What a day!

Imagine pedalling through the winding roads of the Spanish mountains, the sun casting a golden hue over the landscape. The air is crisp, filled with the scent of pine and wildflowers. Imagine the serene sounds of the rhythmic whir of your bike and the occasional bird singing. This is the romantic allure of cycling in Spain's mountainous regions. This is why we are here.

Spain offers a cyclist's paradise with its diverse terrain and breathtaking scenery. Majestic mountains rise against a backdrop of clear blue skies while charming villages dot the landscape, their white-washed buildings gleaming in the sunlight.

Cycling through Spain's mountains is about the joy of movement, the connection with nature, and the quiet moments of reflection that come with it.

Well, that is likely what the brochures say.

Here is our reality.

We knew there would be some rain today, but we opted to begin our journey on the bikes anyway. How bad could it be, a little rain shower that may or may not happen?

Picture this: You set off on a cloudy day to ride through the scenic Spanish countryside, hoping the skies will brighten up. It starts dry, and we find a cute little restaurant to grab a bite to eat before we carry on, fully expecting or perhaps just hoping the dryness continues.

But wait, what’s that on the horizon? A thunderstorm? In the blink of an eye, the weather pulls a fast one. Dark clouds roll in, the thunder and lightning are bright and loud, and we are caught in a torrential downpour.

Raindrops pelt our faces, each a reminder that nature has a twisted sense of humour. Our once comfortable cycling gear is now cold and soggy. The road now looks ominous, what I can see of it, mind you, as my sunglasses are being pelted and lack windshield wipers to clear my sight. I am sure the scenery is lovely, but I wouldn't know. I focus on the road ahead, looking for possible obstacles to send me flying.

Keeping my luggage light, I opted against bringing a raincoat. Instead, I packed a tiny rain poncho that blew around in the wind and did nothing to keep me dry.

My shoes are waterproof, keeping water out, but the rain runs down my legs and fills the insides of my shoes; now, not letting the water out, I am pedalling with my feet in mini swimming pools.

The bonus of the downpour is the thunder and lightning. Each crack of thunder is a jolt to my senses, as it's loud and above us. At one point, some of us stop to wait for others when I look up. There is no escaping the trees around us, but standing underneath a power line is likely not the best place to be in a thunderstorm.

But amidst the misery, there’s a certain comedic charm to the situation. I am cold and want nothing more than a hot shower. The faster we go, the sooner we can get there. During some of the storm, we had to continue a long uphill battle. But the second half of this storm is during a long descent down a windy mountain. At times, I see I am going 40+ km down the hill, barely able to see through my rainy glasses. No wonder the rain on my face feels more like hail. Realizing wiping out at this speed will hurt, I slow down to 30 km per hour. Then I laugh at myself, acknowledging it will still hurt at this speed. But we all keep pace with one another, anxious to end this cold, wet ride.

The good news is that I don't have to stop for a water break as I am continuously sucking back the water that is running down my face.

When we finally find our hotel, we are soaked, shivering, and exhausted. It felt so good to get into a hot shower and bath, going through the different stages of my hands thawing. First, the pain of the cold subsides, then the feeling comes back, then the tingling until finally, warmth and calm.

After we warm up, we head to the laundromat to dry our drenched clothes and can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the ride.

It’s not the ride we dreamed of but an adventure we’ll never forget. And who knows? Maybe next time, I'll pack a proper raincoat.