On an Adventure Along the TET – Part 2: From Rainy Desert to Spanish Peaks
A guest story by Wim – loyal travel companion, off‑road expert, and now: self‑appointed solo adventure rider.
Now that Wim is “officially” an adult (ahem), he bravely went out solo. After his first stretch through France and the Pyrenees, he ended up in the rugged desert landscapes of Bardenas Reales. Here’s part two of his epic motorcycle journey—with mud, riveting rivers, donkeys, a dash of The Shining, and the aroma of bacon by open fire. (for part 1 clic here)
Wet feet in a desert
The morning started calm, but the forecast said rain, thunder and lightning over Bardenas. Not ideal—but staying put wasn’t an option. So rain gear on, bike fired up, and off I went.
First stop: the cave homes at Arguedas—people lived in those rock caves until the 1960s! Then I headed to the visitor center, where the staff warned me:
“Kleigrond + regen = gevaarlijk!”
But Wim would Wim, so I pushed on toward the iconic rock formations.
Not easy. The intended route was impassable—slippery clay everywhere. A tumble later (no damage)—I decided to stick to gravel. And yes, those gravel
roads delivered: rugged landscapes, dramatic clouds, and breathtaking views even in the rain.
Back in Tudela, another challenge awaited: cleaning the bike. Clay sticks like cement. Then I indulged in pinchos in town—small bites, huge satisfaction.
Towards the Pyrenees: rocks, mud, and old bridges
After one last glance at Bardenas, I rode north toward the Pyrenees. In Murillo de Gállego, towering red rocks greeted me. I tackled an off‑road trail, but hit a landslide. Stopped for a chat with two locals with shovels—route closed.
A while later, another road collapse. So, selfie-time with tripod—solo travel requires creativity. Shortly after, a river crossing looked more like a wild stream—nope, backtrack.
Back on mountain asphalt—pure bliss. Curve after curve, view after view. Aínsa stole the show—medieval charm, stone houses, and delicious ravioli.
That night I stayed in Betren in a hostel where I was the lone guest. The caretaker, stuffed animals, the silence—it felt like a horror flick. No whispering twins though, so all good.
Smuggler’s route and Mama Maria
Next, I rode the old tobacco-smuggler route to Andorra. After that thunderstorm night, I had doubts… but I’m so glad I did it. 
It turned out to be the highlight of the trip: technical sections, breathtaking scenery and, best of all, a tiny restaurant where Mama Maria cooked eggs with pork chops over an open fire. 
I breezed through Andorra too quickly—definitely worth a return trip with Sandra someday. For now, it was back into France where the Gorges de Galamus and other highlights awaited.
Gorges, donkeys and old-school tunes
The ride through Galamus Gorge was so epic that I rode it four times—narrow roads, steep cliffs, curves galore, stunning views. Along the way, an Italian on a black Africa Twin stopped and took photos of me—very cool.
Later, I spotted two donkeys and gave them horse treats (yes, I always carry some)—they loved it. 
That evening I found myself at the iconic Millau Bridge—crossed it three times thanks to GPS. I ended up at a charming chambre d’hôte where I dined with a couple on a Triumph and a plate of delicious sheep cheese.
From volcanoes to confusion
The final day brought me near Clermont-Ferrand and the Mont du Cantal circuit. No highways, just peace and scenic roads. I stayed the night in Goulanges‑sur‑Yonne at a hotel full of character. The owner insisted on calling me “Robert” (turns out, his name was Guillaume)—classic! 
Dinner was shared with French, Germans, Portuguese… and one lone Belgian. Sounded like a joke, but turned into a warm, memorable evening.
Conclusion
This TET trip took me from dusty plains to misty peaks, from slippery mud to pure asphalt joy. Solo travel isn’t always easy, but it’s raw. You learn about yourself, you see more, you feel more. And when you return home, your bike smells like adventure.
Until the next one—Wim. 🛵