I’d planned a rest day halfway through the trip in the small town of Lousa, near Coimbra, where I’d spent time training for my racing career all those years ago. This region is a special place and a must for anyone looking for long rhythmic climbs, beautiful rivers and ancient architecture. The route to the summit was a solid 18km climb gaining over 1,000 metres. Once reaching the top, the rain came in and created a really atmospheric mood as I rode through the cloud. I bumped into a couple of semi-wild dogs that had been trained to protect a herd of sheep, crossed paths with a red squirrel and almost rode into the back of an unsuspecting red deer that bounded off into the dense misty tree line. I hadn’t been on my own like that before and I think taking yourself away on trips like this really makes you focus on what you can achieve and withstand. It’s a different experience altogether from doing it with other people. We don’t often experience such isolation within the modern world and being on top of that mountain in rain and cloud, listening to the hum of the turbines and whistle from the wind in the trees was an experience I don’t want to forget for a while.

After the first half of the trip I tried my best to avoid the storm and torrential rain but, for two days, I was getting caught in hard flashes of rain where I’d have to get my head down and squint through the water that would run off my helmet and into my eyes. I ended up in an Intermarche one morning after a solid start of heavy rain. With water flowing out of my shoes and onto their bakery floor, I wiped my face with takeaway napkins only to look up and find bemused locals who’d come to chat over the strong black coffee they serve at every cafe you pass. I can’t be the first, and I won’t be the last.