We've been doing this long enough with basically the same routine - same bikes, same gear list. You'd think we'd have this perfected by now, but there always seems to be something. What will it be this time, and how irreplaceable will it be? Will this be another disaster like last spring, when we landed in Palermo and found that I'd somehow failed to pack my medications again?

Or, if we somehow remember to pack everything and manage to not leave any of it behind somewhere along the way, will this be one of those trips where we arrive with a lamed bicycle, victim of a packing or shipping abuse? Palermo sets the standard here that we hope never to surpass - arriving without meds and with a broken bike.

I get a bit more anxious about this each year, I think; and with cause, I have to admit. We're both getting older, more forgetful, more prone to mental slips. When I was younger I used to fantasize about having a friend who would drive along, staying in the background until they miraculously appeared at the summit of a long hot climb holding out a cold one to quench my thirst. Now, I fantasize about having a travel nanny to double check our work and protect us from ourselves.

I'll feel much better when Thursday morning comes and we're wheeling out of Bilbao. Nothing to worry about then but the usual: hills that won't top out; menus we can't decipher; hotel greeters that stare at us blankly when we show up to claim our reservation; wind and fire and rain. Bring it on!

Heart

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