This was on paper the hardest day with over 11,000 ft of climb and almost 100 miles of cycling. We were first in for breakfast at the aptly named Majestic Hotel and after getting our bikes, stored in the basement we were away just before 8am. Several groups of elderly cyclists were coming into town having clearly been up and down the Col du Portillon before breakfast.
The Portillon is a toughie to start on, with some sections of 16%. Phil passed me near it's base and I didn't see him again all day. The top is the border with Spain and to mark the entry my chain fell off! I didn't start singing Charles Wesley's hymn at the time!
The descent into the Vall d'Aran was stunning and I stopped to take photos. The Val d'Arran was formed by the river Garona which rises in the area and flows out to France as the Garonne. Up until 1924 it had no proper link to the outside world until a tunnel was built. Unusually for Spain it faces North and had a more Atlantic climate and many rare flowers and butterflies flourish in the perfect, damp conditions. The road follows the river, gently climbing to the ski resort of Vielha. A text from Chris revealed that they had stopped for coffee and had moved on - I was not best pleased.
The 2016 TDF comes to this area next month and our route now picked up the route which will be used right up to La Seu d'Urgell. The big climb of the day to the Port de la Bonaigua (2072 metres) was up next with a mind destroying stretch of 6.7kms without a single bend. It passed through a very upmarket ski village of Baquera/Beret - popular with the Spanish royal family. With no part steeper than 7.7% and with 3 days of cycling in my legs it didn't seem long before I was at the top - an area of ski paraphernalia which in the summer always looks ugly. Phil and Chris had texted to say they had gone on - by now I was fuming!
The 18kms descent down to Sort was stunning. The gorse was out and the slopes of the hills were carpeted in yellow. Wild horses ambled across my path but I didn't see Mick Jagger. A Spanish cuckoo was chirping madly but much to my disappointment still sung in English.
Another text told me that Phil and Chris had just moved on from lunch - Chris received a curt phone call! But bless him, he waited for me at Sort and I had an under cooked burger at the Rock Cafe listening to Bob Marley. Chris told me that Phil had dived into the staff loo and managed to lock himself in - the handle just came off! He rang Chris who went to the customer's toilets but couldn't find him. A few more phone calls eventually tracked him down and he was liberated with stern looks from a number of the staff.
And so to one more climb before showers and tea - the Port de Canto (1725 metres). It was a warm early evening and whilst only an average of 5.4% it seemed to grind on. Half way up I stopped for an Orangina and a refill of my bottles at a roadside bar. Chris was waiting for me at a second cafe near the summit and I had a refreshing cup of tea.
The final descent to La Seu d'Urgell had fine views north to Andorra. We arrived at our hotel at 8.15pm - shattered - it had been a very long day in the saddle.
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