As I drew closer to Solsona, the
stunning vista of the Pyrenees, and within them, Andorra, stood in front of me for
a second time. Almost mesmerised by the snowball-like clouds suspended above
its peaks, it was difficult to imagine that we’d come full-circle, arriving at
this very same spot just six weeks earlier.
Freewheeling over the last remaining rise, I wondered how a poorly placed professional
cyclist might feel as he grinds out the last few days of a major tour. I can
remember a handful of spectators cheering on one solitary rider, who belatedly
appeared at the bottom of the Col des Saisies. It was the third-last stage of
the 2009 Tour de France and the last climb of the day. At least five minutes
behind the group in front of him, all he would have seen as he braced himself
for the long, lonesome climb was a steep gradient and the few lingering
spectators heading back down the road. While the race leaders up ahead had the
podium to strive for, his only reward was to make it cross the finish line. But
it wouldn’t have made the balls of his feet ache any less or stop his pores
from dripping with sweat. An occupation as much as an elite sport, he was more
than likely looking forward to packing his bags and moving on to the next
event.
Having cycled around France a few years earlier, I still remember the
exhilaration I felt as I pedalled the few remaining kilometres towards the
medieval town of Langres. The sense of achievement was instantaneous. But far
more enduring was the experience itself; our closer understanding of the people
we met and an appreciation of their turbulent history, unique culture and
spirited way of life. And our journey around Spain was of course, just as
enlightening.
Roz and I met up in Solsona for one last nostalgic glimpse of its Old
quarter before heading home. Almost as impressed with its waste disposal bins
as its Portal del Pont (Bridge
Gateway) and 14th century Gothic cathedral, Roz had become charmed
by Catalonia’s mélange between old and new. Given the opportunity she would
have gladly stayed longer.
As for me, leaving Spain was hardly a closed door; more than likely a window of
opportunities to come. There was the prospect of returning to the Italian Dolomites next summer before cycling around its border neighbour Slovenia.
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