We’ve entered Spain, or the independently minded area of Catalonia to be precise. Salvador Dali came from a town Figueres we passed through. A controversial figure as a supporter of the Franco regime.
One of the cols we passed through noted the Republican refugees who had crossed there when the Republicans lost (Franco’s opponents) in 1939. 400000 of them, living in refugee camps along the French coast where we started today. Nothing is new.
We left the pesky cycle paths and entered proper roads: the old road over the mountain pass. Which meant it went up and down and up and down, zig and zag. Lots of time to take in the views of the towns and fields below. Much better than looking up.
Lots of vines: I’m curious what the altitude and cooler temperature means for the final wines. Better? Paint stripper?
A deserted border post near the top of a hill, then into country No10. No passports needed since we entered Estonia. Apart from a few hotels wanting the details and a photocopy suffices.
As we arrived early, I took an extra ride up towards a 10C Monastery. I can confirm it looked like a religious building. Had I looked at tomorrow’s ride sooner I would have spotted it goes up the same way. So a chance to photograph it in morning light vs mid afternoon. Always look on the bright side of life.
Travelling reflections 