Our very very first day. You can see it in the eyes—Miguel at North Road Bikes in Porto, Portugal is full of life. Thank you for lending us space to assemble our bikes!

Invictus, around since 1944! Capas helped with a quick tune and a seat stay for Stirls. What would we do without the bike enthusiasts of Porto?

Love perfect! Well said, wee street in Porto, well said.

These trees are the flubbiest and the funniest! A whole allée of these guys just flaunting it in the sun. Their shade was perfection for some afternoon gelato.

Walking in Porto was endless magic. Paths past ancient walls and fountains, circling and circuiting the lives of those who walk them.

First ride of the trip! Quick zip out to the beach in Vila Nova de Gaia. Just like home….

Terra cotta roofs, the Douro River, and on the other bank, all the Port the world could ever drink!

The azulejos (little tiles, often blue like in this chapel) in Porto caught me completely off-guard with their beauty, whimsy, and intricacy. Sometimes hand-painted, sometimes single color, they create an incredible mosaic on every street.

Cool guy, cool doorway. That’s all….

Only the longest of legs could hop between those thingys! FUN

Buildings pile on top of each other, as if they were children clambering to see the Douro River’s lively parade.

The Real Companhia Velha is the oldest company in Portugal, founded in 1756. They have a bottle in this cellar that is that old. The drinkable ones, though, only go back to 1829… yours for only $5,000!

Our spirited and badass tour guide, Ines, dared us to touch the mold. We did.

This vintage port cellar is its own ecosystem, full of deliciousness.

Here we are! This is us! In Porto! Cheesing it up! Loving life! Looking for our next glass of port!

There were many a papelaria in this city. More charming than Office Depot, I guess….

The famous, the gilded, the shining Church of St. Francis! Back in the day, the monks were pushing for the downbeat Gothic vibe to capture their somber piety. The wealthy families that funded the construction, however, wanted to build their version of heaven: ornate, gilded, intricate, over-the-top. So, here we have a spectacle of baroque grandeur!

Springtime in Portugal could not be more lovely and full of colorful blooms.

Needing to make up mileage after a quick detour to Illinois, we hopped on a train. The stinker broke down in Vargelas, and after a brief frustration, we relaxed into the adventure of it all.

Snack time: many thanks to Taylors Port for unknowingly donating fresh oranges to our stranded cause.

The red poppy game in Portugal is OUT of CONTROL. Here they bloom so vibrantly against the blue-green Douro River.

These special trees hold hands with each other, forming waves of looping branches in plazas and courtyards throughout Portugal. Here, in a medieval village called Torre de Moncorvo. We missed their medieval party festival by just one day… rats!

Big bloom.

Ascending out of the Douro River valley, rode ~40 lbs of stuff uphill for however many miles to smell this rose. Smells darn good!

Mogadouro sunset. Long yellow light over castles, trees, and pastoral idylls. We crash landed in this beautiful scene after our first big climbing day. Phew.

Living the fcking DREAM! Waaaaa

Going to… Tó!

To Tó we have ridden!

One side Portugal, the other Spain. Making progress across this dam fine continent.

Estamos en España! Que bueno.

What did one olive say to the other olive? “O-LIVE-YOU!”

Pausing to take in the cool breeze on a lengthy climb to Fermoselle, Spain.

The poppies are… poppin. They light up fields, gardens, roadways; any green patch of Spain seems aflame with their red-orange glow.

Sunset snugs. This castle, built on the highest point of Fermoselle, Spain, was once a night club! Would have been lit to drink wine made from their local grape variety, Juan Garcia, and dance the night away up there!

Esparragos blancos con mayonesa….

Lunch break between Fermoselle and Zamora, Spain, in a picnic area of rough-hewn granite tables. Wow. The stone fences on this ride were masterful, with different designs and configurations of the hand-stacked slabs.

Zamora, z-AMOR-a! The epicenter of romanesque cathedrals and breezy riversides. We were fortunate to stay in a 15th century Renaissance palace in this impeccably beautiful city.

Views from the famous Cathedral of Zamora, a 12th century emblem of Spanish Romanesque architecture (yes, the one you saw in the art history books!).

The poppies, I’m telling you! POPPIN.

Castillos, queso, y crunchy bread. Si porfa! Castles from all eras—from this 13th century stalwart to 15th century towers—punctuated the landscape on our ride today from Zamora to Villanueva de San Mancio, Spain.

It is positively astonishing—every village has a magnificent cathedral of its own. This towering beauty (Stirling is 6’4”, for scale…) is in Medina de Rioseco, population 4,700.

The futz is REAL.

Had to share my failed cold cerveza y catedral selfie… just one of a series. The sun was really bright, okay?! Cold beer and warm sun tasted fabulous after a 55 mile zoom from Zamora to Villanueva de San Mancio. The proprietor of our spot, Vicky, felt like family. Hope to see you again, Vicky!

Staring at the Arlanzon. Burgos, Spain.

Tubular topiaries on the Paseo del Espolon make us feel at home.

The eyes don’t quite focus after a healthy stop at the vermouth bar. Is it bitter, or is it sweet? Turns out Burgos is a culinary HOT SPOT.

The friend who never cried uncle….

The Catedral de Burgos put stars in our eyes! A marvel of gothic grandeur, but also a glorious pallimpsest of many architectural styles from Spanish Romanesque to Rococo to Baroque to International Gothic to Florid Gothic…. A true delight to walk through the centuries’ worship.

Fiat lux!

This is the tallest tower in the Rioja region, and Europe’s oldest working clock—from the 18th century! The centerpiece of Santo Domingo de la Calzada, its remarkable steadfastness has thinking about the hundreds of years that pilgrims have passed by its slowly sinking stones.

Santo Domingo de la Calzada, a stop on the Camino de Santiago, was founded by a hermit in the 11th century who built a bridge and a hospital for pilgrims on their spiritual journeys. Seekers have walked this path for over one THOUSAND years. The many calls of “buen camino!” we receive here make us reflect deeply on the pilgrimage we take now, and that we’ll be on for the rest of our lives.

Rioja! Red earth, bright vines, mountains. A storm is coming….

Getting SUPER in to that supple lifestyle in the Rioja. Stirling’s bike was a cruise, Caitrin’s road bike was a champ on this stretch of earthen gravel descending the last few miles into Logrono, Spain.

WHY HAVE YOU BEEN HOLDING OUT ON US, HEINZ?!?!?!?!?

Look out for the pilgrims! It’s been a very special, meaningful time to be bobbing and weaving around the Camino de Santiago, witnessing hundreds of pilgrims on their journeys West.

Our eyes could barely register the vibrant green of these Basque country forests. Lush and teeming with birdsong. A small walk was a nice rest after one of the day’s long climbs.

Oh hello! You can find mushrooms, pilgrims, and two nutty cyclists in these here woods.

This was our home for the night. Our host, Pedro, checked if we were married before letting us stay in a room together. This questioning, coupled with a problematically proud plaque about the area’s many 16th century witch burnings, made us realize that this is a beautiful and welcoming, and also very conservative, place.

Horse babies! Made so many horse friends here in Burguete-Aurlitz, a Spanish Basque Country very near the border with France. Our last night in Spain!

The swirling mist over green mountains reminds me of home in Marin… and all at once, over dinner, we were shrouded in an evening fog blanket.

En route to dinner which turned out to be ABSOLUTELY DELICIOUS—and that’s not the biking talking. Pate Basque, duck confit, and a wild whipped cream cheese dessert. Wowza.

The blue sign marks the Camino, a thousands of years old pilgrim trail. Here we enter a castle in Roncevalles, famous for the 778 battle in which Basque tribes defeated a large part of Charlemagne’s army.

Glorious cathedral in Roncevalles. It was warm and glowing, particularly in contrast to the drizzly day outside.

LATER, PYRENEES! Our passage over Puerto de Ibañeta (Ibañetako Mendatea in Basque) was a worthy climb up to a blustery pass dotted with Spanish Civil War bunkers and a massive stone monolith monument commemorating the battle of Roncevalles in 778.

Voilà, nous sommes en France! We cruised 15 miles downhill, through the lushest of forest and fertile country side, into the town of Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. We immediately bought a ton of chocolate and scrambled around on the fortified ramparts that protected the city in Medieval times.

Rampaging on the ramparts.

Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, a classic. You can see the pass we climbed over in the distance, and the delectable ciderie where we ate in the foreground. Wandering in the cobblestone streets, hearing dozens of different languages spoken by the many pilgrims, made for a delightful sunny afternoon.

Dreamy dreamy. The rolling hills in between Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port and Saint-Palais, France. We’re keeping it mellow for a couple days after our Pyrenees launch.

A grand picnic! Or should I say, ‘picnic.’

The Pyrenees were our backdrop on our ride into Pau, France. We could NOT STOP singing Bill Withers because it was SUCH a lovely day.

When the charming bike path turns into a huge river.

For the last ten or so miles into Pau, we glided along this positively charming bike path by leafy trees, cottonwood puffs, and the Pau River.

When the charming bike path turns into a gigantic stair case.

I love selfies in which I look like a floating head.

In the background, heinously under-represented, are the magnificent Pyrenees Mountains. Pau, France is a gorgeous rambling city built on a cliff, seemingly designed to peek at the Pyrenees from every window.

Stirling is good. He makes me do things like go into churches to appreciate culture, etc. The particular vernacular here is Gothic style with a penchant for elaborate, gilded interior painting.

Toulouse market overwhelm! Look out, little bird, you’re totally edible.

La Ville Rose: The Pink City. So named for the pink stone bricks used to build this marvelous city. We enjoyed three full days in Toulouse. Spent them wandering and eating. What else?

L’Hôtel d'Assézat, a Renaissance palace in Toulouse. I think my favorite museums are those that used to be homes. Yep, just somebody’s house.

The charming city of Castres. Formerly wealthy from wool mills, it has an air of decaying grandeur. Yet, it is still a marvelous city with a lively central square, canals, and a classic chateau that now holds several Goya masterpieces.

We passed through an insane amount of biomes on this day, from Saint-Gervais-sur-Mare to Saint-Andre-de-Sangonis. As we weaved out of the Black Mountains, the lush forest you see here gave way to brilliant red earth, then stark dry white rock, before we broke out onto a fertile plain where lay our destination.

Am I in Utah?! Red rock formations jutted up into tall spires with purple and orange scree tumbling below. The wildflowers were also extraordinary!

What a beautiful drainpipe, honestly. A yummy lunch in a charming town. A man sat down to eat with us and gave us an insider tip about the most beautiful, and least trafficked, road to Saint-Andre-de-Sangonis… (D8)…. Bon appetit!

Hotel Maison de Sophie, I love you! I wish we’d had more time to hang with you. A regal former home built in 1907, this small hotel is a museum of Deco and Gilded Age style. It has certainly been one of the most unique and lovely places we’ve stayed thus far, with comfort that really helps rebuild our sore muscles (and a hose to wash our bikes after the prior day’s rain storm!). If you’re ever in Nimes, tell Yves we say hello!

Olives and pickled garlic GALORE! Les Halles in Nîmes on this Sunday was absolutely bustling. We stocked up on their famous olives, tapenade, jambon parseille, pâté nîmois and pâté brandade… it was a spectacular lunch later that day!

Nimes really was a dream. We stumbled upon a farmers market that seems to be bustling day in and day out in the summer months. Onion beignets, crepes with sweet chestnut spread, and local beer as an appetizer in the evening, and then a basket of local strawberries in the morning. I wish we’d had time for the oysters and escargots!

Okay, fine, we get why people love Provence. We climbed the final 1,000 feet up to Gordes in the pouring rain. As we settled in to our chambres d’hôtes, the clouds parted and the warm evening sun shone brilliantly again. Cheers!

Gordes! A beautiful city that spills over a Provençal hilltop. Also a famously resistance town during WWII. We were grateful to be there in May, as it is a very popular tourist town and by noon we could barely buy our day’s baguette! It was delicious, baked with olives and rosemary.

L’Abbaye Notre-Dame de Sénanque is a Cistercian monastery founded in the 12th century that is still a working monastery today. It is famous for its lavender production, though sadly we were a bit too early in the year to see the full purple splendor. What struck me were the steps. Worn down over hundreds of years of pious footsteps.

That’s a big fireplace! One of two in the salle de chauffage (warming room), the fireplace was designed to burn an entire tree trunk at once. (PS. Stirling is really tall.)

Bonjour petit chat! Cats ruled the streets and squares in Montbrun-les-Bains, a fortified stone town in the shadow of Mt. Ventoux. It’s a cycling mecca around here, with all the cols (peaks) marked with elevation gain, grade, and distance to the top.

Our chambre d’hotes in Montbrun-les-Bains had five stories seemingly carved straight out of the hillside. Magnificent views and kind hosts put a great pep in our step for the climb to Laragne-Monteglin.

Mt. Ventoux, I see you!! While badasses like the Tour de France riders (and our friends Zach and Marissa…) may go OVER Mt. Ventoux (aka Windy Mountain with 6,273 of pure elevation gain), we chose to scoot around it. It was still a hilly day, including a climb up to the headwaters of the Méouge river.

Gotta have a sprinkle of 70% abv Chartreuse tincture every once in a while! A lunch refreshment behind a church, whose ringing bell let us know it was time to eat.

Les Gorges de la Méouge. An unexpected treat as we descended down into Laragne-Monteglin. Over time it has carved an immense gorge of undulating sedimentary layers. Our heads were on swivels trying to take it all in!

We cruised down La Gorge de Meouge for quite a while… it was dreamy and downhill and stunning to pass such steep cliffs. Always a thrill to ride through a tunnel on a bike!

Thank you, dynamite and construction workers! We loved zipping through a cool tunnel instead of facing another climb.

Looking showered, laundered and spiffy after a much-needed rest day in Laragne-Monteglin. Our hosts, Frederic and Corinne, are absolute angels and so patient with our terrible French. It is wild, after days and days of nothing but cycling, I did find myself craving everyday chores like laundry and hanging up my clothes….

La Durance River in the Haute-Alps, France! We couldn’t believe the different vantages and vistas afforded to us throughout the Alps. Of course, with multiple thousand-foot climbs a day, we earned them….!

An excellent picnic spot: overlooking an Alpine valley under the shade of a sweet little tree. One of the best lunches yet, particularly the organic local strawberries!

Eating is indeed the best part of biking… and the food in Italy IS as good as they say! So far we’ve eaten pasta every day that we’ve been in Italy. It’s only Day 2, but still.

Desenzano del Garda: a 6th century fortified city on an impossibly slim peninsula that extends a few miles into Lago del Garda, in the Lombardy region of North-East Italy. I love the dragon’s head!

Dreamy, serene, mysterious. Il castello di Desenzano.

Ancient olive groves and hot springs surround the walls of this fortified peninsula. It was dreamy to walk in the light evening air before a fabulous meal. Desenzano del Garda, Lombardy, Italy.

Found my backup plan if all else fails: become a tricycle pedicab driver for UPS in Italy!! Why don’t we have this in the States??

Verona is home to endless corners and pockets of medieval magic. Arches and stripes and intricately painted ceilings. What would it be like to live in the constant presence of such visible history?

Chiesa de Santa Anastasia, Verona, Italy. The first I’ve seen of the “Italian Gothic” style. The intricate paintings were breathtaking. It was built and adored over a two-hundred-year period from 1290 and 1481. A lesson in dedication!

A hunchback graciously holds up the holy water in the Chiesa di Santa Anastasia. The three-colored floors were magnificent: black and white for the Dominicans’ habit, and red for the blood of Jesus Christ and for the martyr, Santa Anastasia, for whom the basilica is named. The columns, the foot of which you see here, are carved of red marble and used to be painted from floor to ceiling.

Voguing outside Chiesa de Santa Anastasia… the facade remained unfinished after two hundred years of constructing this basilica, which is the largest in Verona. Can you imagine what it would have looked like complete from the outside as well? What splendor, regardless!

Nerding out at the “romance tourism” of Verona. This is the wall outside “Romeo’s house,” where lovers inscribe initials and well-wishes for their everlasting love. To the hopeful lovers, we wish your families to get along better than the Montague and Capulet families—or to be historically precise, the Montecchi and the Capelleti families! I didn’t know they were real political factions of 13th century Verona, even mentioned by Dante in the Divine Comedy.

La Torre dei Lamberti, a medieval tower in Verona that is ALWAYS illuminated by Jesus-like crepuscular rays.

And here we are in Vicenza! Palladio’s Basilica Palladiana is a Renaissance building in the central Piazza dei Signori in Vicenza. Andrea Palladio was a prolific architect with north of 26 buildings attributed to him in Vicenza. More importantly, his style and clever inventions like the loggia have influenced architecture forevermore.

I love stumbling upon beautiful courtyards, especially when Stirling’s sweet face is illuminated so angelically.

A Palladian Villa! Built for a 16th century noble family during the Renaissance. I also love the dude pure chilling on the bench with a big ol’ cigar. Good living.

*~Photoshoot in Parco Querini!~* An afternoon rain made the green particularly dazzling. The long yellow evening light cast its last warmth over the meadows, statues, trees, and monoptero (small temple) that surmounts a small island. It was so relaxing to fill our eyes with lush and green.

Venice is renaissance architecture overwhelm. The perspective on this building is particularly spectacular and inventive.

Best doorbells I’ve ever seen.

A lovely garden onto the Grand Canal. Dreamy.

Oh, hey!

Portrait of Young Stirling. Hot, tired, full of art. The US Pavilion, Venice Biennale, 2019.

A classic twilight shot of the Grand Canal. Not pictured: all the other tourists taking pictures.

Turns out St. Mark’s Square is quiet at midnight.

A BLINDINGLY bright chamber that looks inconspicuous in this shot. Ryoji Ikeda, Spectra III, 2008. LED lighting tubes, laminated white wooden panels.

Strolling home. Venice is a seemingly endless maze. What would it be like to know one’s way around in such a place?

Our longest day from Treviso to Cervignano del Fruili, 70 miles through wheat fields, corn fields, rivers and canals.

Our only picture from Slovenia… eep! It was a quick trip through Slovenia, but astounding to see the immediate tranquility and forested hills. Can’t wait to return one day.

Our first non-EU border crossing! From Slovenia into Croatia.

We missed the official Republika Hrvatska sign, but snagged a thumbs up at the border’s exchange offices! Now getting incredibly skilled at dividing by 7 to understand how much things cost….

Our first stop in Croatia: the Rijeka farmer’s market! Cherries are all the rage.

Winding back roads from Rijeka to Novi Vinodolski, Croatia. We suspected we might get a bit rocked by Croatia’s steadily rolling hills and heat, and so far we are correct!

Fish are our friends… and food…. A delectable meal served by super friendly wonderful folks at Restaurant Danica in Novi Vinodolski. Slivovitz included!

A glorious sunset in Novi Vinodolski.

This was our most brutal climb thus far. 11% grades on the regular, and wind that blew so strongly it literally knocked us off our bikes. Grinder of a day. But somehow we made it, with beautiful views and quiet times through mountain meadows, from Novi Vinodolski to Otocac, Croatia.

Our gnarly climb had some upside: beautiful views of the Adriatic Sea.

In inland Croatia, evidence of the Yugoslav Wars is evident. Many buildings here in Otocac are riddled with bullet holes and what appear to be impact craters. On the bottom floor, shops and businesses carry on as usual.

The breathtakingly lush forest of Nacionalni park Plitvička jezera—or Plitvice National Park. We rode a smidge out of our way to visit one of Croatia’s most glorious pieces of wild land. It has been a park since 1949!

Riding through Nacionalni park Plitvička jezera, we asked ourselves, “Mendocino Country in Northern California, or Croatia?” It was lush and full of streams and crazy huge snails making a break for it across the narrow road. Dreamy.

The celebrated turquoise water and particular formation of the Plitvice National Park lakes! They are a series of lakes that cascade one to the next, separated by travertine barriers. The travertine builds up year after year, and the national park service works to keep the network of perfect boardwalks intact despite the ever-changing flow of azure waters.

I just really can’t share enough pictures of this place… this is rounding the bend towards the “Big Waterfall.” Walking on a wooden boardwalk over endless rushing streams suspended between two cascades was pretty wild.

Cheesing.

Ubdina, Croatia. Our last inland day before ascending over a mountain range into the hot, arid coastal area again. Just down that road is a Croatian “road house BBQ” style restaurant—Licka Selo—with the best french fries we’ve had all trip. Thought you should know in case you’re ever in the area!

FOOOOOOOD. The best coffee we could find in the beautiful seaside Gornji Karin, Croatia. Plus, snacks for the road ;) I can never have enough Nutella, in all its myriad forms.

Krka National Park! A beautiful, deep, limestone and travertine canyon full of these same impossibly beautiful cascading waterfalls. What is special about this place is the human history that has also inhabited the landscape. Water mills, hydroelectric, and fulling machinery for wool. All the buildings still intact, fascinating.

Are you done with nerdy food shots of Caitrin? I’m not! My fave lobster bib. Hope this one doesn’t come back to haunt me….

Stirling is serious about his sun screen.

A glorious ride weaving through home vineyards and hand-stacked walls! From Skradin to Trogir, Croatia.

Trogir, Croatia! For my next excursion I think I will go exclusively to cities that used to be in the Republic of Venice. On the water. Gorgeous palazzos and architecture. Fortresses. A labyrinth of stone walls. And the loggia pictured below has been in use since Roman times. Incredible to walk with so many layers of history.

Riddle me this: How do those sailboats get between the two bridges, that are obviously not tall enough to clear the masts? A gorgeous view looking south from the clock tower in Trogir, Croatia. We’ll be heading that way, to Split, tomorrow!

A timeless gent in the belfry.

Kamerlengo Fortress, Trogir, is excellent for scrambles and exploration.

Stirling scores his first cold brew of the trip in Hvar! Couldn’t be a happier camper. Amazing the things you come to yearn for from home….

Caitrin is also v pleased with her delectable coffee concoction in Hvar….

Kotor, you are a dream! Mountains that emerge straight out of the Bay.

Sometimes things are too steep to ride up… especially “short cuts”….

A fabulous climb up 4800 feet—the views kept getting better but of course we stopped every few feet to take selfies.

The moon or paradise? You decide. Near Njegos Mausoleum in Lovcen National Park, Montenegro. It’s a fun feeling to be physically able to do things you once couldn’t.

Look what we did! Take a picture of us!

Hey buddy! A goat friend or two cheered us on on a long, hot climb from Montenegro to Albania. The temperature topped out at about 96 degrees that day… we avoided the heat’s brutality as best we could with a super early departure.

Hot outside? Drink a gallon of water and one of these crazy Japanese energy sport gel pouches. It’ll fix ya!

Montenegro on one side of Lake Skadar, Albania on the other. At this point our phones thought we were already in Albania, and we were super happy to be done with the climb. Another 15 miles downhill to our farthest reach: Albania!

A furtive, shady lunch in the Montenegrin mountains, en route to Shkoder, Albania.

WE GOT THERE!!!

Lovely strolling in Shkodra. Did you know how hip Shkodra was?!?!

Always a SPRITZ!

Grandeur in Shkodra, Albania.

Shkodra is the city of bikes! In communist times, bicycles were one of the only approved forms of private transportation, a relationship that’s lasted in this fantastic city. We LOVED biking in Shkodra!

Bikes, cars, electric wheelchairs… anything goes in these roundabouts.

We sincerely loved cycling in Albania. We had many many friends on the road. This was our last day in the saddle, cycling from Shkodra, Albania to Sveti Stefan, Montenegro!

Our final destination is in sight! Sveti Stefan, you beautiful island, you!

WE GOT THERE TOO!!!

We swam every day in these phenomenal Adriatic waters. I dream of returning some day.

Sveti Stefan, Montenegro sunset. Grateful to have witnessed a few of these.

And farewell to Grundywad (left) and Vigo (right)! After 2.5 months and 2,100 miles in the saddles, we will miss you. Dearest bicycles, we love you. We ship you home with love and can’t wait to see you in Oakland. You have been so so good and stalwart to us. (Yes, we did do a small farewell and gratitude ceremony). And now, the rest of the adventure on foot!