Winter is great. Even self-confessed late risers can claim to be on the road before sunrise. Around seven o’clock, after a total of 700 kilometres, I slowly run out of petrol. The first petrol station is closed, as is the second. The third only has diesel for lorries (?), the fourth doesn’t take any of my cards. Numbers five and six are barricaded, seven again won’t take my cards. The sun rises and my courage sets.
After 763.7 kilometres I finally find a petrol station with a friendly attendant who can read my cards. She will never know how close she came to being snogged by me. I drive on to the white wild horses of the Carmargue in the Rhone delta on the Mediterranean.
Five years ago, I was kitesurfing here in the national park. Today it’s raining lightly at six degrees. I could cope with the temperature, but unfortunately the lack of wind cancels out the kite plan. The holiday homes lie sleepily on the beach with their eyes closed in the pale winter sun. Onwards.
Maybe we’ll go further west? No, unfortunately not. I’m sipping a café au lait on the beach promenade in Valras-Plage when an address in Perpignan arrives from a man from Nuremberg telling me to pick him up. Tobi rides with me to Barcelona and keeps me awake for the last 300 kilometres – until he falls asleep. The road winds along the steep Mediterranean coast under the Pyrenees, similar to Highway 1 in the USA.
I don’t arrive in Barcelona until after sunset. Thanks to the sat nav, I find the address of the school straight away. Getting there is pure madness during rush hour. The only place to stop is the absolute no-parking zone, without Tobi I would have had to drag my stuff for kilometres. After only 100 metres, I realise that there is no sign of the language school at the address given. Nobody there, nobody open. A great feeling after 10 hours on the road.
After asking around a bit, it’s confirmed: yes, that’s right, just nobody there. I stash all my stuff with other students. Tobi says goodbye, I look for a parking space. And search. And search. And search. Nothing. Nowhere. I’m about to buy a monthly ticket for 60 euros, the only alternative. Then I suddenly find a free car park on Montjuic. The 2.5 kilometre walk to school makes me happy, because every Barcelonan says: “Nothing works within a 10 kilometre radius.”.
Frank Woelky, born in 1973. Kitesurfer since 1998. Since 2006, I have been combining kitesurfing and web design on trips lasting several months off the beaten track.