The mountains were waiting for us this morning as we pulled away with clear skies and a second day of wonderfully cool temps (70).  We were not looking forward to the climb over the Pyrenees (which began immediately), but their beauty was intriguing.It was a slow steady climb

through the beautiful hills.  A few miles before leaving Spain, was’ La Fronterra’; it was like South of the Border, except with warehouses for beer, booze, wine and anything else that is expensive in France.  Every single car in the parking lot had France plates.  We then passed the antiqued border crossing in Spain,

the only sign that mentioned the next country

and shortly the ‘official’ border in France,no Welcome to France or Thanks for Visiting Spain, times have changed.  On the French side of the border the shops were tightly packed on a a narrow street that led up a very steep hill with sights everywhere. Watching for car doors and people walking out into the street mad navigation challenging, but we were going slow enough to stop easily.

We had a spectacularily beautiful drop from our long climb up the Pyrenees, much like our ride out of Telluride (just warmer).  With the narrow roads, there was not any opportunity to stop to take pictures, managed one close to the bottom.

The mountain peak of Pic du Canigou (9100 feet) in the distance were breathtaking and we continually took (too many) pictures, though tough to see when not there in person.  Once out of the mountains we entered the beautiful town of Le Boulou with streets lined in flowers,

but the range we had just crossed, still loomed behind us.

We were happy to see the French had vineyards well stocked for our consumption.

Our stay tonight was an unexpected surprise. Perpignan is beautiful, flowers along the river,beautiful streets accented by a magnificent sky,The Castillet from the 1400’swhich was originally the city gate and then a prison and the Cathédrale Saint-Jean Baptiste.

Unfortunately, they closed the doors, just as I walked up, so no pictures of inside.  Guess the French keep a different schedule than the Spanish, which is wonderful when it come to dinnertime and we were ready. Besides the required (and delicious) salad and Jerry’s Bolognese (about the best, so far), I went for the mussels Catalun (onions, peppers and tomatoes in a white wine sauce).

Not only was it unbelievable fabulous, this pot was about ten inches deep, filled with mussels.  A good celebration for our crossing of the Pyrenees.