This time last week I figured (in fact I was 100% positive) I would be heading back to Girona at about this time and back home to Colorado shortly there after. I guess I was wrong. It all started last Thursday when the team traveled out to the Tour du Gévaudan. A long 4-5 hour drive fallowed by a spectacular ride through the rolling hills of France brought me to the race hotel where I was promptly told that I would not be racing the next day. Or any other day for that matter because I still had a professional license and my participation in an armature event was strictly prohibited. Oh well, shit happens no big deal, right? I was told I had a train ticked for the next morning. No big deal, right? Ha!
My Friday started at 5am. It was supposed to start at ten till 5 but thanks to Kiki's supreme race care driving skills and her mastery of the French roads my P.O.S. alarm clocks malfunction made little difference in my day. Thanks Kiki. After making my first connection successfully I was told at my second connection that bikes were impossible and highly illegal to transport on certain types of trains (apparently this train was one of those types) and that if I wanted to continue my journey home I would have to leave my $7,000 at the train station and proceed. Ha! After 4 hours of confusion (I do not speak French. I am sorry, I really am and I am trying to learn. But, old fat man with the gold chain around you neck (you know who you are) FUCK YOU!) and several attempts to board various other trains I was finally able to continue to a near by town. After that it was all about patience and timing. Patience being the key word. After 5-6 trains (I seem to have lost count) and hours of waiting in various train stations I arrived home at 7pm in the after noon. 13hrs to do a simple 3hr trip. Oh well, could have been worse.
Oh yeah, a shout out goes to my Canadian back packing friends I meet at the station in Marseille: Hey guys thanks for the Leffe and enjoy Portugal!