The alarm on my iPhone was set for 8:00 am, an hour before I agreed to meet in the hotel restaurant for breakfast. But, since I had woken up about 12-14 minutes beforehand, this was one of those rare mornings where I wouldn’t need it.

My mind had been wandering for a bit. It was a big deal that I was foregoing a stop at a local cafe and putting my faith in the hotel espresso bar to start my day off right. I used to tell myself that I was not addicted to caffeine, but I waived the “white flag” on that years ago.

I was more concerned about the clothes I hand-washed in the shower the night before. After bike packing here from Girona just a day before, I really needed them to be dry so that I wouldn’t be traveling home in what essentially would feel like a wet blanket wrapped around me. I figured since I was up early, I better get out of bed and check.

As I sat up and turned to get out of bed, I wondered, “How the hell did I even get here?”

Ripoll, Catalonia

I was over 2,000 feet above sea level in Ripoll, Catalonia, a town of just over 10,000 people on Spain’s side of the Pyrenees.

Ripoll is known as the cradle of Catalonia. The most important monastery of the country was built here, founded by the count Guifré el Pilós, who also created the four stripes on the national coat of arms. The capital of Ripollès was the headquarters of one of Christianity’s most complete libraries for centuries and received the praise of Jacint Verdaguer (1845-1902).

Over the years, I’ve slept in a lot of different places. But I couldn’t help but try and figure out how I went from sleeping on a twin-sized air mattress in a closet at one point in my life to sleeping 6,000 miles away from home in Ripoll, Catalonia.

What combination of decisions had I made that led me to this point? And out of all the friends and family that I had lost over time, why did I get the opportunity to be here?

Our Route to Spain’s Pyrenees

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much time to reflect. I needed to get dressed and head downstairs to meet Will for breakfast.

I didn’t want to keep him waiting, as I knew he was just as hungry as I was after our ride out to Ripoll the day before.

Will grew up in Hollis, Queens, where there weren’t many examples of representation outside of the cliche boxes society defaults to for black men. He and I have been friends for a number of years, and interestingly enough, the bicycle is how we met one another.

Will has been living in Spain as an expat for two years with his wife, Ayesha. And after leaving my corporate America job as the number-one sales rep, I’ve been here for just under one year.

However, neither of us had taken an overnight trip by bike since we moved here. In a matter of a week, we decided that we may as well “give it a go” before the weather gets cold, especially since we planned on heading to the Pyrenees. It is hard to pass up on checking off a life experience with a friend.

Tread Lightly

To get to Ripoll, we left Girona through Sant Gregory and rode north through Sant Feliu de Pallerols. It’s a small pueblo on the C-63 that you may not even realize you are traveling through, as the town is only a few blocks long.

As we passed the Brunet River, the headwinds passing through the valley of the Santa Margarida Volcano decided to welcome us (consider this a warning), and I wished they hadn’t.

Our trek north transformed from a solid two-man pace line to a near halt within minutes. 25-30 mph gusts of wind knocked us from left to right as we rode on inch-by-inch with cars passing to our left.

At 165 pounds and bike packing gear mounted to my frame, I have to admit I was a bit shocked (and concerned). But we were here, and we had come this far, so turning back wasn’t an option. If I had to pedal at 5 mph to get to Ripoll, then I was mentally ready for the extremely long day ahead.

After making our way to the other end of the valley, we decided to give our legs and minds a rest. And why not? This was a day for adventure, not one to see how fast we could ride from one end of the route to the other.

With oat bars in hand (Will’s were homemade. Why didn’t I think of that?), we stood in awe as we took in the view.

He told me about how the bicycle has exposed him to so many great things and encouraged him to pay it forward.

“I enjoy seeing people I grew up with ask me questions about bikes or where a running trail may be. As a black cyclist, I want to help eliminate barriers that we quickly put up as a reason to not do something. People might come to have a passion for something they haven’t tried yet.”

With my own journey into cycling in mind, I nodded my head in agreement. It’s one of the many things Will and I have in common.

We hopped on the road for a bit to cover a little more mileage. Only to pause again near a section of the Route of Carrilet I, which is a part of the Viás Verdes system in Catalonia.

The Route of Carrilet I is part of the network of Natural Roads of Spain and is included in the "Program of Natural Roads" developed since 1993 by the Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries, and Food.

Carrilet I uses the same path as the old narrow-gauge railway (called "carrilet" in Catalonia) that went from Girona to Olot. But the Viás Verdes system as a whole allows you to go from the Pyrenees to the coast on modest gravel roads. If riding your bike next to cars isn’t your thing, it’s definitely worth doing more research on this commuting network and planning an adventure of your own.

With a couple of hours passed in our journey, it was time to make a committed effort in our final push to Ripoll. I hadn’t told Will, but the toughest bit of the route was waiting for us up the road.

It was Mount Canes, or, as they say here in Catalonia, “Coll de Canes”. The good news is it was the last part of our journey. The bad news? Well, it is about 7 miles in length.

For a “bigger” cyclist like myself, the longer climbs tend to intimidate me a bit. But it was a good thing the plan wasn’t to go up at race pace.

It helped morale that traffic on this road was very, very minimal. After moving here from southern California, this is something that I’m still adjusting to. Back home, you’re lucky if a car gives you the 3 feet of space that is required by law. But on our ascent up, I felt like a kid in a candy shop, having the entire road to ourselves.

As we made our way up the average 5.8% grade of the climb, I turned to Will and asked, “What’s the odds?”. “On what?” he responded, rightfully confused. “Two African-American expats are bike packing to Ripoll, Catalonia. Out of all the places in the world.” With a smirk on his face, he replied, “Man, I don’t even know.”

I had no clue either, but the thought crossed my mind a couple of times as I tried to process the beauty of the green countryside surrounding us. How did I get so lucky?

I figured we needed to pick up the pace a little bit and get to our destination. Will and I made it safely down the smooth descent and into Ripoll. Right on time too, as hunger pains began to set in.

A goal of mine was to eat some paella as soon as we reached town. It’s essentially a Spanish dish with rice, vegetables, chicken, and seafood and it’s made in a frying pan. Spain is known for it, and oddly enough, I have never enjoyed real paella since moving here.

“Let’s head to the hotel, and we’ll ask the receptionist where the best place is,” I said as we rolled through the tranquil streets of downtown Ripoll.

We had arrived during the “siesta” hours, a mid-day break where people spend time relaxing by themselves or with their families. The word “siesta” comes from the Latin hora sexta or “sixth hour.” When counted from sunrise, this roughly translates to a rest in the middle of the day.

It’s a break that was historically taken during the hottest hours of the day by people who worked in farming.

Luckily, someone was still working at the front desk of the hotel lobby when we arrived, covered in salt from our sweat. After a bit of negotiating, she allowed us to bring our bikes into the hotel lobby so that we could keep an eye on them.

“The paella here is really bad.”

“Qué?!” I replied in dismay. The receptionist nodded her head to reaffirm what she had told me. I’m certain she could read the disappointment written on my face. But after she offered us a free beer or water (compliments of the hotel), my mood shifted into problem-solving mode.

“Let’s Eat Something!”

After a quick Google search, I stumbled upon a local cafe in the city center. “Let’s eat something! We can just ride over there and pick a cafe; I’m starving.”

We ended up at Cafeteria Alesia, where Will’s wife, Ayesha, and their dog, Emoji, joined us. When you’re hungry, everything looks good. But we decided on papas bravas, chicken wings, a beer, a few waters, croquetas, and a bocadilla de queso. The food was reasonably priced, and the service was good—a solid 7 out of 10 rating from me. Mainly because, well, it wasn’t paella!

The Next Morning

After a long day filled with physical and emotional highs and lows (mainly due to the Paella episode), we were ready to return.

Luckily, my clothes were dry by the time I headed back upstairs after breakfast. However, my socks had a different plan in mind. I needed to spend nearly 10 minutes drying them with a hair dryer in the bathroom before getting out on the road! With a potential storm incoming, the last thing I wanted to do was have wet socks on while getting rained on in low temperatures.

I finished up the drying, packed the clothes I had brought with me in my SKS Germany frame bag, and we left the hotel to get ahead start on the storm.

Instead of retracing the path we took the day before to return to Girona, we decided to take a different route. Once we re-conquered the back side of Coll de Canes to get out of Ripoll, we continued on through Olot.

This took us through the Parque Natural de la Zona Volcánica de La Garrotxa.

The Garrotxa Volcanic Zone Natural Park is made up of eleven municipalities and has an area of about 15,000 hectares.

Its orography, soil, and climate provide it with varied vegetation, often lush, with holm oaks, and beech forests of exceptional landscape value. Though, when you ride through, you will only experience a piece of it. You can also access it by foot if hiking is your thing.

The next notable town on this route is home to a 250,000-year-old lake, the Lake of Banyoles. While we didn’t stop on our way home, Banyoles is worthy of an adventure of its own if you’re searching for an easy coffee ride with views of rolling hills on your way there.

There are also a number of cafeterias and restaurants on the lake. Providing you with the perfect environment to connect with friends and family over a slice of cake and coffee.

This time around, we elected to bypass Banyoles and continue pressing on to Girona. I guess you could say we were ready to get home and didn’t want to give the storm time to catch up with us.

After joining on a random pace line with some riders that were headed in the same direction, we made it into Girona just in time for a late lunch. Are you surprised that we were hungry again?

We ended our ride at Verd, which is located in the heart of “Old Town Girona”. The owner convinced us to try the new goat cheese salad that was on the menu. I was open-minded to the idea, so long as I was able to indulge in some carrot cake after my meal (which I did).

This was the perfect ending to a trip that I’ll never forget.

-Calvin

Want to follow our journey on Instagram?

Calvin: @seesmith_

Will: @bossmeem

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To be honest, I had no plans of being there.

My night started around 19:00 or so, when I found myself at Bartali’s Pizza Co. A popular, 4.8 out of 5 rated pizza restaurant in town.

“Quiero una mesa, por favor. Solo para mí.” I told the hostess.

“Tienes una hora para comer. Tengo una reserva en una hora para tu mesa. Is that okay?” he asked.

Of course, “eso es perfecto” I replied with confidence. But, internally I was thinking “shit, I forgot!”

In the states, normally you can just walk into any restaurant and snag a table. But in Spain, especially during Sant Jordi holiday weekend, you need to reserve a table ahead of time.

After a quick glance over the menu, I was off to the races. The taggiasche olives, Romana salad and Smoked Sardine pizza (don’t knock it until you try it) were what my heart and stomach desired. Especially after a 2.5 hour ride earlier in the day.

As I was devouring my olives (Spain has the best olives in the world, I’m convinced), I noticed my friend Marty was walking up the alley way.

“Marty!” I yelled, as I was stared at by the tourist from London at the table next to mine. He glanced over and waved as he made his way towards me.

Marty is someone I’ve known for the past three years or so, but we had never actually met in person until December of last year (‘22). Regardless of us being thousands of miles apart we have established a great friendship.

“Taylor Phinney is DJ’ing…”

“Do you want to join me?” I asked. “No, I can’t” he replied, “I’m headed over to Idlehands to eat and hang out with some friends for a bit. Taylor Phinney is DJ’ing there”, “I was just about to hit you up”.

If you know Marty, he always seems to be on-the-go. But, after a bit of convincing, I was able to get him to sit down and enjoy some olives with me for a bit. Nothing can replace precious time shared amongst friends.

Marty introduced me to the waiters that also happened to be friends of his. I wasn’t surprised, as I’ve quickly come to realize he has established relationships with a lot of locals in town. I call him the “Mayor of Girona”.

We wrapped up our conversation and Marty headed off to Idlehands. I re-focused my attention on trying to devour the rest of my meal within the hour time frame that I promised the waiter. I have this weird complex where I always try and keep my word, even for things that don’t actually matter.

Unfortunately, I fell short of my goal due to a full belly. Turns out my eyes were bigger than my stomach this time around.

As I made my way home through the nearly 200 year old streets of Girona, with half a box of pizza in hand, something within me told me to stop by Idlehands.

Idlehands is a compact café, restaurant, wine shop and record store in “Old Town” Girona. Surprisingly, they do all four of these things very well. As a coffee-addict and connoisseur, I can confidently say they have some of the best coffee in town (believe me, I’ve made the rounds). They also have this weird, dungeon-looking thing in the lobby of the restaurant. Lord knows what’s gone on down there (I don’t want to know).

By the time I walked in, the party had already begun. I zig-zagged through the beer sipping crowd and saw Marty, mouth full of half a vegan burger, at a table with four other guys.

They were deep in conversation and I didn’t want to interrupt, but I did. Over the loud house music, Marty introduced me to the rest of the gang and I pulled up a chair.

After just a few minutes, I found myself in a passionate debate with Miqui, who happens to be a tour guide for Trek Travels. We made our cases about which city has the best riding in Southern California: San Diego or Los Angeles. Of course, I told him San Diego not only had the best riding, but the most underrated riding in SoCal as well. He vehemently disagreed.

Before I knew it, it was 9 pm/21:00. And in case you’re wondering, yes I turn into a pumpkin after 9’o clock, regardless of what part of the world I’m in.

I said my goodbyes to the table and made my way home. But little did I know, my night was only just beginning.

After crushing the rest of my pizza at my kitchen table (I guess I was hungry after all), I got a craving for some Gelato. I’ve never really been a gelato person, but I can’t seem to get enough of the stuff here in town. I have a dairy sensitivity and love chocolate, so the “gelato vegana “ is my go-to. It NEVER disappoints.

While out, I linked up with my friend Dan (from Canada) and my friends Jen and Steve (from San Diego). I told them about the scene at Idlehands and that Taylor Phinney happened to be DJ’ing.

Steve and Dan wanted beers and the “Taylor Phinney is DJ’ing” thing seemed to be the cherry on top. So, with my hands covered in melted chocolate gelato, off to Idlehands we went.

“Who the hell is Taylor Phinney, anyway?”

You might be wondering: “Who the hell is Taylor Phinney, anyway?”

To be honest, I can’t answer that question, yet, because I haven’t had a chance to get to know who he is as a human being. However, I can tell you what he is known for.

Taylor Phinney is a former professional cyclist, time trial champion and Giro d’Italia stage winner. If you’re not a cycling fan, just know that the Giro d’Italia is a pretty big deal. But nowadays, he is a DJ, which appears to be one of his avenues of creative expression.

Who knew that our paths in life would intersect while he was DJ’ing in a Girona based cafe that has a dungeon in their lobby? Life has a funny way of creating scripts even the best film directors cannot imitate.

When I saw him on the turntable, I was not “star-struck”. As I think about it, that is an emotion that I don’t think has ever overcome me. To be honest, the first thing that came to my mind was: “I need to ask him how I can get some weed here”.

So, as he was searching through the crates for the next record to play, I did. Anyone that knows me well enough will tell you that, in general, I literally will talk to anyone and strike up a conversation. This situation was no different.

“You don’t really have those kind of options here”, Taylor said over the music, after I told him what my preferences are for cannabis edibles.

After living and growing up in California, I realized I’ve been a bit spoiled by the á la carte of cannibis creations that many of the local dispensaries have. “The edibles here are really strong” he emphasized as I’m sure he may have wondered “who the hell is this guy, again?”.

After he gave me a reader’s digest version on how the cannabis social clubs operate here in Spain, we wrapped up our conversation. I told him we could chat more about it later as he was obviously pre-occupied with making sure the alcohol infused crowd was satisfied with the tunes he was playing.

Why I consume Cannabis

When I was young, I was diagnosed with ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder). There are few types of symptoms that come from this condition: inattentiveness, hyperactivity and impulsiveness. Personally, I battle with a little bit of both.

As a youth, my symptoms manifested enough to the point where I was put on medication in middle school. I can vividly remember sitting in class one day, in a white hoodie, feeling like a zombie, not able to say or do much.

My grades soared and my teacher was pleased, but after dealing with the side effects for a couple of months I told my mom I that I did not want to take them any more. Fortunately she obliged, despite the fact that my behavior in class returned to a completely unsatisfactory level.

It wasn’t until 2020 that I realized I had never really “outgrown” my symptoms as I had been telling myself over the years. “I used to have ADHD as a kid” was the lie I kept internalizing.

As you know, there was a lot going on that year. In addition to the pandemic, I had also recently been laid off from my job. My emotions were running rampant and I started to have honest, vulnerable conversations with myself.

I realized, historically, I’ve always had issues with anxiety, depression and an increased inability to focus on tasks. Anxiety and depression run in my family, my uncle committed suicide. Why was I so arrogant to believe that I wouldn’t be predisposed to these conditions? The external events of life were only amplifying it.

I wanted to take the edge off the intensity of my symptoms. After deciding to give alcohol up for good just a couple of months prior, I figured I would give cannabis a try to see if it would help me “chill out”.

My only other experience with weed had been in college, where I really had no purpose for my use. Other than to get “high out of my mind”, eat a bunch of food afterwards and make memories with friends. This time around, I wanted it to be different.

The first blunt (joint) I smoked that year, I remember the same effect happened. But I realized it was likely because I had smoked half of it in one-sitting after not smoking for years. My tolerance for it wasn’t there and the quantity of consumption was clearly too much.

After a few more weeks of reading about human beings cannabinoid-system, the many cannabinoids within cannabis, how THC and CBD interact and terpene effects I was intrigued. It created a determination within me to figure out how I could make this plant work for me.

After about a year of use, I figured out a “sweet spot” ratio of CBD and THC that provided the effects I was searching for. It didn’t hurt that in California, where cannabis is legal, I had access to different products that offer varying ratios.

At first, I started with the cannabis oils because I did not want to inhale smoke of any kind to avoid damaging my lungs. I finally landed on edibles, which oddly enough, I was the most hesitant to try due to what I’ve heard about them from others. But, I’m glad that I did, as this has proven to be my preferred method of consumption for now.

Despite some of the cautions of Cannabis use in people with ADHD , I’ve noticed it dramatically decreases my anxiety, depression, stress and increases my mood and overall outlook on life. When completing tasks, my focus is markedly improved as well.

In the past, when I took ADHD medication, I felt like a shell of myself. Now, when I use Cannabis (always during the evening hours when I am not planning on leaving the house), I’m inspired and creative. Often times so focused on a project that I need to tell myself: “bro…it’s time to go to bed”.

Personally, I’ve found the indica ratios with at least 3x the amount of CBD to THC are my vibe. But it took trial and error for me to arrive at this point where I can use Cannabis and still remain comfortable and productive.

I often think about how helpful it would be if there were more research done on cannabis, cannabinoids and their psycological benefits and precautions. Where I could walk through a discussion with my healthcare provider and figure out what ratio might be best suited for me versus having to figure it out on my own.

After Cannabis consumption, I’ve never woken up the next morning hung over and hating life. As I have with alcohol after many long nights of partying (trust me, I’ve had my fun lol).

I wonder how many other adults with ADHD, depression, anxiety and stress that it could help?

“I haven’t rode 40 miles in so long….”

The next day I ran into Taylor at a local coffee shop after I finished one of my rides. We bumped-fists and he asked me which route I did.

After forgetting the name of the loop (I’m still learning these things), I just showed him on my bike computer. “I haven’t rode 40 miles in so long”, he told me. “Nothing wrong with that, bro” I told him, “use the bike however you're inspired to”.

Looking back, I’m grateful I stayed out past my bedtime that Saturday night. It is interesting how one friendship can beget others in life. Hanging out with current friends led to me making new ones, Taylor included. A small example of what can happen when you step outside of your comfort zone and regiment every once in awhile.

Subscribe below (it’s free) and I’ll be sure to keep you updated on my journey of becoming a member at one of the Cannabis social clubs here in Spain. Because accessing weed in this country is a bit complicated.

-Calvin Smith

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I'm a human-being, follower of Christ, son, friend, philanthropist, philosophizer, former collegiate athlete, average cyclist and more…

I've spent the last ten-years of my life climbing to the peak of the corporate ladder. During this process, I’ve managed to become an award winning employee and live a very “comfortable” life.

However, I've realized the pinnacle of corporate success is not at all what I hoped it would be. The idea of committing another 10-years, or more, to this seemingly never ending extraction of my being has been hard for me to digest.

At times, it’s even frightening. Leading to bouts of depression, anxiety and palpable affects on my mental and emotional well being and ultimately burnout. Countless nights I've asked myself: "Is this really how I want to spend the rest of my existence?"

Wake up at 6:30 am, breakfast by 7:30 am, work by 8 am, commit 40-hours a week of my time to get one day of “rest” in exchange for my efforts. All before Sunday comes around and I’m stressing about going back to the office and doing it all over again the following week.

At last, I've mustard up enough courage to listen to my body, mind, spirit and take action.

To prepare for this sabbatical, I’ve sold and given away many of the material possessions that I own, packed up my life into three suitcases (literally) and moved abroad to Spain.

I created this Newsletter to document my experiences during this new chapter of my life. It will allow me to mentally work through the challenges that I face and to share my “post-burnout” adventures and life-enhancing moments with you along the way.

I will distribute each issue via e-mail, at least once a month. I’ll also be doing podcast with an array of individuals and posting them here for your listening pleasure.

This Newsletter is 100% free. If you want to join me on this adventure, simply subscribe below. If you’d like to support this blog and my journey, you can do so by “pledging” a monthly monetary amount.

​Thank you in advance for your time and your company on this journey. 

God bless.

-Calvin

“Come to the edge.
We might fall.
Come to the edge.
It's too high!
come to the edge!
And they came
and he pushed
and they flew…”

-Guillaume Apollinaire

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