To Barcelona

November 13, 2024

Today is such a minimal narrative day that I thought I might just skip the post and take a badly needed day off to rest up for the final sprint for the exit. Here’s today’s simple agenda:

Clean the place up, check out, and bike the half mile to the Figueres train station;
Catch the 10:59 regional train to Barcelona, arriving at 1:00;
Bike the half mile to our Airbnb in the El Clots district, and drop off the bikes.
Eat lunch somewhere, then go back to our new apartment.
Hang out and keep dry for the rest of the day, which is expected to be cold and windy all afternoon.

That hardly seems worth a post. Even the train connection doesn’t sound very interesting or suspenseful because trains run regularly all day. If we miss one, we’ll just catch another. Life happens when you least expect it though, and today handed us a few surprises we’d rather not forget about.

First off, it’s lightly raining this morning and probably has been for awhile - something I could have anticipated and planned for if I’d thought about it last night. Since I didn’t though Rachael’s bike is still out on the balcony getting wet. Bad for the bike, bad for her when it comes time to ride it, and bad for us when we bring it inside our unit with the €150 damage deposit they’re holding and take pains to keep everything clean and dry.

So we’re naturally very careful when we bring it inside and when we load both bikes preparing to depart. Were on the third floor of a building with a small elevator, just large enough for one bike at a time, stood vertical. The plan is that I’ll take them down one at a time and Rachael will walk down the stairs and wait at the bottom watching guard over one while I go back up for the second bike.

All goes to plan so far. We vacate the apartment, leaving it as clean as when we found it, and Rachael walks down the stairs while I’m still taking the bikes out to the hall and turning off the lights. Right after I close the door though a weird alarm goes off that lasts a few seconds, stops, and then comes on repeatedly after that every half minute or so. I can’t place it or do anything in response so I just carry on and call the elevator for the first bike.

The elevator doesn’t respond. I call three flights down the stairwell to Rachael that we have a problem, and she confirms the elevator doesn’t work; and that there’s a sign on it in Spanish or Catalan apparently saying it’s out of order. Ugh.

So Rachael walks up the stairs while I unload the bikes, and then she carries the panniers down two at a time (so she won’t strain her back, which thankfully is greatly improved this morning) and I carry the bikes down three flights of stairs, my knees objecting every step of the way.

In retrospect I’m almost glad this happened. I’d never noticed this elegant staircase because I always took the elevator.

Once we’ve got everything on the ground floor we repack the bikes (inside, where it’s dry). We’re just finishing up when the intermittent alarm finally stops; and a minute later we’re surprised to hear the elevator in motion. It’s alive again! Soon it opens and a maintenance man steps out the door, surveys the situation, gives us a rueful smile and an apology, and leaves. Apparently he had it briefly inactivated for some sort of maintenance task and we were just victims of bad timing.

So that sets us back twenty minutes, but fortunately we allowed plenty of time to get to the train station a half mile away. It’s a good thing too, because we’re held back further because somehow we failed to load the route to the train station onto my Garmin. Rachael’s device is packed away so I just wing it by staring at the map and remembering the route from when I’d mapped it, doing fairly well except for taking us on a spin through a confusing multi-level cul-de-sac for a few minutes. At least it’s not raining at the moment.

We arrive at the station with twenty minutes to spare. Plenty of time to orient ourselves, buy tickets, and then stand on the platform in the cold and wind for twenty minutes because our train is delayed. As we wait the platform gradually fills up and two other folks with bikes show up, so when the train comes we’re watching for the bike car and rush to it, getting on first and scoring the best bike spots available.

And here I’ll note that Rodiales de Catalunya (the Catalan rail network) gets high marks for bike accessibility. ‘Normal configuration’ bikes or e-bikes (but definitely not e-scooters, and probably not tandems?) are always allowed on all Rodiales trains free of charge on a space available basis, and the rail cars have double wide doors without stairs so it’s an easy roll-on/roll-off situation. The negative? There’s not actually any specific space for bikes on the car with the bike logo. Ours fit into the narrow hallway space in front of the bathroom, and the two losers who got on after us just stand in the middle of the entryway the whole way holding their bikes.

It’s a two hour trip to Barcelona and the bikes aren’t secured to anything so we take turns with one of us standing holding the bikes while the other grabs a seat. I take the the first shift, and after about twenty minutes we switch places.

Her turn. Oh, and I see another bike got on board in the meantime. He’s found maybe the best slot, in front of the door. This works because the doors apparently open on one side of the train.

I’ve been sitting for about five minutes when I hear a panicky yelp. When the train started up after a stop the bikes shifted and fell partway over and Rachael’s trying to hold them up until I can get there and help her out. After that I take over because it’s easier for me with my longer legs and arms, and I stand for the next 90 minutes until we finally arrive at the El Clots station.

The train is only at our station for a minute of course, and we almost don’t get off in time because I’m not sure we’re actually there yet because it’s dark outside. The El Clots station is in a tunnel, two stories underground.

It’s a pleasant surprise when we get to street level and see the sun shining. We’d been anticipating a rainy half mile ride to our new apartment, but it’s just fine other than being busy because we’re in the biggest city we’ve seen since Paris. We’re near our place five minutes later and Rachael calls our contact Michael who says he’ll be right there and meet us in front of the Big Pizza restaurant right next door.

While we’re waiting for Michael, here’s some background about our apartment. It’s a new listing near the Sagrada Familia that we got a good deal on because there’s a discount for the first three bookings. The listing doesn’t say anything about an elevator but the external photo looks like it’s only a two story anyway so I figure we’ll manage. After we’ve booked though our host, Marge, warns us about the unlisted facts that there is no elevator and it’s on the fourth floor. Yuck.

I point out that we have bikes, I have bad knees, and ask how bad the stairs are thinking that we might need to cancel. Instead, Marge surprises us by offering to upgrade us at no extra cost to a nicer place in a different building nearby that does have an elevator, an offer we’re happy to accept.

So Michael (Marge’s son, I think) arrives, greets us with a warm smile, but then his face clouds over when he sees the bikes. It’s a very nice place he says and we really shouldn’t take bikes up but relents when I told him Marge said it would be OK (which I’m not certain she did actually, but she understood we had bikes). Michael comes around, reminds us again that we need to be very, very careful with them, and shows us to our room.

It’s a process getting us and our belongings up to our penthouse on the fifth floor. This elevator is really tiny. Even with the panniers off and my bike stood on end it won’t fit without it being folded; so I take one bike up, lean it against a railing while I go back for the second, and finally the two of them and the remaining luggage join me.

Michael can’t open the door. He tries both keys several times in both locks, but it won’t open. Rachael, who is really good with European locks by now, gives it a try too but with no luck either. Michael was apparently given the wrong set of keys by the cleaning lady.

Might as well look down while we’re waiting. It’s a good day for stairwell shots at least. I’m sure glad we have folders, or we’d be carrying the bikes up and down these stairs.

Michael gets on the phone, calls someone, and then announces the new plan. He does have the keys to different unit on the third floor that they apparently also manage, so we’ll go down there and drop off the bikes and baggage, go have lunch, and come back later.

It’s as slow going down to the third floor as it was coming up to the first. I go first again, leave Rachael’s bike leaning against a railing, and go back up for the other. As I leave with the first one Michael reaches in and punches the button for the third floor to be sure I’ve understood where we’re going.

When I get off with the second bike though there’s a shock. Rachael’s bike isn’t here. Soon Michael and Rachael arrive, and after some head scratching we realize what must have happened. The elevator stopped at the fourth floor on the first time down for some reason, and I got off without thinking about it. Its a relief when I go back up a floor and find it there waiting for me.

All together now and with the right keys this time, we get into this also very nice unit, carefully lay our folded bikes on top of each other on the hard surfaced floor, and leave for lunch. We walk back to Copeta Cafe, a small place we passed on the way in just a block away, like what we see, and hang out there until it’s time to meet up with Michael again.

We share an excellent goat cheese salad. No blow torch this time, but it gets my vote as the best GCS of the month.

And we have the same tasty main, teriyaki salmon with scrumptious side stuff.

Michael buzzes us in when we return and we take the elevator up assuming we’ll get off on the third floor to collect our stuff and shuttle it up again, but Michael’s got us covered. He’s already relocated it all and fit both the folded bikes onto the small balcony where they can’t get anything dirty. And then he orients us to our new digs, says to feel free to call if anything comes up and just leave the keys on the table when we leave in four days, and leaves us to it.

And it is a nice place, although it doesn’t come with a view of the nearby Sagrada Familia that I’d fancied a fifth floor penthouse might offer. Instead it’s got a very nice view of a solid brick wall; but in compensation it comes with Netflix and we end the day watching a movie, Molly’s Game, which if I remember right is the first time we’ve had the TV on since leaving Portland almost nine months ago.

Very nice! We’ll be fine here for four days.

Nice brick wall, but not the view of the nearby Sagrada Familia I’d been imagining.

Oh, I forgot. There’s a window in the bedroom too. Same brick wall though.

Today's ride: 1 mile (2 km)
Total: 4,782 miles (7,696 km)

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Comment on this entry	Comment	4

Steve Miller/GrampiesI like this detailed style of writing. We are on the ferry to Vancouver, and I've sent Dodie to get a "Sunshine Breakfast". This gave just the right time to read your train and apartment odyssey.

Oh wait, she's not back yet. Need more info!
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1 month ago

Steve Miller/GrampiesTo Steve Miller/GrampiesOh golly, the Sunshine Breakfast is no more, it has changed to the "All Aboard" breakfast!
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1 month ago

Patrick O'HaraSurprised the Rockydart trademark logo didn't make this post, with you forgetting to load the route to the train station on the Garmin.....again. LOL.
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1 month ago

Scott AndersonTo Patrick O'HaraThe thought crossed my mind to mention it. Actually though it was a shared failure. She loads the devices, and I’m supposed to double check afterwards. Not everything is always my fault.
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1 month ago