Lavail

Just east of the village of Sorede, a small tarmac turns off the main Alberes road and heads into the hills. We've passed the road many times, on our way to Argeles to buy groceries, on club runs, but I'd never taken the right turn up the one way road, an inoccuous piece of pavement promising a dead-end and a climb, two things cyclists don't get excited about.

Yesterday was an easy, easy recovery spin with the boys at the piste cyclable outside of Llupia. Picture a proud father with his two boys riding with vineyards on both sides on a perfectly smooth bike trail. The occasional walkers, mostly elderly people, but even a group of middle-aged women jogging together to lose weight, would look and smile at the earnestness and joy of my two sons on their bikes.

So today my legs are rested and ready for something a bit more, a tune-up climb in preparation for tomorrow's longer excursion into Spain, so it gets added to my loop to Argeles and back to Montesquieu. Should be about 90 min with a bit of climbing for intensity.

Vineyard lies on right and left for the first 500 meters or so, the road rising slightly to meet the valley in front of me. Soon I'm in high desert/low mountain forest, twisting away on a road that is sometimes 8 feet wide, sometimes a tad bigger or smaller, and climbing an easy grade. With the hard climbing effort Sunday and the active rest yesterday, my legs feel terrific, turning circles, feeling power feeding into the pedals. A slight increase in grade takes us towards 8 or 9 percent, but the speed stays constant.

On the right a sign, Eglise, XI siecle, a very old church, 1000 years waiting on this road for me.

The road bends back and forth, now following a rushing stream on my right. The sun is bright on the oaks and hemlock along the river and cool air pockets sit in the shaded parts of the canyon. Then the church is there, non-descript, squatting behind a gites d'etape, small country inn. More buildings and the road lurches up and I stand on the pedals for the first time. A left and up a wall of road to a cute creperie. Do tourists really come here to eat crepes? And then past, down an equally steep road of broken tarmac to cross the stream and the church is back and I'm descending.

A glance at my watch: just 40min into my ride. 17 minutes from now I'll be coming back from Argeles on the valley floor, leaving St. Andre. 35 minutes from now I'll be climbing into Montesquieu, ready for a rollercoaster ride through the cork oaks to my village. But just now, I'm content, listening to the stream, feeling my mass leaning into corners, peaking through the trees on the next bend and satisfied with my quick loop through Lavail.