This one's for Frank

It was with deep sadness that we learn't of the passing of David's father, by a phone call that comes while you're still sleeping, awakening the senses exponentially, you just know something is wrong.  We learn "he  read the paper from cover to cover, had his soup for lunch, then simply closed his eyes for his afternoon nap and was gone".  

We knew it was coming of course, but no matter how you think you're prepared for it, it still hurts immensely. He welcomed me into his family with open arms, all those years ago and has been a huge part of my life from the day I arrived in NSW, after walking away from my corporate job in Melbourne.

Last Friday, I started coming down with a chest cold and today, Tuesday was the first day I was feeling like perhaps, I could go for a spin.  So we chose a shorter route, to take in the view of the mountains, an environment he loved,  so this ride is dedicated to: Francesco Bruno Cigana.


Its quite chilly and the sun is trying to come through the thick clouds, as we make our up Col du Saraille, a narrow winding road that slowly snakes its way through thick forest and open green fields, from our base at the valley floor. My lungs are tight, somewhat congested and I sound a bit like a train as the road pitches upwards and my breathing becomes laboured, but at least the legs feel good and this climb isn't too long. 

Those thick, black slugs are back, we saw these last year in France, seems they like the damp conditions and they are gross.  Make a mess on your wheel if you ride over them, once squashed, a very sticky, slimy mess. This fellow was about 10cm long.


We stop at the top to admire the view, yes it's struggling to show its face, but the sun is warm after the cool thick canopies. We both take a moment of reflection, have a bite to eat as we look towards the epic peaks of the Pyrenees mountains that border with Spain.


The ride down to the town of Oust for coffee, is quick and flowing, through gorgeous tiny farm cottages, tucked into the hill side for protection from harsh winter winds, with stock carrying bells around their necks, the sound brings a smile to your face, birds a chirping, gosh, what a place to live.

We stop for a coffee, so strong 'puts hairs on ya chest', we ask for a bit of milk and plop a sugar cube to soften the bitterness.  A tiny cup, but did the job. 

I'm still recovering, my ear began to ache from the cold, so we head straight back to our accommodation, for hot showers.

We are bringing forward our return flights to Australia, 
to be with family.

While we wait, we will continue doing what we love, discovering the tiny back roads of Southern France.

I just love riding my bike 😊



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