| It was a cathouse.
Lots of action all night. I fell asleep about 5AM and headed out at 8 after
a roll and coffee, which turned out to be my only meal of the day. Getting
out of the city was another maze. Biked to Canet Plage on the sea. The
beaches were deserted. Headed south along the narrow sand spit toward Spain.
In the distance, looming large on the horizon are some very high mountains.
My body ached. I should have gone back to bed. Should have stopped to get
something to eat. Should have got some extra water along the way. Biked
thru St.Cyprian, Argeles and to the first of the mountain foothills along
the coast that don't give up easy. They plunge straight down 1000 feet
into the sea. The coast road winds thru seaside villages; Colliure, Port
Vendres, Banyuls, Cerbere. They have nice little pocket beaches and natural
ports. They were there long before any roads were built to them. They should
have never built those damn roads. There are too many grueling 1000 foot
ascents followed by bat-out-of-hell descents. Each one suckers you into
thinking its fun and perhaps the last one. But no. The donkey path roads
keep winding up thru the valleys and down the other side forever amen.
Looking at
the map, it became apparent that I would have to go faster to make that
6PM train across the border in Spain. My starved brain locked in on that
goal to the exclusion of everything else, including food and water. I passed
lots of restuarants and stores that sell water, without stopping. I made
it halfway up the last, long mountain ascent, within 2km of the border
before my body just shut down. I didn't know why I coulldn't go any farther,
just sat on the side of the road in the cold wind, looking up at the last
mountain and Spain, wanting to be there, but my body wouldn't go anymore.
Was able eventually to get on the bike and coast back down the mountain
to Cerbere. But the damn train depot was up the next hill over the town,
I made it to the ticket window and said "Spain" before hitting the floor.
My arms and feet and whole body started vibrating at a zillion megacycles.
I thought; "this is it". The paramedics came, I could not stop shivering.
They covered me with a gold plastic sheet and took me back to Perpignan,
to the hospital ER.
Day 18 Perpignan
Hospital. Zero k. I woke up the next morning with a needle in my arm
connected to a bottle of glucose. Tests showed that my potassium level
was 6. Normal is 80-120. I almost died. I kept thinking of my 5 year old
son, Rainer, that he would have to grow up without his father. The thought
of not being there for him, hugging him at nite and playing ball with him
made me angry at myself. I believe the thoughts of my little boy pulled
me thru. Thanks amigo.
It was tough
communicating in the French hospital. The city is near Spain but nobody
spoke Spanish or English. The IV stopped dripping for 2 hours. The nurses
kept trying to squeeze the clotted blood in the tube back into my vien.
That's when I decided to leave the hospital. I untaped it and pulled the
needle out, applied a bandage, got dressed and walked out. Chose a different
hotel this time. It was quiet. I slept 12 hours. "Hotel Helder" near train
depot, $18.
Day 19 Train
from Perpignan to Barcelona, 1k. Next day got on the train and reclaimed
my bike and stuff at the Cerbere train depot. Was a minor celebrity for
a few minutes. Bought a train ticket for Spain. This time nobody lied.
At the border I bought another ticket for Barcelona. Surprisingly the trains
in Spain are newer and the personnel are much more accomodating about bikes.
Their national biking hero, Miguel Indurain, who won the Tour de France,
has raised Spanish bike consciousness. I encountered many bikers in Spain
dressed to the 9's in the latest colorific spandex stuff. Took the overnite
sleeper train from Barcelona to Cordoba, arrived 6am. Maybe 2 hours sleep.
Not recommended. Its a rolling party of drunk amigos hooting all nite long.
Day 20 Cordoba
to Palma del Rio. 60k. Although I no longer felt like superman, it
did feel good to get back in the saddle after the fiasco in France. The
warm wind at my back. The mountains to the nouth, the Guadalquivir River
valley on the south. Excellent secondary roads and deserted backroads thru
the olive and cotton farming region. Palma is the cleanest, neatest town
I have ever seen. Not a speck on the sidewalks, all the doors are newly-stained
carved wood. The towns in this region shut down for siesta from 2-5pm.
Nothing moves. No people outside. No sounds. It's like biking thru a silent
movie. Stayed in a clean, quiet room at the "Hotel Palma" for $8/nite.
Dinner was "Rabo de Toro". $5 with red wine.
Day 21 Palma
to Sevilla, 80k. Hot, sunny day. Crisscrossed the river spinning along
the farm roads, the wind at my back. This is the first day that I stopped
under a tree and took a nap. Resolved that if I am able to do this again,
the next time will take it easier and try to take a siesta everyday. Sevilla
is a big city comprised of grand scale Moorish buildings, bustling commerce,
huge shady parks and people who know how to live.
Day 22 Sevilla
to Cadiz, 110k. Hot, sunny day. Closer to the sea the wind is cooler
on the approach to Jerez and the Bay of Cadiz. The final 15k beside the
sea into Cadiz was magical. The wind hard at my back, flying at 40k/h.
Sailed into Cadiz. This is the end of the road, the end of my biking journey.
Cadiz was the beginning for many other souls. Columbus departed from here
on his voyages to the new world. The lighthouse at the mouth of the harbor
(see photo) is the last thing that most of the conquistadors saw of the
old world. They sailed past this light with visions of gold and riches,
most never returned. The lucky ones found new lives in the new world. My
wife and son have the blood of one of those adventurers who found his way
to Panama.
Day 23 Cadiz
to Sevilla. Took the train back to Seville and stayed with friend,
Danny O'Bierne, from Natchez, Miss. Danny is now the possessor of my faithful
bike, El Toro. Danny, a very experienced tour guide based in Sevilla, owns
a bike-hike tour company that offers custom designed tours of Spain, Portugal
and Morroco. You can reach Danny on his cell phone at: 011-34-617-803949.
Danny is offering 1 and 2 week custom tours in 2000 in Spain and Portugal.
He has asked me to help with a tour as a guide and I'm looking forward
to it. But, the trip will definitely not include biking over the Pyrennes.
Day 24 Madrid
to Miami. Made it back home in time for my son's 5th birthday party.
The hug he gave me was priceless.
Jerald Ritter
When Jerald
Ritter isn't riding his bike he is publishing a magazine on living
in the Caribbean. He has as lived in and invested in the Caribbean and
Latin America for much of the past thirty years. He publishes the Caribbean
Property List Magazine, the largest online directory of Caribbean and
Latin Americans properties on the Internet. The year 2000 edition lists
over 500 properties and may be ordered online for $20.00 at: http://www.caribpro.com |
