The next day after packing my gear I set course for Barcelona. I skipped San Sebastian and the Pyrenees because they would have been a detour and would have taken at least two days to fully appreciate. I will be making another tour through France where I can include the border region.
This day I really started feeling the heat. It was bad. First when the temperature had climbed to around 30 degrees I thought: ‘That’s alright! At a certain speed you get the wind through the sleeves of the jacket and it feels just a tiny bit uncomfortable.’ I was suprised how quickly I got used to 30 degrees after having been sweating at 25 in London (with a ATGATT). 30 was nothing. Then came 34, 35. Water. I needed lots of it. I stopped at a ‘supermercado’ and stocked up my supplies. 4.5 Litres of water and lots of fruits. I am extremely glad I brought a camelback for my water supply. First I thought it might be overkill but it was a big, big relieve. Once I am in the sattel it is exhausting to get off. With the heat and the heavy cloths every step takes three times as long. I would not have beleaved it myself. It makes a huge difference.

(Thanks for the heads up Fran!) Heading to Barcelona I crossed through Pamplona, where you can drive throug the narrow lanes of the old part of the city.

In Pamplona though the heat started to get really bad. The dashboard termometer climbed from 36 to 39. At 36 the air starts becomming so warm that when it’s blowing in your face it doesn’t feel good, it makes it more exhausting to breath even at high speeds. The airflow thorugh the jacket was just enough to be able to feel the circulation but it was hot air. Better than noting but not comfortable. Still you can get used to it. At 39 however every step felt like a challenge. Not only I felt the heat. Also my bike. The engine started cutting out. At an intersection when the temperature had just reached 40 the engine just stopped and wouldn’t start again. This happened a few times but luckily it was never at an inconvenient spot. I rolled to a parking space and let the engine cool. Strangely I didn’t see any indication for anything overheating on the dash. After waiting half an hour and spending the time on drinking lots of water and eatig a can of fish (including the salty oil to get some salt back onto my body after sweating so much). I went on always switching the engine off when I had to stop. That worked well. Though when I got back onto the motorway within 20 minutes the engine cut out in sixth gear. I quickly hit the clutch and rolled to the hard shoulder. Luckily so far I have had all motorways almost completely to myself. Also luckily the engine had cut out right before a long downhill stretch of road. I rolled down the hill at over 60mph and right afterwards came an exit to a little dusty path which I comfortably rolled onto and stopped. I was exhausted. I needed the break as badly as the bike. I didn’t even want to get off the bike because it seemed such a big effort. But then sitting in direct sunlight was worse. Also usually you can sit on the bike with the side stand out but since the bike was so heavy it would be dangerously close to  tipping over. After twenty minutes of recovering the bike and I were ready to continue our trip.
The GPS wasn’t though. The heat was too great for my phone. As soon as I put it onto the handlebar mount it just powered off immediately. Also my GoPro camera on the handle bar frequently shut off. So it was back to paper maps and street signs. Luckily being forced to look at the big backup map that I had brought with me I discovered that I was close to a huge lake. The prospect of going for a swim was a heavenly one. My plan of getting to Barcelona in on day was an illusion considering the circumstances. I had barely managed to cover two hours distance of the 5 hours I had scheduled for reaching Barcelona. After a short 10 minute ride I could see the lake. What a sight. It wasn’t only the prospect of actually getting to jump into the refreshing cool water but it actually looked fanyastic too. A bright calm turquoise plane surrounded by yellow sandy rocks and beaches with saturated green trees. I could not have hoped for a more idyllic resting place. Since it was already past five and I had decided I was not going to push on to Barcelona I wanted to make camp at the lake. After passing through a little old village which for me was the first hint of Sergio Leone – wester movie look (which is something i am looking for in Spain) I inspected every little path on the road circling the lake to find a camp site. Doing that cost me my last bit of strength that I had left. I had to climb some rocky terrain and little hills to see if they would make for a good campsite and I had been wearing my full gear throughout trying to save time in case the current one was not a good spot. Finally, the fourth try was successful. I found a little flat patch of grass in a little forest in between the lake and the road. When I returned to my bike after finding my campsite I stared taking off my gear but I could barely stand upright, I had to lean onto my bike and didn’t move a muscle for a few minutes.

After each little movement I took a break. I was completely exhausted. I deemed it unsafe to go swimming in that condition. Slowly I carried my dry bags and gear too my campsite and started setting up the tent. I almost emptied a 1.5 Litre bottle of water in one go before I started. Every single step felt unnecessary and too much effort.

Finally, the tent was up and I was ready to go to the lake. I took another half hour break to get my strength back to be able to go for a swim. Stepping into the warm but refreshing water made it all worth it, the whole day.

I swam for half an hour and enjoyed the solitude and quietness as the sun set.

After washing some of my cloths in the lake I climbed into my tent and fell asleep immediately. All in all it was fantastic day.