Just a Few More Hills ~118km

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Today everyone tried to get an early start in what proved to be a somewhat futile attempt to avoid at least some of the heat of the day, as today's route promised almost as much climbing as yesterday's. It started magnificently, following the coast up, down, and around as we passed through one town after another, occasionally heading inland for a bit before returning to the sea. There were several other cyclists on the road (i.e. not just those in our group), and as the morning wore on both traffic and temperature heated up.

The terrain was ideal for me - scenic, challenging (ups) and fun (downs) - and I stopped many times for photos. Each time I did, though, the pent up muscle heat and lack of effective wind due to my being stationary resulted in huge waves of sweat pouring off me. And it wasn't even particularly hot yet. I also ended up passing one cyclist repeatedly (he was a slow climber, but would catch up while I fiddled with my camera), which must have been somewhat demoralizing for him.

But I had a great time corkscrewing up and down the coastal promontories, although at one point I had to brake because I ran into traffic, which was being held up by a bus that couldn't handle the curves - so annoying! Once we crossed into Spain the road became smoother, and the climbs seemed steeper, but the corresponding reward was long, sweeping downhills that were a joy to sail through. I even got to see the villa where Franco used to summer. - you know the area is beautiful when a dictator chooses to spend time there.

Eventually, though, the road finally veered inland for good, and perhaps in payback for the Franco thing traffic increased as the pavement deteriorated. Although the latter subsequently improved, traffic remained heavy until we turned off the main road (which I got to enjoy for about 5km extra as thinking I had missed said turn, I backtracked needlessly before finally determining I had been right all along.

We poked along through the countryside passing through villages small and smaller, then suddenly found ourselves in an industrial park of some sort with no signs to guide us. As usual I just followed my nose and ended up fine - I emerged 1 block away from a sign indicating the next town we were to pass through, and 2 blocks later not only was I back on route but I found a great place to stop for a bite to eat. I would have discovered all this on my own even had I not stopped to ask a local for directions, but seeing how he spoke only Spanish and I speak relatively none, it made for an interesting exchange.

Also interesting was the farmhouse(?) I passed on the edge of Garragas, that had one wing adorned with lions and penguins, and a solarium containing some mannequins - it all seemed very Michael Jackson-y.

Although the terrain was basically flat, our route went out of its way to ensure we still had climbing to contend with: at one point it turned off a road where a sign announced "Girona 16km", and several climbs and kilometres later, made another turn to reveal "Girona 16km" yet again (on a different sign). Eventually, though, it joined the main highway for a Final Descent (presumably with our seattrays up and chairbacks in the upright position) into town. And unlike the anticipated ugly strip of car dealerships and the like, our flight path took us in on a boulevard whose median was filled with flowers.

It took me a good half-hour to get into my hotel room, though, as not only was there literally a busload of people ahead of me when I arrived, but it took a while to sort out our group's details because all the rooms had been assigned to the person who had made the reservation. Mercifully, each had air conditioning.

By then others had arrived so I succumbed and had a beer, ordering in the every best (i.e. only) complete Spanish phrase I know. It seems this group has been a bad influence on me - I have even started to drink coffee (albeit quite diluted with milk) in the mornings.

But when some of them opted to eat the hotel buffet for dinner I drew the line and headed off into the old town, where I ended up being somewhat disappointed. I took a photo of the cathedral just so I could say I was there, and ended up not having dinner at all until I got back to my hotel room where I enjoyed some cereal and milk (!), Along the way I passed some guys playing futbol in the park - and that was cooler than Old Girona for me.

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