I knew crossing the border from France to Spain was a get-out-of jail. No serious hills (that’s the benefit of hugging the coast).

I reckoned there would be some serious climbing ahead.

Doh!

An early start seemed prudent – so I found myself on the road at 7:19 (breakfast on board – and some stealthy supplies tucked away for replenishment later on).

The forecast was sunny, light wind with a tiny amount of rain.

Hah!

My first response was to replace the lightweight wind cheater with the sleeveless Irish version (i.e. keep the bloody rain out). That lasted only minutes before I realised I needed the heavy duty, sleeves version – along with overshoes (you can’t beat staying dry and warm)

Still, the gradient wasn’t too bad.

After a while, the clouds (and the rain) cleared somewhat and I found myself on a pleasant cycle track. A tunnel posed an interesting challenge (I had no lights, neither did the tunnel). The route continued to the sound of birdsong. Another tunnel loomed – only to present a hefty chain and a notice indicating it was closed for works.

U-turn!

Two locals provided (what I am sure was ) fantastic advice on how to re-navigate my route – shame my Spanish is so poor.

I muddled through, however, and girded myself for the hilly route that lay ahead (see my separate blog post on stress!).

Pamplona presented without incident and I set about exploring the locality. . . . Happy days.