- Distance: 108,64 km
- Vertical Ascent: 2.460 m
- No. of Named Cols: <TBC>
- Start Date & Time: 2019-10-07, hh:mm
- Start Location: Senterada
- End Date & Time: 2019-10-07, hh:mm
- End Location: La Massana (Andorra)
- Time Moving: 8:00:13
- Moving Average: 13,6 km/h
- No. of Stops >3 Minutes: 16
Data: strava.com/activities/2767351189
After waking under the roof of Casa Leonardo, I had an absolute treat of a Catalán breakfast: Kudos to the owner, Mireia, and her mother for the Catalán welcome dinner, delicious lunch packages and help with everything!
A short while on the route, I almost missed the turn, right off the main road, for the start of Parcours A … FaceTime can be very distracting: better not to play with any gadgets while operating a bike.
I lost one glove, retraced, found it only a few hundred meters back.
When I got to the village of Pujol, I found the freshwater fountain on the right just inside the courtyard of the manor house, next to the old church/chapel. What I hadn’t taken into account was the swarm of wasps about as much longing for water as I was. So, me and the black-yellow flying stings took turns at the bronze spout. Quite an experience, given that I’m prone to panic in the presence of wasps, especially when they behave aggressively, as the Common and German Wasp very frequently do. These wasps, however, were definitely not interested in me, my food or bike or anything else but the water.
The final descent of Parcours A was extremely sketchy: gravel and sand make a peculiar mixture, probably not helped by my 28 mm slicks. On one occasion, I stopped and slowly fell over to the side as I couldn’t detach from my pedals quickly enough. No bruises, no critical damage to the bike. But I had to be more careful.
After a lunch break at the parking and rest area at Morreres, at the end of Parcours A, my mind was still set on Andorra, CP2 and beyond. But it became obvious that I would not proceed over Port d’Envalira and into France, closer to Parcours B.
The sun burned scorchingly hot, and my slow progress dictated a realistic goal. Carretera de Tor and Andorra it had to be. Anyway, to that end, I successfully restrained myself from stopping for pictures as frequently as the day before … and still only arrived at Alins roughly two hours behind schedule.
Although I stopped in Alins for a café and some snacks, I missed the passive CP2*: in my mind, I had placed both CP2s firmly inside Andorra. I think I was too preoccupied with my hurry to cross into Andorra during the evening hours … would experience another Pyrenees sunset climbing in unknown territory. (*=nevermind, Strava track already uploaded)
I enjoyed every bit of the ascent to Tor: it’s an otherworldly place — you must see for yourselves, hike or bike, that is. Try to be as close to the surroundings as you can. No car windows and as little machine noise as possible please.
The sun finally set when I attacked the dirt road out of Tor. “Carretera de Tor”, what a name, and it would make for a hell of a climb!
As I had decided not to resort to any playlist or podcast during the dark hours, but delve into the sounds of the night instead, the close clang of cowbells left and right was utterly comforting. Around 20:15, counting down the meters up to the Port de Cabús summit, happily contemplating the one advantage this nightly climbing venture had, namely the absence of cars, I heard the faint noise of an engine, and saw the glow of headlights from the summit of Port de Cabús above.
… the battered Toyota Land Cruiser that a while later emerged from around a bend was plainly an 80’s model, the heavily bearded figure behind the wheel at least twice as old*, but still as vital as the 4WD he was steering: turns out his was the last farm house I passed, way above Tor. (*=He recounted the story of having worked on the spires of Cologne cathedral, the “Kölner Dom”, in Germany as a youngster, and that he had kids and grandchildren in Germany now.)
When I declined his helpful offer of a place for the night, “aquí mucho frio!”, explaining that my next CP was in La Massana, he immediately knew I was from that “carrera” that had brought so many riders to the area over the past days. I countered, explaining I was “el último”, the last one, to which he replied, “¡Tú campeón!”, before closing the driver’s door: “¡Aquí mucho frio!” — Very cold out here, indeed.
Continuing my way up the mountain, I vaguely remembered the turns and bends from plotting the track on RideWithGPS, and when I entered the wooded section knew it wasn’t too long before reaching the summit. However, after carefully negotiating my tires between most of the rocks and gravel, one sharp stone was one too many: After decades without pinch flats, this was the place to end that streak.
Changing the tube was quick, as the tire itself had become a bit more malleable over the course of the TPR: When newly mounted, tubeless-ready rubber tends to be a bit tight and difficult to set, especially when you’re already weary and your fingers are stiff with cold.
No matter that I successfully rode most of the Carretera de Tor (except for probably about 100 meters), I decided to push my bike for the remaining few hundred meters. Of course, right at the summit, a perfect tarmac surface would await. Andorra ??
Also, of course, I’d return to the dirt track for my sunglasses in a few moments …