Over the Pyrenees

After waking up in a cloud we got a late start on our journey over the daunting Pyrenees. The scenery was georgeuos rolling green hills scattered with sheep, butting up to still leafless trees eased us into our slow climb. The road (N-121a) was a busy road and tunnels had been carved through the mountains to ease the flow of traffic (many large tractor trailers). Being cyclist we were not allowed in the tunnels and had to exit to smaller even more senic roads. We climbed easily, only 870m (ish) which seemed like nothing, especially with the sun shinning down on us.

Mid day and mid climb found us at some beautiful roadside picnic tables. Gen was suprised to see another bike tourer all ready stopped. Our fellow tourer was quick to offer us tea and we were all soon enjoying good talk about our adventures. He, orginally from India, is a bicycle rickshaw driver in London who on his time off enjoys bike tours. He introduced an idea to us called cycle-osophy (spl?). Bottom line it is the concept that time spent on a bike allows one to connect with themselves, nature, and thoughts amoung many things. We all agreed that bike thinking time is some of the best ever. Since our new friend was going our way (the first of our trip) we road along together until we split at the end of the day.
After our easy climb I jokingly said "it is all down hill from here no more mountains for us." and for most to our surprise down we went, for the most part all the rest of the day. For the majority we rolled slowly down following a lively river. Once on the other side of the Pyrenees the grass was actually greener as were the trees. It was probably more due to the lower elevation but spring had really sprung. Trees with full on leaves shaded our path as we twisted and turned with the river. We climbed again at the end of the day, mostly to avoid the hecticness of N-121a.
We were excited to cross a border, it didn't matter we had already crossed the Spanish-French border before, border crossings are fun, and a great photo opportunity. However the small road we had taken seemed to bypass any type of distinction. Down the other side of the last of the Pyrenees and we soon found ourselves in France. We said our goodbyes to our new found cycle friend and headed off in search for a campground. After figuring most were closed we started our luck with asking. It had gone so well in Spain our hopes were up and our spirits high. The big downfall none of us speak much French, luckily with Spain not far away Geaorgia was still able to get by with her Spanish and she snagged us a front yard of a restaurant. We thanked the man greatly. He questioned if we needed anything to drink and we said in a bit we might come get something. We were more then happy to get a beer or coffee at his bar, but seconds later he reappeared with a bottle of wine for free. A classic welcome back to France.

Photos (top to bottom): grouped together with, pedestrians, horse pulled carts, and tractors; water from a lush mountain spring; to Francia we go!; waiting before we rage the tunnel together; in the only tunnel we were allowed to ride in.