Up at 5am, we were overcome with a mix of tiredness from the early morning and anticipation of the excitement that beckoned. The rain that bombarded us the evening before was now gone as we said goodbye to Marilyn was good enough to drop us off at the local train station of Maisons Lafitte for our 6am departure as we headed to Paris Orly, the secondary aiport of Paris. With a couple of connections, the trip to Paris Orly took us a couple of hours, followed by another hour or so in a queue at the airport.

With a two hour flight into Barcelona, we were cutting it fine for our midday connecting bus to Andorra, and we were relying on Wendy's experience from having been in Barcelona a week or so ago that we hoped would allow us to get ourselves on board, avoiding a two hour wait for the next bus. Traveling with oversize luggage has its drawbacks, and on this particular occasion, with the clock ticking my bike bag was nowhere to be seen. Crappy pram after crappy pram emerged from the conveyor but not the one bag that would allow us to avoid sitting for two hours at the Barcelona Airport. Finally, it arrived, and in a horrible case of poor time management, Courtney decided it was now time to go to the toilet, thereby extending the time it would take us to exit the airport. Every second counted by this stage and it was fingers crossed for 'number ones' as we watched Courtney head to the toilet, our nerves by this stage in tatters.

'Number ones' won, and we were soon out of the airport and into the bus bay. Just as we did so, a bus, our bus, pulled out of its park, bound for Andorra. There was no way it was going without us, particularly as it was 2 minutes to midday, and collectively we threw ourselves and our luggage in the path of the moving bus. There was nowhere for it to go. With reflexes faster than a fighter jet pilot, the bus driver slammed on the brakes within millimeters of the Snowball family and its' luggage. A brief standoff unfolded before by stealth we jumped on the bus complete with our luggage and settled in to the nearest seat. The driver had no alternative but to accept that we were the victors and were now on the 12 o'clock bus.

After a brief stop at the next terminal to put our luggage in the cargo hold below, we relaxed in the knowledge that we were now headed for Andorra.

After leaving the surrounds of Barcelona, the landscape was dry, arid and fairly flat. It was almost desert like. This lasted for a good couple of hours or so before eventually we approached the steep and rocky Pyrenees. Gradually the road went upwards and we were held up briefly at the border to Andorra before we hit the homeward straight to our destination of La Massana.

Arriving a little after 3pm, we unloaded our gear, checked in, got changed and headed back out on to the street. Hearing a bit of noise up the road, we headed in that general direction and were pleasantly surprised to find ourselves in the midst of the elite men's podium presentation for the World Cup Downhill event, won only moments before by Australia's Troy Brosnan. As the Australian national anthem blared over the PA, it was apparent that there weren't too many other people in the crowd who knew the words, and so it was that we sang our hearts out for Troy Brosnan, the euphoria of being in Andorra and witnessing an Australian win a World Cup setting the scene for what would hopefully be an amazing week.