Turning North and Back to Donastia

 We have now turned north once again and are heading back to Donastia. Stage 2 of the Tour finishes in Donastia and that is our goal, to arrive in time to watch the finish. You may remember my prior comments about the sketchy nature of the roads that lead into, and back out of Bilbao, and how uncomfortable we were riding on them. 

We decided that we didn't want to ride them again and so we got back on the Euskotren and rode it back to Donastia. We reckoned that there might be a lot of cyclists heading the same way to watch the next stage of the race, so we rode early in the morning to the originating station for the train, and got on the very first train of the morning. Our intuition proved correct, as by the end of the fourth stop of the train in Bilbao it was packed full of bikes and folks heading to the race. Glad we got on early else we would not have made it.

 But our early start put us in Donastia early likewise, so we had time to get coffee and wander around this beautiful city and take in some of the sites.

Looking out towards the Bay of Biscay

Many folks heading already to the Tour de France route

The Maria Cristina Bridge

The Maria Cristina Bridge in Donastia

We had initially toyed with the idea of riding "backwards" from the finish line up the last 25 km of the Tour de France race route to watch the race as it crested a big climb -- the roads are closed to cars but it is OK for bikes to ride them a few hours before the race arrives. But there was a lot of rain in the hills and in the end, we decided to stay dry and just hang out in the city and watch the finish. The crowds were building fast, so we camped out at a spot about 300 meters from the finish line (it was already packed any closer than that).

It is just a big party along the route and we had lots of fun, with interesting neighbors to chat with. And there was a craft beer spot not 10 m from where we were parked.

 

We have to do something while we await the racers...

Soon enough, the helicopters started arriving and we knew the race was drawing near.

Besides, it was a gorgeous spot to sit for a few hours because we were right on one of Donastia's famous plages -- beaches.

The racers showed up early and we were treated to front row seats to quite a duel on bikes. Watching a bike race live is very different from watching it on TV (and I am well aware that most of you would argue that watching a bike race on TV is akin to watching paint dry!). Live, you see very little of the race. On TV you see it all. But the energy of the crowd is inescapable and just pure fun.

We cleared out pretty quickly after the race finished. It was about 1730 and we were hungry. We went to the little apartment we'd rented, showered, and headed to old town to look for some grub. Here's a note to ourselves: in Spain, and France, on Sunday, nothing is open. We wandered around along with lots of other hungry race fans and finally stumbled on a decent looking Italian joint. After a short wait we enjoyed a nice pasta dinner.

It seemed a bit out of place to be eating pasta in Donastia, where pintxos are king, but it was about our only option. And they made Negronis for Lorie and I as consolation. Not bad.

An authentic Negroni (as opposed to a Nantesgroni, which you may recall from an earlier post)

Feeling pretty tired, we nonetheless walked the long way toward home along the other of Donastia's famous plages. It was a beautiful, warm, lovely evening in an absolutely charming city.

The cathedral in the old quarter

One of dozens of plazas in old town

The city at night

Jon took this wonderful panoramic shot with his fancy new phone's camera

The same plage, earlier in the evening

Tomorrow we continue riding north, crossing the Spain / France border at Hendaye, and riding into Bayonne to watch one last stage of the Tour. After that, we will help pack Jon's bike up and get him on the train back to Geneva for his trip home. Riding with Jon has been a great thrill and adventure. Getting lost, riding impossible climbs, riding in the rain through roads slippy with cow poop, camping, glamping and so much more. He and I have been great friends for many, many years, and our shared passion for bike riding and racing has been a focus of many wonderful, painful, irreplaceable kilometers through France and Spain. How very lucky we are.

Lorie and I will continue north to Bordeaux and will continue to post on this blog. But our trip is drawing toward its end as well.