Day 24 - Spanish Roads Blew My Tyre

There is something quite bemusing about cities, they seem unfit for anyone not living there and not driving a car or taking public transport (essentially cyclists, but I didn't want to leave anyone out). Signposts either assume you are taking the big roads through or are taking the smaller roads to the inbetween places (but not beyond). Hence, after leaving our lovely camping on the farm and cycling alongside the river into Bayonne, we got lost - a lot.

We needed food first, however, so headed into Bayonne centre to find somewhere open. Thankfully there was a little "8 a huit" (so clever) and we stocked up on foods for the day. Our plan was to make it across the border and into San Sebastian with no planning whatsoever. This is known as foolish.

After dining on the rivers edge, in the cold and the damp (thankfully the rain had stopped now), we set-off in search of the road that would take us across into Spain. But we kept running into the motorway and big signs saying "No Bicycles" (but in pictures not in words) and so I attempted to navigate blind through the streets of Bayonne and into Biarritz (where we could follow the coastroad to where we wanted to go). At first I was a bit bemused by the two signs of everything, until I realised that this was Basque country, home to Grafitti artists extraordinaire (whose greatest form of protest seems to be painting over the signs in French).

We got quite far thanks to the fantasticly detailed bus maps that line every bus-stop in France and then "Bam!", there was another sign saying no bicycles. Finally we found our way to the sea and took photos and relaxed with the saltly smell of home in our noises (I'm a seaside town man at heart). We took the coast road, which was windy up and out of Biarritz and attempted to get across the border. It was at this point that God saw our little escape plan and said "No!". The rain fell, it wasn't in drops it was literally in sheets of water. Up and down these cliffs that marked where the Pyrenees fell into the sea, absolutely drenched with water, and then it stopped just as suddenly. God was having his little laughs, as the water eventually came back and then stopped several times over, but we were finding our way there.

Then we ran into a little sign saying no bicycles, goddamn. Thankfully there was another road out of the town and across the border, along the cliffs no less. We cycled up to them, but as we rounded the headland to face south, the wind picked up and changed into something scary. It was stronger than the gail storm we had faced before, and the only saving grace was that it was coming in from the sea (obviously) and so it couldn't push us over the cliffs. We got off our bikes and pushed them along the roads edge, trying desperately to keep them upright against the wind. Finally we made it to a roundabout and made our way inland to see if we could find our road again. As we came down from the cliffs - my tyre blew again! I had had enough at this point and while I fixed my tyre (and the tear was quite extreme know), Danny got the Tea on. Very important.

We both knew the tyre would not last long, but it being Easter Monday we had to press on, time was against us. Finally we made it onto the road we were looking for, the non-motorway N-road across into Spain and to San Sebastian.

When we reached Spain we realised we were in for a bit of trouble - the signs were entirely different. Not just a different language, but a completely different style (that seemed to focus on the absurdly local, while ignoring what the next town on the road was). Along and round this road we went, through and over road-works, the wind driving into us at every oppurtunity and a fair amount of rain making our going even more tough.

When we reached the town just next to San Sebastion I was ready to commit murder on all Spainish road makers. Absolutely abyssmal system, that i can only hope makes sense to the Spainish mind. We had to pop off the N-road we were on and get back on it on the otherside of the town. Only trouble was that the town lacked signs telling us how to get there. We went up and down hills until finally we made it back onto the road just as it was getting dark.

Not long after this little victory, something very bad happened. My Tyre literally blew. Usually a puncture is signalled by a gasp of air escaping, this one actually exploded. No chance now. We lifted our bikes over the barrier and onto the pavement and walked the rest of the way into town with no clue which was was right or where the hell we were going.

Finally we found an internet cafe and tried to find a place to stay. I found a cheap hostel to stay at in the old quarter of San Sebastian and we got our bearing thanks to Google (Google Maps is the Best. True that. Double True!) When we got there, the numbers were a mess. As in all of spain it was a big apartment block, but we didn´t know which number to press. As we were waiting outside, we were stumbled upon by a couple, who not only spoke English but also worked in the hostel we were trying to get into to. They had a room available and took us upstairs to warmth and food (there was a kitchen where Danny cooked).

Slept well, though I imagine that the others there were kept awake by Danny's snoring.