It’s interesting to notice what parts of the trip are sticking with us as we make our way through this first few days at home.  We came back to a very stressful situation with Joe’s dad who did not fare well at all while we were gone, in spite of our best efforts to leave him in good hands.  In the midst of taking him to the doctor appointments and to the bathroom when a caregiver is not here and listening to him complain, we are finding moments and memories that pop up in our heads and our conversations.

            For me, the mental pictures of the scenery just float through my mind, like a wonderful film that touched me deeply.  It’s always just there, in the background.  Joe and I are talking a lot about the couples we met.  Tandeming couples are a different breed.  There were people in their 40’s and in their 80’s and everywhere in between.  The level of fitness of most couples was stunning, especially those in their 70’s and 80’s.  They all did all those hard (for us) rides.  The ones who didn’t were the less experienced couples, of which there were only a few.  We ranked somewhere in the middle of fitness and ability to ride the routes laid out for us. 

            There was a couple in their mid-late 70’s who in early September had taken military transports (she’s a retired Navy captain) from Colorado to Ramstein AFB to Venice.  Put their bike together in the airport, and proceeded to ride all the way down the Dalmation Coast on their own with all their possessions (including a giant ancient latop that they found in someone’s attic and fixed) in two paniers on their bike.  Then they hopped on the ship with us in Dubrovnik, did all the rides, and then rode their bike WITH ALL THE TRAFFIC across the Venice to Mestre bridge back to whatever AFB is in Venice to wait standby for their flights home.  Incredible.  Another couple (also from Colorado) were well into their 80’s.  He had fought in and survived the Battle of Chosin Reservoir in the Korean War (had to do my homework on that one when we got home).  They were both in fantastic shape and did all the rides.  He wants to do more bike trips and travel; she’s more ready to consider just riding in the mountains close to home in Colorado. 

            There were at least 4 orthopedic doctors in the group (comforting), multiple MDs of other descriptions (both genders), two women dentists, at least one elementary school librarian, financial advisors, IT people, retired people who would rather not be identified by the work they had done.  Lots of people celebrating birthdays, anniversaries and retirements.  Most of the couples had done multiple Santana tours previously.  We were relative newbies with just three priors, and all domestic.  It’s become a Santana tour sub-culture.  Everyone talks about “wild Bill” and “patient Jan.”  The four mechanics are all bike shop owners (Mt. Airy, MD; Baltimore; California), who worked their butts off every day and night, building and breaking down bikes, repairing broken bikes, making endless tiny adjustments in their makeshift bike shop under the only awning on the sun deck of the ship.  There was a German hotelier with whom the McCreadys have collaborated for most of their European tours for the last several years, who made sure all the arrangements were top-notch.  He came with a stunning wife (he answered her on-line ad in a dating site for tall people) and a super-friendly and active 2 year old named Leopold.  There was also Gene, the Garmin guy, who loaded our devices with maps and routes and then drove the van from port to port and stayed on shore while we sailed in comfort.

            We, as you can see, are signed up for two more tours with them.  I was apprehensive about doing that before we experienced this one.  I still have some concerns.  We for sure have to train our hearts out in the upcoming year if we are going to survive Istanbul to Athens, which will have similar route profiles and a breakneck pace as this one did.  I’m definitely looking forward to the Mississippi trip in April on the American Queen paddle boat (ship?  room for 70 couples and their bikes), which will not have the challenging elevations and will focus on the music as we follow the blues from Memphis to New Orleans, ending on the first day of JazzFest there.  I’ve been waiting to do that one since the McCreadys announced their first annual “Big River” tour five years ago.  We’ll see some of the same people and meet lots of new ones. It will also give us the motivation we need to ride most days, which is a pretty good way to get our exercise and stay connected as a couple.

(Dork alert:  If you have visited Venice previously and don’t want to hear the hyperbolic gushing of a first-timer, feel free to skip this entry.)

            If you have never been to Venice (as we had not), go as soon as you can!  I’m not kidding.  There was a time when I thought I’d never see it, but we did and it is truly indescribable.  We walked and walked and walked for three days.  It was exhausting, but ohmygoodness, it truly is a unique, special, unbelievable place in every way.  We have posted a few pictures, but go and look and lots and lots of pictures wherever you can find them.  It’s as real as it looks and in the moment and in the light, it is truly a magical place.

            We docked around 7 in the morning and had breakfast while Italian customs did whatever they had to do with our passports and the ship’s crew.  We were free to go around 9:30.  The ship was docked at San Basilio port and we could walk over a little bridge right there and into the old, carless city.  But there are LOTS of boats!!!! Gondolas, water taxis, private boats, waterbuses, yachts, sailboats, and plenty I can’t even identify.  There is water everywhere and boats zooming or floating everywhere you look.  Slow, lazy boats on side canals, big chugging Vaporetti on the Grand Canal with all kinds of smaller boats zooming by them.  It’s true, it’s true!  The streets in Venice are really made of water!  The tiny paved or cobble streets are for walking, walking, walking until you have to sit down because your legs are about to give out.  It’s so much fun to just walk and turn corners and cross bridges and look in windows and eat good food and drink good drinks.  We did not ever go into a museum.  The whole place is a museum. When we go back, we’ll be able to dive into the art and history museums and performances.

            We knew that our only realistic goal this trip would be to just get a sense of the layout and ambiance and we did.  The first morning, we walked to St. Mark’s Square via the bridge at the Academy del Arte.  After lunch on the ship, we went on a Santana-arranged tour to the island of Murano, famous for glassmaking.  They had arranged a special demonstration for us at a college of glass blowing, which was interesting.  We also had some time to walk around the island, through the streets along the canals and browse the glass shops that were everywhere.  Definitely needed a gelato break at one point.

            The second morning we took a guided walking tour of the neighborhood closest to the ship, as far as the Academy.  We saw a gondola repair shop and learned a lot about the palazzi that are, of course, everywhere you look.  After packing up our bike gear on the ship, we set out again.  Had a wonderful lunch of Panini/prosecco for me and pizza/Campari spritz for Joe sitting outside at a café on the Grand Canal.  The weather remained spectacular.  Another walk to St. Marks, some shopping, then a walk back to a rowing club where the McCready’s had prepared an elaborate reception for those of us ending our trip in Venice and their next group who were to take the trip in reverse order back to Dubrovnik.  The old rowing club consisted of three warehouse-type buildings facing the lagoon, five bridges from our ship.  There were old and current boats on display, along with a historical pictures and artifacts of the rowing club.  Prosecco, other wine, bread, cheeses, meats, cookies, etc. were available in all three locations plus aboard an old boat moored outside one of the club’s entrances.  Lots and lots of people with nametags either saying “Dubrovnik to Venice” (us of course) or Venice to Dubrovnik (them of course).  Lots of bike talk and exchanging of information about the rides on the tour, blah, blah, blah.  Our kids would definitely call it a dork-fest.

            Back to the ship to pack for real.  After our last night on the ship, we got our bags and bike through the port terminal, with lots of help from the wonderful crew, to a taxi that would take us to the mainland for a stay at the Hilton Gardens before our Monday flight.  I had promised Joe that we would stay at the hotel and rest, but we got there at 9:30 in the morning and the choice was sit in the lobby for five hours or take the bus back into Venice.  Needless to say a promise was broken.  We hopped on a very crowded bus back to the Piazza Roma, and hopped on an even more crowded vaporetto down the Grand Canal to the Rialto Bridge.  Had coffee and a croissant at a canal-side café and then slowly walked back in the direction of the transportation hub, shopping and eating as we went.  Had lovely conversations with several shopkeepers.  Joe especially enjoyed talking to a Honduran woman whose Italian husband convinced her to move there (how hard could that be?).  Back on a not-as-crowded bus back to the hotel for a nap.

            We did our homework and found a seafood restaurant for our last dinner in Italy (Europe!) that was well rated.  Did not disappoint.  What a great time we had.  A plate of assorted raw fish to start; I had pasta with clams and Joe had the grilled catch of the day.  The server brought out five complimentary plates scattered through the meal:  some kind of raw fish amuse-bouche; tomatoes with olives and capers; melon sorbet, salad, liquer.  Then we went off the chain with a whole dessert each:  Amaretto custard for me, Tiramisu for Joe.  It was crazy.  Crazy good.

Real Talk: 

Really, all that walking and taking in amazing sights, sounds, food and atmosphere was absolutely EXHAUSTING.  But of course you have to say to yourself, I can rest later, this is Venice!!!!  I was near tears, literally, from exhaustion while we were at the Santana reception at the boathouse.  Too tired to enjoy any of it.  I ended up sitting on a stoop while Joe went on the boat (the only place they were serving his beloved Campari spritz).  There was a woman standing nearby who looked like I felt.  She had just arrived from Seattle or somewhere out there and had a rough trip over.  She was absolutely miserable, like me, but for different reasons.

            We agreed to have no regrets about decisions we made to do or not do certain activities.  That being said, in hindsight, we might have skipped the long smelly ferry ride to Murano and back.  The whole outing took at least 4 hours.  (And I was too tired to really enjoy any of it.) On the other hand, we probably would have choosen to take advantage of another special opportunity arranged by the McCreadys:  private rowing lessons on a boat like the ones used by the rowing club (they sort of look like gondolas, but are not, we’re told).  The “teachers” for these excursions for 2-4 people at a time, were young women members of their branch of the rowing club.  Everyone who went said it was a wonderful, fun, and a surprisingly relaxing experience.  Bill, in his pitch for us to sign up (included in our tour) was that it was as close to tandeming as any other sport he could think of.  I guess he forgot about the two-men/women bobsleds, but we’ll let that slide.  We were concerned that it would be too strenuous, given our state of tiredness at that point, so we opted out.  It was also apparently a long walk to get to the starting location and a long walk back.

            Of course, packing in a hotel after you’ve stuffed yourself to the gills and just want to fall in bed is no picnic.  Neither is getting up at 6 to catch the shuttle to the airport and dragging seven suitcases, one being the size of a small house to the check-in counter of an unfamiliar airport.  But, c’est la vie.  Good bye, Adriatique!!! 

Wednesday and Thursday Oct 15 & 16

Wednesday, our first day in Istria, was rainy, and while many (most?) of our intrepid fellow-travelers set out biking on what was advertised as an "easy" day, we chose not to ride in the rain no matter the GPS profile.  So we had a second quiet day in a row on the ship, sinking into our novels and resting. When the riders came back, they described an interesting tour of a family-owned olive oil factory, with tastings and free bottles of olive oil.  They were wet, but happy.  I have a mild regret about not at least taking the bus ride that was offered (because of the rain) to go and see the olive groves and learn more about olive oil.  Joe believes the extra rest day was good for us.

Thursday was the last ride of the trip and we were ready to go.  The route took us from the ship (docked actually in a yacht harbor), through the tiny town of Umag and then inland on not very busy roads.  The first route for the long-ride lovers would cross the border into Slovenia and ride up to a seaside point partly on a rail-to-trail and then through a resort area.  We figured if we made it to the border, got our passport stamped and turned to head for the lunch route, we'd be doing well.  As it was, the descent toward the border was longer and steeper than we were ready for, so within sight of the salt pans near the Slovenian border, we made the wise choice to turn around and selected the "Umag Route B (short)" on the GPS that would lead us to lunch. After only one minor, easily correctable, missed turn, and a lovely ride on country roads passing olive trees and vineyards and perfectly tended home gardens, we arrived a the brewery for a delicious lunch of fresh pasta and salads. The memorable dish was freshly made linguini in a butter-truffle sauce with huge pieces of shaved truffles on top.  I had never really been able to appreciate, or even recognize, a distinctive flavor of truffles when it was drizzled over some dish in whatever restaurant served this very special ingredient.  Boy was this a different thing.  These truffles have a really strong musky taste that I imagine could be acquired (my description); Joe says they are smoky, rich and luscious.  An American living with his Croatian wife (one village over from our lunch location) was recruited by the McCreadys to arrange the lunch and a truffle-hunting demonstration.  He had been a contract employee for the State Department as an advisor to ministers in Bosnea and Kosovo.  He decided to quit that strenuous work and with his wife bought a small farm in Croatia near Slovenia and have turned it into a bed and breakfast called "Due Momianesi," along with a bike hostel for bicycle touring and training in Istria (Bike Hostel Momjan."  They are now living a very happy life.  His comment at lunch was that he could never again live in a place where he could not get fresh truffles on a daily basis.

The truffle hunting demo was pretty interesting.  A daughter of the four-generation truffle exporting business showed us how her dog could find buried truffles and talked about how the puppies were trained from 5 days old by putting truffle oil on the mother's teat, then moving to bread and meat, then burying it a couple of centimeters, gradually moving over a three year period to 20+ centimeters in the ground.  She said that in a litter of 8 puppies, maybe 1 or 2 would grow up to be good enough to stay with the business.  The others go to a long list of willing homes for inferior truffle finding for their families. 

The ride back down to the ship was again wonderful, almost no traffic on the single lane country roads, speedy but comfortable descents and curving turns through quaint villages. The approach through the town of Umag was much easier than we expected, except for a short gravel stretch through a construction zone.  Let me just say that it was a really good feeling to ride up to that ship and know that our riding days were over for this trip.  Victorious and relieved!

We had contracted with one of the mechanics to take our bike apart and pack it in the box, so I happily walked around on the top deck taking pictures (see the photo section) of the beehive of industrious couples working cooperatively and intently to break down their bikes and pack them into their long boxes, stand-up bags, two cases, or one huge case (like ours). 

Sunday was a quiet day for us on the ship.  We wrote and uploaded pictures in the morning with a lovely view of the city of Hvar from the ship. Most others did rides with intense climbs to spectacular views, or so we are told.  Which is what made it so quiet onboard.  Of course what goes up must come down, so there were plenty of stories of dramatic descents (a few with burning caliper brakes or warping disk brakes) when they returned.  End of quiet time in the lounges.  During lunch, the ship sailed to the island of Vis.  Again intrepid riders set our for the mountains.  We, on the other hand, napped in the afternoon, sun-deck yoga for me, and a typical Croatian dinner in the dining room.

Yesterday, we were off the boat at 7:30 AM  with everyone in a tiny town called Primosten.  Mandatory group photo, then we set off on our 21 mile ride for the day to the historic city of Trogir.  Bill, ever the minimizer, called this ride "flat."  This means 863 vertical feet total, a new record for us.  Huff, puff.  But we made it, ending in the lovely ancient port town of Trogir, a UNESCO World Heritage site.  We watched the ship arrive and snuggle in to the tiny harbor (one of many "firsts" for this ship and its Croatian captain), then I took a walking tour of the old city while Joe walked, sat people watching and making friends with a touring couple from Denmark.  Bikes and people then piled back on the boat for lunch.  During the two and a half hour trip to Split, we rested, and I did yoga again on the top deck.  I'm so grateful to the two women who have volunteered to lead those classes most days.  It's a glorious way to get my stretching in while gazing at islands, blue sea and cloudless sky.

We got into Split at around 4:30 and were herded off the boat to the waiting tour guides.  The old city, built over 2,000 years inside the Roman Emperor Diocletian's palace, is fascinating.  We had visited and even stayed in a hotel inside the palace walls when were were here years ago, but it was good to see how the Croatians are upgrading as they build their all-important tourist trade.  We ended the evening with a lovely dinner of fresh fish in a restaurant accompanied by our new good friends from Vancouver, Rob and Debra. 

As I said in my most recent Facebook post, today (Tuesday) we are staying on board with maybe six other couples, missing a 12-hour day that offers a short ride of 42 miles, a medium choice of 50 and an "epic" choice of 80 miles thorough a national park with spectacular waterfalls, across and/or around two islands connected by two ferries (got to get the timing just right to catch those ferries, or ELSE!).  Oh, yeah, and maybe some elevation........like up to 3,000 feet (remember our new record is 863).  Some of our fellow stay-backs have used words like, "insane," "chaotic," or "crazy," to describe the day we are choosing to skip.  We are just not trained/ready for those kinds of rides, knew this going in and expected to spend some riding days on the boat.

So, REAL TALK:  Speaking only for myself (Barb) there is a real anxiety element on this trip.  Just thinking about some of those rides (especially after the ride of Agony), brings up something approaching real fear.  For me, the jury is still out if I want to try to work on training to be able to do those kind of rides.  It will be interesting to see how our normal rides feel when we get home and how it feels when we get back to doing rides with some more challenging climbs.  One other element that I'm finding less than idyllic on this particular tour is all the hubbub of getting 100 bikes off and on the boat, 200 people in biking clothes everywhere (visually, those colorful jerseys can get to be just too much for me after awhile), and especially lots and lots of techie bike, riding horror stories and GPS talk, which I find especially annoying while trying to focus on the yoga instructions while (mostly men, I gotta say) stand around on the sun deck right around 12 of us doing our down-dogs, talking loudly about gears and Garmins.

GOOD STUFF:  As we keep meeting and talking with more and more people at different  meals, of course everyone has an interesting story, and everyone is friendly and open.  The ship is absolutely lovely and the crew unfailingly friendly and helpful.  Yesterday, after we were all aboard in Trogir, the Captain had a surprise for us.  He is from that town and when he was on shore for a coffee ran into a group of his friends who are Klapar (sp?) singers.  So the four men in their suits and red cumberbunds came on board and gave us a private 15 minute concert of traditional Croatian music in this style.  It reminded me of the best barbershop quartet singers I have heard.  Then, later that evening in Split, there was another group in one of the atria of the old palace, singing like that for tourists.  Just lovely.  And of course, the scenery.  Even if we never got off the boat, the Adriatic itself and the islands we pass everywhere are more than worth the price of admission. 

           Real Talk:  Let's get The Agony out of the way first.  For the last 12 years we have jokingly referred to a special ride in Santa Fe as "the ride of death."  Yesterday we experienced that same idea at a new level.  The choices were a "flat" ride of 7 miles along the coast or rides of 11 to 22 miles up to a small town through a "donkey tunnel" so named because that's how the grapes from the vineyards all along the hill/mountain (as far as I'm concerned) were carried to the winery.  At first we were going to stick with the short ride, maybe do it twice.  However, after Bill's route talk, we said OK sounds like a terrific view and "we can do eeeeet!"  First lesson learned:  BELIEVE the elevation map on the GPS, and when the green part seems to go nearly vertical, well, so does the road.  Forehead slap.  Also when the climb is advertised as 3200 feet and we have previously done up to, say, 850 ft, DO NOT engage in magical thinking!!!!!!  Second lesson:  beware of rides that start out up a steep hill, thinking "if we can just get up this, we'll be OK."  See magical thinking comment above.

            So, as we soldiered on, it became warmer and warmer.  We stopped probably 3 times to catch our breath.  Tried continue walking and pushing the bike a couple of times, but it was HOT.  The view was spectacular, but nearly impossible to enjoy as we struggled.  I get very anxious when there is a steep drop of, maybe, a 10000 feet down scruffy shrubs to the water on the left and a mountain straight up to our right, even if it is filled with grape vines.  My perception that Joe is drifting toward the cliff side of the road, when anxiously expressed amidst huffing and puffing, was definitely not well received.  This is for good reason.  He is working waaaay harder than I am in every way and probably suffering twice as much.

            Finally, at about 4 miles into the 11mile route, we gave ourselves permission to turn around.  Of course I was then terrified of the descent, especially starting up again on a steep downhill, but Joe, in his wisdom, made me get on and down we went.  At that point I said, "This is where I close my eyes," but he said, "No, open your eyes and look at the beautiful view."  Again the right counsel.  Far below us were mountainous islands dotting the sparkling blue expanse that is the Adriatic. Glorious.

            The Good Stuff:  We made it down to the ship without mishap and after a few minutes of recovery, decided to try the original short route.  To our surprise, the special occasion destination of the day, where all rides were to converge, was just one steep rise away (maybe a half mile on the "flat" ride"--whatever).  The wine tasting, grape stomping party was in full swing.  We took off our shoes and stood in line to stomp grapes in a bucket and step onto a T-shirt with the logo of the winery:  The Grijic Winery (check out the pics). It's a family owned business, whose patriarch has been making wine in Croatia and California for 60 years.  Once in California, he won blind tastings against French wines by developing his own unique wine-making methods.  After the war here in the 90's, he was asked to come back to Croatia as part of the rebuilding process to establish a wine-making industry here in the California style.  The ship (we were told by the captain in no uncertain terms that this is a ship, not a boat:  "ships can carry boats but boats cannot carry ships; also, a boat is where you go when the ship sinks") was once again docked in a tiny harbor that had never had any kind of cruise ship (see the pic).  We hung our riding clothes in our room, showered, had a rest, and then another nice dinner.

            The evening port of call was the island of Korcula, where Joe and I had spent one night on our last vacation trip to the Dalmation coast.  I just love it.  It's the tiny walled fortress city where Marco Polo was born during its time as a Venetian possession (that's why we learned in school that he was Italian).  We wandered by ourselves around the whole place for 40 minutes, then joined the herd for a walk back through the narrow streets to home theater of the Moreska dancing troupe.  The performance was charming and very entertaining.  It's a set piece that re-enacts a 400-year old battle between the red team and the black team.  The Black King wants the princess, but she wants to go with the Red King.  Eight guys dance-fight out the battles (seven of them) armed with two short swords each. One of them actually started bleeding and had to be replaced by the young flag-carrier, who did a great job with the rest of the dance-fighting.  The music was provided by what looked like a kind of high school band, but did include people of all ages.  The oldest dancer gave a little talk at the end; he has been dancing for 60 years all over the world with the troupe.  Another short walk in the balmy evening took us to the ship and to bed, rocked to sleep by the sea.  

It is truly difficult to describe the glory-oskiness of this place.  Our hotel climbs up the seaside hill, floor by floor (check out the picture from across the bay), each room with a balcony facing the water view.  First thing this morning (before coffee), we hunted down our bike box in the “Disco Room” of the hotel, a dark, cavernous room full of bike cases of all descriptions.  We dragged our box down to the poolside/beach level so Larry Black, who sold us our bike 13 years ago at Mt. Airy Bikes, and would put it back together for a small fee (rather than us spending three stress-filled and bickering hours putting it together ourselves).  Well worth the peace of mind once we head out for our daily rides, starting tomorrow.  Our reward for the Big Drag was a lovely breakfast on the outdoor terrace overlooking the water.

            We spent the morning in the Old City, walking the wall all the way around, with a view of the sea on one side and roof tops of churches and residences on the other.  Could. Not. Believe the perfect weather.  Not a cloud in the sky. Sleeveless top, sandals, cool breeze.  Beyond my wildest dreams. Down below, we walked the narrow streets (no car could get into the city, even if they were allowed).  Had a great lunch of fresh salad and fresh fish (see pic of aftermath) with a fun waiter who said “American? Very crisp American accent.  Like Steven Colbert.”  I said I loved Steven Colbert, which prompted, “Then we have something in common.  Are you single?”  One thing led to another and lunch ended with a kiss (also see pic). 

            It was a beautiful 20 minute walk down the hill from the hotel to the Old City, but after many stairs up to and on the wall and a couple hours walking the cobbled streets, we opted for a short cab ride back.  The cabbie was the only “rude” Croatian we have encountered so far.  Didn’t use a meter, told us 60 kroner, then said he had no change when all we had was a hundred.  Joe, being an experienced foreign cabbie-haggler (this was child’s play for him compared to what I had witnessed in Istanbul last spring) held him to the original price.  We have spent the rest of the afternoon on the terrace drinking coke, following instructions NOT TO NAP at all cost to get over jet lag and gazing upon the beauty before us—craggy coastline, islands sharply rising out of the crystal blue water—and counting our blessings.

After a stressful five days since Joe’s dad’s fall and hospital stay and lots of  working out 24/7 care and back-up for him, we pulled out of Winnepeg Court at around 6:30 on Monday evening.  We made it to the airport with plenty of time to check in our bags with no questions asked about the bike box.  Our 10:20 Lufthansa flight left on time and we had an uneventful overnight.  Thankfully we both slept most of the way (a first for me).  Spent two hours in the Munich Lufthansa lounge and then another smooth, easy 2-hour flight over the mountains to Dubrovnik. 

Happily, all of our bags arrived with us and we were met by Jan McCready, one of the co-owners of Santana Tandems and we slapped on our magnetic name tags.  Along with maybe 20 other couples, their bikes (some in two suitcases, some in one like ours and some in long standing-up cases) and all their luggage, we piled into a bus for a 30 minute ride along the coast down into Dubrovnik .  This place is really spectacular.  The Adriatic sparkled as we descended toward the ancient walled city jutting out into the sea.  We arrived to the Rixos hotel in the “new” city around 6:45.  People and luggage were everywhere as we checked in.  The buffet dinner for our group lived up to the standards we have expected from the McCreadys:  plentiful, varied and delicious. 

As we ate we began getting to know some of our fellow tandem riders:  a recently retired MD, a semi-retired environmental lawyer, a coordinator of hospice volunteers, and real estate agent.  A first cross-section of the 80+ couples we’ll be with for the next 9 days.  Before heading to bed, we took a long look at the full moon over the Adriatic from the balcony of our hotel.  Magical.

Getting ready.  After a couple of months of training (we didn’t log the recommended 1000 miles this year, but have certainly done our best to put a dent in that since June), it was a relief on several levels to see the bike packed up in its suitcase!  Not a stress-free process, but with the help of our friendly local bike mechanic, Buck, we broke it down and miraculously got every little part in it’s proper place within six layers of foam padding.  After Joe and Buck squeezed it shut, the three of us just stood there and shook our heads.  Ridiculous.

So between now (Thursday) and our Monday night departure, we’ll take a couple of more rides on our singles just to keep the legs moving, pack our gear and wrap up all the scheduling details with Jose’s caretakers (thank you, Emilia, Anna, Nubia and Maruja) and make sure the fridge is stocked for him. 

It’s truly amazing how time has flown.  We signed up for this trip exactly a year ago, as a celebration of our dual retirements in June.  It seemed impossibly far away then, and now it’s here.