It’s been over two weeks since we first set foot in France and we’ve had that much time of extremely pleasant cycling. French roads are in very good condition, French people are very friendly and courteous to cyclists and there is a French bakery on every corner. Even the kids are polite as I’ve never seen before — always willing to offer a “bonjour” first thing in the morning in the coed bathroom when I am still trying to fix my âbat-jour shaped hair from the night before.

French people are also more talkative and ask a lot of questions about our trip when we stop to fill our water bottles at a public fountain. When we say goodbye, they always wish us “bon courage”, whereas in Italy people used to tell us “buona fortuna”. I find that interesting, since the first translates as “good courage” and the latter “good luck”. Languages often give away cultural differences, as if French believe our destiny is within oneself and Italians attribute it more to outside factors. I tend to agree more with the former.

It’s been almost one month since we last stayed at a hotel (Viterbo, Italy was the last time) and it’s with some surprise that I have to admit I do not miss it a bit. Campgrounds are so much more biker-friendly. However, this is also to say that other than occasionally eating at a restaurant (we cook the majority of our meals) we haven’t spent any time indoors in a long time. On the other hand, I suspect it will be weird to come back to our house and have that much space again after living in our small MSR tent for such a long time.

Our time in France has been so enjoyable that we haven’t taken one day off the bikes in 17 days, making a concession today by taking the afternoon off, after a climb to Col de la Core at 1395 meters, a 900 m gain from where we started this morning. We’re now in our second day in the Pyrenees, relaxing at our nice campspot by the river and eating some fresh fruit. The Pyrenees have made for some hard days of climbing although the scenary is well worth it, with long valleys, cows going on with their business, and green, lots of green.

I always get quieter and quieter with apprehension the night before a big climb, not knowing if the steepness ahead is within my cycling abilities. Scott, on the contrary, gets talkative and excited as if he can’t wait to go. It turns out that i’ve been living up to it so far. No pain, no gain.

Yesterday morning when we arrived at the bottom of the mountains in Tarascon sur Ariége (just north from AndorraU, we joined a route named the Raid Pyrénéen, which crosses the length of the Pyrenees mountain range. It was created in 1912 by the Cyclo Club Béarnais, but not ridden until 1950. The route starts in the Mediterranean village of Cerbére and travels west 817 km over 28 cols, or passes, with 16,000 meters (52,500’) of climbing, ending in the Atlantic town of Hendaye, and is intended to be done in 10 days. We joined it at the beginning of its fourth day, the first serious day of climbing, going over three cols.

Yesterday had about 1705 meters (5600’) of vertical gain in a total of 70 km. I was proud of myself for not having to walk my bike for any length, although I struggled in the 10% stretches. Luckily, there were only a couple of those. I came to realize that I am confortable up to 8%, not so good at 9%, having a hard time at 10% and pushing my bike up at 12%. I always get words of encouragements from Scott — who manages to stay positive the whole way — and that helps a great deal.

Tomorrow’s ride should be hors categorie once again — three cols in a 76 km stride from our base town Castillon en Couserans through Spain for 18 km and back into France.

As always, in the eve of a big climb, I get antsy and little nervous. Scott, on the flip side, is so excited that if he was a dog his tail would be wagging right now.