2013: Dolomites here we come!

I think if I have one wish above all others for 2013 it is this: please, please can we have some decent weather? Surely 2013 can't be quite as bad as last year? Whatever, there is some serious cycling to be done in 2013 with the main focus of the first half of the year being the Maratona dles Dolomites. With trips to Girona and the Pyrenees to look forward to en route, it promises to be an exciting 6 months. And on a more leisurely note, Helen and I will be joined by old friends Pete and Sharon for a cycling tour round the Netherlands at the end of July. No cars, no panniers, just lightweight packs and credit cards - and of course the ever-present trusty camera to record our adventures. And all this on my new bike. Yeah, all in all, I am looking forward to what 2013 has to bring.

December 31st: Happy New Year

What a fabulous year on the bike. Despite (yet again) some horrendous weather at times, 2013 has been quite spectacular. Starting the year with a new bike to enjoy in the Trek Domane, it is a machine which has completely lived up to expectations. Di2 has proved every bit as good as the pundits would have us believe, a couple of niggles notwithstanding. Battery life has made it easy to run and maintain with only 2 charges required for the close to 5000km ridden on the bike throughout the year. And the comfort promised by the unique seatpost arrangement is palpable, over pretty much all terrains. UK roads, as we know, are pretty shocking with potholes, ruts and surface debris aplenty but it has taken this in its stride. I only hope my new Enigma titanium bike proves as successful in 2014.

Major trips to Spain, the Pyrenees and Italy have been enjoyable, despite the less than agreeable weather at times. More notable in many ways have been our trips to the Isle of Man and the Netherlands. On top of that I have had the chance to ride across the length and breadth of the UK, a chance to experience our varied countryside. Brief forays back into time-trialling have shown me that I probably don't enjoy that discipline with quite the same enthusiasm as once I did. And Strava continues to be a source of enjoyment for someone who revels in spreadsheets and numbers, though I feel that riding for segments' sake is less than healthy. Sometimes it is nice just to be on a bike and soak up the scenery. Equally Strava does prove a useful training tool at times.

The cycling scene has seen much in 2013, most notably a second British success in the Tour de France with Chris Froome succeeding Bradley Wiggins as the nation's hero. Other British riders have excelled too, not only on the road but on the track, and also in downhill biking where Rachel Atherton has proved herself to be top of the world yet again in emphatic style. Much to look forward to in 2014, not least the fact that the Tour de France will kick off in Yorkshire. Here's to a happy new year
Totals for December
Distance ridden: 568km
Total ascent: 4250m

Total Figures for 2013
Distance ridden: 9718km
Total ascent: 98525m
Best rides: The Maratona dles Dolomites was an amazing day on the bike, tiring but spectacular, and one which I savoured to the finish. Our tour of Holland was a wonderful few days, both socially and culturally and one which has left us wanting more of the same.

December 26th: Happy Christmas

Before you know it December has almost been and gone, and suddenly it's Christmas. Unlike previous years when the weather has turned wintry and snow and ice have made getting out on the bike difficult 2013 has brought milder weather, albeit with some fierce winds at times. As a result it has been possible to dodge the showers and get out to ride a few miles. I suspect it's what the cycling magazines would label junk miles, but I would always prefer time out on the bike in the open rather than suffering on the turbo, there's just something much nmore satisfying about a real bike ride. Whatever the weather.

Of course, it's a great time to consider cycling options for the coming year, and give yourself something positive to look forward to during the long winter months. At least the days are getting longer again. For me, I wanted to try something different in 2014. The Etape 2014 edition is really just a shorter version of the 2008 model, which Paul and I took part in, our first major continental gran fondo. Hopefully, for those who have chosen to give the 2014 Pau to Hautacam Etape the weather will be kinder than it was for Paul and myself. I can still remember the long climb of the Tourmalet in the rain and cold, followed by an even colder and wetter ascent of the Hautacam. No thanks. Marmotte and Maratona are still carrots which dangle before me, but I fancy a rest from the concept of tough alpine sportives. Following our wonderfully enjoyable ride through the Netherlands this summer, and casting my mind back to the my first Pyrenean traverse 5 years ago, I was reminded just how much I enjoyed the daily routine of riding from one place to the next, travelling through the region, enjoying the sights and culture much as a tourist, simply riding a bike. Some judicious internet browsing led me to find Marmot Tours and a 6 day ride through the Picos Europa mountains of northern Spain, an area I am completely unfamiliar with. Somehow, it ticked all the boxes. That's next summer's project sorted.

I have been amazed at how it has been possible to carry on riding consistently throughout this latter part of the year. Sadly, my late summer fitness has dissolved with the long summer evenings, but in a bid to retain some core fitness I have been determined to carry on riding when possible. Consequently I was excited to find myself fast approaching the magic 6000 miles for the year and today, on a 27 mile ride through the country lanes of Dorset, enjoying a beautiful sunny Boxing Day morning whilst shaking off the cobwebs of Christmas Day excesses, I tipped the Garmin over that landmark much to my immense and probably infantile pleasure. Sometimes the simplest moments are the best.

Happy Christmas!

November 30th: Vive la Revolution

November has, for me, been a very active month. At a time of year when normally the weather and shortening days are conspiring to make riding ever more difficult I have somehow clocked up nearly 800 kilometres. In part this is down to another new bike. I have gone titanium. My trusty old Cannondale Synapse was getting a bit long in the tooth, I have been riding it for 4 years now and whilst a part of me was very reluctant to bring the relationship to an end, I feel there is still much to explore in the way of bike design and a titanium bike has been on my wish list for some time now. The result? I now have a shiny new Enigma Etape, a sleek glistening beast which should eat up the miles in comfort, whilst still being light enough (the frame weighs in at about 1.5kg) to make those hills still manageable. I have only had it a week or so, so it's early days yet, but so far it has been over 100 pleasurable miles. I'll keep you posted.

The Revolution track series has been going a few years now. I remember going to the very first one in Manchester all those years ago and being thoroughly impressed with the format which somehow made track cycling a sexy evening out. For over 3 hours there is no let-up in the action as a stream of races unfolds across the evening. They tend to be themed, and the format has evolved over the years, but what is perhaps most refreshing is that, whereas at that first Revoolution it was possible to just roll up, pay on the door and sit anywhere, now the events often sell out and the crowds are noisy and knowledgable. It's hard to believe that the series is now in its 11th season, but it is still going strong and, perhaps best of all, Hugh Porter is still at the helm delivering his banter and commentary for the crowd. Now there is an additional venue as Revolution makes use of the newly opened Sir Chris Hoy Velodrome in Glasgow and we had tickets for the 42nd Revolution meeting there last night. In truth, I was a little disappointed at the velodrome. Not by the track which looked amazing, I would love to ride on the boards there sometime. Rather, I was left a bit cold by the building it's housed in which is a big functional sports arena, sponsored of course, and which just doesn't wow as you approach, unlike say Wembley or, indeed, the Manchester Velodrome. Inside, the facilities were pretty spartan, though the trackside seating was good with excellent visibility. I really can't understand why a velodrome should not be able to offer better quality food – after all, the patrons are probably on the whole pretty knowledgable about nutrition and yet they sell burgers, hotdogs and nachos, hardly imaginative or fulsome. It's hard not to compare it with Manchester which seems to embrace the cycling culture with its history as the National Track Cycling Centre. This new velodrome has no such history, so maybe I should reserve judgement for 20 years or so and see how it develops. The great man was there in person, chatting to Hugh Porter and presenting the jerseys in the Hoy-sponsored Future Stars competition. As for the racing, it was as expected – fast and furious, though the lack of “big name” cyclists did detract a little from the entertainment. Nevertheless, it was a fun and enjoyable evening and showed that there is plenty of young British talent coming through to test the present track stars in a few years time
Totals for November
Distance ridden: 797km
Total ascent: 7040m

November 18th: A Cumbrian Cracker

The Cumbrian Cracker sportive is now a well established event on the sportive calendar and showcases the southern Lake District. Over the years it has taken place variously in December and February but now seems settled into a slot in November, hopefully before the worst of the Cumbrian winter weather takes grip. The 2013 edition was this last weekend and attracted a full field of over 1000 entries, though I imagine fewer actually turned up on the day, perhaps put off by a less than favourable weather forecast. As it was those who rode earlier in the day probably got away with the best of the weather. Paul and I chose to spend more time in our beds and opted for a later start time, which sadly meant that we were saddled with the persistent, drizzly, in-everywhere rain which started some 20 minutes into the ride and didn't really let up.

The ride starts in the pretty village of Grasmere, a location which Epic Events, the organisers, have used since its inception I believe. To avoid the parking congestion (Grasmere is not a big village) Paul and I decided to park up on nearby Dunmail Raise which left us a handy 3km downhill ride into the start, by which time I had already picked up a puncture from a thorn presumably courtesy a local farmer who had chosen to trim the hedges. Not a great start to the day. The increase in rider numbers meant that we had a long wait before we could actually get on our way, time to dwell on the day's first and main obstacle which lies less than a mile from the start – the infamous and hideously steep and narrow Red Bank, a 25% ramp over the hill to Langdale. This really sorts the field out and leaves the legs feeling like jelly for the rest of the ride. Today was no exception. After Red Bank though you can settle back and enjoy the rest of what is a spectacular and (at this time of year) colourful ride. The route passes through much woodland and autumn leaves are the order of the day, even in the rain.

The ride isn't long by sportive standards at just over 90km (less than 60 miles in old money) with about 1300m of climbing, but is testing enough at the end of a long summer. Many of the ramps are short and sharp, in true Cumbrian style. At just over halfway we came to the feed stop, a rather splendid bunfight in Cartmel village, and the spread of sandwiches, cakes and flapjacks was wonderful. We took a break to enjoy the hospitality before getting back underway, cold now after sitting about for (probably) too long. The return route takes us up through Grizedale and the day's other significant climb before dropping down steeply into the village of Hawkshead. The final kilometers speed by as we pass several tiring riders and arrive back at the Grasmere HQ and across the finish line, taking a rather sedate 4¾ hours – after all, it is not a race! A sunny day would have done the scenery more justice and would have made the ride more enjoyable, but it has still been a good day on the bike. If you get the chance to ride this event I can recommend it, especially since unlike so many sportives these days, the organisers don't seem hellbent on maximising their return by charging the earth. No frills, but good organisation, timekeeping and signage and, best of all, good food both en route and at the finish.

On a separate note, the last couple of weeks has seen a spate of cycling deaths round the country, but notably in the capital and many of them as a result of collisions between cyclist and a lorry. There is an increasing awareness of the issues surrounding the sharing of our roads and much has been said in the media and on the internet which I feel no need to repeat. Suffice to say I feel all of these deaths must have been avoidable and it really is time we, as a nation, adopted a more tolerant attitude to how we use our roads, something which applies equally to cyclists as well as car, bus and lorry drivers, and indeed pedestrians. Having enjoyed a fantastic week cycling through Holland in the summer it was apparent at every turn that it can be done, given sufficient will. Motorists there don't just tolerate cyclists, they give them respect and, strangely enough, that respect is mutual. If we can learn from that and change our attitudes in the UK we might just take a huge step to stopping this carnage. Rant over!

November 1st: A trip to the Velodrome

Manchester Velodrome remains a truly world-class venue which, I suspect, will see a decreasing number of world class events as the Olympic Legacy tries to justify the cost of the London velodrome by shifting more and more events to the capital. The fact that the first round of the 2013-14 UCI World Cup is being hosted in Manchester came as a bit of a surprise and when tickets were announced we jumped at the chance to pop along. Helen was a velodrome virgin, having only seen such events on the TV, so it was even more of a special occasion for her. We had hoped for a leisurely drive into Manchester but this was scotched by the huge volumes of traffic clogging up the motorways of the north-west and plans B and C came into operation as we frantically rearranged our meeting place, eventually rolling into the velodrome shortly after 7, just in time to see them lining up for the Men's Team Pursuit final ride-off. Talk about good timing! Team GB were pitted against their old foes, the Aussies and it turned out to be a tense race, as the Aussies never let the Brits get away. In the end, despite a relatively slow time (by GB standards) the British team triumphed and we had our first gold medal of the evening. Looking down on the track from the rails above the steep banking is dramatic and the sight of the well-drilled quartet of riders rolling smoothly round the track, front rider periodically peeling off and dropping in behind the others, was like watching poetry in motion, and the crowd did their bit by created a frenzied atnosphere as the race reached its climax. What an excellent start to the evening.

The velodrome was pretty much full, with maybe 4000 spectators enjoying some fine racing. We found our seats to savour some more action. The highlight of the evening was undoubtedly the privilege of being there as the British women's pursuit team pushed the boundaries in their final against the Canadians. It was a bit of a mismatch with the Brits almost catching the Canadians on the last lap, by which time the crowd were going mental as the world record was absolutely obliterated in a scintillating finish, the British girls taking some 4 seconds off their previous world mark set earlier in the day. They truly are a remarkable quartet of riders. Helen was really getting into it by now and was cheering and clapping along with the rest of the crowd. Last up was the fun race of the evening, a Devil – now referred to as the Elimination Race, part of the men's omnium event. This is always good to watch as riders desperately try to avoid being last at the end of each lap and therefore eliminated from the race. In the end just 2 riders remain and the last lap turns into a sprint which was won by the French rider easily outthinking his opponent. It was a good way to round off the evening. Helen agreed, but remains untempted. She prefers to watch rather than ride the boards, and I have to say when the entertainment is as good as that it's hard not to agree with her.
Totals for October
Distance ridden: 588km
Total ascent: 7195m

October 19th: Zig Zag Hill

In deepest Dorset there are hills to make you weep. Gold Hill in Shaftesbury is one such, the cobbled surface and the steep gradient are enough to make many a grown cyclist and Hovis delivery lad cry. Just east of Shaftesbury though is a cyclist's climbing delight, the wonderfully named Zig Zag Hill, which climbs through dappled woodland onto Cann Common on the Dorset Downs. Listed as one of the second batch of 100 Greatest Cycling Climbs, it is well worthy of its inclusion. It's not long, at only just over a mile, but it twists and turns more than many an Alpine climb. As we are down in Dorset for a few days, and I just happen to have my bike stowed in the back of the car, it seemed churlish not to go and ride it. So I did. Riding in from the east brings you along the ridge of the downs to the top of the climb, allowing me the benefit of firstly checking out the descent. In wet weather and with a road surface of which the local council are probably not very proud, this was a tad circumspect, but still enjoyable. The hairpin corners were steep, leaf-covered and greasy, so caution was the order of the day. Now for the fun part of the ride as I turned about. The climb starts shortly after leaving the village of Cann Common and hurls you straight into a 10% ramp, probably the steepest part of the climb, before the road plunges into the woods and the first of the hairpins. From here the climb is about maintaining a steady cadence and enjoying the sweeping nature of the road as it winds through the woods with occasional glimpses through the trees of the receding valley below. Eventually after half a dozen or so turns the road straightens and emerges onto the higher slopes and open downs with extensive views to the north before finally topping out allowing you to relax. With a name like Zig Zag Hill it conjures up an image in the mind and the climb doesn't disappoint. So much so that I rode round the local lanes and tackled the climb again!

On a separate note, the weather has been playing the devil lately, last Wednesday being a fine example. I left work at lunchtime just as the rain started, not the most auspicious start to my afternoon ride. I have dusted down my trusty Ribble winter bike and, undaunted by the prospect of getting wet, set out on a 2 hour loop round the Solway lanes, heading into a stiff easterly breeze with the promise of a tailwind to drive me home later. As I rode so the rain came down more and more heavily. No matter, I had a windproof rain jacket and the miles were slipping by and, before long, I was turning back to the west and picking up that rather enjoyable tailwind as I came down onto the Solway marshes. The road along here is exposed, long and straight with nothing to stop the wind and rain. On a warm sunny day it is a fine place to ride a bike. Today that was definitely not the case. Half way along this straight, the Garmin showing a healthy 42 kph, I was surprised by a loud bang, not unlike a gunshot. The next moment I was riding on the rim of my rear wheel. Fortunately, I was able to come safely to a stop at the side of the road, but inspection of the rear wheel showed a rather badly damaged tyre wall which meant that my ride was over. I was stranded. Standing at the side of the road, in the teeming rain, my spirits were low as I went through a mental list of possible rescue phone calls I could make. At this moment a car pulled up and the driver asked how things were. Not good was the simple answer. Like any good samaritan, she didn't hesitate and offered me a lift, bike and all, in the end taking me to my front door. What an amazing act of kindness, it left me grateful for the camaraderie of the cycling community, for she was indeed a cyclist herself. From the bottom of my heart a huge, huge thank you to my rescuer that day, it shows that, for all the abuse we seem to attract at times, there are still people who care.

October 10th: The Road to Hell

The recent publication, The 100 Greatest Cycling Climbs, has a lot to answer for. No 89 is rather intriguingly entitled Road to Hell and lies not a million miles away from us in Chester, on a minor road heading south from Denbigh. It has been on my to-do list for some time now and I finally found the opportunity to "bag" it. I have to say it's a bit of a monster! On paper, at nearly 12km in length and climbing some 450m it looks gentle enough, more of a power climb. Don't be fooled by this placid facade. Close up it is anything but. Riding in from Ruthin to Denbigh on a dreek October afternoon it seemed an odd decision, with the wind howling and the clouds scudding across a grey sky. Undaunted I ground my way up the 10% drag to Denbigh's high street before finding my way to the start of the climb on the B4501 bound for the wonderfully named Cerrig-y-Drudion. It starts innocently enough with a gentle drag and then, bizarrely, a sweeping downhill section before crossing a river at which point the climb begins properly with a brace of sharp hairpins which rise steeply upwards, a promise of what is to come. For a while the gradient is forgiving until, suddenly there ahead you see a vicious pitch which seems to go on forever. Now the climb gets tough with a steady 17% slog for the neck-end of half a mile. Legs screaming and lungs bursting, will it never end? Well, yes it does, at which point the climb starts to poke fun at you by plunging back downhill for the next 500 metres or so before, once again resuming the relentless grind up to the moors which are now in sight. A brief respite and one final energy-sapping 10% pitch brings you finally to your knees and the summit of the climb. As I say, what a monster. All in all I felt quite pleased with my time of just over 38 minutes - not far off the benchmark in the book. No 89? Tick.

September 30th: Tour of Britain, Worlds and more

September has proved to be a fine month for things cycling. It is perhaps a measure of how far British cycling has come over the last few years that we felt a disappointment when Bradley Wiggins "only" finished 2nd in the World Championship time trial to a magnificent Tony Martin. I'm not sure that Wiggo could have done much more, but Martin proved why he really is the best TT specialist in the world at the moment. What developed was an epic tussle between Wiggo and Fabian Cancellara for the silver medal with Cancellara just missing out at the death. The road race by comparison was a bit of a disaster for the Brits with no homegrown riders managing to complete the race. True, the weather was awful, but I can't help but think that the mindset didn't seem right. Once again I was left feeling that tactically we were found wanting. Compare that with the opportunism that saw Rui Costa edge out Joaquim Rodriguez in a tense battle for the title. Sometimes you need to want to win.

All this came on the back of a glorious Tour of Britain which saw Wiggo secure a fine and well-earned victory that owed something to his superior time-trial skills, his tenacity on the lumpier stages and Team Sky's strength in depth when defending their leader to hold off a strong challenge from Switzerland's Martin Elmiger. Mark Cavendish chipped in with 3 stage wins, but perhaps the highlight was Simon Yates' magnificent ride on the summit finish of Haytor when he rode away from a world class field to prove what a talent he is. One for the future?

Meanwhile, back on my bike I have been having some fun. The latter half of September has blessed us with some fine weather and, although the clock has been ticking and the nights drawing in, it has provided opportunity for a final fling before the autumn rolls in properly. This culminated in a rather enjoyable ride, the Cycle the Solway sportive on the last Sunday of the month. The weather made it a day to remember (despite a brisk wind) and the 200 or so riders seemed to spend much of the time with smiles on their faces. Helen and I were joined by Phil and Barbara for a stab at the 100km version, taking in roads which I use as my training ground. We were in no great hurry, preferring to enjoy the day, savour the company and take advantage of passing a number of good café stops. All in all, it was a wonderful day out, and a nice way to finish off our sportive season. For the record it ended up being Helen's longest ever bike ride at just over 108km. Chapeau!
Totals for September
Distance ridden: 983km
Total ascent: 8275m

September 16th: The Tour of Britain is in town

TOB in Wigton The advent of the 2013 edition of the Tour of Britain seems to have coincided with the end of summer, normal service has been resumed with cold, driving rain being the order of the day. Stage 2 saw the peloton navigating their way through Cumbria and the delights of the Lake District. Not sure the riders would have appreciated the fanttastic scenery through a wet veil of grey as they struggled with fierce winds and vertiginous climbs. In anticipation I had booked a day off work with the aim of chasing the race through the northern part of the county, though in the face of an awful weather forecast I was wavering.

The peloton heads for Maryport The race cruised out of Carlisle and headed west toward downtown Wigton where they had the good grace to ride right past my shopfront on the main street, the crowds were out in force to cheer them on. Wigton hasn't seen anything like it since the Olympic Torch was in town last year. Having seen them safely through town I jumped in the car (with bike in the back) and heaed off to try and catch the race as it zig-zagged its way toward Cockermouth. I missed them by a minute on Parsonby Brow, but caught up with the race near Dovenby as they were steaming out toward Maryport on the coast. The rain was teeming down and few of the riders looked happy at the prospect of another 140 kilometers of Lakeland pleasures. Team Sky were driving the front of the peloton as they kept a watchful eye on a small breakaway group.

At this point Paul joined me. He had been following the peloton on his bike but was now pretty soaked and cold and welcomed some respite in the car as we headed down to Keswick, the aim being to ride up into Borrowdale and see the riders as they came off Honister Pass. I had originally contemplated watching the race on the climb, but the road had been closed at 10.30 and the prospect of waiting 3 hours in low temperatures and gale force winds on the summit of Honister did not appeal. Clearly many were prepared to brave the elements as the crowds up there were humungous. Still the rain came down as we met up with young Kev and rode our way out of Keswick and alongside Derwentwater hoping we would get to Seatoller before the police outriders came the other way. The weather had had an effect on the race and they were behind schedule so we made it with time to spare. We picked our spot and waited. In the rain. And cold.

The peloton races through Borrowdale The police motorbike outriders are numerous, and once they started to pass us our excitement rose. And still they came. Eventually so did the breakway, a group of 6 riders with 1 chaser, followed a minute or so later by Dan Martin and Nairo Quintana, chasing hard to make the junction to the break (they managed to get on by Keswick). A minute or so later the main body of the race came steaming through, driven as ever by Team Sky, but it had obviously split on the climb and steep descent off Honister. We cheered, took photos and generally relished the spectacle. And they were gone!

Back in Keswick they had erected a giant TV screen in the main street and a big crowd gathered to watch the final drama of the stage as the race headed into Kendal and a sting-in-the-tail finish on Beast Banks, Gerald Ciolek getting the better of Sam Bennett on a horrendous 10% last 500m. It was all very dramatic stuff. It had been an epic day in the Lakes, one the riders will want to forget and may yet have nightmares about. Wonderful. The Tour of Britain is truly a great race to watch – if you get the chance do so.

September 1st: The Lochaber 100

Paul at Glenfinnan, Lochaber 100 August has been and gone, in a flash, with some fine weather tempting me out on the bike on numerous occasions. As a result I have managed over 1100 kilometers on the bike this month and very satisfying too. After our enjoyable tour of Holland at the start of the month we were left with an appetite for more, and Helen is certainly getting the cycling bug. Much of my focus this month has been on the Lochaber 100 sportive which Paul and I headed north for this last weekend. Along the way this has led me to seek out new climbs round the north Lakes, as well as trying some alternative circuits to add some variety to evening rides before the days grown shorter.

We rode the inaugural Lochaber sportive last year and thoroughly enjoyable it proved, even though Paul's fitness was not so good.Fabulous weather and a spectacular route through stunning Scottish scenery added to a great day out. Some months ago Paul and I decided to go back and ride it again, and with Paul feeling rather stronger this year we felt ready to give it a good go. The long drive north on Friday evening was made harder by rain and heavy cloud, and with a bleak forecast we feared the worst. Saturday dawned grey and damp, with the winds sweeping showers up Loch Linnhe to our B&B in Fort William. Temperatures were struggling to reach double figures, we wondered whether this was such a good idea. A drenching as we rode in to the start only added to this mood as we gritted our teeth ready for a hard day.

One of the things I love about Scotland is that it can be at its very best when the weather is like this. Fast move clouds with wonderful light, the mix of sea lochs and heather glens and the dramatic moody crags of the mountains. It is truly wonderful to ride a bike in such conditions, notwithstanding the chances of getting a soaking. As it was, once we had sat out the worst of the rain, chomping breakfast and sipping coffee at the event HQ, our ride out through Glenfinnan was promising, albeit into a stiff headwind. Glimpses of blue sky encouraged us and we made good progress, despite the odd shower. The route is not complicated – there are just two junctions on the entire route – and once we turned off the main A830 onto the Ardnamurchan road we settled down secure in the knowledge that our next junction was some 70 miles away!

Atop Rest and Be Thankful The road winds and ambles its way down the peninsular coastline, taking rises and dips along the way. A couple of sharp longer climbs test the legs and lungs, with fast descents to reward the efforts. We were enjoying ourselves. The main feed stop was at Strontian, after some 53 miles, and the event organisers had once again laid on an inviting spread on the village green, encouraging riders to tarry and enjoy. It would have been churlish not to take advantage. The second half of the ride begins with a wonderfully steady power climb up Glen Tarbert and, with a generous tailwind, Paul was off and away, keen to take the Strava KOM plaudits for this segment. He succeeded, suffice to say, more surprising was my 3rd place on the leaderboard, averaging nearly 300W. Highlight of the day!

The rest of the ride was fast and flat, with hardly a climb to speak of, and the sun and lifting cloud left us savouring the highland scenery as we headed back to the finish. The clock was ticking, but Paul went to the front and pulled me swiftly along the last 8 kilometers and we sailed into the finish at event HQ in a shade under 5 hours 48 minutes ride time. Very satisfying, very tiring.

On Sunday, after a fine Saturday evening beer and curry, we were eager for more, despite some grotty Scottish weather. Wind and rain meant a wet day on the bike, but Paul and I found a short hilly route from Loch Lomond over the iconic Rest and Be Thankful road, tackling the climb from two different directions. Strong winds made staying upright difficult at times. Our second ascent, via the beautifully wild and scenic Hell's Glen, was a joy. Steep in places, it skipped up through the hills before sweeping down to the Rest and Be Thankful junction. It was just a shame about the weather.

Totals for August
Distance ridden: 1131km
Total ascent: 9660m

August 11th 2013: Checking out the Tour of Britain

Bike shot on Haytor summit I spent the weekend visiting my Dad down in deepest Devon, which served as a timely reminder that we are only a month or so away from the Tour of Britain which should serve up a feast of cycling around the country. In particular, we were drawn to stage 6 which starts in Sidmouth and culminates with a summit finish at Haytor on Dartmoor – a stone's throw from Dad's house. As luck would have it I had my bike in the back of the car, so it seemed an ideal opportunity to test out that final climb up Haytor from Bovey Tracey. Details of the climb can be found on the UK Climbs page (see menu left), it is a rather fine approach to the wild open spaces of Dartmoor rising some 370 meters in just 6 kilometers. On a lovely Friday morning I huffed and puffed my way up the climb and continued over the moor down to Moretonhampstead, finding that Dartmoor is definitely not flat. The cruise back down to Bovey from Moretonhampstead was rather fun though. The next day Paul had arrived on his way back from Cornwall. As luck would have it he also had his bike in the car. Well, it would be rude not to! So we rode the climb again, PBs all round. Paul decided to show off and impressed walkers and tourists alike by continuing his ride from the summit of the climb to Haytor Rocks, a bit of off-road up steep grassy slopes. A few onlookers exhibited dropped jaws at his audacity. Suffice to say, if there is a Strava segment for this piece of lunacy his ride will be the only one on a road bike! Oh, and the descent was nice too.

August 3rd 2013: Our Tour of Holland

As places to ride a bike go I suspect you would be hard pressed to beat Holland. True, it is not the hilliest place around, but what it lacks in climbs it more than makes up for in infrastructure, scenery and history. We thoroughly enjoyed our 5 day tour of central Netherlands, starting and finishing in the depths of Rotterdam's Europoort, and taking in the likes of Amsterdam, Utrecht and Den Haag.

Holland Pete and Sharon, Helen and I found ourselves on the overnight ferry from Hull to Rotterdam, complete with bikes and a bare minimum of luggae (apart from Pete who seemed to be carrying a kitchen sink as well as his toothbrush). The ferry crossing brought us into Europoort early on Monday morning and we disembarked on a dry morning, if overcast, ready to see what the Netherlands had to offer. Our first task was to get out of Europoort, not easy. Some 20 kilometers of riding brought us to another, smaller ferry which crossed the port to Hook of Holland. Time for the proper cycling to begin. Our first day was, thankfully, heading basically north-east up the coast which meant we had a very pleasant tailwind which carried us along, through villages and the dunes with little in the way of undulations. We found a handy bar in Kijkduin where crepes and cheeky beers were the order of the day. By now the sun was out and the day warming up. This was all rather pleasant, we weren't in any great hurry and there was plenty to see. A few kilometers later we cruised into Den Haag, Holland's administrative capital. What continued to surprise was just how much Holland has to offer the tourist, on bikes or not. The history and the architecture of the towns and cities is stunning. Combined with many waterways and leafy avenues, it really is picturesque and enjoyable. And, perhaps best of all, everyone seems to manage English far better than we were managing Dutch (thank goodness). We took coffee in Den Haag after stopping at the World Peace Flame. Also in Den Haag is the impressive tourist attraction of Madurodam which we decided was worth the detour. A veritable catalogue of models of what Holland is famous for, architecture-wise. The rest of our day was more of the same as we continued our ride up the coast to the small beach resort of Noordwijk and our first night's accommodation.

Our second day took us further north up the coast to Zandvoort, racing along the dunes of North Holland, still with that tailwind. Holland Zandvoort proved good for coffee and we explored the centre, but it was pretty much a typical beach resort town with little soul and lots of sunseekers. Sadly, we then turned inland and lost that benefit. Before long though we cruised into the old town of Haarlem, with splendid gothic architecture and a huge market square which was filled with a marquee which quite spoilt the view!. We took lunch seated on the pavement outside a grand hotel restaurant bar and enjoyed another cheeky beer as the world strolled by. This was what cycle-touring should be about. After lunch we followed the Spaarne river north to the Nordzee shipping canal and yet another ferry crossing, passing windmills and a statue dedicated to the lad whose finger in the dyke saved the nation. By the time we reached the ferry the heavens had opened and the tone of the day changed as we gradually got wetter and wetter. The famous windmill reserve at Zaanse Schans was a washout, especially since it was shutting as we arrived. All that remained was the long ride south into the heart of Amsterdam and another ferry across to the heart of the city. Our arrival at the hotel was certainly late and we were greeted with the news that they had made a hash of our reservations. The good news was that they had moved us to a 5-star hotel right in the heart of the old city, at no extra cost. Now this is what I call cycle-touring in style! To celebrate, Pete surprised us all by going down on one knee in the restaurant that night and proposing to Sharon. She said yes. Quite a day!

After a celebratory 5-star champagne breakfast (on the hotel!) our itinerary for day 3 allowed us some time to explore Amsterdam, Holland and with blue skies now shining above us, we grabbed the opportunity, strolling through the red light district to find the harbour and catch a tourist launch for a guided tour of the city, much the best way to see it. Brilliant. Our bikes were safe and sound, garaged in our original hotel allowing us the freedom to wander at will. After lunch and the obligatory cheeky beer we were reunited with our bikes, to find that Sharon's had developed a flat tyre. I quickly repaired it and we were on our way again, a short day riding east to Loosdrecht not far from Utrecht. Before long the heavens were once again opening and we were testing our wet-weather gear, not what we had ordered. Thankfully, the sun was shining again by the time we arrived at our hotel for the night, the aptly named Golden Tulip. Good food, bike parking sadly not quite so good.

Our last 2 days were full of bright sunshine and clear blues skies – and much warmth. Sunblock was very much required. And two longer days in the saddle left some bottoms feeling a touch tender! Holland From Loosdrecht we rode south to Utrecht, another stunning city built on a canal network with some amazingly photogenic gothic architecture. En route we stopped by Breukelen, home of what was described as the original Brooklyn Bridge. A couple of boats obliged by coming through as we watched the bridge being raised and lowered. In Utrecht we tarried awhile, enjoying a tasty cheeky beer and exploring some of the city backstreets. The camera worked overtime. The clock was ticking though, and we needed to find somewhere for lunch, a rather handsome village green pub in the postcard village of Haarzuilens, which is attached to the nearby fairytale De Haar Castle, a fantastic hidden gem which is in reality a folly built as a whim of the wealthy local squire. After lunch, our route took us further west until we cruised into Gouda, home of the cheese – and a pleasant Campanile hotel on the outskirts of the town. Another late finish to a splendid day on the bikes.

Our last day was a bit of a race against time as we had a ferry to catch that evening, back to the UK. To top that, it was also our longest day on the bikes, nearly 60 miles in total. Holland As such it meant cracking the whip a bit to make sure we made it in time. We started by having a quick look round the centre of Gouda, which had some splendid old buildings on offer. Time once again for the camera! After heading out along the Hollandse Ijssel river before another ferry crossing to take us north into the Lowlands of Holland. Here the land is some 7 metres below sea level, something which takes some comprehending. There is a lot of land here, all reclaimed and very productive, with crops and livestock. The only hills are short climbs from canals on one level to another, or bridges. We made good progress and arrived in Delft for some lunch in a pleasant street café in the heart of the city. Our second flat tyre, this time Pete's bike was afflicted, allowed Helen and I to explore the town centre and do a bit of shopping whilst Pete effected a repair before we got back on the road. Now we made haste as time was ebbing like the tide but we made it to Hook of Holland in good time and had enough to spare to allow us the luxury of a coffee and an ice-cream in the less than salubrious ferry terminal café. All that remained was the final 20 kilometers retracing our ride on day 1 back to the Europoort terminal and our ferry home.

Returning to England put our Dutch cycling experience into context. In Hull, the following morning, and uncertain of our way, Holland Pete asked a passer-by for some directions only to be greeted with a torrent of invective suggesting that cyclists are the scourge of the nation and should be removed from the highways (I am paraphrasing, he was far more offensive than that). Welcome home indeed! In Holland the bike is king. They have invested heavily in a transport infrastructure that is very much oriented toward bikes, making it easier to cycle than drive. In addition, by and large, cars and bikes are segregated which removes the frustration that motorists often feel. Where they do share, vehicle drivers are courteous and patient, and whilst this takes a bit of getting used to coming from such a cycle-hostile country, once you get the hang of it you relax and start to enjoy the obvious benefits that it brings. Cycling is, quite simply, a real pleasure. We have much to learn.

Our route was taken from an excellent book, Cycling in the Netherlands by Eric van der Horst, which offers a thorough route description which is both easy to follow and informative. For someone who knew precious little about Holland it was pretty well perfect. I suspect Helen, Pete and Sharon would agree with me.
Totals for July
Distance ridden: 943km
Total ascent: 7080m

July 21st 2013: The 100th Tour de France

Now the 2013 edition of the greatest sporting event on the planet has drawn to its dramatic and showstopping conclusion under the night skies of Paris it seems an opportune moment to reflect on what this year's edition has given us. For me this has been one of the most enjoyable tours in many a long year, Wiggo's wonderful victory last year notwithstanding. The difference this year is that there has been much more of a willingness on the part of the main protagonists, especially Chris Froome, to have a go and liven the race up. Movistar's bold attacks in the Pyrenees which threatened to derail the Sky bandwagon before it got rolling, Saxo-Tinkoff's rather intriguing attempts to take the race to the other contenders, not to mention Quintana's ability to take Froome on in the mountains and prove himself a worthy adversary. His challenge faltered purely because Chris Froome is the better time triallist, but Quintana is young and may yet prove he can learn from this experience. His victory on Annecy-Smenoz was thoroughly deserved and brought him the Polka Dot jersey as reward. And Joaquim Rodriguez's late flourish in the Alps proved that he was probably stronger in the 3rd week than the other riders, but he had far too much of a mountain to climb. I found myself unmoved when Contador faded at the death, not sure he would have done so in his heyday, it is interesting to note his performances have not been quite so dominant since he returned from his ban. And what can we say about Chris Froome? Quite simply, he has been superb. His team have supported him wonderfully, the stage to Bagnerres de Bigorre notwithstanding, and Richie Porte has been the perfect lieutenant supporting him when he needed it. He has shown weakness - his mistake on the Alpe d'Huez could have cost him, but in the end his all round prowess made him comfortably the best rider in the race. His victory on Mont Ventoux was very special, coming at just the right time and cementing his hold on the yellow jersey. Nairo Quintana's ride on the Ventoux was almost good enough, but not quite. Time will tell if Froome has the ability and the strength of mind to stamp his authority on the history of the tour by returning and defending his title, but I suspect the drive and the willingness are there. And to think that not so long ago Team Sky were on the verge of letting him go after his illness of 2011 threatened his career. I imagine Mr Brailsford is quietly glad they didn't make that mistake. Well done Chris Froome, take a bow!

June 30th 2013: The Maratona dles Dolomites

Arriving in Venice Airport 3 days ahead of the Maratona, I could be forgiven for thinking that I had made some terrible mistake. As I drove up and over the high mountains above Cortina Climbing Passo Gardena in the Dolomites the heavy rain turned to snow, the outside temperature was given as 2 degrees by my hire car, a trendy Fiat 500 (into which you can squeeze a large bike bag – just) and I was now regretting not bringing any winter kit with me. I pinched myself – this was after the end of June, not the middle of January.

The following morning the clouds were low, it was still cold, but at least it had stopped snowing. At least that was something. Nursing a heavy head cold as I was, I abandoned plans to ride the Sella Ronda (first part of the Maratona course) and opted for an easy ride up Passo Gardena from Corvara, hoping that the weather would be generous enough to afford me some views. After all, if the mountains were covered in snow they would be spectacular. Temperatures were still low and I had wrapped myself in several layers to try and keep warm, not a problem on the climb especially but it would be on the descent. As it was, the clouds did relent a bit and teased me with some views of the dramatic rock scenery that is the Dolomites. With the snow and the mood which came with the weather, it was hard not to stop and take photographs and, as I was not in the mood for setting Strava segment records, I did just that. Back in the valley I headed for the Maratona village at Badia where they were taking riders registrations and handing out race numbers and goody bags. Parking in Italian villages does seem to be especially tricky and with seemingly most of the field opting for a Friday sign-on I was forced to park out of town and walk in. The size of the queue took me aback. A lot. It was huge, but there was little choice (aside from perhaps coming back tomorrow), so I tagged on the end and began the soft shoe shuffle up the hill to the sign-on hall. We were entertained by a couple of street clowns on unicycle and juggling duty, but it was still mighty tedious. 2 hours later I was in, handed over my race registration sheet and medical certificate and in the space of 2 minutes emerged with my number, cycle jersey and other assorted Maratona paraphenalia. I was exhausted.

Riders on the Passo Gardena Saturday dawned bright and sunny and I decided to explore San Vigilio, my base for the duration of my stay here. It is up a side valley a few miles down from Badia, but today there were mountains, meadows and views – a bit of a novelty after the previous couple of days. I had bumped into Team GeriAtric member Graham the previous day whilst queueing, and we had agreed to meet up for an afternoon ride up to Corvara to meet the Cycling Weekly mob ahead of the big day tomorrow. By the time I had ridden to his hotel half way up the valley to Badia the weather had begun to close in and the blue skies were receding. We cruised up to Corvara in time for the group photo which is now on the Cycling Weekly website, some 200 or so riders posing in front of a great Dolomitic crag. After that the idea was to ride the Passo Campolongo climb, the first ascent of the event itself. This is a rather enjoyable climb, not too steep or indeed too long, and Graham and I rode steadily to the summit by which time the weather was looking rather ominous. We eschewed the planned coffee stop and, instead, sped back down the valley to Graham's hotel where we sipped a cheeky beer. Hopefully we were now ready for the big day itself. An early night was needed.

Sunday morning. The Maratona calls. My alarm woke me rudely at 4am, I shook myself down and took a quick breakfast laid on by mein hosts who were more than accommodating (there were 5 other riders staying there too). Then it was in the car and up to meet Graham, we rode in together to the start, arriving in the start pen at just before 6am, the sun just beginning to hit the very tops of the mountains. The weather looked like it would serve up a beautiful day, just right. It was bloody cold standing there at 6 o'clock though. By 6.30 we were just itching to be away as the hooter sounded and the anticipation levels in the peloton grew. Finally at about 6.47 I crossed the start line, wished Graham good luck and we were on our way. The Maratona dles Dolomites is, rightly, one of the monument sportive rides. It isn't esepcially long at 138km, but it packs in over 4000m of climbing and there really isn't any flat tarmac in the entire ride. As 9000 riders rolled out of La Vila, the road was full, a seething mass of colour and movement. By the time we hit that first climb out of Corvara the field had scarcely thinned at all and pretty soon we were forced to walk as the sheer numbers broguth progress to a virtual standstill. It was frustrating, but soon we were clipped in again and before long I was over the summit and descending to Arabba ready for the next climb, the 2200m Passo Pordoi with its 33 hairpin bends. This is a nice climb, and by now the sun was up and warming the air. And the views were spectacular, the recent snow setting off the craggy mountain summits a treat. This was such a great place to ride a bike. By now the field was a bit thinner and progress was rather easier, but the descent off the Pordoi is rather more technical and demanded some caution. And then it was straight on to the next climb, Passo Sella. I was beginning to get the picture, there really is no let up on this bike ride. Sella was tougher and I crawled my way to the summit, again at some 2200m. Another fast descent and then the fourth and final climb of the Sella Ronda, the Passo Gardena, which I had ridden from the other side a couple of days earlier. This time, no clouds, no cold, no snow or rain. It was beautiful.

Proudly showing off my medal Down in Corvara again, and a sense of deja-vu as I began the Campolongo climb again. Early on the climb I cramped big time and had to spend some minutes at the side of the road trying to get my legs working again. This didn't bode well, with some 80 odd kilometers still to ride. At Arabba, the ride now turns left down the valley, heading east, again with some spectacular views. This is probably the only stretch of the parcours where it is possible to get some respite and I took on food and drink and tried to save my legs rather than push on too hard. At about 70km, the route splits, with the shorter 106km route taking riders over the Passo Falzarego whilst the hard cases head on toward the daunting slopes of Passo Giau. There is a 5 hour cut-off at this point, easy on paper but in the end I managed by a mere 15 minutes, it was tense for a while. Once on the longer route I relaxed a bit and tried to prepare myself for the mental anguish of the Giau, a 10% average HC monster. Before that though came an unexpected twist, a cheeky little 3km climb over Colle de St Lucia, hardly a major climb but testing enough with my heavy legs. And then I was there, the foot of the Giau. It was the hottest part of the day and ahead were some 10km of hard graft. Amazingly I was still passing riders, a gratifying thought as I plodded my way up the winding slopes, taking in the 29 bends. About two thirds of the way up we were rudely moved to the side of the road as the police began to allow traffic on the climb. What?! This I hadn't expected and it came to a head as I finally reached the summit where the traffic was backing up, not being allowed down the other side. With the feed station there and cyclists milling about it was total chaos and in all the melee I came a cropper and went down as I tried to find a way through the traffic and cyclists. Ouch. Once on the floor I decided I might as well stop (especially as my knee was sore) and take some food and drink. As I watched the police were about to open the descent so I ditched my buttie and legged it back to my bike and was on my way. I certainly didn't want to share the road down with cars, vans and motorbikes. Good call. The Giau descent is very technical (too much so for 2 riders who were being attended to in the undergrowth at the side of the road, candidates for DNF I suspect), and I have to say the most enjoyable descent of the entire route.

Just one more climb now, the 11km Passo Falzarego/Valparolo, which was rather bitty, difficult to get a rhythm going as the gradient chopped and changed. And again, there was a battle with motorised traffic which was allowed on the climb before I had got too far. Nevertheless, I eventually crawled over the summit, past the event photographer strategically placed to get those grimacing faces of agony from riders in the last throes, and it was the final descent, 16km down to La Vila. Poor road surfaces made this a little tricky, picking the right line was important, but eventually I rode up the short drag to La Vila to begin the last stretch, a repeat of the start of the Maratona with a 4km uphill drag to the finish line in Corvara. How cruel. Somehow, I found the energy, my legs pushed the pedals and I stumbled my way across the finish line. 8 hours 42 minutes and 59 seconds. Not a startling time, but I had finished and had thoroughly enjoyed my day in the Dolomites. If you haven't ridden this event, put it on your list. It deserves your attention. Oh, and I wasn't last!
To read the Cycling Weekly article about the 2013 Maratona just click here Totals for June
Distance ridden: 1410km
Total ascent: 21123m

June 24th 2013: The Isle of Man

Well, I have to say, the Isle of Man is an incredibly pleasurable place to ride a bike. Helen and I have done a full circuit of the island over the weekend and came away enthusing at the good roads, the fantastic scenery and the (mostly) courteous motorists who were more than happy to give way to cyclists. True, there are some big hills, not entirely to Helen's liking, but there were wide open spaces, some pretty villages and some decent beer to boot!

On Snaefell summit We sailed into Douglas harbour on the Friday afternoon, travelling deliberately light and were greeted by blue skies and warm wind at our back for the first afternoon cycling north along the coast to Ramsey. There is something rather nice about simply riding off the ferry, no car to worry about, and just ride away into the countryside. First we needed some lunch and stopped at a pub on the Douglas seafront. Then it was down to the serious business, with a long draggy climb to take us out of town. This is a bit of a feature of the island with a number of gentle gradients which lead you up onto the cliffs where the views open out. The road is accompanied by the Manx Electric Railway, an interesting diversion as we road alongside electric trains for much of the road to Ramsey. Halfway we came into the village of Laxey, home of the famous Wheel and it seemed rude not to go and have a look. So we did. Mighty impressive too. We finally rolled into Ramsey after some 30 kilometres of enjoyable riding and set about trying to find our B&B, not easy. Having supped a welcome brew I then headed out to ride the famous TT mountain road, a 12.5km climb to Snaefell from Ramsey, a rather textbook European climb. A howling headwind made it hard work and I was less impressed with those drivers and bikers who were more intent on speed than courtesy, but I finally arrived in the cloud and celebrated another classic climb to my palmares.

At Point of Ayre Saturday promised a bit of a mix weather wise, but what was certain was that much of it would be into a steaming headwind. This was bad planning on our part, we really should have gone for a clockwise circuit of the island. The first hour though was easy, a 15km amble up to Point of Ayre, the northernmost tip of the island with views to Scotland and white horses rolling on the tempestuous sea. From here on in we were going to suffer. But the sun was high and the threatened rainclouds were not yet evident, so we set about the next 60km with a smile on our lips. We had been warned of the passing of the Isle of Man Parish Walk, a mind-boggling sporting event in which participants walk an 85 mile circuit of the island to visit all the parish churches, all within a 24 hour time limit. It is a serious event, and 2013 was the 100th running of the race. As we approached Peel we sensed the front walkers were near and sure enough, a few minutes later competitors 1,2 and 4 came at us with a clear lead (no 4 was top go on and win in some 14 hours or so). By the time we reached Peel the roads were thick with walkers (and their support vehicles). At times it was chaotic, and some of the competitors really didn't look like they were likely to make it (only 203 finished). Time for lunch, so we made for a pub as the clouds gathered ominously overhead. A cheeky beer and some welcome food restored us and we emerged ready for the next stage - only to watch the clouds open and the rain come down. We decided to go for an ice-cream! By the time we continued the day had become more typical of our recent summers, with heavy clouds, stiff breezes and showers. And we had a final big climb to get over and down to Port Erin, a climb too far for Helen who struggled gamely up the steep slopes and onto the heather moors of South Barrule before the long descent into Port Erin (in the rain by now). Not the most auspicious end to our day, but we made it and regrouped by finding a suitable pub for food and beer.

Sunday we got up to find it raining. And windy. Again. At least it would be a tailwind today. A short day too, as it was only about 30km to Douvglas, where we had a date with a ferry at 3pm. As we set out the rain came down again, but in the main it was dry and we enjoyed the wind at our backs. The roads were rolling, with none of the dramatic mountain scenery of the centre of the island, but pretty enough. As we rolled into Douglas, nearly 140 kilometers under our belts, we were already starting to think of a return visit, maybe riding the opposite direction next time. And maybe taking some time to have a better look at what the island has to offer.

June 19th 2013: Ready for the Maratona?

Enjoying the Northern Fells The clock is ticking and suddenly it is just over a week before I fly out to Venice bound for the Italian Dolomites and the Maratona. I confess to being a tad apprehensive, it really is a big ride in some amazing countryside. I desperately hope the weather does it some justice. Over the last couple of weeks, since getting back from the Pyrenees, I have taken every opportunity to get some hilly miles in my legs, building on the hard work done in France. Despite not feeling 100%, this does seem to be paying off and the last couple of days I have found some sort of form when hitting the hills round Caldbeck, even finding the big ring relatively comfortable. Today the weather was glorious and I meandered over the northern fells past Caldbeck and down to Mungrisdale, the views of the Lakeland fells and distant Pennines were inspirational. After some 70 rather hilly kilometers I was ready for home and some tea, but it was a great 3 hours on the bike.

Talking of the Pyrenees, I was somewhat distraught to hear of the calamitous deluge which has hit the Garonne valley blitzing many of the small villages that only a couple of weeks ago I was riding through. Pictures and news footage on French TV show all too graphically the devastation which has occurred and my heart went out to the people of that beautiful region.

Helen and I are taking our bikes off to the Isle of Man this coming weekend for a leisurely tour of the island. Neither of us have been before, everyone you speak to suggests it is a great place to visit and ride a bike. We will take in some of the TT course, as well as sampling some Manx hospitality as we are spending 2 nights there. Not sure the weather is too promising sadly, but we will go prepared. Watch this space...

June 5th 2013: The sunshine returns

All too soon my short stay in the Pyrenees has come to an end. It has been an eventful week and finally, after some torrid weather experiences the sun came out on Monday and shone for 3 solid days. Normal service is resumed.

Team Pyractif mass for a group ride Day 3, Saturday, was grey and gloomy with a promise of the rain stopping by lunchtime. After the arduous ride on Friday I opted for a slightly shorter day and saw the Col de Portillon as an ideal opportunity. The road to Luchon is a steady climb from Bertren, but the mountains draw you in. Even today with clouds swooping low and rain never far away it was still spectacular. Luchon was doing a good impersonation of being shut, so I carried on through and onto the Portillon, an 8 kilometer slog through the clouds and forest to the Spanish border. Amazingly there was a view, and I tarried awhile to savour the moment before the cold, fast descent back to Luchon where a cheeky beer and a crépe chocolat awaited. A tailwind (unusual in this valley) swept me back down to Bertren in record time. Nice way to spend a Saturday.

Day 4, Sunday, the rain returned. The day before Pyractif had been invaded by a number of extra guests who had come for the mountain air. A group of us set off on the circuitous D26 country-lane ride round to Arreau and the rain just came down. The intended coffee stop was abandonned, it being too cold and wet to stop then restart. By now the group had splintered and I was riding with Aussie Kevin and enjoyed a leisurely cruise up the Col de Peyresourde, ignoring the heavens as they continued to empty over us. At the summit the cloud billowed but the café was amazingly open for business and it would, of course, have been rude to ride on by. Kevin and I got the obligatory col photos before retiring to the welcoming interior and wrapped ourselves round a big plateful of sugar crépes. Splendid. Shortly after, Canadian Mark, another of our party, rode by in the cloud and we hauled him inside to join us. It was a happy half hour before we set foot outside to brave the cold wet descent to Luchon. As luck would have it I hit the roundabout in Luchon just at the moment Chris and Helen rode by on their way up from Bertren to meet up with us, and we formed a mini peloton for the ride back from Luchon to base. Testosterone fuelled the boys on their toys, whilst Helen and I enjoyed a steadier finish to the day's ride.

Col de Portet d'Aspet in the sun Day 5, Monday, was a revelation. I flung back the shutters to see blue skies and a strange orange orb in the heavens. Sunshine! Breakfast was a happy affair with hearts skipping at the prospect of some warmer riding in shorts and sunblock. A number of us headed out, bound for the Col de Menté, a climb I have never ridden from the west side. It is uncommonly steep, but in the morning sun and with the air quality quite amazingly clear it rewarded with some fantastic views of the neighbouring mountains. Helen accompanied me and we rode tempo up the climb until I really could no longer resist and had to get the camera out – the first time it has been used in anger on this trip. By the time I reached the col the coffees were ordered and we enjoyed the café hospitality. At this point our group was once again about to take different paths. For me, I was taking the eastern descent, trying out my new video camera (sadly operator error spoilt the experiment), before climbing the Col de Portet d'Aspet, in decent weather for a change, a chance for a PB at last, taking over a minute off my previous best. Satisfying. I chatted with a group of CTC tourists from Exeter on the summit, en route to St Girons. Now I was off to Aspet and the Col de Larrieu again before the obligatory cheeky beer in Aspet in the Café de France. Very pleasant. All that remained was the pleasant ride back over the Col de Buret and Col des Ares – a good day on the bike.

Grinding up the Pla d'Adet Day 6, Tuesday. My last full day here in Bertren enjoying the Pyractif hospitality. And once again the weather was doing us proud with wall-to-wall blue skies and a promise of some serious warmth. Great. Sunblock on, I was joined by Chris and Helen and triathlete Stuart for the gentle cruise round the picturesque D26 to Arreau, taking in amazing views of distant snow-capped Pic du Midi. At Arreau we took coffee in the sunshine before a parting of the ways. I headed on south, up the valley to St Lary-Soulan and the foot of the mighty climb of Le Pla d'Adet, a Tour de France HC monster. I girded my loins, reset the Garmin and set off up the 10% slopes. Pla d'Adet is a cruel climb, it offers a tantalising view of the summit all the way up so you always know just how far you still have to go. And the lower slopes don't let up, maintaining a steady 10% average for some 7km. I reeled in a swarthy French local who was spinning his way up on a triple, he kindly offered to take a few photos of me grinding my way up. Turns out he is a triathlete, specialising in ski-bike-run triathlons and had been out on the skis high on the mountains that morning. I was humbled. Eventually I pulled away and "raced" the easier last 3km to the summit village, an ugly affair of high rise towers and roadworks, interspersed with ski paraphenalia. It wasn't pretty, but the views were stunning and the camera worked overtime. Time for another madcap descent, this time an 11km dash for the valley floor with yet another operator malfunction on the sunglasses-cam. I need to read the handbook properly! A cheeky beer called me, and I scoffed a bun from the nearby pattisserie before beginning the 55km ride back to Bertren, retracing my route from this morning. With the wind now blowing up the valley this was harder than it needed to be for my tired legs and I was grateful when I came to the last few kilometers and cruised back to base in time for a welcome coffee. It had been a long day.

Day 7, my last day and time to fly home. But not before a cheeky morning ride. The sun was still shining, the skies were still blue and it would be churlish not to take advantage. After a quick breakfast I headed out for one last cruise up the Col des Ares, always a favourite, this time stopping at the viewing panorama halfway up the climb. Here the mountain vistas are wonderful, well worth the interruption. Over the top and down the other side took me once again onto the Col de Buret before I turned about and headed straight back, finishing with a PB on the eastern climb of the Col des Ares, a whole 2 minutes quicker. What a satisfying way to finish my Pyrenean riding for this year. With some 680 kilometers ridden and a tad over 10000 metres of climbing in my legs I hope it will serve me well come the Dolomites in just under 4 weeks time. Bring it on!

May 31st 2013: Rain in the Pyrenees

There is something special about the Pyrenees, and indeed the Pyractif welcome I always receive when I head down to Bertren. My annual trip here has coincided, sadly, with some appalling weather which has made the last couple of days a trial of endurance rather than enjoyment. They are suffering an uncommonly wet and cold spring (sound familiar?), ironically at a time when the sun seems to have made an appearance back in the UK. Typical.

Col de Portet d'Aspet in the rain Still, I am here to ride my bike, so that's what I'm doing. It's just a question of getting all my winter gear on, charging the lights and waterproofing my Garmin before heading out into the rain. It has had an impact on my ambitions so far, with the high cols out of bounds until the weather improves (if it improves). But I have had a couple of good days out on my Trek. Day 1 was a shorter jaunt, heading east over the wonderful Col des Ares and the rather less significant Col de Buret before turning south to the village of Aspet, normally bustling with activitiy. As the rain continued to come down, Aspet was deserted and I decided against a coffee in the café on the main square. Instead I turned east again for a foray up the lesser known Col de Larrieu, a climb I have ridden before back in 2008 on the Coast to Coast. At the time I claimed it as the only Col I bagged ahead of the rest of the crew who were riding and thought it must be a bit of an easy ride. Far from it, it has it's moments with a nasty 12% kilometer in the middle before a 2 km false flat blast to finish. At the top it was raining. Back in Aspet I now turned south and completed a pleasant loop round to Bertren via some quiet back roads I have never ridden before, inlcuding an almost undetectable col, the Hountarede which climbs a whopping 49m over 2.6km, hardly the Tourmalet but wth my tired legs felt significant enough. Nearly 80km of riding, in the rain, it was a reasonable start to my stay here.

Day 2 was altogether more epic. I spent most of the morning waiting for the rain to stop. It didn't want to. Finally, at about 1pm, I gave up and headed out, again over the Col des Ares (Tour de France climb extraordinaire) before turning north and riding up the Ger valley to the foot of the Col de Portet d'Aspet, famous for being the scene of the death of Fabio Casartelli in 1995. This is not a climb I have ridden often, primarily because it is a bit of a pig. In places it gets to about 16%, and averages just on 10% for the 4.4km to the cloud-covered summit. As I limped over the line the rain chose this moment to come down even harder and I sought shelter in a shed near the summit sign. It wasn't a great prospect, a steep descent in the rain and cold. Eventually it did ease and I broke my cover and made a run for it. It was, basically, 33km downhill to St Girons, on a dry day it would have been a glorious run, today I was dodging the heavy downpours, sheltering under trees and pushing on to escape the deluge. In the circumstances I feel 55 minutes to St Girons was a fair effort. Bizarrely, when I got there it wasn't actually raining. The rivers and waterfalls everywhere were spectacular torrents, and at St Girons the Salat flows north down from the mountains and was threatening to burst out over the roads at every turn. It was frothing and bubbling. At one point I rode through a Route Barré sign to find the road flooded. I chose to continue and rode through water for the next kilometer. It was all rather surreal. Even more so when the sun actually came out for a brief flirtation. After some 20km I turned west again, heading over a nasty little dig which gave my tiring legs a real working over. I still had some 40km to get back to base and supper was at 7. It was touch and go, I pressed on into what was now a headwind feeling I was really ready for a hot shower. Eventually, after another ride over the Col de Hountarede I dropped down into Bertren and the end of a real epic 130km day out. I gather this type of weather is designed to harden the embattled cyclist. I feel rather more softened up by it all. Give me some sunshine – please!
Totals for May
Distance ridden: 917km
Total ascent: 10006m

May 27th 2013: 2013 Giro

I don't know about you but I have thoroughly enjoyed the drama of this year's Giro d'Italia which finished yesterday. Vicenzo Nibali was the eventual and thoroughly deserved winner of the Maglia Rosa after an epic battle with Cadel Evans, Rigoberto Uran and the weather. At times it seemed the weather was the real winner with snow, rain and atrocious conditions for the riders, stage 19 being cancelled completely after the previous day's stage up the Col du Galibier (that well known Italian climb) was cut short by some 4km as the road was completely blocked by snow. Sadly Bradley Wiggins' challenge evaporated with the bad weather as he struggled with illness - even fit and on form I'm not at all sure he would have had enough to beat Nibali. Perhaps the best thing about the 2013 edition was the battle for the "Sprinters" jersey. In the Giro points are awarded for all stages equally which meant that 6 of the top 7 in this competition were climbers contending for the GC. Amazingly, and despite struggling at times through the mountains, Mark Cavendish triumphed after a great last day in which he won the intermediate sprints and took the final stage itself (his 5th stage win of the race) to complete a rare hattrick of points jersey wins in all three grand tours (only 4 riders have achieved this previously). With Team Sky taking the team prize Uran snatching second place from Cadel Evans in the final days, it was a good race for the British team (if you ignore the fact that their only British rider pulled out half way through), and Cavendish further emphasized his credentials as the world's best sprinter with his performance. If the Tour de France offers half the drama and excitement it will be a fine race. Only a month to go...

May 1st 2013: The Warwick 100

April has drawn to a close and what a month of contrasts it has been. It all began with a continuation of winter. I left the country at the end of March for a fortnight in New Zealand (where the sun shone and it was warm, but I had no bike!). On my return although it wasn't really quite like spring I was champing at the bit and within 24 hours of landing I was out round the Cheshire lanes, most of the snow had gone, though I did find one huge leftover snowdrift on a climb near Tattenhall in deepest Cheshire.

Warwick 100 After the baptism by fire on the Bass Lake TT course I was back for more the following Tuesday, for some insane reason it seemed like a good idea to ride the Cockermouth 25 mile TT. Ouch! It must be 3 years since I last rode a 25 and, although I did at least now have some aero bars fitted to my bike, the intensity of the effort was very painful. It was a couple of days before I could walk properly again. The rationale behind this return to the TT scene is that it will (somehow) benefit me when I get to the Dolomites. I do hope I'm right.

Last weekend it was a chance to ride my first 100 miler of the year, taking part in the Action Medical Research Warwick 100 sportive, based in Stratford upon Avon, not an area of the country I am overly familiar with. The reason for doing many of these sportives (and I am pretty selective these days) is that they offer me the chance to ride in parts of the country not normally available to me. I have to say, after riding the thoroughly enjoyable Trossachs Ton last year, run by the same organisation, I was quite looking forward to this. And it didn't disappoint. The organisation was excellent, and the route was an undulating exploration of the Warwickshire countryside, visiting picturesque villages on the way. There was only one real climb on the whole route, a nasty 16% haul some 20 miles in, so not the most challenging sportive I've ever done, but an ideal chance to get some solid miles in ahead of the Pyrenees in a few weeks. The day started pretty chilly, but miraculously soon warmed up, although with that came a pretty stiff westerly wind which made the latter part of the course extremely hard work at times. Nevertheless, I was pretty chuffed with my time of 6 hours 15 minutes for the 102 miles, and was even more chuffed to find this placing me 15th overall (not that it is a race, of course). All in all it was a fine day on the bike and I can thoroughly recommend one of the AMR rides
Totals for April
Distance ridden: 570km
Total ascent: 4395m

April 16th 2013: Time trialling again

March has been and gone and Girona is now a receding memory. Here it's back to the usual British weather, rain, wind and a few sunny spells. I managed to miss most of the grotty late snow by travelling to the other side of the world, enjoying a 2 week break in New Zealand where the sun was shining but no chance to ride! After a fortnight's abstinence it was great to get back on two wheels last Sunday, albeit with heavily jetlagged legs. Paul has been keeping me posted via Facebook of his time trialling exploits with VC Cumbria as their season gets underway and somehow it has rekindled my enthusiasm to ride contre la montre. I think I have suffered a moment of madness since, at the weekend, I suddenly had the urge to return to competition. Quite why I cannot fathom, especially since I dismantled and sold my time trial bike last year having managed just the one event in the whole of 2012. Tuesday evening was a circuit of Bassenthwaite Lake, a 16 mile undulating course which can be a joy to ride on a calm warm evening. Tuesday was anything but, with strong winds blowing across the course. But it was dry, and not too cold. Riding a time trial on a road bike is hard, no aero bars to ease the passage through the air, but as part of my training ahead of the Maratona which is now just over 2 months away, it looked like a good opportunity to do some basic speed work. The memory fades so quickly, and I had forgotten just how painful riding against the clock can be, especially on a draggy course such as this. My eventual time was scarcely startling, well down the field, but I felt good for finishing and wasn't last! Maybe I'll ride next week too.
Totals for March
Distance ridden: 1092km (includes 37km on the turbo)
Total ascent: 13287m

March 20th 2013: Girona Cycling with Team Geri Atrics

We have just got back to the UK to find winter has re-established an icy grip, snow lying heavy on the ground and the turbo trainer once again coming out from under wraps. I seem to remember that March was traditionally a time when daffodils peaked their heads out, lambs gambolled in the fields and the sun shone – well that's what happened last year. The Cheshire Cat sportive has been cancelled, as has our local CTC reliability ride on Sunday, thanks to the snow and freezing temperatures. Something's not right.

With that thought in mind it has to be said that our annual Team GeriAtrics spring getaway to sunnier climes, organised by Kev aka the Gibbonator, was an overwhelming success. Whilst northern Spain should have been warmer, the fact that we enjoyed temperatures in double figures most days, and even saw some sunshine, was very welcome. We still needed winter gear thanks to some vicious northerly winds and heavy snow up in the mountains just to the north, but we rode 7 days, and I managed to get in excess of 660 kilometers of riding in my legs, not to mention some 10,000m of climbing. And the camera worked overtime, as ever.

Girona Sunset Ten of us flew out to Barcelona on March 13th, leaving behind thoughts of winter, only to find it absolutely chucking it down, not the start we had wanted or expected. As our host Gareth drove us north along the motorway bound for Girona it slowly began to clear and by the time we headed through the village of Serinya and out to Mas Pelegri, our home for the next week, the rain had receded and we could see the hills, albeit with clouds swirling around the summits. With a sense of purpose, 8 of us set about mantling our trusty two-wheeled steeds with the idea of a late afternoon ride, Gareth suggesting a 25 or so mile circuit from the house on rolling terrain. Sounded ideal, a good chance to check my new Domane over ahead of harder rides to come. Leaving an hour and a half before sunset on a two hour ride is probably not a great plan, especially since added time was required for minor adjustments and, of course, the obligatory photo stops as the scenery unfolded. Getting lost added to the excitement and four of us made the last climb and ride home in the dark – fortunately I had had the foresight to put lights on my bike. Catching a glorious sunset over the mountains set the tone for the next day, we were ready.

On Rocacorba Day 1: Rocacorba and the volcanoes. Thursday dawned bright and sunny, but cold. Our plan was to tackle the fearsome climb of Rocacorba from nearby Banyoles (check it out on Strava), a climb the pros use to test their legs. All ten of us were up for it, a day of bonding perhaps as some of the group were new to the Team GeriAtrics concept of a cycling holiday, and many of us hadn't ridden together since last year. The roll down to Banyoles served as a warm-up before the climb began in earnest, some 14km in total, but the business end of the climb is the last 10 at something over 8%. With a road surface that wouldn't be out of place in deepest Cumbria it was a bit of a brute. The top is a dead end to a radio mast or some such, no cafe here. Ah well. The views out over Banyoles and to the distant Med in one direction and the distant Pyrenean foothills the other way were expansive and spectacular. Worth the effort. Unlike the descent which definitely was not enjoyable – and I do enjoy descending. The road surface and steepness made it difficult to let the bike flow, and it was so cold. Back down in the valley the team headed west into the Garrotxa volcanic zone and the pretty village of Santa Pau for some lunch. A stiff and cold northerly wind blowing off the snowclad Pyrnees made it uncomfortable and hard riding, en route we passed some of the Team Garmin boys (with David Millar and Christian Van der Velde on the front) making it look all too easy coming the other way. Finally we cruised into Santa Pau and lunch, very welcome after our efforts. Our pigeon Spanish would benefit from some polishing up, but we coped. Keith and I went to explore the inner sanctum of Santa Pau whilst the rest of the gang headed on. Keith and I enjoyed the rest of the ride together alone! And once we reached Olot and turned back toward Serinya finding a more favourable wind it became infinitely more enjoyable. After some 90 kilometers or so we rolled into the old town of Besalu, and decided it was time for a cheeky beer. A small bar in the centre of town with some tables in a sheltered corner of the main square was the perfect antidote to tired legs. All that remained were two big rollers on the main road out of Besalu and up to Serinya where we found Kev and Chris sampling the coffee in a small bar. Well, it would have been rude not to join them!

Snow on the Pyrenees Day 2: L'Escala and the Med. Another sunny day dawned, although temperatures were not soaring, but the promise was for a southerly breeze so we decided to ride out to the coast. Apparently the pros don't ride the coast roads when the wind is from the north as they get blown off! That thought stayed with us for the rest of the day. Once again we were ten, and we headed east out to St Pére Pescadour through some (very) rolling countryside – is there nowhere round here that's flat? The wind soon switched to a repeat of yesterday's cold northerly, and boy was it strong. As the terrain finally levelled so the task of staying upright got harder and it was every man for himself before we finally rolled into St Pére. Now we turned south (at last) and the wind became our friend, L'Escala came upon us very quick. Strange town, seemingly asleep for the winter. Our plan was to lunch here, but that proved difficult until we eventually found a restaurant along the front with lights glowing inside. As we stopped outside the proprieter dashed outside to drag us inside, unable to believe her luck – 10 willing punters for lunch on a dead day. To be fair, it was a very pleasant lunch and we had to steel ourselves to head back out into the wind. The windsurfers out on the bay were speeding impossibly fast across the waves as we rolled out of town, heading south, still with a tailwind. The next 7 or 8 miles simply sped by, it was actually good fun. Suddenly the wind turned, back to the south, and the 45 kilometers back to Serinya were transformed into a pleasant afternoon ride, even if the sun had disappeared by now. All in all, a tough old day but we had out-ridden the pros, we had braved the coast on a day when the north wind blew. As luck would have it, over supper we enjoyed the company of one Christian Van der Velde, a houseguest at Mas Pelegri that evening, and learned a few tricks of the trade from a gentleman of the peleton.

El Mont views Day 3: El Mont and beyond. The forecast for Saturday was not so good, with rain on the cards, but at breakfast it seemed dry enough out there. Today we were 8, and the reduced peloton rolled out to Besalu and the start of the steady climb up to the village of Beuda which nestles right beneath the monolithic El Mont, a massive rock outcrop rising to over 1200 metres over some 16km. This was definitely a climb of two halves, and the first half was unpleasant in the extreme with a road surface that made cyclocross look easy. As the gradient was also wildly fluctuating it was impossible to find a rhythm and it was with some relief that I finally reached the main road up to the summit, with some 7km to go. By now it was clear I wasn't going to break any records so I set about enjoying the scenery and the views. Certainly the route up had much to offer in that department and the camera was very busy. By the time I reached the lofty summit (with obligatory monastery) the others had probably been there some time. A few photos later and it was time for the descent, 19km of fun on far better road surfaces, time to enjoy the ride. Time for lunch, so we rolled into nearby Llado and, after a bit of exploration, we found a pleasant restaurant and café carnage ensued. Our lack of Spanish is quite unforgiveable but does make for some interesting menu choices. The beer was excellent! Now our group split with 3 of the guys opting for a direct ride back and a short day, the remaining 5 of us choosing a more circuitous rolling route. Bad choice as the clouds that were building finally lost their patience and emptied their contents (cold and wet) on us for some half an hour or so. We rolled back into Serinya along rapidly drying roads, wet and ragged, some 100km in the bank. Our evening's dining was at a rather nice Japanese restaurant in nearby Banyoles (it was Gareth and Fiona's night off) and we enjoyed some very good food and beer and shared horror stories of the day we climbed El Mont.

Girona Day 4: Girona. Another overcast, unsettled looking day and some tired legs pointed towards a bit of a rest day. Big Kev was partaking in a duathlon in Banyoles, whilst some of the others were opting for a short day. Six of us thought a roll down to Girona might be fun, so that's just what we did. As we rode up toward Banyoles the bike leg of the duathlon overtook us, we stopped to watch and cheer Kev on, resplendent in Honister 92 kit, flying the flag for Cumbria. In Banyoles we separated and our small group carried on south on pleasant roads (apart from a 100m stretch on the N11) before the final big roller over into Girona itself. Riding into Girona along a main dual carriageway via industrial and commercial outlets scarcely sells the attractions of the old city, but eventually we found oursleves at the entrance to the proper town and the cathedral loomed ahead. It is fair to say that Girona is an interesting mix of old and new, with narrow thoroughfares in the old city. It is home to many of the pros these days, although given the weather we are enjoying this does seem a trifle questionable in 2013. We even passed Lance Armstrong's old apartment, the front entrance covered in graffiti. After a good wander about we found a street café who rearranged a few tables and we were sat down to lunch. And a good lunch it was too. We continued to explore, but eventually it was time to head back and we rode out of town, the same route out through the industrial zone. We were now on a mission as today was the day of Milan-San Remo and we were keen to catch the finish of the race. If we have had some iffy weather, it has been nothing to that endured by the riders in the Italian classic. Snow and torrential rain made the race a classic in more ways than one. And the finish was almost perfect with Team Sky's Ian Stannard threatening to steal a march on five fellow escapees before Gerald Ciolek prevailed with a classy sprint.

Day 5; Camprodon and the Mountains. Finally, a great day on the bike. All week it has been hard work, rolling roads over lumpy terrain (with the exception of Rocacorba and El Mont) and difficult to just tap away, the weather certainly hasn't helped as it has not exactly been sunblock weather. Today was different (not on the sunblock front, I should stress) as seven of us headed up into the mountains proper. Somehow, when you ride in the mountains proper it transforms the ride. We headed through Besalu and up to Castellfollit de la Roca, impressive village which literally perches on the brink of a basalt cliff. Now we headed off the main road and began the long 40km long haul up into the mountains, bound for the ski town of Camprodon. In reality we were faced with 3 distinct climbs, the first of which was steady taking us over the first hills to the little village of Oix and a rather welcoming bar where we took a coffee break, enjoying the delights of a log fire and some decidedly risqué walled photographs. The next climb was a bit of a brute, steeper and unrelenting for some 5km before the road levelled and suddenly Chris and I, bringing up the rear, were riding a corniche-type road through fields and woodland, high in the mountains with extensive views that got the camera warm. A fast, bumpy descent followed to Beget, a small town nestling by a river, seemingly inaccesible to the modern world. Fantastic. Now the third and final climb, a 12¾km 5% haul up to Rocabruna with even more amazing views. Thoroughly enjoyable. A short, fast descent on amazingly good roads down to Camprodon followed where we finally met up with the other guys and explored this quaint old town. The bridge over the river is something else. We did lunch. The road back to Serinya was long and (eventually, after an 8km detour) included an enjoyable but all too short winding and technical descent before rolling back through Montagut and Besalu. 136km with 2500m of climbing – now that's what I call a good day in the mountains.

Day 6: The Tour of Catalunya and Hells Angels. Our last full day here in Spain, still no sign of a hedatwave, but by way of compensation we do have the opportunity of catching a stage of the Volta a Catalunya, a week long stage race which runs through the region. Stage 2 starts in Girona and finishes in nearby Banyoles. It would seem churlish not to roll up and watch. Girona is a short 30km ride away, and five of us headed out with our groupie hats on. The race has attracted some of the top riders, including Sir Bradley and the likes of Joaqium Rodriguez, Alessandro Valverde and eventual winner Dan Martin amongst others. In Girona we found we had arrived far too early and a coffee was called for as we waited for the first signs of the teams. They soon began to roll into town and the buzz of excitement rose a pitch or two. The beauty of bike racing, especially at an event like this, is that Joe Public can mingle with the stars (although Team Sky did cordon off their team bus to prevent us getting too close, a bit of a shame). Before long we were awash with some of the world's best cyclists and it felt great. We found a suitable spot on the barriers at the start line and waited for the countdown as the excitement went up another couple of notches. And then they were gone! We had about 3 hours to make our way back to Banyoles and decided to head for a nearby power climb, Els Angels which rises to the south east of the city. This is a 10¾km ramp which rises at a steady 3.5% (although that stat hides the story of a sneaky downhill section about halfway up the climb). Nevertheless, it was an enjoyable half hour and we were rewarded at the top with some views back over Girona and a pretty basic lunch in the rather upmarket monastery restaurant. Team Geri Atrics 2013 The descent back into Girona was fun, probably the best descent of the week with wide sweeping roads and plenty of visibility, a chance to let the Domane off the leash at last. We headed through the streets thick with traffic and back toward Banyoles, picking up a few stray cyclists who were like-minded and heading for the stage finish. At the main roundabout on the south side of town we found the race, which took in 5 laps through the town before a sprint finish. The rest of the guys were here too, watching the race develop. A small breakaway was being reeled in and it looked very much like a bunch finish was in store. Pretty soon the gendarme outriders were speeding by and the peloton soon followed, at a fair speed, before heading off up the main street into the centre of town. We followed (at a safe distance) and found ourselves at the kilometer kite in time for the next lap. For the finale we had time to move further up the course to the last 200 metres in time for the final bunch sprint (which featured a crash some 100 metres from the line – carnage). The winner was Gianni Meersman who took his second successive stage. Wiggo finished safely in the bunch to keep his GC interests alive. All great fun to watch. Kev, Chris and I decided to celebrate with a cheeky beer in the town's main square before heading back for our final evening at Mas Pelegri. A great way to bring the curtain down on a fine week's cycling.

The flight home the next day was pretty uneventful, we arrived in Newcastle to find snow on the ground and temperatures hovering just above zero. Welcome home! Despite some less than brilliant weather we had ridden every day, managing some 660km and over 10300m of climbing. All in all a successful week in Spain, hopefully setting me up nicely for the summer ahead – when it comes! Finally, it goes without saying that we all owe a huge debt of gratitude to the Gibbonator who has, as ever, come up trumps and given us yet another cracking week's springtime cycling on foreign shores. Thanks too, in no particular order, to Kev G, Kev H, Chris B, Chris I, Dave F, Dave G, Keith, John and Graham for riding with me and making it such an enjoyable week. See you next year!

March 10th 2013: Riding the Jodrell Bank Classic

The last week has seen a return to wintry conditions across the UK and once again riding a bike feels a bit like a lottery. This weather is not confined just to the UK however, riders on the Tirreno-Adriatico stage race have been subjected to some gruesome conditions, whilst Paris-Nice seemed to fluctuate between sunshine and rain. In the latter, Team Sky's Richie Porte rode a mature race and came to the fore just at the right time, winning overall with a flourish by taking the last stage mountain time trial up Col d'Eze. It was an assured performance by Team Sky who supported him ably throughout. As I write, Chris Froome is well placed in 2nd on Tirreno-Adriatico with just the final time trial to come, needing to make up 34 seconds on Vicenzo Nibali. I have to say, any race which features 27% climbs and riders resorting to walking just has to be seen to be believed.

The sportive season is now underway across the country, with events popping up all over the place. It's early yet, so my own take on this is that provides a good opportunity to get some decent miles in, and the Jodrell Bank Classic in deepest Cheshire offered just that with an 80 mile option, not overly challenging, but made tougher by some exacting weather conditions. I think it's probably the first time I have started a sportive with it actually snowing, but fortunately road conditions were pretty good throughout. What made it tough was the close to freezing temperatures and the biting easterly wind which plagued the riders all day long. The first couple of hours this was behind us, but as the route turned gradually back to the east that wind started to sap the energy levels, which allied to the sharp climbs at the business end of the ride made for some tired looking riders over the last 15 miles. In the end I was pretty pleased with my 5 hours 23 minute effort, not sparkling but good enough for a gold standard according to the organisers (a tad generous I feel). And I must add that the whole event was well organised and enjoyable to ride. The signage was excellent throughout, and the support team were smiling and helpful. Well done on a fine event.

March 2nd 2013: Sunshine at last

I can't really remember the last time we had a prolonged period of high pressure dominating the UK weather scene, but the last couple of weeks has seen some pleasant sunny days when it is truly great to be out on a bike. This week has been a case in point. My knee has now just about recovered and I have been able to stretch my legs on a couple of rides, first into the northern Lakeland hills round Caldbeck, then over the Welsh border from Chester to Ruthin and up the enjoyable Nant y Garth climb (revisited from a month ago). The Caldbeck ride was a chance to check out my new Trek and I learnt a thing or two about Di2, as the battery charge was pretty low. Nevertheless it allowed me the luxury of getting round a pretty hilly route, albeit only on the small chainring - apparently it defaults to this when the battery is low, but rear shifting was still good and got me home. On Thursday I retraced my route from the end of January over to Ruthin, but this time it was windfree and not freezing. Despite tiring legs which are not yet used to the distance I managed to limp my way to a first metric ton of the year, very satisfying ahead of next week's Jodrell Bank sportive. What with work commitments and time away I seem to have had little time on the bike in February which is frustrating, although this has been tempered by a few sessions on the turbo trainer, something I've not done for a couple of years. It was strangely theraputic which came as a bit of a surprise!

On the professional scene, the last month has been promising with Chris Froome taking a well-deserved overall victory in the Tour of Oman. Hot on the heels of Oman came the World Track Championships in Minsk in which an experimental young Team GB took the honours with some stunning performances, most notably from Becky James (4 medals), and Jason Kenny in the kierin. Salutory to note that this is the first year of the Olympic 4 year cycle and traditionally sees Team GB struggling to match other nations. They had better watch out come 2016 in Rio.
Totals for February
Distance ridden: 468km (includes 92km on the turbo)
Total ascent: 3218m

February 6th 2013: CTC to the rescue

There are times in life when human nature is refreshingly wonderful. Today was such a day. Out for a pleasant afternoon constitutional in the winter sunshine, I had taken the liberty of stretching my legs on my trusty Cannondale, its first outing of the year. Complete with recently refurbished HED wheels it was rolling nicely as I headed into the hills above Caldbeck and on toward Dalston, enjoying the fantastic views of the Lake District fells along the way. On a gentle rise I eased out of the saddle to make the going easier when suddenly I felt the rear wheel grind to a halt, I suspect the chain had skipped off the cassette and jammed. My next pedal stroke was clearly one too far and down I went, body crunching on tarmac, my left knee performing a graceful slide along the road and my elbow acting as suspension. Ow! The crack that accompanied this was palpable. As I went down my mind raced, how was the bike? The answer was soon apparent. Not very well. The rear mech had sheered right in half and was not pretty. As I limped my way into the village, carrying my now disfunctional bike, a small group of riders approached, expressing some concern at my state. The conversation that ensued was enough to make me weep with gratitude, and before long they had arranged a lift for me back home, complete with bike. One chap, Mike, stayed with me and we chatted, sharing cycling experiences. His wife appeared 5 minutes later and we bundled the wreckage in the back. Mike sailed off homewards, whilst Clare then drove me back home in an act of kindness for which I shall be forever grateful. Turns out they are all CTC members and we chatted about our CTC experiences, including rides and acquaintances. So to Clare and Mike, heartfelt thanks for rescuing me today and showing me yet again why cycling is such a fantastic sport and pastime

February 3rd 2013: Eureka!

At the Eureka Cafe Sundays on the bike are all about days like this. A Sunday bike ride should contain the following ingredients: good company, a pleasant ride out, excellent cafe scran, and not a drop of rain to be seen. Helen and I were joined by Paul and some good friends (Pete and Sharon, along with Phil and Barb). We met up on the Chester Greenway, a traffic-free cycle route through the heart of Chester and out to Shotton and the Welsh border. No sooner on the Greenway though than Helen picked up a puncture (glass in the rear tyre) which I quickly sorted out thanks to a new tube and spurt of CO2. A stiff headwind made it a challenging spin out into the Cheshire countryside and it wasn't long before we crossed the border into Wales. After some 8 miles it was time to leave the Greenway and head onto the Wirral in search of the ubiquitous cafe stop, Eureka.

The Eureka Cafe is a true cyclists cafe. It caters for cyclists and is run by a bunch of people with a true appreciation of the cyclists lot. It even incorporates a bike shop and repair facility, and is a meeting place for some many of the local clubs as they head out from Liverpool, Ellesmere Port and the Wirral. It is a focus for CTC events and even holds its own annual challenge ride. A short video from the Cycling Weekly crew is always worth a watch.

We were lucky, there was a spare table and the seven of us sat down for some much looked-forward to food. The toasties are recommended, but pretty well everything is both reasonable and tasty. The next half hour or so passed by pleasantly in terms of conversation, banter and general chit-chat. All Sundays should feature a bit of this. Eventually all good things come to an end and it was back on the bikes and time to head back to Chester, this time via the cyclepath along the river Dee. And now we had the tailwind to blow us home, fantastic.

Eureka Cafe video - enjoy

January 31st 2013: Windy Welsh hills

At long last it feels like my cycling year has finally started. Losing several weeks to ice and snow (sounds oh so familiar doesn't it?) has kept opportunities to ride to a minimum. In spite of the Base Mile Strava Challenge (ride as many base miles as possible in January), designed to encourage riders to overcome post-festive torpor and get out on their bikes, it simply has not been possible. Until this week. The snow has melted, the ice has gone and, instead of riding in freezing temperatures I have enjoyed balmy temperatures which actually reached double figures today, and I even got some rather pleasant sunshine. How my heart did sing!

A brief sortie yesterday, round my usual local 25 mile circuit in Cumbria was fun enough, in spite of some fierce winds. A couple of intervals left my legs nicely tired. Today, down in Cheshire, and with a forecast that suggested a thoroughly pleasant day, albeit again windy, I headed west to the Welsh uplands of the Clwydian hills and a bit more of a test for my legs. In short, my first lumpy ride of 2013. In the end it was a 100 kilometer outing with just over 1000m of ascent, challenging enough for winter legs (and lungs). I even found a new climb, the rather Alpine-like Nant y Garth which climbs south of Ruthin for 5k winding up through a leafy gorge at about 5%. Good to set a benchmark. Thereafter, I turned east and found the wind (finally) at my back which, combined with a rather fun 7 mile descent made for a timely increase in average speed. By the time I was heading back into Chester my legs felt well cooked, nicely tired after a good workout.

In the cycling news it has been an interesting week. Lance Armstrong has finally said something, though I'm not sure it was worth waiting for. It all seemed rather choreographed to me. And Frank Schleck has been handed a 12 month ban, so he won't be riding the 2013 Tour - not sure that's good for brother Andy. Team Sky had an impressive Tour Down Under and congratulations are in order for Geraint Thomas who finished on the GC podium AND swept up the Points jersey on the last day. Bodes well for the season ahead, next up is the Tour of Qatar.
Totals for January
Distance ridden: 385km
Total ascent: 2995m

January 14th 2013

Trek Domane 5.9 Half of January has already passed us by, where does the time go? I always seem to be griping about the weather so I shall just let it go for now. But the clock is ticking and our trip to Girona is only 8 weeks away. I have found myself searching the interweb to find a few interesting sportives and have picked out the Jodrell Bank sportive in Cheshire in early March, and the Warwick 100 in late April. Helen and I have also signed up for the Chester to Liverpool ride in July, a chance to ride through the Mersey tunnel again. Should be fun. And on a brighter note I have put the finishing touches to my new project, my Trek Domane. A set of shiny new Bontrager Aura 5 deep section wheels just finishes it off nicely. Can't wait for Girona.

In the meantime, the new pro cycling season is just about to get going, with the Tour Down Under getting underway in a few days and offering us entertainment by way of a curtain raiser. Always an interesting race, and often favouring the strong sprinters, and the Aussies are sure to be strong. It'll be interesting to see how Luke Rowe, Ben Swift and Geraint Thomas go for Team Sky.

On a sad note it was hard not to feel some sympathy toward Nicole Cooke who has brought the curtain down on a long and distinguished career. She has been a veritable ambassador for the sport and has led the way for an increasingly impressive cast of British youngsters to follow. I can still remember being glued to the box in 2008 watching the drama of the Olympic road race unfold in the rain and leaping for joy as Nicole came out of the final corner and swept past the field to clinch the gold medal. Her defining moment in a glittering career? I think so.