As we begin today there is No sun. This is a blessing for The Cyclist who has had enough of being toasted day after day. The early part of the day was lovely mountain roads that the cyclist really enjoyed.  We aren’t far from Costa Dorada nor Barcelona and who would know that some 50miles inland the scenery and roads are so nice.

A huge dign saying Cordiniu announced that we were In Cava Country. We passed  Cordiniu  vines then oh my, the caves of Frexinet. We were on a major highway right by the motorway entrance so it was virtually impossible to stop. but this was the first time I had seen tne house of  Frexinet, the bubbles that first began my live of Fizz. I was sure that both Mrs G&T and I be happy to go for a tasting tour. So i text her and said shall we? oh yes came the reply. How I stopped myself turning round to go I don’t know. Even the. sports Therapist said sod the cycling Get the fizz! I couldn’t of course but now I know where it is it can be found when the itinerary isn’t so punishing.

What has amazed both me and The cyclist is the Serious amount of fly tipping here. I do t know if they have to pay to take things to the tip but I think I have seen everything from usual litter to carry cots, broken toilets, armchairs, a cube sized TV without remote, mattresses, well basically you name it they chuck it away on the road. It’s not as dirty as Italy but it spoils the roads I think.

I love the roads today too, the camber, going round and up tight bends. Wishing I had my Audi here as I would love to drive it along these roads. We head down a mountain and can see the coast stretching for miles. For once it is me nt the Cyclist who is familiar with this area. Barcelona airport and the city are on the left and the coast going dough o the right. The cyclist is long gone do I have no time for photos as I need to catch him before we start the big climb as he sad the roads are tricky and I may get lost.

I fid catch him and we navigated the tricky start to the climb. for me it was lovely to see the sea and the coast line so blue, but not do for The Cyclist as this was a steep little bugger of a climb and it wasn’t a short one. The higher we went the better the view and the stronger my wish to paddle. I got some nice photos but the Cyclist said it was almost at his limit. Part the climb but mostly because of the debilitating sun that is relentless. He has been complaining for days that in Spain there is no shade. Even on mountain climbs its just scorching hot rocks and sun. I have taken to having the aircon on but only on the footwells as it helps to chill cans and his Cadbury mini rolls that he is so attached to. These together with Jaffa cakes, boost cake bars and others that Mrs Chimney bought him for his trip. It’s amazing that they aren’t a squodgy mess but the boot is shaded then in the back pushed under the front seats they are by the vents blowing icy cold air.  Its like having two fridges in the car as my fridge can not cope with the amount if cans he is getting through, as well as his food.

Near the top i began to video him but within seconds there was a car upon me and i had to stop. i started again with and put on the “Road to Nowhere” song. just as the song ended, so did the flipping road! I tried to use the sat nav map to negotiate us another way but there was no way out (apart from the way in) apart from using a stony, dusty gravel track. God NO! but yes. when the cyclist had planned the route using then garmin software, there was no way of knowing that the road was over 20Km of Stony Forrest track. I was not happy. In fact I was cursing. The Cyclist had all the swear words under the sun coming from his mouth as we went along this track. At one point I thought I saw normal road and was relieved, only to find that it wasn’t and there was still 18Km to go.

It reminded me of a time when Blondie’s and I were younger and on a touring Europe holiday with MM_Scimitar and Nanakatz. She was trying to navigate

us to our hotel in Paris back in the day (1978 or 1979) and the roads were all cobbled streets. This was the first Scimitar GTE (Reg: KNX 222P) that MM_Scimitar had had and he was not best p,eased at his pride and joy being rattled to death. From the drivers seat his voice boomed “Get me OUT of this God Forsaken Hole!). We were only young and easily scared so we shrank into our back seats. Those words and that memory have stayed with me always and when ever I am somewhere I don’t want to be it is those words that go through my head. Today is one of those days. The Cyclist is fuming, I can hear his precious cycle being shaken to its core and the Meriva is going over large stones and bumps like a la driver on the Dakar rally.

Remember what ln. I said earlier about wishing I had my car here to drive these roads. I don’t! No no no no. I am hacked off and am chuntering to myself. What happens if I break down? I am nowhere? Well somewhere but nowhere an AA man would find. A long way along we came to a real Tarmac road somewhere on a mountain behind Sitges. Now to get down to the coastline and back along to Cambrils sea front. The Cyclist said we would look back and laugh about it. I am not so sure.

If you want to see for yourself watch the videos I took that The Cyclist has loaded on my home page of the Road to a dead end and the stone track. Try not to laugh.

Soundbites

All over again – the mavericks

Lissie /- further away

California dreaming – Mamas and papas

Road to Nowhere – Talking Heads