We headed back into France today from Isaba, Spain. The roads were smooth as glass and the grades a very enjoyable 3-8%. Some of the descents were quite simply a treat. Wide open on the trottle, weaving around wide curves and then spinning it out on the next climb. A pack of us all started out this morning together and we all were just having so much fun. Kristin and I both were a bit tired on the last climb back into France. The constant pedaling up the cols is taking a toll for sure. The big group of us split up a bit after the mid-morning snack break and lunches, but we all were able to get into St. Jean-Pied-du-Port in time to be able to change, do laundry in the sink and head out on the town.
We made a short stop at the pool to soak the legs and grab some sun rays. Then we wandered into the centre ville to see the citadel and the shops along the narrow road that leads up to the fortress. After a bit of ice cream and an eclair we went back to get ready for our five or six course meal at the hotel. At first I figured I would be going out after dinner for more food, considering how small the portions were, but I’m stuffed and ready for bed. Sorry, no photos today. Check back tomorrow or have a peek at the one from Spain earlier today.
There was one thing that really stood out from the day though. On the final descent into St. Jean, there were a pair of hand-cyclists cranking away on the climb to the south an into Spain. This woman and gentleman smiled back as I waved at them and gave them the thumbs up. The “dead legs” notion in my head kind of went away and made me be thankful for the chance as well as the ability to do what we have done so far. It’s been pretty amazing.
-JL
I’m trying to remember how to use the thing in my lap.
The gang all rolling along in the shadows of a pleasant 4% grade. It was like heaven.
Just another col to notch on the top tube.
I wasn’t the only one to have to change some rubber. The Canuck, Less, working on their rig.
I think there was a bird flu scare or something. Not a soul around at noon in Spain.
Another cultural element, everyone has window planters and plants all the same flowers. Kind of cool.
Not sure what kind of animal to be worried about with this. I think it’s a goat-cow-dog. Or something.
Some French floral work in St. Jean.
Maybe this will explain the shell thing and the refuge costs.
This bed. Is. Awesome.
Pre-ride meeting (the night before) at the hotel in Isaba. We had to beg to get dinner at 8:30 rather than after 10pm. Oh, those Spanish and their dinner customs.
Heading out of Isaba for some cols and France in the morning. Towns in Spain are like ghost towns during the day it seemed.
Top of the first col of the day with Lloyd. My knee wasn’t even hurting for a change.
Here we are at the top of the first col, Laza. There was a fun bunch of us together for the first half of the day. Aussie Posse, M&M Hammer Team, The Canucks and Simple Steve.
Along the ride from Isaba back into France.
A “normal” photo of that small Spanish village. We had hoped to get some food and water, but it seemed about as vacant as could be so we pressed on.
Just rolling farmlands as we headed around the western flank of the Pyrenees.
Top of the last col of the day before heading back into France and to St. Jean-Pied-de-Port. Kristin and I were about out of gas by this point of the day.
St. Jean-Pied-de-Port is a major stop on the pilgrimage route to Chemins de Saint-Jacques-de-Compostellej or “Way of St. James” in northwestern Spain. There are lots of places for the pilgrims to stay below the walled fortress of the citadel.
Pilgrims being taken in for the night. They all carry a clam shell on their packs and refugee spots hang them in the windows to signal they will take in pilgrims.
Looking out over St. Jean from the citadel.
Kristin wanted to break into the citadel through the door that was more her size. The former military post is now a school.
Some of the defensible entry ramps to the citadel.
