Still Flat (Not In A Good Way) 123 km

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Let me just say it: today was not a good day. It started with my sleeping in (I relied on my roomie's rising at 6:00 but he dozed through his alarm), then discovering not only that breakfast wouldn't be served until 8:00 (not that I was necessarily going to eat it - I usually forego the extra expense and make my own from items bought at the store), but that those who had stored their bikes in the restaurant wouldn't be able to retrieve them until then as well.



Fortunately I had left my bike locked outside so that didn't affect me; unfortunately, when I went to leave I discovered my tire had gone flat overnight. Even worse, the cause was a failure of the rim tape (the strip of material on the inside of the wheel that keeps the tube from being pushed into the spoke holes in the rim) to stay in place - a problem ostensibly addressed before I left home. As I feared (for this had been the issue I had in Ottawa), after I swapped tubes I couldn't get my tire to seat properly, and every revolution of the wheel came with a pronounced thump. Although distraught at the prospect of more potential flats, I at least knew how to deal with the tire seating problem: I needed more pressure in the tire than I could muster with my small frame pump, so I set off to the hotel where our driver was staying in search of the bigger floor pump. Sure enough, a few strokes of that and there was a comforting 'whump' as the tire slipped up to its correct position, and I happily pedalled off into the morning looking forward to a relaxing ride.



A mere 10km later, in the middle of nowhere, the hissing of my tire announced the arrival of flat #2 for the day, again the result of a shifted rim strip. I replaced the tube with my last remaining new one and once again thumped off down the road, mindful that my day would be over if this tube suffered the same fate as its predecessors. A short while later (longer than 10km, which had at least given me some comfort) I passed by an establishment that rented bikes and rejoiced at my good fortune: it was open despite it being Sunday! I initially felt comforted seeing the proprietor sporting a Shimano shirt, but after more than an hour of his fussing (and refusing to entertain my notion of how to solve things) I was reminded that Shimano also makes fishing equipment, and indeed that's what most of the customers who came by were interested in. In the end I left with no substantial improvement over the way I had arrived (the shop's compressor didn't generate any more pressure than I could with my pump) but out of pocket for two new rim strips (the first having been mangled in an attempt to get it to work) plus futile labour charges. But I had at least taken the opportunity to patch my original tube and purchase another (naturally, at a rather high price) for safety.



At that point it was already past 11:30 and I still had 100km to go for the day. Fortunately I soon chanced upon another bike rental place and was able to borrow their floor pump and get rid of most of the tire thumping before continuing on my way. Because we were in a touristy area there were even many bike paths, and because it was a nice day (and I couldn't go fast because of my tire) I took advantage of some of them. I even noted a discrepancy in our cue sheets (a right turn had mistakenly been listed as left), although after that I was completely bewildered by our directions. Fortunately, with a little creative route finding I managed to get back on track.



This time I managed to get about 60 km out of my tire repair before failure was induced by exiting a bike path, whose junction with the roadway was impaired by a rough curb. So after swapping tubes yet again (at this point I had become so practised that I could change a flat without even the need for tools) I thumped off into ever-increasing traffic (and also ever-increasing climbs and descents as we approached the foothills of the Pyrenees) as weekend travellers started wending their way homewards. Unfortunately traffic was so intense that I couldn't even enjoy the downhill sections, as cars were frequently backed up from the roundabouts. And naturally, whatever traffic lights I encountered were invariably red.



But finally at 4:30 I arrived at the hotel, making this likely the longest 125km ride of my life. The room was cramped and when I opened my luggage I discovered that my box of muesli had opened in transit and disgorged some of its contents into my clothes, but at least the spitting rain I had encountered over the final few kms had never amounted to much. Still it had been a long day, and I wish I had had more time (and a better temperament) in order to capture the changing terrain and architecture as we approach Spain.

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