Did the Pyrenees as well in June, well worth the trip, some great scenery and awesome roads. Went down via Calais, taking in the Milau Bridge and heading out to the Mediteranean at Narbonne, before heading into the Pyrenees, up into Andorra, over into Spain and back to Tolouse, before getting the train back to Calais.
Despite leaving in plenty of time, we were the next to last on the ferry, only just making it in time. Things weren’t much better on the other side of the Channel, but it was only an hour run to Amien, where we had booked a room. Nothing else was booked on the trip as we waned to be flexible enough to go where we wanted if something looked a better option than what we had in mind.
Monday dawned to damp kit and things not looking much better outside. Half an hour with the hairdryer in the boots and gloves and things were looking better. The rain started to ease and we only had a few heavy showers before we hit Limoges, our stop for the night. Being a cheapskate Steve found us the cheapest hotel he could at £14.25 each for the night including breakfast!!
Tuesday arrived with dry kit and a dry day, setting off to Millau and it’s now world famous bridge. We turned off before getting to the bridge and headed down into town to get some perspective on it and a trip to the visitor centre. Then it was back up to the motorway and over the bridge. Despite it’s very impressive appearance, the ride over was somewhat lacking in the drama of other bridges. The impression of height is just not there as windbreaks prevent a clear view over the sides, and the bridge is flat as it passes over a valley rather than rising over a river. It was very calm despite a fairly brisk wind.
That done it was time for a bit of sunshine, so we headed on down to the beach at Narbonne, with clear blue skies and a calm sea. Despite being June, the place was almost deserted, and you wonder how they stay open with just a 3 month season to pay the bills. Being so quiet, we rode off the next morning down the coast a few miles and stayed at the lovely little port of Gruissan, found a hotel, parked the bikes up and headed into town for a spot of lunch and a lazy day.
Thursday, we loaded back up and pointed West toward the Pyrenees and our destination of Andorra. Setting the sat nav to avoid the motorways and keeping to minor roads, we soon hit gold and found some stunning roads, climbing steadily into the hills and mountains, leaving the vineyards behind us. Lunch was served in a quiet ski café in the hills, with great service and a large log fire gently warming the room. Deciding not to stay in the concrete jungle that is Andorra la Vella we rode on to the almost deserted ski resort of Arinsal, looking a lot different to when I last skied there a few years back. There was still snow on some of the higher peaks, and stunning views out of the hotel bedroom window. We found a great bar / restaurant for dinner, with enough milf to keep Steve’s eyes swivelling all night, being a happily married man, I didn’t look much (honest).
Friday turned into one of the best days riding I’ve ever had, with a combination of good weather, fantastic roads, no traffic and stunning scenery. Dropping down out of Andorra we picked up the N260 on the Spanish side of the mountains. The N260 is a gob smacking piece of road 120 miles of nicely maintained, single carriageway, with barely a straight on it, rising and falling as much as it twists and turns through the mountains. At times we just nailed it, at others we just cruised as we watched eagles float on the currents above us. At stops you’d look out at layer upon layer of peaks heading out to the horizon. All without a single speed camera in sight, and the only Police presence warning us to slow down for the herd of cows a few hundred yards ahead.
Finally coming to a halt in Ainsa, which is a small but lively town full of grungy climbers and a dodgy barber. God knows how he was so busy, he was cutting hair until 8.00 pm in the evening and was back there at 8.30 the next morning still cutting hair, everyone coming out with the same cropped high fringe!!
Saturday, we headed North back up the main street in Ainsa and pointed back towards France, at a pretty leisurely pace the scenery was amazing, it was like riding into a mountain you never reached. As we approached one it faded into the next via a series of bends as we followed rivers and canyons higher and higher, round and round, through twists and turns, opening onto spectacular new vistas as each series of bends ended or a canyon finished. Eventually we arrived at the Bielsa - D’Aragnouet Tunnel, entering in Spain and 1600 metres and exiting 3 kilometres later at 1800 metres in France. From there it was steadily down hill to Toulouse and the awaiting Motorrail train.
Train was a novelty, as we’d never done it before, but was a great result, and would probably do it both ways if I were going again. It departed Toulouse at 8.20pm and arrived, 700 miles later in Calais at 7.30am. Loading the bikes was a bit of an experience, and looked particularly Heath Robinson as two guys started to tie it down with bits of strapping. I certainly gave it a good old pull about to check it was secure before leaving, and checked it again when we arrived in Calais. It was still upright and secure, and the guys didn’t bother untying the bikes, they just cut them loose and let you ride off.
From there it was a quick 5 minute ride to the Ferry Terminal, arriving in plenty of time, and back to a foggy Dover, and the last 200 miles home. A great week, some stunning sights, and some fantastic riding to be had.
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