Pyrenees... part 8: Yes, yes we are.

Hold the wheel. Hold the wheel. Come on, you can do this. You can do this for an hour. It's hurting, but you like the hurt. Oh God, he's pulled aside. I'm in front now. Keep the pace up. Tuck low. Clip the apexes through the corners. Bit more. Pull off, ease up slightly, let them go through. Ah, Dangerous Dave is on the front now. This is really going to hurt.

And...... repeat until there are only four of the group left - three riders, one guide.

That's what happens when it's flat on the final day. It all gets a bit competitive. It was a lot of fun though, and we rattled through the final 90km to the seaside. At the seaside we had ice cream, beer, burgers, more beer, watched the first stage of the Tour, more beer, fabulous food, wine, complaints from the French (naked on balconys), complaints from probable Germans, more wine, dessert, angry Scotsman, unconcious Scotsman, more wine and finally bed.

That was it. That was trans-Pyrenees.

A few random memories.

• Chaingate, when Greasy Dave dropped his chain on the Col de Souler, I stopped to help (therefore making it not-chaingate) and Dave got so covered in oil he earnt his "greasy" nickname.
• Paul buying a compact chainset after the first day. Very, very wise move, and astonishing that we were in a village with a bike shop.
• Vomiting at the top of hills. Good effort.
• Surly Dave being the most un-surly person I've ever met. He just rode a Surly.
• Not crashing, or even having a hairy moment, on any of the descents. That's not normally like me.
• Coke and Snickers. I've mentioned them before and I'll mention them again.
• The odd hour that felt relaxing.
• Coke and Snickers.

You know, next time I might go on a holiday.