Day 31 fight with the wind … wind wins

what a day. Yes, one of the mountains showed me and my bike are not more than a piece of domino. The mountain won, laughed at me. But I‘ ll get back to that.

Waking up in the Hostal Orialda ( dear bikers, do not stay there, do not eat there) in Ochagava i had to take the NA 140 again… What a road what a road what a road… Heaven, just heaven. Took breakfast at another village and met some english bikers again with Tatoos on their heads and everywhere. They looked dangerous, have to say, but I had a good time with them.

Off to France, its time to move on. Espagna, I love you and the spanish people. My expectatipns are hard to beat. Catalunya and Basque, you did it. I will be back !!!

Crossing to France over the mountain pass Port de Larrau almost ended in disaster. The mountains and the pass are beautiful, breathtaking. But it was a bit windy, no, it was storm. Just imagine a narrow road on a mountain peak, on the one side some grass, on the other a mere cliff. Well, thats were a gust of wind simply pushed me over. It felt awful, that wind just punshed me in the face and me and my bike fell like a little stone in a domino game. Luckily to the grass side, not down the cliff. A men in a van stopped and helped me lift up the bike, well it stood for three seconds, another wind gust and it was down again. A farmer, some 100 meters away was watching the scene and came down with his 4×4 car to help. It took  three grown up man, fighting that storm, to push the bike out of this  wind spot. Thank you for helping me, no way I could have done that alone. Lession learned again, never underestimate high mountains cause they might just show you how tiny and unimportant you are.

Riding on, that little incident, although frightening, won’t stop me. I did three or four more mountain passes on the french side. The most impressive: Col d‘ Aubisque leading to Col d‘ Solour. They are Tour de France and you can feel and see a bicycle culture there. Just do them!

Riding on I went through tiny french roads through the woods. And I mean tiny, sometimes not paved, hard to ride. I just did not want to stay in Lourdes or Argeles-Gazost. I was getting tired. The temperature at 6pm was still 36C. Dehydrated, sweating, beaten from the day I finally found a room in Bagneres de Bigorre. What a day. 



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