Back in Spain on the Costa Brava

After spending all day on Tuesday driving over the five mountains of the Tour stage we saw on the weekend, I have come to the conclusion that cyclists are a strange breed of human being. The pros on Sunday road up five horrendous mountains which gave me repetitive strain injuries in the elbows and hands from following the route driving around hairpins for five hours.


These are the mountains we drove over and they rode! Madness from at least one of us.


We eventually reached a lovely town Quillan, at the edge of the Pyrenees and stayed there the night, browsing the Wednesday market in the morning.

We thought that after a number of days in the mountains, we needed a rest on the coast and have a few days in Roses on Spain’s Costa Brava. Tom was here a few weeks ago. And this is a different holiday. On the beach, walking and riding the foreshore, lounging by the pool all to get ready for the flight on Sunday. We thought it might be quiet but the place is full of thousands of Spanish and French on holiday, but that is fine, so are we.


We sat this morning on two chairs close to the beach in front of a tap beach goers use to wash themselves. I wrote in my book and Sharon read from hers in between near naked women squatting in front of us washing sand from bits and pieces. Needless to say, my book is full of scribbles.

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