From the windows of our airplane, I can see the Mediterranean glistening in the morning sun.  Another sparkling day in one of my favorite European cities.  Today, people will walk the La Rambla, shop in the Mercat, eat paella, marvel at Gaudi’s architecture and indulge in some incredible Rioja wine.  But they will be doing it without us.

Raye and I settle in for the long airplane ride home, but not without reliving all the amazing things we saw, food we ate, people we met and roads we traveled.  It was better than we imagined, but at this stage of life, I have come to appreciate new motorcycle adventures for the uncertainty and unmatched sense of discovery you get when you make time for these kinds of experiences.

The last thing we discuss before drifting off to sleep is the one thing that will help me overcome the sweet sadness of leaving: when and where do we go next?  The truth is, I don’t really care.  Just as long as another ride awaits.

Too soon we have to leave this haven, and our ride from here descends out of the mountains through busy towns and on bigger roads.  The promise of the coast awaits and everyone is eager to see the famous Costa Brava, the Catalonian coastline along the Mediterranean Sea.  This should be quite a contrast from what we have seen the rest of the trip, and our guide promises us the switchbacks along the coast are as good if not better than yesterday’s challenging mountain passes.

Finally we reach the coast and stop for lunch in a bustling tourist city.  Several of us decided to treat ourselves to a lunch of paella at a beautiful yacht club.  The food was artistic and sumptuous.  The setting was relaxing and divine.  A real treat.

From here, the coastline ride begins.  The Costa Brava stretches from the border of France and Spain south about 125 miles to the port of Blanes.  Costa Brava means wild coast, and by the looks of the rocky cliffs and rugged surf, it has earned its name.  Frankly, it reminds me of the Pacific Coast Highway in California -- same natural attraction that has nothing to do with man and everything to do with God.  This is a huge tourist draw for Catalonia.  We are truly excited to be here.

The highway is a series of unending switchbacks that necessitates a slower speed but unquestionably creates a faster heartbeat.  I can tell Raye is excited about the ride, but like all the other drivers, he is concentrating on the road, the speed, the turns, the traffic.  I, on the other hand, am mesmerized by the azure blue water and crashing surf.  Since I am riding on the back, I am treated to a shoreline show of splendor, and I make my best efforts to capture some pictures so Raye and the others can see this region.  We make one stop from a perfect scenic overlook. It is hard to get us back on the bikes – from here we know the ride is coming to a close and we must get on a major highway to make it back to Barcelona before sunset.

This part of the ride back is filled with traffic, wind, and an unexpected rain.  Seems fitting as we say good bye to the mountains and now the coast.  I loved Barcelona a week ago, but honestly I am sad to return to this amazing city because it marks the end of our trip.  We pull wearily into the hotel, check in, and most of us collapse for a quick nap.  It has been a long day of riding, and we have one last dinner together before parting ways.

Tonight is a celebration, and everyone is filled with stories, hugs and promises of staying in touch.  We salute our guides and enjoy piano playing by Charles.  Raye and I head for bed before too late as our flight leaves fairly early from the airport.  I can hardly wait to see the kids, but I will miss these new friends incredibly.

It is a bittersweet evening.