I knew today would be hard, but you the only way to get better at riding up hills is to ride up hills. Today seemed mostly uphill and it was hot again.
It started, however, with a good breakfast again at Hostel Sant Bernat.
The "sportive" breakfast option at the hotel. This was brought to my table, just for me. I drank the entire carafe of orange juice.
I rode past Sant Joan les Fonts because if I stop to look at every 12th century church and monastery around here, I'll never get anywhere. Instead, I smiled as I rode by. I stopped in Castellfollit de la Roca, though, and it was a tiny old village. The most interesting thing, though, was a woman asked about my bike and then her husband came up and asked if I remembered him. It was the friendly fellow who'd helped me get my bike down to the train station in Barcelona, whose son had married a Canadian from Abbotsford, where my sister lives. Small world!
I saw a few roadies today and quite a few cars on this narrow road. Sunday drives, I think. However, it was quiet and I could easily hear vehicles approaching. Other than that, birds and butterflies.
The route went through Oix, which seemed to be just a few houses, then up steeply to Col. Once again, I was spinning downhill when I passed the sign, but not so fast I couldn't stop for a photo. There were a few more (relatively) short uphills then a short descent to Beget.
It sounds more interesting than it appears from the outside...
Yes, this is a rural road. The vehicle going my way honked and edged closer to urge the cattle to move off the road. The other car was just waiting and I saw the driver putting his camera away as I passed.
Beget is a pretty village and has taken steps to remain so. No motor vehicles allowed (except service vehicles) and parking is provided just at the turnoff from DIV. There were quite a few visitors, most having arrived by car, but a few motorcyclists and a group of hikers. I had lunch at the restaurant on the first plaza over the bridge. It was very good but rather expensive. The other restaurant wasn't in as nice a location and was, as far as I could tell, at a similar price point. After a break of a couple of hours, including a wander around the village, I filled my bottles at one of the public spigots and set off up the hill towards Camprodon.
This climb wasn't as steep, thankfully. Eventually the road zigzagged up a mountainside and near the top, I met a woman picking wild strawberries for her grandson. She gave me a few and the flavour was fantastic. Further up, past Rocabruna, I stopped to pick some more.
Castle ruins in the distance from near Rocabruna. Taken with the full extent of my little superzoom camera.
There wasn't a sign at the high point, but the road suddenly became two lanes and tipped downhill. It hit the C-38 about 5 km north of Camprodon.
There was a campground on the way into Camprodon, but it appeared to be one of those "Eurocamps" and I thought I'd rather stay in town. Once there, it was tricky to find a hotel, but I did and it's very nice for 47 €. Not that there appeared to be much choice—the others appeared to be closed today, except the 3- and 4-star ones where I didn't try the doors.
I set up my clothesline and hung my washed (by me) riding clothes on my private patio (I said it was a nice room) and went for a wander and then dinner. A passable set menu for 12€ including wine. The menu was in Catalan again, so my choice for the first course that included "Camprodon" in its name turned out to be a selection of salamis with toasted bread. No veggies with the second course (chicken with prunes) either, so combined with my delicious cheesy mushroom cannelloni for lunch, my diet hasn't been very balanced today. I didn't choose fruit desserts either—semi-freddo at lunch and flan at dinner. Both really good! Salad tomorrow, in France.
