The Penultimate Etape 5 Raid Pyrenees St Girons to Ax les Thermes, with 3 climbs: Col de Port, Pas de Souloumbri, and Col de la Marmare

Best laid plans and all-- the day started witih one of our members, Tom, feeling sick-ish, and thinking he might have COVID, despite a negative test. This after Paul left yesterday to fly home early after testing positive two days ago. By the end of our cycling day Murray, my roommate of the previous 7 days, tested positive, as did Tom. Isolation, possible return itineraries for the two of them, tests for everyone else-- no other positives, including me. Clean living, perhaps, and only 17 days post-vax, perhaps. But the way this virus works, no one is ever completely not at risk. The rest of us are watching for scratchy throats or other telltale symptoms. Of course we feel badly for our three fallen comrades. I admit to a bit of relief that it wasn't me, and hope and pray I stay healthy. 

A modest upside is since Murray was immediately assigned a separate hotel room, I have a lovely, lovely room to myself overlooking the town of Ax Les Thermes, and its hot springs.

Carrie asked me if I'm worrying about getting sick, and before I could answer she said "you're probably not." Exactly. Why worry about something that might not happen? The latest sick-outs got to finish 5 of our 6 days of riding, and both said they loved most every mile. These same two were half of our contingent planning to spend two days in Barcelona after the Raid, which they'll miss. Dan, the 4th of the Barcelona Boys, will join me for our planned time there. But that's still 3 days away. 

This morning was true to what's becoming our daily routine: French breakfast as early as the kitchen will serve us (they seem to think 7a is meant only for the bakers and the roosters); pack up our rooms, staff load our luggage, 

we attached our freshly charged computers and blinky lights to our bikes, fill our water bottles, sunscreen and butt balm (I told you this yesterday, but it is the routine!), and we're off. I can't say enough about our guide staff, so I'll say a bit more. The riders started joking with each other, "do YOU have help at your house?" 

Two days ago, at the end of the ride, I told Constantin that I had a thump in my rear tire, could I put it on a stand and take a look at it? It's a reflex for me since becoming an volunteer bike mechanic back in Madison, I just do my own work. But Constantin said, "just leave your bike here and I'll see what I can find." In the morning he sought me out to tell me that he remounted the rear tire, and now it should be spinning within a milimeter of round, so it should be no problem. I could get used to this, except I enjoy so much being a wrench (the trade term for a bike mechanic). Every other rider in our group has done the same, pointed out something needing attention, asking for an adjustment to make their riding postion more comfortable, "do you have a different saddle that I could try for the morning?" 

Today's rollout had a slight incline, just enough to get the blood flowing again, work the kinks out, before our first climb: not a huge one, neither too long nor too steep. It was our shortest day at "only" 99km--or about the distance from Madison to Rockford, if there were two sets of mountains to cross in between. But nothing like the climbs of the previous 3 days. 

 I found myself feeling sad as we rode--it's a surprisingly emotional experience to be in such a beautiful, beautiful place, doing something that the majority of the population has neither the discretionary time nor discretionary funds to do, and which, what, 95%? 99%? of the population doesn't have the physical ability to do. I won't count the vast numbers of people who just plain wouldn't WANT to do this. I am very, very fortunate. I pinch myself (figuratively) every day as if I cannot even believe that I'm here riding the length of a mountain range in a beautiful, old, historic part of the world, and at a time when peaceful relations among these nations leave me free to travel across national borders. 

I was sad that today was the last day but one of the Raid, and I don't know if this will, in fact, be a once-in-a-lifetime event. If it is, it will have been enough. 

Here's some pictures and narrative from the day: 

The Chateau Beauregard as we left it this morning. 

Our tireless guides loading our gear in the morning. 

The flat warmup to unroll the tight muscles; 

and me flying the Google colors. 

This middle portion of our tour takes place in the Haute Pyrenees-- the High Pyrenees, and here's a glimpse of the distant tall peaks. 

The top of the first climb of the day, the Col de Port, 762m of gain in 23.5km miles, with an average grade of 3.5% (which left plenty of room for stretches up to 12%). 

The heavy line on the map shows the route of our tour, from the Atlantic at the left to the Mediteranean at right, the dotted line showing the border between France to the north and Spain to the south. Ax les Thermes, tonight's stop, is well to the east, just to the left of the shade line. 

It rained just long enough to wet the pavement and for us to don our rain jackets--which we quickly doffed, and the sun and 80+ temps quickly dried the pavement. 

Another old fortress or cathedral or something. I'm sorry, these interesting looking piles of stone passed too quickly or too far away to stop and identify. But they are beautiful, and look older than many or most buildings I've seen before on our travels. 

I haven't seen an old church that I didn't want to peek into, but sadly on this trip I only found one open of many tries. 

Our tireless driver and food purveyer, Ewa (pronounced "Eva") setting up another gorgeous and delicious lunch spread-- 

and the location was pretty yummy, too. 

The cyclist's nemisis: "GRAVILLONS." The icon left no doubt even for those ignorant of French. 

 The distant peaks are the mountains we've ridden FROM during the previous two days. It looked and felt far. 

 

My cozy, comfy, attractive room for one in Ax les Thermes, after my roommate had to relocate and isolate. We have had lovely, lovely accommodations. 

This room overlooked a stream from one balcony, and a legit hot spring from the second balcony. 

I walked down and found the "thermes" to be hotter than most any bathwater. A few blocks away in a village square I found this group taking the cure--or just using a focal point to visit with friends.

Today was the penultimate day, and tomorrow will be the ultimate: Ax les Thermes, still in the Haut Pyrenees, to Port Vendres on the Mediteranean coast. And our "coast" will include the last 60 miles: after 3 moderately to very challenging climbs in the first 64km, we will ride downhill for the remaining 96km. 160km is 100 miles,  a century ride; today's ride of 100k is known as a metric century.