See, it appears, everything that’s been annoying about this journey so far, was completely avoidable – and that’s really annoying me:
(a) still not having tested every single piece of kit and equipment and on-bike storage, under conditions as close to the real thing as possible;
(b) not having practiced certain “rituals” often enough, also good to discover (potential) problems (cf. a);
(c) making last-minute route changes that would not have been necessary, had I continued preparation as in the first half of 2019;
(d) starting sleep-deprived and stressed-out to the extent that a single, long, roughly 200-km-day would wear me out this much! (OK, add that crash very early on, with the minor defects, and other issues resulting from a & b & c);
(e) and finally, there’s the late starts — I mean, me starting really late each day. For a multitude of reasons. Some direct consequences of any or all of the above, from (a) to (d). Others as simple as “didn’t want to rush breakfast”.
So, while losing hours, even before hitting the road, I again felt increasingly stressed with every time I interrupted my ride.
But, there was this one stop I will never feel bad about:
On my way to Alins, somewhat before Llavorsí, I spotted tiny red apples on the ground, under a lush green tree, right off the tarmac of the C-13.
Turned the bike around, heaved it down off the small shoulder and thus out of the way of any likely danger, clambered down there myself and started picking up beautiful, ripe yet firm fruit and added it to other provisions in my mesh “Musette”.
In Llavorsí stopped for a drink and to refill my water bottles. Washed the apples on that occasion, and on I went.
They are my favorite snack since. Picking them up was not a waste of time.
