Sorry for taking so long to make the first post, but I wanted to take it easy. And there’s no better place to do it than from Ari’s home. I will try to be more punctual with the next ones, although I don’t want to promise anything.
The two days before leaving were crazy. Organizing a trip like this isn’t easy and you always have the feeling that you would’ve needed more time. Everyone’s support is greatly appreciated and I’m sorry I didn’t have enough time for everyone. I hope to learn to manage time and stress better during the trip, I have no choice if I want to go far. The departure was very emotional but too many emotions at the same time and difficult to understand what was happening, will have to digest it with the days.
Before crossing to France I had to cycle 4 days in Catalonia. The first was all under the rain, to remind me that not even close to home will be easy. The second day I had the first dog attack of the trip and I was able to react relatively well. The third I had to cycle at night with traffic and the fourth I had to fight against the tramuntana and traffic all day, especially at the border where descending towards France past el Pertús I was going at 7 km/h literally.
Not everything was bad news and already in the first days I met some very interesting people and I met again some people I hadn’t seen for a long time. In la Tomassa near Sant Celoni I met Èric and Alícia and the rest of the people who live in the housing cooperative.
Guillem in Girona and the rest of the doctors that were super kind, we’ll see each other again for sure.
Gonza in Figueres who always gives me a good vibe and gave me a lot of desire to go ahead. I hope everything goes great with the programming.
Mingo in Elna who was the first to tell me that he also felt more Mediterranean than anything else. And it is a hypothesis that I want to confirm during this first part of the trip along the Mediterranean Sea.
Nice people and beautiful landscapes that gave me strength to continue towards a part of Europe and the trip in general that don’t motivate me so much and that I already knew could be a bit of a challenge mentally, especially in winter.
I had not yet taken a day off and had no intention of doing so until Montpellier.
From Elna it was time to go towards the Mediterranean and border the natural ponds to Montpellier. I saw a lot of flamingos and I highly recommend the natural park of the Narbonnaise where you have a huge pond on one side and the Mediterranean on the other and it’s beautiful.
Past the Narbonnaise park I made my first and only night of camping until Bologna. I managed to be hosted between Couchsurfing and Warmshowers every night. It’s true that it takes away spontaneity and freedom from the trip, but with the cold weather now and in this overcrowded part of Europe I’m willing to make the sacrifice. Of course, having to plan everything days in advance and having to contact people is a chore. For the Balkans I think I will change my strategy, because there are much less people on these platforms.
The day after camping my priority was to be able to take a shower, even though it’s winter, in summer it must be an even more vital necessity. Luckily I was welcomed by Magali in her beautiful house in Gigean. I felt at home and we’ll see each other again sometime. I tasted the tielle au poulpe, a kind of octopus pie very typical in Sète.
I had a very short stage of about 25 km the next day to Montpellier, even so I had time to break the bike stand, first casualty of the trip. Luckily I arrived in a big city and I could change it at Uni Re-Cycle, where they were very nice and a store that I highly recommend.
In Montpellier I was welcomed by Juliette. I was the first person she had welcomed but I felt at home. Her mother and grandmother had traveled by bike and now it was her turn. I was able to have the first rest day, do some maintenance on the bike and wash by hand my clothes for the first time. It takes a whole day for the clothes to dry. I also went for a walk in Montpellier, where I had never been to before and I liked it a lot, but there was no trace of Occitan. I’ve only seen it written on signs, but I haven’t heard anyone speak it. France is a bulldozer of minority languages. It won’t be the first or the last one I will encounter.
It was time to go to Marseille where I wanted to stop for a couple of days. The rain respected me and I was able to reach Nîmes. There is a beautiful stretch of bike path that follows the ViaRhôna and where I wasn’t the slowest.
In Nîmes I went for a walk to see the Roman arena and temple which are quite beautiful. Apart from that, the city has little else, and the arena of Arlès that I would see the next day is a little nicer even.
I was hosted by Mathieu who plays the trombone and I liked him a lot. The house was beautiful and we talked until late.
I didn’t see the sun all day until Istres and it was very cold. I passed through Arlès and it’s time to make the following reflection: if it weren’t for the boulangeries (bakeries) I don’t know what I would do in France, everything is very expensive. I buy croissants and others for breakfast and bread for lunch with whatever I have. After Arlès I recommend the Alpilles area although I didn’t enjoy it much because I was tired. I was welcomed by Anne in Istres, already retired and doing bike trips of several days. I took strength to make the last sprint to Marseille. The next day I had to ride against the wind and I had to climb a pass to enter Marseille, the col de la Nerthe. I arrived in Marseille from the north and I had to cross the whole city to get to the center.
The first night I was hosted by Coralie, although she didn’t have much time, but she saved me. Her house overlooked the basilica of Notre-Dame de la Garde, known as the Bonne Mère which I visited the next day, where they prayed for the sailors and which has a Byzantine style that I will see so much in the Balkans from now on. The wind was terrifying, the famous mistral of Marseille, close to 60 km/h.
That very same day there was a general strike for pensions throughout France and the demonstration in Marseille was massive. It added to the already chaotic nature of the city.
It’s a city that reminds me a lot of Naples, very welcoming, very colorful and very chaotic, especially the Cours Julien, where many things happen at the same time and you can see that it’s a port city as many in the Mediterranean. A bit like Barcelona even. The second night I was hosted by Hannah, who together with her partner had cycled to Greece the previous summer.
In theory I was supposed to leave Marseille the next day, but the mistral was still blowing hard and as I wanted to do the Route des Crêtes through the Calanques natural park, I had to wait another day for the wind to let up. I was welcomed by Pierre, who had made a cycling trip in England and who I hope that when he finishes his training he will travel again as he told me. The next day we did a route along the Kennedy corniche and passed through the Vallon des Auffes, a small picturesque harbor that is part of the city of Marseille.
We continued to Les Goudes, which is the village that the Massilia Sound System refer to in their song “Dimanche aux Goudes“, and continued to the first calanque of the natural park, Callelongue. The scenery was beautiful and gave me an idea of what I would see the next day. The problem is that having to follow Pierre’s pace and not being able to keep up with mine, my knee was a little strained, a bad sign for what was coming the next day.
The stage was short, about 40 km but had to climb a lot. Leaving Marseille I had to climb the col de la Gineste and with the 35 kg of gear I was carrying it was an ordeal. My knee suffered and I was only halfway through the stage. Of course, the views were worth it. I had just entered the natural park of the Calanques.
After descending to Cassis, it was time to go up again, this time with a gradient that exceeded 15% at some points. I had to do most of the climb pushing the bike. It turned out that the Route des Crêtes road was still cut off because of the mistral, although the wind was blowing much less, but I wanted to try anyway. A local cyclist helped me get my bike over the other side of the barrier and encouraged me. Best decision I’ve made so far. Spectacular views and no cars was a blast. I highly recommend it even though it’s pretty tough.
I think the pain in my knee is due to having been stopped for 4 days and also to the hardness of the stage. I will try to manage it better for the future. To sleep I had talked to Grégori, a man that Tati (a Menorcan friend from my friend Albert), who must now be in Athens after several months of route from Barcelona, had crossed. He is the owner of the hotel-restaurant of the calanque de Figuerolles, the last of the calanques of the park in La Ciotat. And he offered me to sleep in one of the rooms that Cyril opened for me.
I deserved a second prize after surviving the stage apart from the views, and this was the first pizza of the trip, letting me know that Italy was not too far away.
The next day I cycled for a bit and then took the train to Toulon. There, leaving the station, I met Andréa who invited me to sleep at his place. I accepted the first invitation of the trip. Outside though, it was very cold and I had to make time in a pub. The waiter flipped out and invited me to eat and gave me a discount.
I liked Andréa a lot and she loved my 70’s psychedelic rock recommendations. Conclusion: sometimes it’s a good idea to improvise and let people host you. The next day I took the train from Toulon to Saint Raphaël, still with a sore knee, and retraced my steps along the coast to Saint Tropez, a disappointment, and spent the night at Ramdane’s house in Port Grimaud. A great person and I hope he can soon leave his job and go to South America as he wanted.
The next day was a long stage by bike and train to get to Nice. Two knee punctures in the morning reminded me that I was still fucked up. Luckily, the coastal section of the Parc de l’Estérel is beautiful, recommended by Anne from Istres.
It has very characteristic reddish tones that make it a very special place and that I especially liked. Besides, in winter there is no one there.
Then train to Nice. Bad idea if you aren’t in the bike wagon. I have to say that I didn’t hear any Provençal language either and it makes me sad. France is killing minority languages. I slept two nights at Simona and Alberto’s place, she Bulgarian and he Italian, very kind both of them. Nice as a city I didn’t like too much. I had already visited it and remembered it exactly like this second time. For Genoa and La Spezia it didn’t look very good, since no one could host for those dates. I took a train from Nice to Menton to skip the col d’Èze due to my knee pain.
In Menton I got off the train and crossed the border to Italy by bicycle.
Once in Italy I continued to Sanremo. Halfway there Massimo stopped me because he wanted to take a picture of me and keep my number to ask me from time to time how I was doing.
My destination was Finale Ligure, but I had been recommended to stop in Cervo first because it’s a nice little town. And those who recommended it to me were right.
Going up to Alassio my knee suffered and the tunnels were narrow. In one of these tunnels a car overtook me very close and when I turned the handlebars I touched the wall of the tunnel with my front pannier and the hook broke. I tied it to the rack pack and continued to Alassio and then by train to Finale Ligure (the bike on the train is free in Liguria). There Martina was waiting for me. It was night and I had to climb about 150 meters more. The reward though it was worth it. Homemade ragù.
The house was also beautiful. Martina helped me change the hook on the front pannier and treated me great. Kingo, her dog, is a sweetheart too. She speaks Ligure, but she is one of the few people her age who speaks it and it’s another language that is about to disappear. Fabrizio de Andrè has songs in Ligure though.
The next day I decided to go say hello to her parents at the bakery they have in Calice Ligure and they gave me the first focaccia (fügassa in Ligure) of the many I ate. It was delicious.
Descending towards Finale Ligure I stopped in Finalborgo, a very touristy but beautiful village.
I continued on to Varigotti which is a pretty little village and then to Cape Noli, after which I decided to take the train to Genoa and ask the hostels if they had room for me and my bike. They were all full and very expensive. I decided to make an express visit of the city by bike and return with the train to Savona where Laura was welcoming me. Bad luck that no one could host me in Genoa city. Surely I missed some things, but I didn’t like the city, I will come back, even if it’s only for the focacce. The train to Savona was a drama, full of Genoa soccer fans, very stressful. Laura luckily was very nice and has traveled a lot.
The next day I took the train to Genoa and from there to Recco by bike along the coast. Nice but nothing special and full of cars on Sunday. In Recco I tried the first focaccia al pesto and was spectacular. I’ve tried the normal (Genovese), with onion, with cheese and with pesto and they’re all delicious. Here everyone eats it even for breakfast.
From Recco I took the train to le Cinque Terre, Riomaggiore to be precise. There I paid for the first time to sleep. The price was not much different from a hostel in Genoa and the location was perfect for the hike of the villages of le Cinque Terre on foot. It cost 50€ a night and in summer it costs about 300€ a night. I needed some time for myself after 3 weeks surrounded by people and where I haven’t wanted to camp for comfort. I know that in the Balkans I’ll have to camp more often so there is no hurry. On the bike you don’t have so much time for yourself either because you have to be thinking about the present and the immediate future. You are very exposed to everything and everyone, but you are much more in contact with people and nature.
Riomaggiore has a beautiful light when the sun goes down, and at this time of the year there are some tourists but it’s quite empty compared to summer. The problem is to get there with a bike, because it’s full of stairs everywhere, a nightmare.
The next day I took a train to Vernazza and as soon as I started to climb it became clear that tourists don’t usually take it too seriously.
I didn’t like Vernazza village too much, but the views from Vernazza on the way to Corniglia were beautiful.
The descent to Corniglia was also beautiful and you could see both Vernazza and Corniglia from a distance. I liked Corniglia village very much, maybe the one that I liked the most.
On the way to Manarola it was a long climb from Corniglia. There are two villages that are also very beautiful and to which the photos do not do justice, they are called Porciana and Volastra. The descent to Manarola had thousands of stairs and was very tiring but at least the village was worth it.
In Manarola they made the biggest nativity scene in the world and when it isn’t illuminated it’s a mixture of funny and strange at the same time.
To get back to Riomaggiore I had to go up and down again, but you get used to it. On the mountain trails I probably only met about 10 people. Winter is certainly the best time of the year to do it, but some sections may be closed for construction. The light is perhaps not the best depending on the day, and I recommend doing it in the direction Vernazza-Riomaggiore, because of the sun. The next day I decided to go directly to Bologna, the city of Guccini, taking several trains. Crossing the snowy Apennines at 1100 meters was not the best idea and the Pianura Padana (the plain after the Apennines) is boring and I already know it. So I put the bike on the train this time paying.
On the last train between Parma and Bologna I met Alessandro who often travels by bike and he advised me to go see the biomechanist to adjust my posture on the bike. This might help me with the knee problems I’ve been having since Marseille. I’ve also bought a massage gun, which could be very useful for me. But without a doubt the best thing about going back to Bologna is to be able to spend a few days with Ari and rest. I have a lot of things to do, including writing this post, leaving things I don’t use, and on top of that I’m sick. I have a bad cold, but better to spend it here and recover well than not to have caught it later. I have seen many friends who have given me encouragement and desire to continue the journey and the truth is that I really want to continue. Soon it will be time to say goodbye again. During this trip I got used to do it every day, but with Ari it’s always more difficult. Let’s see when we can see each other in the Balkans or later.
