Gaudi says Howdy - Dispatched April 12th

Well he would if he were still with us. Actually after a fascinating hour or two wandering around the park he created in Barcelona, I wonder if he was ever with us.

Antonio Gaudi (1852 - 1926) 150th Anniversary of his birth Guëll Park, Barcelona

Greetings Friends, Acquaintances and Selected Strangers,

An hour or two before setting off to stay overnight in Somerset with the fellow cyclists whom I have mercilessly added to you merry recipients, I decided not to come camping after all. I ditched the over-large tent and the 5-seasons sleeping bag and decided I would stay in youth hostels. I had already decided to abandon the idea of taking my bike apart at the airport to carry it as normal baggage. So much for being frugal, then.

I think we are coming to the end of the wettest week in the history of Catalunya - not that it has spoit my fun. BCN is a big city full of cars so I went elsewhere instead. My mini tour northwards was shortened by my having an accident here in the big city even before I had time to escape. You wouldn't believe me if I told you what the accident was, so I won't. You know those bollards that retract into the ground... No, no, I won't tell you. I spent a lovely sunny afternoon in the romantically named "North Railway Station Park" trying to straighten my forks with limited success.

My vague plan (what other kinds of plan do I have?) to visit the place where Dali spent much of his life was replaced by an even vaguer plan to go, well, north. I spent the second night sleeping under the stars and half under a ground sheet I just happened to bring with me. The purpose built youth hostel on a splendid hill-top somewhere amongst the wooded mountains turned out to be closed. Now, I know I'm a bit casual about these things but I had had the sense to pick up a list of YHs from the hostel I stayed in in BCN the previous night. That list said the hostel would be open (mind you it was the list for 2000).

Fortunately, it didn't rain that night, which was not the story further north according to the cyclist from Plymouth whom I just happened to pass the following day. You go for a spin in the mountains of Catalunya to get away from the daily grind of idleness in Sidmouth and who do you bump into? Against the recommendation (as usual) of this new informant I decided to press on to Girona. Now the YH in Girona wastn't closed but it only had spaces for girls. I considered suggesting that being a gay man is close enough but decided against it. I ended up in a pension, wondering if I should have brought my tent.

There is no accounting for taste is there? Unlike my informant, I would heartily recommend a visit to Girona. It retains most of its city walls along which one can walk in splendid isolation on a rainy Wednesday evening in April. My bike lock was not so impressed with Girona and decided not to open. At least it had the decency not to be in use at the time. So, what with having to buy a new bike lock and dithering over which way to head the next day, I didn't leave Girona until gone 11:00. I set off into the mountains, westward towards Vic. I was expecting a climb but not quite such a long one. But long climbs have great descents and this one was no exception. Like so many places Vic looked horrid on approach but turns out to have an old centre as interesting as Girona. I was quite stunned to find a wholely intact Roman temple plonked incongruously next to a part collapsed Baroque church and facing side-ways. It looked as though it had just materialised there like a giant tardis.

The city of Vic

I had another lovely ride through the mountains back to BCN today. (What is it with me and mountains?). I even took the high road over the hills which pin BCN to the coast. I was expecting a great view and another exciting descent. Life is never perfect. I was above the cloud-base when I reached the coll and it has rained relentlessly ever since. As I said, I'm sure its a great city but I'm off to Mallorca tonight (if I can find my ferry ticket). Maybe, I will see more of the place in a week or so. My 2 Euros are nearly gone so bye for now. John

Chilling in Palma - Dispatched April 20th

Hello again FASS,

I had intended to write sooner but I have been having such fun and when I finally got round to sitting at a computer yesterday, my server was down.

Palma de Majorca

Some of the guys have gone home today. I shall be returning on the ferry to Barcelona over night tomorrow after one last day of cycling.

I've had to put up with hot sunny weather these last 4 days but at least there was some of the overcast rainy stuff at the start of the week. No more spills or thrills to report I'm afraid. Only one of us 16 cyclists (the 17th didn't make it because he fell of in England on the way to the airport) turns out to be a lemon but I appear to have been forgiven. I don't think I have ever had so enjoyable a group holiday and been so little side-lined for being the eccentric. I haven't felt the least like a eunoch at an orgy and the cycling has been suitably energetic. I confess to going wildly over my 20 Euro entertainment budget but, heh, you only live twice. I think I can say (looking round for some MDF to touch) that I have made several new friends for future cycling adventures. Far too much drinking is part of the scheme but one cannot have everything.

There are at least 14 monasteries on Mallorca which offer cheap overnight accommodation and most are in lovely surroundings. Half of the team stayed in one such for one night and had a great two day cycle in the best of the island's impressive mountains. It seems to me that a moving-on tour of Spanish monasteries would be a great idea.

The monasteries of Majorca

Next major stop is Tarragona or thereabouts on Monday night. That is if sleep deprivation doesn´t finally overwhelm me. (I would love to have gone to bed at 10 and got up with the dawn chorus but nobody would let me.)

More anon, John

Barcelona ain't bad after all - Dispatched April 25th

Hi Fass,

Thanks to those of you who have encouraged me on may travels and a big raspberry to the rest of you.

Is no one going to claim the price for spotting the obvious continuity error in my last missive. Wake up, at the back.

There hasn't been a drop of rain in over a week, I don't think I can take any more. Fortunately, I will be flying back to the UK tomorrow; I assume it will be raining when I land.

I did a short hilly ride with the organiser of the Mallorca trip after all the other guys had gone then I got the ferry back to Barcelona as planned. It occurs to me that I could have got a ferry back to Valencia and then cycled up the coast back to BCN.On Monday morning I left the ferry and tarried for a couple of hours on the hill where the Olympic stadia are. (Oh, get with it John, it's "stadiums".) I followed the quieter of the coast roads south towards Tarragona. For a few kms north of Sitges this road winds along the cliffs, crossing and re-crossing the new road which burrows through the hills. As a new devotee of Gaudi (no not the Dutch cheese, Malcolm) I stopped to marvel at the house he designed at Garraf (or some such name). I have a splendid foto (I hope) of this fascinating house sandwiched on the hillside between the main road and the coast railway line.

The Barcelona Olympics Gaudi and Garraf

I stopped in Sitges for lunch and tried to bolster my very feeble temptation to stay the night there and sample its famous gay scene. I was never going to be convinced so I pressed on and found a beautiful old castle in a hilltop town called Altafulla. I reflected that this would be the type of town which should have a youth hostel but I pressed on to nearby Tarragona to stay in the YH there. Had I bothered to scrutinize my list of hostels I would have discovered that Tarragona's YH is actually in Altafulla, ho, hum. I couldn't be bothered to turn back so I explored delightful, charming Tarragona and then spent the night under a tree in a nearby wood.

Altafulla Tarragona

I didn't cover much ground on Tuesday as it went up and down a lot and I spent the morning looking round the cathedral and the Roman remains in Tarragona. I had intended to go on to Reus but it had very few antiquity-type blobs on the tourist map whereas Valls had a legion of them. It was a peaceful scenic route to Valls which, of course, turned out to be rather dull. At least the whole day was improved by the fact that the Cataloonies were all out celebrating the day of their patron saint with the traditional book fairs and flag waving. I left Valls heading for La Pont de somewhere-or-other which sounded dramatic. In my enthuiasm I forgot to buy some bread and having passed through "La Pont de ..." thinking it was not overly stunning, I decided to treat myself to a meal in a restaurant which appeared to be the only business in the next village. You would think that a restaurant named after the patron saint would be open on that day of all days. So, it was another meal of biscuits, and olives and a night under a tree.

Now, we all know that it is colder in the mountains but I know it much more profoundly than most of you do, and why is it so? This bivvying is a great free and easy idea but I think I need to work on it a little more.

Yesterday was a treat. I cycled around the great Basalt columns of the Montserrat national park and visited the famous monastery. I've never heard of the place but it seems to be famous to the Germans and the Japanese. The scenery and the scale of these mountains and the great valley beneath are together truly awesome. They are not the Grand Canyon but the Grand Canyon is not peppered with villages, bridges and monasteries.

Montserrat National Park The monastery

I was going to look for a cheap room in a town not far out of BCN but it looked so dreary and industrial that I just pressed on in the gathering gloom.

I came to Spain fearing that I would be arrested for wearing the wrong colour of cycling helmet. In the event I have long since abandoned the helmet and have been cycling on the hard-shoulder of motorways without it raising an eyebrow.

So, at last I had a whole day to spend in BCN. Yes, it's still the big city I hurried away from a couple of weeks ago but I have warmed to the place in the space of just a few hours. Underneath that inevitable blanket of cars it is a magnificent city with great parks and monumental oddities. There is a flamboyance here that one does not find in Dortmund.

Barcelona

Well, that's all folks. I can think of only one holiday which I enjoyed more.

Bye, John.