Handle bars

Our biker buddies never whined but often steered and veered toward the wineries between gelato stops. Wineries dotted the countryside and sip happened. We slurped from thimble-sized glasses at a self-serve barrel tasting of Rioja, sangria, muscat, and port. Sip, sip, hooray!

Six pack

Three years ago we met new friends on our bike & boat trip to the Croatian Islands. Since then we've plotted a peloton reunion tour and here we are — in Spain together biking (and eating) our way around Catalonia. No backpedaling here. Charge! (Our bikes and our meals.)

Then & Now

At the museum Arlo noticed that one of Dali's early paintings depicted a promenade and beach in Cadeques that we had visited the day before. In 1923 Dalí had to carry water in jugs. Today there's gelato within 50 meters. Progress!

Hello Dalí

Salvador Dali comes from these parts, though for some strange reason he does not have a gelato named after him like Kandinsky. We toured Dalí's home in Cadaqués and then visited the aptly surreal theater museum he built to honor himself in Figueres.

Braving the Costa Brava

Arlo bravely suggested we rent a car to explore the coast and medieval towns dotting the countryside before we start biking. No idling for us! We steered to Port de la Selva, Cadaqués, Pals, Besalú, and Figueres. We hiked a coastal path from Begur to Aiguablava and made a splash at swimming and snorkeling stops in beach coves along the route.

Bye, bye, bye Girona

We did one more night crawl through Girona to try Kandinsky gelato (peach, pistachio, vanilla), stopped to pay off the Espresso Mafia where we tried killer xuixos (pronounced choo-chos), and scouted Game of Thrones locations. (Note to Julie F: I think you once said that every country has a doughnut-like fried food. In Catalonia it's the xuixo!)

Eiffel’s Iron Bridge

Though more than six bridges cross the river into old town Girona we always took the iron bridge built by Gustave Eiffel who constructed it before the Eiffel Tower. The color reminded us of the Golden Gate Bridge — but this one had pots of golden gelato at one end!

Gearing up

Girona is the training playground for many professional cyclists due to the network of tiny farm roads, the nearby Pyrenees mountains, the weather, and the wide berth that cars give to them. So it's a fitting place to get our rears in gear. The routes we picked were listed as "day off" or "rest day" rides for pros. We toured the countryside through pear, apple, and pomegranate orchards, and followed a yellow brick road to Lake Banyoles where a masters rowing competition had just ended. The rowing yarn bomb photo is for my rowing sisters!

Pintxos

Though famous for tapas, Catalonia also offers pintxos (pronounced pinchos) for dinner. We stepped up to the bar at a restaurant in town to find a buffet of small bites, many spiked with a toothpick. You select as many different things as you like and they count the toothpicks or little plates at the end. Such delicious fun! I needed eight arms like the octopus that was skewered on one of those plates.

Girona, Spain

We based ourselves in Girona where we could haunt the old medieval town and rent e-bikes to train for our upcoming bike trip. Since the 12th century all Girona visitors first stop to kiss the ass of the town's lioness to ensure they will return one day. Originally visitors had to climb a pole to get within kissing distance. During Covid they moved the statue to the museum. Now a lioness on a plaque butts up to the old town entrance. We left that in our rear view and found an ice cream replica.

Hasta la Visa

We hugged the kids goodbye and flew off to Spain where we will meet up with our bicycling friends in a week or so. The madness of the Barcelona metro put us on edge and my next hug was from professional pickpocketers who surrounded and crowded us on an escalator and into an elevator. I knew immediately that my fanny pack, that was on my stomach, had been breached and I swatted at a gypsy's hands. Then she was gone as was my wallet. I lost a small amount of cash, my Visa card and, worst of all, my pride at being a savvy traveler. Hasta la Visa.

Hut, hut, hike

Like any respectable Austrian, one must hike in to a hut in the Alps. We parked the van and headed up the trail. The next day we climbed every mountain nearby and are happy to report that the hills are still alive with the sound of cowbell music, and the alpine hut fare as tasty as ever with freshly made wild blueberry milkshakes and Kaiserschmarrn. These are a few of my favorite things.

Ferry tale

Ric booked us on an overnight ferry to Genoa and as soon as our ship sailed we knew we were pasta point of no return. I'm alfredo I'll miss you, Sardinia. Arrivederci! Now we're mooving on to the Alps to see Ric's Austrian hut and maybe a cow with a bell.

Cheeky

En route to our departure point we had time to visit a more popular beach (La Cinta) we had considered staying near. Though the soft white sand and turquoise sea appealed, the cheek-to-buttcheek beach did not. We waded through the thong throng, took a dip, and left the behinds behind.

Keep looking up

Our deck gave us a sky high view of midnight fireworks honoring the town's saint. A few days later we got mooned by a lunar eclipse. Moonstruck by my photo of the full moon framed by dramatic searchlights, I showed it off to Arlo who brought me crashing back down to Earth when he illuminated me that it was just sunscreen on my lens.

Noodling around

Our daily consumption includes more than just gelato. A pizza our hearts goes out to the delicious personal plate-sized pies. Not wanting to miss the regional specialty, I tried culurgiones one night — a homemade pasta that's a bit like large gnocchi stuffed with potatoes, cheese, and herbs. (Julie K, this one's for you!) As elite ocean swimmers we also needed some of Stephi's homemade carbo(nara) loading. Pasta la vista!