We've made it!

10 more km of climbing took us up another 700 metres to cross the Coll d'Ares at 1610 metres.

The views were as stunning as the air was thin.

We had a cup of coffee in the cafe at the top where a Frenchwoman claimed she spoke no Spanish and then we descended at speeds over 40 mph round hairpins, through tunnels that burst into canyons with rivers running far below.

We crashed through French villages like Prats so fast we missed our turn off and had to return shame-faced minutes later to the bemusement of the locals who were all dining out in the village square, several of whom shouted "Ooh la la" as Martin swept by with his underpants streaming out from his panniers where he had hung them out to dry.

Martin finally got his 3rd snake and photographic evidence was immediately wired to the South Wales Argus. He says it was a Catalonian Rattlesnake.

Today started at 5.30am when Martin's phone started bleeping - it was the South Wales Argus telling us they had received the Blog pictures.

As you might expect I have been charged with looking after the kitty for food and beer etc - but Martin has started to challenge the accounting procedures.

He says that no matter how much he shells out he still ends up owing me a wedge. I telll him that there are 3 types of accountant: those that can count and those that can't.

Even as we left the hotel this morning we were accosted by a Frenchman wanting to know the way to Andorra.

I have to say that his policy on the use of maps puts matters firmly into perspective - his map ended 20 miles short of the Spanish border and was therefore of no use whatsoever.

I quickly appraised him of the position using my 1994 classic and sent him packing in a downwards direction.

Martin reckons he can speak a bit of French. I don't know which bit 'cause in the first French cafe we stopped in he tried to order a horse and followed this up by successfully ordering two thimblefulls of coffee.

But last night we were in Perpignan eating out by the Med. We've made it! Just over 600 miles from Bilbao to Barca and from Barca to Perpignan in spite of all the efforts of the Spanish and the Fench to thwart our plans by poor road signage, building roads that were not on my map and by generally assuming that no-one would ever want to travel anwhere in anything but a car or a truck.

Right now Martin is ordering something at the bar - anything could come!