27.2 Andorra
In this interesthings: Going to Andorra, what is it like and why should you visit this magical place?
After a few intense days as a VIP at the Tour de France, I was completely cooked. I needed a break. Not from cycling, but from the noise. So I gave myself a solo mission: four days in Andorra. No obligations. Just my bike, my legs, and a weird little country I knew almost nothing about.
Andorra sits between France and Spain, but somehow feels like neither. It’s not in the EU, it’s not in Schengen, it’s barely ever mentioned in conversations unless you’re a pro cyclist or a tax consultant. It’s one of those places that feels made up, until you go.
Day 1: The roads are too good
To get into Andorra, you don’t just arrive, you climb into it. The NIO ET5 Touring whooshed up a long mountain road toward Port d’Envalira, through mist and switchbacks, until suddenly the whole country opened up like a hidden valley. I checked into a hotel just outside Andorra la Vella and took a deep breath. No agenda, just ride.
I used Statshunters to pick my climbs. First impressions? The roads are insanely good. Like, suspiciously good. Perfect asphalt, no cracks, no potholes. I swear someone must be out there cleaning the tarmac at 5 AM.
That day I went south, stacking climbs until I couldn’t feel my legs. On the way back, I took a gravel detour to the hotel. Turns out Andorra is full of those sneaky little unpaved roads that make you feel like you’re discovering something—even though every pro cyclist already knows about it.
In the evening, I went full tourist. Dinner at the hotel. A trip to the supermarket where everything is cheap (no tax). Bottles of wine for under €3, shelves stacked with cigarettes I didn’t want, but weirdly admired (you get free olive oil with sigarettes). The whole place felt like a tax-free Narnia built for cyclists.
Day 2: Pro cyclists, gas stations, and small talks
The next morning I took it easy. Just a casual loop over Coll d’Ordino and Collada de Beixalis. Two of the more well-known climbs. On the way up, I ran into Peter Oxenberg-Hansen from Ineos. He’s racing the Vuelta a Burgos, just out for a spin. We chatted a bit about racing, why he loves cycling and life at altitude.
What struck me most about Andorra is how normal it is to see pro cyclists everywhere. You pass them on the climbs, nod, and move on. It’s like spotting deer in the forest. Beautiful, effortless, slightly intimidating.
Then I made my way to the most sacred stop of any ride: the gas station. This is a ritual I’ve adopted ever since cycling in the Netherlands. Gas station stops aren’t just about food—they're about pause. A moment to sit on the curb with a bag of chips, a cold drink, and no notifications.
Day 3: The café of a legend
This was my “meet the legend” day. The goal: ride to Robert Gesink’s café in Ordino. First, I climbed Port de Cabús, hands down one of the most beautiful climbs I’ve done. But the descent? My rim brakes sounded like a dying animal. Couldn’t fix it, so I just kept going.
Eventually, I rolled into the café and… there he was. I walked up and we talked a bit. And we came and sat with me at the table. We chatted a bit and I surprised my dad (he is a major Gesink fan) by doing a FaceTime with Robert Gesink.
We talked about cycling, the last years of his career, what it’s like to live and ride in Andorra. No interviews, no filming. Just a chill chat over coffee with a guy I’ve looked up to since forever. He’s incredibly down to earth. I didn’t bring up any of the recent noise around him—this wasn’t about headlines. This was about respect.
On the way back, it started pouring rain and thunder echoed between the mountains. Classic.
Day 4: Freezing at 2400 meters
For the final ride, I decided to go big: Port d’Envalira. It’s the highest road in Andorra, and one of the highest paved roads in Europe. I left the hotel in short sleeves. 20°C. Smooth start.
But 10 kilometers from the summit, the weather flipped. Suddenly it was 8°C and windy. No jacket. No gear shops open. I considered turning back—but that would mean descending and reclimbing another 5 km. No thanks.
So I started asking people for help. And then, like magic, a couple on the side of the road handed me a wind jacket. Absolute angels. That jacket saved the day. I made it to the top freezing, but smiling. 10 cols done in 4 days.
I also did Cortals d’Encamp that day. Probably the most beautiful climb of the trip. Steep, quiet, epic views. No cars, just that endless up.
Andorra in hindsight
Traveling solo isn’t always easy. You eat alone a lot. You talk to yourself. You start thinking way too much about snacks. I ended up getting McDonald’s two nights in a row and one sad pasta dinner. But honestly? That’s part of the charm. You get to do exactly what you want. And what I wanted was to ride.
Would I go back? Absolutely. Andorra is one of those places where the roads tell their own stories. The climbs are long, the altitude hits hard, and the company, if you’re lucky, is a world tour pro.
Weird little country. Perfect for cyclists.
Discounts
