“In my mind” is a phrase Cassy and I use to describe that preconception one has about how one wants things to be. “In my mind”, Cassy says, “the restaurant will have a cheese platter on the dessert menu.” “In my mind”, I say, “ Barcelona will be playing Real Madrid tomorrow”. Things appear “in my mind” because I want them to be that way.
In my mind, our trip would be filled with days where we wake up with a slight hangover from a meal at a Michelin Star restaurant. We pack our gear and start pedalling along dedicated bicycle paths through the rolling hills of the canola field dotted country side. Soon enough we are in a river valley and the trail turns downwards towards the sea. We stop for a drink at a lovely village with a castle on top of the hill and then ride on down the valley. We lunch at another village with a castle where the waiter gives us free drinks after messing up our order. Then we continue on until we are riding along the sea on a beachside promenade for the last few kilometres of our ride. We find an information map which points out the nearest camping ground. We arrive and are offered our pick of sites in the otherwise empty camping ground. We choose the one nearest the ocean with a view across a rocky cove filled with whitewashed houses to the Mediterranean Sea. Cassy cooks a fabulous pasta whilst we drink local red wine from cans generously donated by the campsite shopkeeper.
Today was that day.
Dinner the night before was at Massana in Girona. The ride was from Girona to Palamos, around 55 kilometres. There were dedicated paths almost the entire way, most of them hard packed gravelly sand. The country side melted away under our wheels. We had a diet coke at Llagostera and lunch at Castel d’Aro. The waiter did forget our drinks and we did get them for free, along with a feisty seafood soup, gratinated mussels with aioli and delicious peppers stuffed with prawns and mushrooms all of which we were happy to pay for. The Palamos promenade is beautiful stripes of terracotta tiles and cream which curve around a sand filled bay. The site of the beach was a salve for our souls as our legs were a little sore by the time we reached it. And the campsite – well you can judge from the photo. It is completely empty and the only sound I can hear is the waves crashing against the shore. And the campsite shopkeeper did give us free out of code CANS of local red wine which tasted the same way all free drinks do.
Just so that you don’t feel too jealous here are the bad things that happened to us today. We were a little hungover when we started riding. We ate lunch separately – Cassy’s meal arrived along with a meal I didn’t order. By the time my meal arrived she had mostly finished. I had finished my meal by the time the drinks arrived. We struggled with directions on the bike route once we turned off the trail from Girona to Sant Felius de Guixols and ended up riding on the main road. And then we became slightly lost looking for the campsite which resulted in us having to negotiate a categorised climb - with our trailers. There was also a headwind most of the way and we smelt regular whiffs of cow poo and meat processing facilities. And when we arrived at camp we realised we had lost one of the sleeping bags; probably left in the hotel room the night before.
But on a day like this with 55 kilometres of great riding with so many rewards – who cares!
In my mind, our trip would be filled with days where we wake up with a slight hangover from a meal at a Michelin Star restaurant. We pack our gear and start pedalling along dedicated bicycle paths through the rolling hills of the canola field dotted country side. Soon enough we are in a river valley and the trail turns downwards towards the sea. We stop for a drink at a lovely village with a castle on top of the hill and then ride on down the valley. We lunch at another village with a castle where the waiter gives us free drinks after messing up our order. Then we continue on until we are riding along the sea on a beachside promenade for the last few kilometres of our ride. We find an information map which points out the nearest camping ground. We arrive and are offered our pick of sites in the otherwise empty camping ground. We choose the one nearest the ocean with a view across a rocky cove filled with whitewashed houses to the Mediterranean Sea. Cassy cooks a fabulous pasta whilst we drink local red wine from cans generously donated by the campsite shopkeeper.
Today was that day.
Dinner the night before was at Massana in Girona. The ride was from Girona to Palamos, around 55 kilometres. There were dedicated paths almost the entire way, most of them hard packed gravelly sand. The country side melted away under our wheels. We had a diet coke at Llagostera and lunch at Castel d’Aro. The waiter did forget our drinks and we did get them for free, along with a feisty seafood soup, gratinated mussels with aioli and delicious peppers stuffed with prawns and mushrooms all of which we were happy to pay for. The Palamos promenade is beautiful stripes of terracotta tiles and cream which curve around a sand filled bay. The site of the beach was a salve for our souls as our legs were a little sore by the time we reached it. And the campsite – well you can judge from the photo. It is completely empty and the only sound I can hear is the waves crashing against the shore. And the campsite shopkeeper did give us free out of code CANS of local red wine which tasted the same way all free drinks do.
Just so that you don’t feel too jealous here are the bad things that happened to us today. We were a little hungover when we started riding. We ate lunch separately – Cassy’s meal arrived along with a meal I didn’t order. By the time my meal arrived she had mostly finished. I had finished my meal by the time the drinks arrived. We struggled with directions on the bike route once we turned off the trail from Girona to Sant Felius de Guixols and ended up riding on the main road. And then we became slightly lost looking for the campsite which resulted in us having to negotiate a categorised climb - with our trailers. There was also a headwind most of the way and we smelt regular whiffs of cow poo and meat processing facilities. And when we arrived at camp we realised we had lost one of the sleeping bags; probably left in the hotel room the night before.
But on a day like this with 55 kilometres of great riding with so many rewards – who cares!
