As everyone who bikepacks knows, the only plan in bikepacking is that the plan goes out the window the moment you set off – It’s part of the joy of it all. So our plan to have a few days of plain sailing after crossing the border into Spain didn’t quite go as we had anticipated – but it turns out, not in a bad way!

Our first day in Spain consisted of a 1000m climb, which was pretty daunting, especially when the heat of the day was over 30 degrees. But after some successful negotiation (via hand signal only!) with some old ladies about reopening the shop they’d just closed as we tried to push the door open, we fuelled up on the Olympians lunch of choice – cheese, tomato and cucumber sandwiches (obvs!) – and set off. The climb was at a gradient that was just about doable, legs pedalling away, earphones in & tunes on, singing away (thankfully with no one around to be able to hear me!) with the terrain under our wheels becoming rougher and rougher the higher we climbed. Despite every spring lower down the mountain being dry, the one closest to the top was thankfully flowing, so we loaded ourselves up with another couple of litres of water each for the final 2km of the climb.

It was tough, but we did it. Reaching the top just as the last of the daylight faded, we found a little patch of flat nestled in amongst the trees and set up camp. A good day, that had by no means been easy but we had enjoyed the challenge. It was a little reminder to us both that we can do hard things, and have enough experience of doing this to be able to read the map well enough to anticipate what the next few hours of riding will bring us, spot water refill points and scope out potential camp spots.

Since then, on the whole, Spain has continued to deliver tough days of riding. Winter time has also arrived, both with the changing of the clocks (so we have less daylight hours to ride in) and the crazy weather (the 4 seasons in a day kinda weather). The physical and mental challenges we’ve faced have also felt pretty relentless. But I think our approach and attitude towards it all has become much more accepting.

Now that we are nearly 8 weeks into this trip, it is truly feeling like this is life for a couple of years –  It’s not a holiday. So when asked ‘Is it all going to plan?’ or ‘Are you having a nice time?’ its starting to feel a bit odd – it’s not a question you get asked about your life in general, the way you do about a holiday. It also means that it’s totally normal to not love every second of it – I mean bikepacking in the torrential rain is never fun. Ever. But that’s okay. It means that things like standing under a motorway underpass to shelter from the worst of the rain for a few minutes is not something to get annoyed about. It’s actually a blessing to have some form of shelter. So we’ve taken full advantage of a few bridges, a vineyard barn, an abandoned railway station building and a few doorways – Always appreciative of the protection from the elements, despite how it may look to those driving by or vineyard workers heading home for the day. We might have shouted into the endless headwinds, been knocked sideways by the 90mph gusts and felt exhausted by the seemingly perpetual battle against the wind (in whichever direction we ride!) but we’re just thankful that it’s not raining at the same time. We’ve played the fun game of –  waterproof trousers on = rain stops, waterproof trousers off = rain starts again – for hours on end (Has anyone ever used waterproof trousers and  not had to play this silly game!?!) It doesn’t mean we don’t get frustrated or annoyed in the moment, but in the scheme of things it really doesn’t matter – Hakuna matata.

We still find the lack of down-time surprising. Even though I no longer have to deal with exciting everyday tasks like cleaning the kitchen floor or mowing the lawn, the amount of thinking and planning on the road means time to switch off is very minimal. You become focused on your most basic needs – water, food, shelter, route:

– It means checking the map to work out where your next water source is. The extremely dry and hot weather Spain has experienced this year means many of the smaller village water fountains have been turned off and a lot of the mountain streams are bone dry. It’s meant in some instances we’ve carried water all day adding many more kgs to the bikes when we later come across a flowing fountain and think we needed have bothered, but then we remind ourselves we’d always rather have extra than not enough.

– Food also requires some thinking about. Many parts of the route through Spain have been pretty remote – more than 80km between resupply. Due to the Spanish illogical opening hours (all is forgiven France – at least your closing times were predictable!) on occasion we’ve timed it wrong and had to wait hours in the freezing cold for the shop to reopen before we’ve been able to continue riding. It’s often meant that we – well mainly Ted – have bought way more food than we need. It leads to us instantly cursing the decision to throw in that extra packet of biscuits into the shopping basket (or if you’re Ted, throw in the 2 tomatoes, 3 bananas, 3 carrots, 1 avocado, 1 apple and a tin of sweetcorn!!)  the moment we reach the first section of hike-a-bike. But it’s meant our dinners have been really nutritious and pretty good for one pan wonders in the Trangia.

– As for the shelter, we have continued to experience great warmth, generosity and hospitality from our diverse and wonderful WarmShowers hosts, but they’ve become more treasured as they’ve become few and far between due to the remoteness of the route. Now that the clocks have gone back it’s dark by 6.15pm so the search for a place for the night begins by at least 5pm, and the ‘finding a camp spot fear’ truly takes over by 6pm. Sometimes it’s meant riding out of towns in the dark to pitch up the tent as soon as we find a flat patch of grass, sometimes it’s meant finding a perfect, silent, Instagram-worthy wild camp spot in the perfect golden hour glow, on other occasions it’s meant paying much more than we’d like (especially for Ted and his Yorkshire man’s budget!) for a room in the only hotel in town. On other occasions we’ve asked friendly family’s or farmers if we can camp on their land and have been invited in for food and a shower too – the kindness of strangers is truly wonderful.

We’ve experienced our first cold nights camping and I mean tent-frozen-inside-and-out-waterbottles-frozen-wearing-our-clothes-and-hats-to-sleep-in type cold. But it’s also meant we’ve enjoyed clear skies full of bright stars and the milkyway – standing and staring up at them with your pre-bed tea warming your hands really does make you feel small.

– The EU Divide route has taken us through the Catalonian Pyrenees as well as twisting through one National Park after another (take a look at our tracker page for the route). It continues to be a mixture of challenge, reward and utter stupidity, so we are continually scrutinising the route so we know what to expect. It hasn’t always worked. Between Mont Blanc and Parves the route climbed over 1000m but it was on doubletrack/ fireroad so we naively weren’t too worried about it and leisurely had a long pizza based lunch, thinking we’d be over the top by nightfall. Little did we know that most of that fireroad was at 20% incline with loose potato sized gravel rocks that meant every step you took pushing the bikes slid back to where you’d started. It was exhausting. It took both of us pushing one bike at a time, and walking back to repeat with the second. It was slow progress, but the views were incredible – when you remembered to look up! As darkness fell the wind really picked up and we still had 200m of elevation to the top. We called it a day by a weather station so it could provide a little protection from the worst of the wind, which howled overhead all night. Our little tent did us proud and didn’t wobble an inch in the lee of the building. Conscious of the storm that was due to hit us by 11am the next morning, we again scrutinised the route to make sure we could make it up and over the mountain top before we got soaked. It was 14km to the next village, Parves, mainly downhill once we’d reached the top. We calculated it would take us about 2hrs to get there – basing our timing on our average speed, the elevation gain and terrain. So we were up and off by 8:30am to avoid the storm, but the route had other plans (we should have learned this by now!). After 4kms of climbing the doubletrack came to an abrupt end, a wall of scrubland bushes, trees and rock in front of us. We triple checked the route and yes, it went straight up it on a small narrow footpath. Looking at the maps again, there was no alternative (other than turning around and reversing all of yesterday’s route). It was only 1.5kms of footpath along a ridgeline to the top – I mean how hard could it be!?! It took us 2 hrs to cover the 1.5km! All the luggage had to come off the bikes and everything including the bikes themselves had to be carried and shuttled between us – Not fun! By the time we’d rejoined the doubletrack the storm hit us and we were soaked, far from ideal at 1400m elevation. But as soon as we’d rolled into Parves and settled into the bar with coffees and tortillas, the trauma of the two days of 38km each, that were some of the hardest we’ve ever ridden, quickly faded. We were pleased we’d just cracked on and got it done – so we could reach the warmth sooner!

But we are so happy we’ve stuck at it – the route has taken us through some awe inspiring scenery. I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve said to one another ‘Can you believe we’re in Spain?’ or ‘Why isn’t this as famous as Yosemite?’ or ‘Where are all the people?’ The diversity of the ever changing landscapes, the contrasting colours of mineral rock and autumn leaves, the crazy geology, the huge endless cliff faces and rock formations, the old crumbling villages and historic town squares – It’s bonkers to think that most people come to Spain and lay on a beach without seeing any of this.

Anything in addition to the basic needs of water, food, shelter and route feels like an absolute bonus – Like, a Saturday night in Vic with takeaway pizza and a group of friends instantly made us feel like we were home. It didn’t matter that they were mainly speaking Catalan, it didn’t matter that they were actually the friends of our WarmShowers hosts or that we’d only just met them – for one evening we had all the feels of a night spent with our own lovely pals, and it was joyous!

So have we found our happy medium? Do you ever!? Maybe it’s lurking in the bottom of our tenth jar of peanut butter!? It’s definitely a state of mind and something to work towards everyday. To not sweat the small stuff, or those things we have no control over. In reality it’s hard to do, especially now as we have 8 days until our flight from Madrid to Argentina – Nothing like an immoveable deadline to add some pressure to our days of pedalling! So wish us some speedy tailwinds and sweet flowy trails (with no 20% inclines!) as we now leave the EU Divide route and push on towards Madrid.

Adios for now.