Distance cycled: 92km

Number of times I fell off my bike: 1

Times I wooped on the downhill: 11

Times I weeped on the uphill: 14 

From the moment I opened my eyes and saw the sunrise from my sandcastle bed in Argeles Sur Mer in France to the moment I closed those same heavy eyes, 92km and 18 hours later in Sant Pere Pescador, Spain, I felt every emotion and sensation in the human spectrum, from pain and frustration to elation and pleasure.

Cycling along the Mediterranean coast from village to village, edging your way closer to the Spanish border you get into a familiar cycling pattern. There's a backbreaking climb to the summit of each coastal ledge, followed by a spine tingling race down to the next seaside town - the roads are so twisted and narrow that you hear the blood pounding in your ears and your white knuckles grip the handlebars as you fly towards the Meditteranean sea and then do it all again... and again. We repeated this process to Collioure, Port Vendres, Banyuls-sur-Mer and Cerbere before an epic climb to the French/Spain border and a wickedly windy descent down to Portbou. By this point my thighs were heavy and my knees were aching but I wanted to push a little further before lunch so I climbed may way past Colera and dug into my zip-locked couscous lunch in Llanca.

At this point I had the option to carry on around the coastal peninsular to El Port de la Selva in search of Cava or turn off to Figueres to visit Salvador Dali's museum. The vote swung in the Cava country direction (71 votes) so I continued along the coast and turned off, excited for my first tasting - which turned out to be a bit of a non event. At 4pm the entire town was asleep, enjoying an extended siesta except for one little bar. I tried to order and got blank stares in return, my French was no good here as I remembered I had crossed the border and couldn't recall a single word of Spanish. I think I ordered a glass of Cava and a plate of patatas bravas but when I was presented with a glass of nasty tasting still white wine and a plate of French fries I felt like a hopeless tourist, out of my depth and failing on my task. It was at this point I noticed on the map that Cap de Creus National Park (which received 66 votes behind La Selva de mar) was not far from there. Had I known I had a slow 90 minute, 14km climb up a mountain range ahead of me, I might have dismissed the idea, but my total lack of topographical knowledge meant my legs were blissfully unaware what was in store for them.

With a total area of 13,886 hectares, it is the largest nature reserve in Catalonia. The park is made up of two land reserves; the Creus Cape Point and the Norfeu Cape and three magical under water reserves - a truly magnificent place to visit while exploring the Costa Brava. Cars going in the opposite direction were tooting me, giving me a big thumbs up and encouraging my charge up the mountain. After my cava-low, reaching the top of this beautiful nature reserve, looking back at France and ahead towards Spain filled me with a depth of confidence and achievement that isn't earned every day. Standing on my own two feet I finally felt the magnitude of how far I'd come, both today and on the European leg of this adventure. Involuntary woop woops escaped my lips for the entire descent as I enjoyed the wind on my face and the incomparable buzz of riding at 50km an hour down a Spanish mountain range.

I think the best way to measure your happiness is to count the number of nights you fall asleep grinning. This was definitely one of those days.