If you’re an avid cyclist this might appear to be a dumb question.

Those of us that ride, not only have a love affair with our bikes but also with the distant places our bikes take us.  This is particularly true when we have the opportunity to ride the sacred streets of places like Tuscany, Italy,  Girona, Spain or the Basque Country.  So, if you have an avid cyclist on your Valentines Day list and want to give them an extraordinary gift, blow them away with a romantic bike vacation this summer.  We promise, they’ll love YOU even more.  Below is a list of our fave bike vacations that fit into the category of ‘Romantic’.

1.  La Rioja & the Basque Country - Off the beaten tourist path are two regions that let wine, food and slow rural roads rule.  Start in La Rioja where the wine rolls on and off the tongue .  Ride the romantic Camino de Santiago pilgrimmage road into Pamplona for tapas like none other.  Stay in a luxury Basque-style auberge nestled in the green rolling Basque hills.  Finish the trip with a ride into Espelette where spicy dark chocolate tempts every passing cyclist.

2.  Provence & Mt. Ventoux - With Cotes-du-Rhone wines, quintessential French villages and chambres d’hotes du charme, a Provence & Mt. Ventoux bike vacation is a lover’s delight.  Love can be challenging so we go easier on the rides!  Off the bike lover’s activities can  include cooking classes, wine tasting or lounging at a hip streetside cafe.

3. The Dolomites & Italian Alps - Is there any place more romantic than Italy?  Keep love adventurous by riding into the mountains that havemade the Giro d’Italia famous.  We’ll ride iconic climbs all day, enjoying Italian Prosecco, gelato and other aphrodisiacs at night.

Make any of these trips even more romantic by booking your own private or custom trip!  Email us at info@ridestrongbiketours.com

It didn’t occur to me just how provincial the French really are until my 4^th lap driving around the Dali museum in Figueres, Spain yesterday.  The GPS-equipped French van couldn’t navigate me anywhere outside the French border just 20 km to my North.

Maybe a lake snake from Lake Banyoles?

The route notes today started something like this ‘From Serinya car park, carefully turn LT on the busy C66 for 1.5 km.  Take the first exit direction Banyoles – Estany. Do NOT aggravate the huge snake in the road!!’  I’m not positive whether the snake was dead or alive but it was certainly the thickest snake I’d ever come across on a ride.  Presumably as well fed as I from the local tender pork cheeks.

Past the snake and through the Olympic rowing village of Banyoles you follow a hidden but pristine road (mostly down) to Girona Nord.  From Girona Nord you access one of the main training roads used by local and professional cyclists.  I have no idea what local’s call the road but it’s flattish, fast and moves west to progressively remote parts.  If you continue to the end of this road, you reach what is literally the end.  But just before, I took a hard left where a flurry of small insects stung me, up and over a little climb descending into Les Planes d’Hostoles.

Nearing the top of the climb I was standing on my pedals.  Not because I was practicing any new techniques but because I was still hurting from the last two days.  I’m sure my form was absolute rubbish when a good looking ex-professional triathlete-cum-cycling coach named Atilla danced right up next to me.  His perfectly cut 66-year old client wasn’t far behind.  I did some quick name dropping, gaining enough status to join their ride into Olot.  Little they did know, I don’t actually ride a bike like Dave Scott.

My new riding friends, Pere and Atilla. Enjoyed the ride!

I didn’t catch Atilla’s last name (I’m not even sure about the first) but I did get the customary kisses on each cheek followed by all the statistics you’d expect from a triathlete:  his weight, fastest Ironman time, age, fastest swim time and a list of joint-related ailments.  I was doing as much panting and wheezing as Atilla was talking so I didn’t mind the distraction.  He half wheeled me all the way into St. Esteve d’En Bas where, on a turn, I took the opportunity to duck into his slipstream.  This propelled me the rest of the way into Olot and up and over the first climb to Santa Pau in the Volcanic Natural Parc.

We all stopped in Santa Pau for cold cokes, I shared some GU and split a pane con tomatoe.  After exchanging email addresses but before clicking into our pedals, the client Pere said something about ‘rapido, rapido’.  It needed no translation.  I was happy to resume my slowtwitch pace and taking photos along the way.  As I watched them speed off, a Team Sky rider (yes, not just a poser in a kit), overtook us all as if we were standing still.  Somehow, that made me feel better.

Me and Pere after refueling in Santa Pau

As I closed the long loop ride back at Lake Banyoles I noticed the snake had had enough sun for the day.  I had too!    Time for some cold Gazpacho and shower.

Venga, venga!

I arrived yesterday in Girona, Spain to prepare for the upcoming triathlon camp with Dave Scott. Having toured the Girona region, I know the roads well and the routes we plotted well over a year ago. But there are still a few roads I don’t know and in my infinite curiosity (and perhaps frustration over yesterday’s long drive from France to Spain), I set off this morning on my bike, direction Beget.

I’m fastidious about my research, but I don’t actually pre-research my own rides aside from studying a map. Mystery and the great unknown are half of the fun. The only thing I knew about today’s ride was that the weather was absolutely stunning.

Perfect Conditions for ride to Beget

I spent the first 20 km allowing myself to be distracted and annoyed with a chronic noise coming from somewhere near the drive train. Resolving in my mind that the noise wasn’t going to be fixed any time during the ride, I finally looked up and saw the imposing town of Castellfollit de la Roca suspended on a sheer rock face high above me.

I was also lucky to see my hard right turn to the GIV-522 direction Oix. Pondering the pronunciation of Oix, I failed to notice that I had been slogging in low gear for a good distance. I couldn’t help but notice, however, the paucity of any traffic or anything other than mountains, green trees and blue skies.

The mountains took on a predominant role. Every which way I looked, there were more. But the road wasn’t a constant grind. It was up for 7 km, then a good stretch of down, up another 4, then down. This continued for a solid 30 km with a heinous stretch of 6 km averaging 9.5% grade. I took note of some fantastic hiking at the top of one climb but nearly lost it on the descent when faced with a herd of lazy cows sunning themselves in the middle of the road.

At 50 km, the quintessential charming mountain hamlet of Beget appears around the corner. It’s small and perfect with roughly 100 residents, 1 ancient church, 3 gourmet restaurants and 500,000 cobblestones.

My massive appetite considered tasting the local lamb for 7 euro or the crepes with scallops, crevettes and other sea goodies for just 50 centimes more, but big decisions had to be made. Do I continue further into the Catalan Pyrenees to Rocabruna, risking a loop to a bigger ‘C’ road to Camproden and over to Olot? Or should I just go back on the same beautiful road I came in on? Driving my decision were my legs. They had little to no climbing left. I went with a wild guess and continued up towards Rocabruna to complete a loop on nothing more than fresh cold mountain water and an old Mojo Bar.

Beget, Catalonia, Spain

The postcard perfect scenery continued along a singing river, over small bridges, past another 12th century church to a hard T with the main C-38 coming down from France. The area is called Vall Alto del Ter ans, to my great fortune, I entered the valley going slightly down into the good looking town of Camproden. It was 2:00 in the afternoon and anything of any value to me (i.e. food or coffee) was closed. I found a small pastisseria with a coke and chocolate croissant that gave me the chance to study the map. I noticed a long tunnel with only one way around over the Coll de Capsacosta. This was of grave concern. At this point, my legs were toast. I started running through other options: buses, taxis, phone calls for help but none seemed viable.

So, at the point in time where I saw the sign for a hard left, I took it and began to grin. The stretch of road on the C153-A between Sant Pau de Seguries and Sant Salvador de Bianya had to be the most fun I’ve ever had on 8.5 km. Twisty, turny, down, down, down. No breaking necessary until the very end. It made all the pain and slogging worth it.

The last stretch back to Banyoles was predictable. In fact, all my epic rides have the same tragic ending, with zero left in my legs, a 1% descent straight into a fierce head wind. Today was no different. Perhaps that’s why it was so epic.  Ride Strong!