Montpellier – Valras – Port Leucate – Figueres – Canyet de Mar – Barcelona: 450 km

Yes yes yes! Life was already great but now it’s even better. Donna is here. She called me a few weeks ago, wanting to join for a bit. Immediately thrilled about this prospect we started to work on a plan. Now I’m picking her up at the station as night falls over Montpellier. She’ll cycle with me down south for two weeks, we’re aiming for Valencia. At this moment however, she’s lugging her awkwardly large bike box over the platform.

Donna and I are high school sweethearts. Each other’s first more or less serious loves. We were 16. I thought, I knew, I’d spend the rest of my life with her. But these things last only in exceptions, and we were not one of them. The years thereafter our pendulum swung but never synchronised, our feelings would light up but timing was always off. When that stabilised, a beautiful friendship grew. I guess I was right thinking we spend the rest of our lives together, as friends. Having shared highs, lows, time and growth has been fertile soil for our friendship. Yet, it’s not one where we are around each other all the time. Which is actually quite nice, because we evolve and experience things we then discuss. We always have something to talk about. Out here, if feels like Donna brought some ‘home’ with her.

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I’ve been overly excited for her arrival. I haven’t cycled with anybody since Greece, and sometimes I wish I had someone with me to share a thought, an experience or climb or a view with. It’s not loneliness per se, I don’t feel lonely, I’m pretty good at being alone, but I do miss the ease and warmth of friendship. The fact we don’t have to introduce ourselves, ask all the basic questions you ask somebody you meet for the first time, and just knowing where the other is coming from. I also have missed sharing having somebody with me for an extended period of time. As I’ve said earlier, I’m always arriving or leaving, introducing or saying goodbye. With Donna I don’t need to do any of that for two whole weeks.

Barcelona is our first anchor. We follow the coast from France into Spain. We get lost in a swamp on our second day together and will carry the mud with us for the remainder of the two weeks. The roads are relatively flat, and when we do encounter a climb Donna beats me with ease. In my defence, she works as a spinning instructor and has a little less weight she hauls with her (although she has taken it upon herself to carry the spice bag).  We camp on the beach every single day, our spots seem to get better by the day. As does our teamwork; we switch setting up the tent and gathering wood each night. The campfires stink up our clothes as we look into the mesmerising flames, talking about the day, tomorrow and our dreams and plans for far from now, while Donna nearly freezes to death every single night. It’s so much better camping together.

After five days of roads, sand and wilderness we arrive in Barcelona. Marieke, one of Dutch friends I know from my time in Turkey lives there. I reach out to her and although she’s in Berlin for work she offers us to stay in her house. She lives in the dead centre of Barcelona’s beating heart with her boyfriend. Their tasteful apartment is an extreme luxury after showering in the still ice cold Mediterranean, and falling asleep to the sound the flapping tent canvas. By sheer coincidence another friend of mine is here too! Donna and me explore the city a bit and end up meeting Stijn and his friends Matis and Walt for exceptional amounts of Vermouth every night. Life is good in Spain. Life is great with friends.