
planning horizon
that others lack. The rest of us have to make wild assumptions about the rate of
inflation and rate of return over the next 3 to 4 decades and then hope the
compromises we make to support us until we are 90 or 100 aren't far off. Of
course, even our friend has some unexpected uncertainty as her oncologist
recently extended her expected survival time....
Last year we were startled by how often the topic of
depression came up in conversations with friends and this year it is the topic
of anxiety. Of course, I noticed it more because early this winter we began
looking at the anxiety we experience as a study topic. The spaciousness of our
traveling life allows for a lot of introspection and we periodically examine
habitually behaviors and this year it was anxiety's turn to go under the
microscope. It was and
is an interesting path to travel to look at anxiety as an issue but I was
stunned at what a common experience it is in this 50's to early 60's stage of
life cycle. Yikes! There is more to this aging process than I want
to know.
Surprises
Aside from people, we had another pleasant connection surprise
at home, which was with the internet. We were stunned to
discover that in Portland (and apparently many other US cities), there are truly free WiFi hot spots and those that are free for the price of a cup of coffee.
We had only become WiFi users last summer while in England and knew nothing
about its availability back home. The abundance of hot spots was a huge
boon to Bill who often toted our new laptop to town to do
high-speed software downloads--downloads that would have taken all night on the
phone line were completed in under an hour. I quickly realized that I wouldn't
see much of the laptop until we started touring as it was usually in tow with
Bill. The push to create a free, city-wide hotspot in Portland is in sharp contrast to
Europe where the rarely available WiFi access is often $13 for 1 or 2 hours or $40
for 24 hours with no option for an economical short session.
Our other surprise at home was riding our touring bikes that
we retired a year ago. Our much loved bikes that had hauled us over 20,000 miles
in their first 5 years seemed clumsy and awkward after riding our new bikes for
a year. The fit on these, our first custom frames, was uncomfortable and
we longed for the positive braking of the disc brakes on the replacement models.
Of course, it didn't help that something had gone awry with my front wheel while
in storage so that every time I applied the brake it felt like I was riding
on a square wheel. Clearly these bikes needed a major overhaul with new wheels
and tires, new brakes, and new gears and yet we weren't willing to spend the
time or the money on bikes we only ride 6 weeks of the year--maybe next year we'll feel
differently.
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Skeletons in the Closet
This year's stay wasn't as rushed, which was a welcome change. It was
largely due to Bill refining his organizational and planning skills so that
there were fewer last minute chores that either didn't get done or had to be
done while overseas. We also had more time as he wasn't up to doing our usual
weekly 60 miles of bike commuting because of his hernia repair discomfort. We
missed the exercise, especially in the gorgeous, dry weather, but welcomed the
many extra hours we had each week for doing chores.
But despite not being as rushed, the enormity of our photo album project really hit home this
year. It was the second year of printing our own photos and so we arrived ready to
print on our first day back. There was an unwelcome clarity in being so
organized: printing, cutting, and assembling the photos and postcards in
albums and attaching the notes and labels we carefully transcribe throughout the
year would take about 2 weeks of our almost undivided attention. We of course spread
the project out during our stay, but it helped explain why most years we never
quite finish it. We managed to both start and finish 2004's album and do the last pages of 2003
that didn't quite get done last year but 2002 is still a mess. We vowed to keep
fewer pictures in 2005 so as to have more time to work on poor ol' 2002's album
before the memories completely fade.
Even though we didn't feel so out of control, there was still
a long list of things we didn't squeeze in, like taking in a movie, renting past
Tour d' France videos, taking a trip to the Oregon coast, and making a vat of 10
bean soup. We however did make time to fantasize about 4-wheeled travel
options for the future by visiting an RV show. I can't imagine
abruptly shifting from being bike nomads to keeping house again and so we've
imagined continuing our travels in some sort of trailer or camper and
doing day rides when cyclo-touring becomes too much. The vehicle show certainly
filled our minds with possibilities, including
luxuries like indoor showers, microwave ovens and flat screened TV's even in
camper-vans. Who knows what the future holds, but we certainly have new material
for dreaming.
A Taste of Germany
Finally, our timing was perfect: we left Portland as the day
time highs were dropping back into the more normal 50's from the fabulous
60's and 70's and arrived in Europe on the day that Frankfurt and Barcelona
clawed their way back into warmer temperatures. We enjoyed sunny, dry weather at
both ends of our trans-Atlantic flight. Frankfurt and Mainz had been booked for
conventions for months, so we spent our first European night in Koblenz. It was
as warm as Portland had been but wasn't bursting with blooms like we had enjoyed
in the recent weeks. The too-short train ride along the Rhine River left us longing for the days
that we made the trip by bike in 2001. Postcard-perfect old stone villages and
dedicated bike lanes line the river that
is flanked by steeply-sloped vineyards. Memories came streaming back and I ached
for those delightful and serene riding days. But it was only March and the roadside snow on the way
to the remote Hahn airport serving the budget airlines the next afternoon reminded us that it really was too early to be riding
this far north.
Though we slept for most of our 30 hour stay in Germany, we
thoroughly enjoyed our brief contact. Germany is always a very comfortable
place for us to be. The emphasis on things being neat and orderly makes it easy
to maneuver the transportation system and the retail establishments. Things are
where we expect them to be; bike lanes abound in and out of the city; and of
course we savored the heavy dark breads that are almost an entree in themselves.
And
Bill picked up a pocket sized history book targeted at school children as a
supplement to his ongoing German language studies. Our brief visit gave us
second thoughts about another touring year that doesn't traverse a part of
Germany.
Culture Shock
Our first full day in Europe once again confronted us
with all the
abrupt changes associated with leaving or arriving in Europe. Our stay
back in the States immerses us in the familiar: family, friends, traditions, and
routines that all are very comfortable. Our lifestyle back home is very
calendar-driven and each day is crafted by appointments and reviewing a long
list of "Must Do's" before we depart, making phone calls and sifting through the
mail. Then, in a matter of hours, all of that familiarity and intensity drops
away and it's just the 2 of us and our small pile of stuff in an overseas
hotel room. The structure of our days goes "poof" as the long lists have lost
their utility and our calendars are suddenly blank. The hole that is left is
like that when a close friend moves away or when leaving a long-held job. Over
the days and weeks new routines and new possibilities will fill-in the gap but
the loss of the familiar is palpable in this early interlude. Of course, the
shock of it all is softened a bit as this is our fifth riding season in Europe
and we now always start our journey in the city where it left off 2 months
before. Fortunately it isn't a sad time but the changes are dramatic enough
to compel honoring the ripples they create within us.
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A Long Barcelona Lay-Over
(March 19-30, 2005)
Our early days in Spain were in slow-mo. The first day
revolved around our gear: taking the hour-long train ride from our hotel in Girona into
Barcelona with our 100 lbs of belongings in tow, then emptying one wheeled
suitcase out at our suburban hotel to haul back 3 days of groceries from a
supermarket. Day 2 centered on walking through the nearby industrial area to our storage locker to
retrieve our bikes (Whew! They were there!), panniers, and a small amount of
gear and taking a quick 'reunion' ride. With those simple but reassuring tasks behind us, we settled in to
wait. We needed to sit-out the 9 day Easter holiday to avoid lodging
hassles throughout Spain and opted to sit it out in Barcelona. The haze of jet lag
shifted the emphasis from sight seeing to a time of retreat. Instead of rushing
about checking sights off our list, we spent our time doing the equivalent of
culling one's sock drawer.
The most important Barcelona task was that of
bike-mechanic-Bill with his installation of our heaviest and most cumbersome
bike parts: the tires, front fenders and chains. It couldn't have been more
absurd, but we hauled 10 lbs worth of German tires from Portland to Spain
because we couldn't buy the tires in Spain. Heavy duty touring tires just aren't
sold in Spain as we learned when looking in a large bike shop's catalog early last winter.
So, on went the 4 heavy Schwalbe Marathon+ tires--our latest hope for flat-tire free riding.
(A month later in Aix-en-Provence a Taiwanese tourist who is in the tire
manufacturing business congratulated Bill on his excellent tire choice after
inspecting our bikes).
And despite our unhurried schedule, the bumbliness of jet lag meant that not everything got put on the bikes. We
carried the cork handlebar wrap and wire cables for almost a month before the last of the
lighter-weight supplies were in place.
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One of my big projects for our purchase of a day's worth of WiFi access was online research to assess if our canned tuna consumption was
putting us at risk for mercury toxicity. I was thrilled to quickly find a site
with a long list of the common names of fish in 3 languages, plus the scientific
names. That site combined with a couple of other sites listing mercury levels
assured us that our tuna consumption wasn't at the toxic level and educated me
as to which fish to select or avoid when buying canned or frozen fish. My next
shopping trips were slowed by intensive label reading to match-up the products
on the shelf with my new found information. That also lead into yet another
methodical scan of the supermarket shelves looking for alternative protein
sources that are low in saturated fats, known carcinogens and 'mystery meats'. I
also scanned the shelves for foods to lace with turmeric, hoping that the human
studies show that it fends off Alzheimer's in humans as well as it does in mice.
Our Barcelona layover was also time for doing things that
never make it off the "C" list like, playing music Bill has stored on the hard
drive of our laptop; jumping rope with the jump rope that we have carried for 4 years but only
used a couple of times in Iceland last year; and refining the organization of
the gear in our panniers. Bill learned a few more nuances
about a
last minute purchase of photo software and ironed out some wrinkles in using our
new laptop. We committed ourselves to viewing the 12 hour DVD course on ancient
civilizations that we hauled with us the last 2 years but never completed.
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And then there was the self-imposed rehab program to rebuild
Bill's core strength after almost a year of minimal lifting. The majority of the
healing from his hernia repair was done, but the guarding of the area, both pre-
and post-surgery, had left him weak and his back was especially vulnerable to
injury. So sit-ups and push-ups were added to our regular menu to stabilize his
back. Jumping rope was the appetizer before dinner many a night to tone-up our
de-conditioned bodies and beef-up our bones.
After
2 months of rushing around back home, the forced stay in one place was welcome catch-up
time for chores and to merge the gear left in Barcelona with that we brought with us. It
also gave Bill some leisurely time for general route planning and
for us to catch-up on news from the European perspective with. the BBC World Service.
But not all of our time in hibernation was serious as I treated myself to a large, $2 jug of bubble bath and made
good use of our room's unexpected bathtub. We enjoyed the voluminous bubbles so much that we took the remaining
liquid with us when we left Barcelona.
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We ventured out for more than just food by making several outings into Barcelona: a couple with our
bikes and a couple on foot. We explored a huge park on one of Barcelona's hills
by bike and then returned the next day to revisit the Joan Miro museum there. We
had seen it once before but had been a bit overwhelmed by it and found it easier
to digest on the second visit with the audio guide. One biking day was dedicated
to finding a bike-friendly route out of town as the last time we left Barcelona
we were unsuccessful and finally had to load ourselves onto a train to cross
over the freeways.
On Our Way At Last
(March 30, 2005)
Leaving Barcelona
It was hard to leave our 2 budget-priced, wheeled
suitcases for the Barcelona hotel staff when it was time to hit the road, but
that was the original plan when we bought them for flying home in January. And
though it was time to get serious about traveling, it took an extra hour to get underway on our very first
road day as we had to attach new pouches to our frames and fiddle with other little enhancements to our
external
gear.
Our bikes didn't audibly creak and groan under the sudden load, but our
bodies sure did. With almost 3 months off loaded bikes, we had forgotten just
how heavy they are. The terrifying wobble when Bill lifted a hand to signal his
first turn made him look like he needed training wheels, but his successful
recovery a hairsbreadth from crashing into a parked car was the one and only
embarrassing maneuver. The thousands of miles of experience in his body kicked
in, making that wobble his first and last novice move.
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Nothing like a lay-off to remind one of misplaced handling
skills or in just how many places the weight on the bikes is felt in our bodies. The
rhythmic efforting of the legs quickly moves into the background and it is all the other
sensations that vie for attention. The pressure in the palms of the hands and in
the shoulders from the subconscious control of those erratic wobbles is startling.
And the balls of my feet reminded me that 100% of the power transfer for
propelling my bike comes through that small contact area with the pedals. Bill's
welcome lack of hernia discomfort spoke to the role of the abdominal muscles in
stabilizing the whole torso so the power transfer moves the bike instead of
lifting the body off the bike. The first hours of our first day proceeded like
an 'anatomy of sport' lesson as various muscle groups and contact points were heard from.
As the cacophony of sensation was resonating through my body,
my mind went into 'list mode' to remember why this would be OK: how is it that
each year we manage to navigate with all this awkward load and where will those
top-heavy bulges on our back racks disappear to? It was reassuring to remember
that this is the one day of the entire year when we will carry the most weight
and that on all other days it will be less. It is only on this very first day that
everything is topped off. Only at the beginning of the trip are all of the
containers full: shampoo bottles, hand lotion tube, toothpaste tube, olive oil bottle, detergent
bottle, nutritional supplement stash, salt sack and medicinals (and that bubble
bath).
In addition to all those
containers being brimming full, there are also the lingering little
treats from home that won't be fully replenished, like a handful of teabags, a
sack of bulgur and
a half dozen energy bars. As each week goes by, the load will compress as the
packing gets more efficient and consumables get consumed. Many of the
consumables will get replaced, but never again all at once. And a few things,
especially some of the year's experimental items, will get discarded or sent
home as the year progresses. Once again I was successfully convincing myself
that it would be OK because not only would the weight slowly and volume
slowly
drop down but we would simultaneously be
getting stronger.
Our previous Barcelona day ride to scout our exit from the city paid
off and we had a relatively low-traffic escape from this city's especially
ensnaring freeway maze as we got reacquainted with our loaded bikes. Passing by
the leather-skinned shepherd with his equally scruffy roadside herd signaled
that we had left the urban sprawl behind us and we were in the country. Our
excitement grew as we slowing meandered into the hills. Ah, there is nothing
like hills to delight the sensations. Everything we enjoy about riding is more intense in the
hills--the vegetation variations, the shadows, the geological quirks--they all
add to the pleasure of riding. The majestic Montserrat was our destination for
the night and having such a beacon to gauge our progress added
to the excitement.
Montserrat
Some days everything just falls wrong but today was pay-back
day as everything tumbled in our favor. We arrived at the deserted looking cog railway at the
base of Montserrat about 4:30. We feared that this
too-new-for-our-guide-book transport was only open on weekends in low season but there
was 1 unstaffed ticket window open. The once-an-hour train would be arriving in
minutes, which was too little time to translate and untangle all the ticket
options (round trip or one way, unlimited funicular rides, lunch, museum visit,
audio-visual show). We had planned to stay at a pension in town but they would
require a long walk back to the train station in the morning so we decided to
punt and see if the scant lodging at the top of the train line was affordable. I made a quick ticket
selection from the jumble of choices and Bill scooted ahead into the one
elevator up to the platform. They were closing the doors on the
roll-the-bikes-on train car until Bill mentioned that I was on my way up. We
noticed that we were the only paying customers
as we congratulated ourselves on at least getting on the train. The steep, steep
ride up gave us ample views of the road we didn't bike up--grades way too
intense for our out of
condition bodies and heavily loaded bikes. There are always little pangs of
guilt for riding bigger wheels instead of our own, but this was the right thing
to do, especially with the lateness of the hour.
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Bill was stunned to discover at tourist info that we could
get an equipped studio apartment for a little over $40 per night, about half the
price of the one hotel. We expected any lodging up on the mountain to be at
least 3 digits but instead it was cheaper than being in Barcelona. We arrived at
the apartment building about a half hour before the office closed for the night
and just had time to get a few questions answered after inspecting the abode.
The simple little apartment had an outfitted kitchen, sheets and towels and we
had all the missing items: kitchen detergent, soap, shampoo, a lighter for the
gas stove, a scrubbing pad for the pots and lots of food. The next stop was a
quick trip to the expensive and poorly stocked mini-market for toilet paper and
a gallon of drinking water and we were set. We hurriedly layered on warmer clothes
to shield us from the dropping temperatures and increasing wind and made a quick
tour of the hillside community. Doors were closing behind us as we strolled
through the numerous tourist shops and church buildings but we were satisfied
with our sunset reconnaissance.
I don't know if its just me, but there is something magical
about being on hillsides or hilltops where people come just for the fun of it.
The combination of the top-of-a-tree feeling and being around people in a
festive mood practically makes me giddy. I felt like a little kid in a tree
house even though our 4th floor apartment was in a big complex. Looking out our
window at Montserrat's signature smooth columnar rocks and knowing that we were way up
high (2300' though not at the top) on the outcropped mountain reinforced the message
that I was someplace special.
And though some prefer solitude, my pleasure is intensified
if there are other people adding to the ambiance. Europeans are especially
skilled at just being: just hanging out and being connected with where they are
and calm, happy people add to the richness of my experience. And when the crowds
left at night, I felt like I and the other overnight guests were caretakers of a
magical mountain. As I giggled with delight in playing house in our temporary
apartment and looked at the neighborhood view out my window, I savored the few
other magical hilltop getaways I've known. The last one was after an especially trying climb up a
mountain in Greece on a holiday weekend, but struggles of that day were
overshadowed by my delight of the evening in the village at the top.
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Our luck held the next day and we had warm temperatures and
beautiful blue skies as backdrops for our exploration of our magical, 'serrated'
mountain. The 65% grade funicular took us up higher and from there we hiked to
the outcropping at the 4,000' level. Bill kept pointing out the snow-capped
Pyrenees on the horizon of the extensive panorama--mountains that we would soon
be traversing. The rounded, columnar rocks of Montserrat were amazing to
scrutinize close-up as they are made of conglomerate. Almost all of the
conglomerate contained rounded, fist-sized and smaller rocks cemented together
long ago. Trail sections that had required slicing through the conglomerate were
especially fascinating as the colorful palette of curry-yellow, terra cota red
and mossy green stones boldly stood out among the more plentiful shades-of-gray
material. We were amused that this rest day had us rushing to the ibuprofen
bottle as the long hike down the steep hills hammered our knees more than the
first day of riding our heavily loaded bikes had done.
Thoroughly contented with our last-minute trip to Montserrat,
we mounted our slightly lighter steeds and navigated our way down the
switch-backed mountain road. We forfeited our prepaid trip down the
mountain on the cog train in favor of the many views the road would afford us.
We'd bundle up for the descent that would let the legs rest but would leave our
hands and arms screaming for stops at scenic points from the hard work of
braking and controlling the weight of the bikes on the downhill. Once at the
bottom, we'd shed the extra layers of 'descent gear' and head in the direction
of our new beacon, those snow covered Pyrenees.
Where We Are Now: May 21, 2005
Yes, I've gotten behind in my writing--we are now in
Torino in northwestern Italy and will be heading for the Italian lake country after a brief
visit to Milan. Then it is on to our
beloved Alps.
Where We Are Headed
This year's rough itinerary includes:
March-April in Spain
May in the Pyrenees, Andorra, France
and Italy
June & July in Switzerland, the
Italian Dolomites and maybe southern Austria
July, August & September traveling
southeast by land or the Danube through Romania &
Bulgaria & ?
September/October we'll be in Istanbul
October should see us flying to Australia/New Zealand for the
northern hemisphere's winter
Love,
Barb
