May 28th 2017: What a Giro that was

The last 3 weeks has seen a dramatic and exciting race unfold as the Giro d'Italia has made its way across first Sardinia, then Sicily and the mainland to finish today in Milan with an exciting and decisive final stage individual time trial. There has been much drama and controversy over these 3 weeks, particularly once Tom Dumoulin assumed the maglia rosa on stage 10 following a lumpy individual time trial, taking enough time out of his GC rivals to eke out a lead. The real drama had started the day before on the road to Blockhaus when a police motorbike caused a major crash, bringing down Geraint Thomas and Mikel Landa of Sky, Adam Yates of Orica and potentially crucially Sunweb's Wilco Keldermann, a senior lieutenant for Dumoulin. Keldermann's race was over and Dumoulin was left with one less strongman for the mountains ahead. The other three suffered differing degrees of injury and, although Yates recovered and eventually finished a creditable 9th overall, Thomas and Landa were both badly affected and Thomas eventually withdrew a few days later. Landa soldiered on, having lost huge time, but improved as the race went into its third week and took a fine stage victory in the mountains and the mountains jersey in Milan to rescue a bad situation for Team Sky.

In the days that followed Dumoulin rode an impressive race, defending his lead against concerted efforts from the Movistar and Bahrain teams who were hopeful that Nairo Quintana and Vicenzo Nibali could benefit when the Dutchman cracked. He didn't and by the time the race reached the Alps a first Grand Tour win for Dumoulin was looking increasingly likely. Then came the incident which transformed the Giro and asked some serious quest ions of his resolve and fitness. As the race reached the second ascent of the Stelvio Pass, and with a dangerous break already on the climb, Dumoulin suddenly stopped at the back of the main group of GC contenders and proceeded to deal with some severe stomach problems, at which point it appeared that Nibali and Quintana, along with the other contenders first queried what was happening and then set about chasing down the break leaving Dumoulin to fend for himself. The issue of etiquette and fairplay was raised, the question of whether they should have attacked the pink jersey and theories surrounding Dumoulin's fitness were all suddenly to the fore as the Dutchman set about limiting his losses and effectively riding a solo time trial up the Umbrail Pass as Nibali and Quintana raced away. In the end they took just over 2 minutes out of Dumoulin, with Nibali snatching the stage win from Mikel Landa after an audacious descent of the Stelvio into Bormio. It was awesome theatre whatever your views about fair play. Dumoulin had lost time but clung onto pink, just. In the following mountain stages in the Dolomites Dumoulin was increasingly isolated with only Laurens ten Dam able to help consistently and by the time we reached today's time trial stage he had lost the maglia rosa to Quintana and slipped out of the top three places, albeit by only a few seconds. Indeed, only 90 seconds separated the top six, so it was all to race for, but Dumoulin was probably in the box seat and so it proved as he rode a fine time trial to stretch out a 31 seconds lead over Quintana, with Nibali a further 9 seconds back by the finish. Tom Dumoulin had done it, he was the winner and reclaimed a deserved maglia rosa along with the trophy. Now we sit back and relax for a few weeks before the Tour de France kicks off in July. It will have to be quite a race to match the 2017 Giro.

May 23rd 2017: A Manx Tour revisited

Four years ago Helen and I enjoyed a rather rewarding ride around the Isle of Man, but... in an error of judgement we decided to ride anti-clockwise, and did it over three days. A fierce headwind meant the middle day riding the full length of the island and finishing with a gruelling climb over a wet and windswept South Barrule, a pedal stroke too far for poor Helen whose legs were toast by the finish. We had precious few opportunities to sightsee too, so left vowing we would return and take a more leisurely, clockwise look at the island. This year that time has come and on May 19 we embarked from Chester on a journey of redemption. The train ride to Liverpool is easy enough, with no problems travelling with bikes (unlike some rail companies Merseylink has a very enlightened approach to bikes and rail travel) and we emerged from the depths of the below-ground Mersey loop only a few hundred yards from the ferry terminal and a date with the Manx express Mananan, a fast catamaran which crosses the Irish Sea to Douglas in well under 3 hours. By lunchtime we were disembarking from the ferry and onto Manx territory to begin our latest 2017 Manx Tour. Let it begin we said.

Douglas in mid May is probably not at its best, the summer season has not begun and much of the seafront facade seemed yet to be geared up for visitors. We eventually found a streetside cafe though and stuffed our faces ready for some afternoon cycling as we then headed toward Castletown, the ancient Manx capital and our destination for day 1. Rather than use the busy and uninspiring main road to Castletown we climbed sharply up on to the headland overlooking the town and found the Marine Drive, a delightful cul-de-sac (for cars) road which winds along the clifftops, heading west without traffic. It rolls and winds and the views are glorious, even on a grotty afternoon (we were still waiting for the sun to make an appearance, which it duly did before too long). All too soon this tarmac delight came to a end and we were faced with the first of many short but rather unpleasant nasty climbs to bring us up to the old Castletown road. Helen walked, I grunted and huffed, but we made it and turned west again. More dipping and diving, and more sharp climbs followed – this seems to be a feature of much of the island – but by now the sun was breaking through and all was good with the world. Until we hit THE main Castletown highway from Douglas where the constant Friday afternoon traffic streamed by with hardly a break. It was tedious and we eventually took a slight detour to come into Castletown by the back way just to get away from all this, much nicer. A mere 25km, not our longest ride ever, but our Manx Tour was underway and Day 1 was put to bed. We enjoyed a quiet evening strolling around the sunkissed streets and harbour of Castletown, partook of a cheeky beer and found a pleasant curry house to round off a good start to our holiday.

The following morning dawned grey and drizzly, not what we had ordered at all. And despite the name, our Airbnb accommodation did NOT offer breakfast so we had to head into the centre of town to find a coffee shop open so we could fuel up ahead of our day's ride. By the time we came out the rain had not stopped, so we donned rain jackets and headed off round the bay toward Port St Mary and the south-west tip of the island where yet another of those rather tiresome sharp hillclimbs got in the way of what would otherwise have been an easy run down to Spanish Head and a splendid coffee stop at the Sound Café. Here we ate brownie and watched the seals basking on the rocks across the Sound as the sun was by now breaking through. The Calf of Man is an uninhabited island off this corner and is a bird and animal reserve. Clearly the seals enjoyed the quiet calm of this part of the world. Coffee break over it was time for another climb, back over the headland and then sharply down into Port Erin, an old seatown which lingers in the early parts of the last century. It is certainly pretty enough but sadly has an air of quiet delapidation about it. We stopped for photos and a meander along the front before heaing on, north and east into the mountains for the hard part of the day, a long gruelling climb over South Barrule! Actually, it was decidedly more pleasant than our previous encounter, the sun and the smooth tarmac of our chosen route clearly helped, and the views south over the rolling countryside were fabulous. At the top of the climb was a bizarre outdoor recreation centre in the forest, with a Manx version of Go-Ape and a myriad of off-road biking trails. We rolled on by, heading for the viewpoints which looked north toward Snaefell and the long descent into Foxdale past Snuff the Wind mine. This is a dramatic old leadmine, long since disused and dating back to the mid 1800s, but still standing in some ruin looking derelict and strangely majestic with a mountain backdrop. The main road through Foxdale was closed for repairs so our otherwise quiet backroad descent was ruined by the constant flow of through traffic taking a shortcut to avoid the official detour. Ah well, even here the roads obviously need some maintenance work, but it took the gloss of an otherwise lovely descent through bluebell lined woodland. At the foot we rolled into St Johns in need of sustenance and found this at the Tynwald Hill Inn, opposite the site of the ancient Manx parliament hill, and here we savoured a very welcome cheeky beer along with some less savoury sandwiches. All that remained now was a short sharp (and especially nasty) hill before a long and gentle roll down into Peel and a seafront ice-cream. Nice. The rest of the day was spent strolling the streets and harbour walls of Peel, examining the walls of the castle and climbing the splendid Corrins Hill with fantastic views not just of Peel and its castle, but the distant Manx mountains in glorious evening sunshine before putting the day to bed with a pub curry and a local pint.

Our third day dawned once again dreich and ugly, the cloud low on the hills and drizzle in the air. Once again we were let down by the Airbnb without the B, so had to go in search of breakfast. This came in the form of the Harbourside snackbar, serving up bacon butties and veggieburgers with a rancid brew which we enjoyed in the shelter of the castle walls watching an inquisitive seal bobbing round in the water below us. Sunday was our longest day on the bikes, but still not excessive at just over 60km, and there was the hope that the clouds would peel back. The wind sadly did not, although we spent much of the day with it at our backs (our decision to ride clockwise now well justified). From Peel we rode back up to St Johns and out onto the TT Mountain Course which we now followed for some 10 miles to Sulby, north of the mountains. The road rolls and is distinctly lumpy in parts, and we were not surprised to find plenty of motorbikes out riding the course, even on a grey Sunday morning. The TT starts next weekend and already there are many bikers on the island ahead of the main event, so we shouldn't really be surprised. In truth, the didn't really cause us any problems and we had plenty of space to enjoy the riding before dropping down into Sulby to find somewhere for a welcome coffee stop. The Sulby Glen Hotel fitted the bill perfectly. The second part of the day was quite a contrast, being primarily flat and not at all rolling, this northern part of the island being reminiscent of the Solway coast of Cumbria. Quiet country roads and villages came and went, we found a pub for a cheeky half in one, and eventually rolled out to the Visitor Centre at Ayres where I felt sure we would get lunch. Until, that is, we saw the visitor centre which was not as I envisaged it. It was, instead, a basic hut by the dunes where information was imparted but not food. Ah well. We strolled down to the beach and enjoyed the spectacle of the gannets divebombing into the waves in search of their lunch (I hope they had more success than we did!). Spectacular or what. Anyway, we needed lunch so we continued and soon found ourselves in the village of Bride, perched atop seemingly the only hill round these parts, and lo and behold a tea room. And it was open. And they were doing lunch. And cake. Result! Thus refreshed we now turned north once again and rode the final leg to the northernmost tip of the island, Point of Ayre, where the locals congregate on a Sunday afternoon in their cars and where cyclists are blown in the strong southerly breeze. The lighthouse scenery is spectacular and there are indications that Scotland is not far away – we couldn't really see it though, rather too hazy although at least the sun was out by now. Sadly, all this meant that we now had to turn south and ride down the coast to Ramsey, into the rather tedious and tiring headwind which battered our progress. Eventually we made it, though not before being attacked by an errant and totally out of control labrador whose owner pursued it rather as Fenton was pursued despairingly across Richmond Park, and rolled p to our third night accommodation, a splendid B&B which DID serve breakfast and had the most splendid views across town and up the coast. Helen was done for the day, but I had a date with the Snaefell hillclimb on the TT Course, of only to enjoy those views and get the chance to ride the descent back into Ramsey with that wind assisting me. A long day was rounded off with another splendid curry – there was sadly little choice in town as most of the eateries choose to close on a Sunday, not the most enlightened approach on an island where I imagine tourism fuels much of the economy.

Day 4, our last day's riding would take us the short hop back down the east coast to Douglas and an appointment with our ferry back to Liverpool. Once again the day dawned wet, this time though it didn't really improve much all day, other than for a short period as we dropped down the final stretch into Douglas itself. The rain wasn't hard though, and the wind had, mercifully, dropped from yesterday, so we headed out on the Douglas road with optimism in our hearts. We detoured early, on the road out to Maughold Head, the easternmost point on the island, another sharp climb just to keep us right. The views were not extensive as damp clouds shrouded the distant coastline, but it was worth the detour. Until we hit probably the worst hill of the whole trip, a nasty haul up through Ballajora to Hibernia (lovely names but horrific hill!) and crossing the Manx Electric Railway which we followed pretty much the whole way back to Douglas. Back on the main road we cruised downhill to Laxey (famed for its wheel – google it) but on this occasion important for its coffee stop. A cracking café by the Snafell Mountain railway served up a great brew and a fine cream tea (bizarre as we were a long way from Devon) in rather eccentric surroundings. I'd go again. From Laxey the road rolls up hill and down dale all the way back to Douglas, mch of it alongside the aforementioned Electric railway and we were lucky enough to see a number of the trains, a form of trolley bus on rails, old technology but so much more exciting than many of our modern trains. And capable of climbing pretty sharp gradients too. As we finally rolled down onto Douglas esplanade lunch called so we rolled into the Terminus pub and savoured a final cheeky beer and a pleasant bite to eat to round off what had been an excellent four days on the island. We definitely got it right this time and it was a fond farewell we waved as we took our seats on the ferry and sailed out of port.

May 18th 2017: Isle of Man here we come

It is the eve of our annual cycle tour as Helen and I prepare for our 4 day Manx Tour, riding round the Isle of Man, and I think we are ready for it. The weather looks a mixed bag, not warm, and possibly a bit wet at times, but we hope we will be blessed and catch the island on a good weekend. Our itinerary is a bit more relaxed compared to our last visit 4 years ago, we plan to take 4 days rather than 3, and we will do it in a clockwise direction this time, hoping for more helpful wind assistance - last time we spent a day battling headwinds as we rode the length of the island, not ideal. The grand tour will probably end up a bit over 100 miles, with 2 full days and two half days, and a great chance to explore some of the towns and villages a bit more fully. The bikes are prepped, the bike bags packed and our gear laid out ready for the off in the morning. The idea of riding away from our front door and using a mixture of train and ferry to supplement our riding is always satisfying. Bring it on

May 9th 2017: A Devon Retreat

Periodically I find myself down in the county of Devon on family business, and it's always a good opportunity to take a bike to fresh pastures and stretch the legs over terrain less often ridden. Currently I am enjoying a few days down here and have been blessed with this period of dry settled weather that much of the country has been enjoying so, on Sunday, I headed out for a few hours winding through pleasant quiet country lanes up and down hill and dale with some stunning views and carpets of bluebells at every turn. Up on the higher ground above the Teign valley it was peaceful and warm in the sunshine and I found myself savouring the moment. There was no need to hurry, no need to try and grab some Strava PBs. This was, in my view, bike riding at its very best. Before my return north tomorrow there sould be enough time for one more foray onto the Dartmoor highlands, up the famous Haytor climb perhaps, with yet more bluebells to enjoy. Fortunately, at this time of year, the summer onset of touristitis has not set in, so the roads will hopefully still be quiet

April came and went in a flurry, there seemed to be little time for blogging hence the lack of updates during the last 5 weeks. A week after the Quattro, Helen and I joined good friends Phil and Barb on the local CTC Spring Challenge ride, a 50 mile excursion into the Cheshire countryside which runs along the Welsh border south of Chester. The weather was perfect apart from a bit of a breeze, and the nature of the ride is very relaxed with enjoyment very much the aim of the day. A bun fight at half time adds to that atmosphere and we savoured every moment. This is not the first time we have taken part in this event, nor will it be the last I trust. The CTC (or Cycling UK to give them their proper moniker) are adept at organising local events such as this and we are strongly committed to the idea of supporting them in this venture.

The other notable ride during April was a throughly pleasant ride down into the heart of the north-west Lake District to visit the bluebell meadow in Rannerdale, a feature much renowned and loved based on the foresight of a local farmer nearly 200 years ago who first planted the bluebells, probably in the knowledge that he would never fully appreciate his creation. Thousands do now flock to enjoy the spectacle which lasts just a few weeks before the blooms reced and the bracken takes over. Sadly for me I was probably a couple of weeks too early, so there were just a handful of plants alreadyin flower. Nevertheless it is still a wonderful place to wander through, with or without a bike, and I savoured the moment before climbing back into the saddle and taking on the climb over Whinlatter and then carrying on round Derwentwater before heading homeward, a lovely 112km outing in the sunshine.

As I write this the 2017 edition of the Giro d'Italia is underway and the first 3 stages on Sardinia have been notable for the winds and the opportunism of a couple of riders. Today they move on to Sicily and the main GC contenders face their first real test, a summit finish on Mount Etna. Team Sky have given Geraint Thomas his chance and he is joint leader with Mikel Landa. It will be interesting to see how this pans out over the next 3 weeks, although the strength of the field makes it unlikely that Sky will find themselves with the overall winner of the maglia rosa when they reach Milan on May 28th.
Totals for April
Distance ridden: 920km
Total ascent: 8960m

April 2nd 2017: Taming the Quattro

Spain seems a long way away now, and back home enjoying the Spring weather is a reminder of just how nice it was out there. A couple of nice evenings over the las week has helped, though the temperatures are hardly Mediterranean. Helen and I enjoyed a pleasant outing through the Cheshire lanes to the café at Jodrell Bank last week with Pete and Sharon. And Helen and I also had a great ride out to Holt and Cleopatra's for a late lunch on Friday. Just the tonic.

After introducing Helen's sister Jan to the delights of cycling last summer she is now well and truly hooked and signed up recently for her first sportive ride, the Quattro Sportive in deepest Northamptonshire, starting and finishing in the little village of Cogenhoe near to where she lives. Helen and I offered to ride in support and headed down the motorway on Saturday to join the Quattro peloton. The Quattro came in three flavours with Helen and Jan taking on the 51 mile Piccolo, and me tackling the 86 mile Gran Fondo ride. On a fresh but fine Sunday morning I chose to ride in to the start while the girls chucked the bikes in the back of the car. We joined the back of the queue and shortly before 9 we were thrown into the fray. A small field meant a relaxed affair, not the frenetic air that often accompanies bigger events, which made it rather more pleasant. Sadly an unimaginative route which included too much main road riding for my taste undermined the overall feel for the ride, but it was nice to see a part of the country I haven't really explored on the bike before. Some pleasant villages, rolling countryside and enjoyable, winding country lanes helped and sure enough, just over 5 hours later I was heading back into Cogenhoe and the finish line where they thrust a medal round my neck and congratulated me. There standing at the burger and coffee van was Jan, asking me what had kept me? They had enjoyed a good ride, and got round their course far quicker than anticipated. Jan was over the moon - she had never ridden 50 miles before, let alone at the speed they had managed. The engraved medal is on its way.
Totals for March
Distance ridden: 1117km
Total ascent: 12970m

March 23rd 2017: Spanish report (part 2)

So, that was Spain. All too soon we find ourselves back in the UK enduring what we laughingly call Spring. Yesterday, the day after Spring was officially launched we had snow for crying out loud. Roads were blocked throughout Cumbria and the temperatures were an unseasonal 5 degrees or so. Hardly enticing for the enthusiastic cyclist. After a week of sun in Spain (apart from that calamitous day of rain) this is not what is required. I haven't touched my bike other than to rebuild it after the fight home. Maybe tomorrow...

After the Monday rain the weather cleared up substantially and we were treated to 3 more days of sun, not especially warm but certainly very pleasant. And we made the most of it. Tuesday had a suggestion of cooler weather so I played safe and went native, wearing winter kit. I needn't have bothered, by lunchtime I was feeling distinctly overdressed! Our itinerary for the day involved a return to Denia, for old times sake. The boys have been doing these trips for many years now and on our first forays into the Spanish cycling scene back in 2009 and 2010 we were based in Denia, those of us old timers were keen to go back and reminisce. After the usual hearty buffet breakfast we saddled up and rolled out heading east on the coastal road to Moraira, a rolling in-and-out affair which offers some enticing views of the coastline along the way. Moraira is a small port with castle, restaurants and bars – and a bizarre rusty iron sculpture gazing out to see on the rocks by the road as you ride into town. It's difficult to say quite what it is representing but it is an arresting sight so we stopped for the obligatory photo-call. From here the road headed up and inland before we dropped down to the coast and the start of our ride up onto the headland that is the Cap de la Nau, a picturesque limestone bluff which juts out into the Med south of Xabia. There are a couple of bars at the road end but clearly at this time of year I guess the proprietors do not feel it is worth their while opening so we were not treated to a coffee stop with a view. We still stopped to enjoy the view though, and the sight of a number of lycra-clad cyclists clambering around on the rocky headland probably caused some amusement for the locals. Retracing our steps (or tyre tracks) we now needed some sustenance and dropped down into the beach town of El Arenal and cruised the strip looking for a suitable restaurant. It took two attempts but was worth the search. Cheeky beer alert, and a fine tasty salad fitted the bill perfectly and we lingered far too long on a lazy lunchtime break. Next up was an old favourite, the climb over Montgo, a huge limestone monolith on the coast between Xabia and Denia, not a long climb and never steep, but testing the legs on a relatively easy day. The descent into Denia is another old favourite, far too short for anyone who likes their descents (ie me) and offering some fine views of the port as we come down. Denia hasn't changed a lot in 8 years, we rode through on the main drag having a bit of a nostalgia trip before trying hard to find our way out again. Then we remembered what we loved best about Denia – it's a bugger to get out of. Our plan was to head inland to pick up the road from Pedregeur and over to Xalo and back down to Calp, again on roads familiar from earlier times. By now clouds were gathering over the mountains and there was the threat of rain in the air, though as it was we stayed dry throughout. It meant that the views got more dramatic and atmospheric, always a problem to a cyclist with a camera! The climb from Pedregeur up to Alcalali came as a bit of a shock – I had assured Dave that it was NOT a climb, but my protestations fell on deaf ears and I confess it certainly felt like a climb, again never steep but dragging on for 8 or 9 kilometers before a short fast descent into Alcalali. Here we took a left and flew down to Xalo where the consensus was that it was time for a cheeky beer. Great idea. The bonus was a wonderful cake cabinet, the best of both worlds and we sat on the terrace enjoying the reward for our efforts. The nearby river had obviously caused some concern the day before as the ford was cordoned off – I am guessing it had been more of a raging torrent yesterday. All that remained now was the draggy road over to Benissa and then that glorious fun descent to Fanadix and back to Calp, a fine way to end a relaxing day after the rains.

Wednesday was another sunny day, cool but not cold. And the plan was to head into the mountains. By now many of the group were looking for different rides, some longer, some hillier. We all set out together, however, heading for the wonderfully remote Bernia mountain road which overlooks the bay of Calp and offers some sumptuous views. The day began with an unpleasant drag up the N332, the main road which shadows the motorway through the mountains and is always busy with traffic. At Benissa however we dived off and then took the small road which leads to Pinos and Bernia and began the long climb into the hills. The first chunk is a lovely shallow gradient (and we had a tailwind) and a chance to savour those views over Calp and beyond. Having stopped early for a photo I lost contact with the rest of the gang and rode the rest of the Bernia loop solo, and determined that I would just enjoy the ride and take the opportunity to take photos as and when the moment dictated. I imagine on the Strava segment for the climb I had comfortably the slowest time that day as I stopped repeatedly for photos and videos as the scenery unfolded and sucked me in. I should have taken longer as I do not have the slowest time of all on that segment, maybe I will have to go back one day! This road is quiet and remote, with only one village in the 13 kilometers to the summit and therein lies part of the attraction. A few cars, the odd lorry and plenty of cyclists enjoy the solitude. The last 2 or 3 kilometers however do provide a sharp sting in the tail as the road careers round a hairpin and embarks on a steep haul to the top, with slopes of up to 25% in places. The reward was even better views but it was hard and I was grateful to finally reach the top and grab a photo to celebrate. Now the descent, not one to hurry but I could feel the call of lunch and coffee and I imagined the others might have given up on me by now. Eventually I rolled into Parcent where we had stopped a few days earlier to find the crew sitting in the sunshine. I quickly ordered and we shared a few stories of the day so far. Some of the boys had embarked on a crazy time trial up the Rates, we just let them get on with it. Paul and Ali were going for a short day, so would ride the Rates then head back. The rest of us (5 in total) were going for the Castell de Castells loop into the mountains, round to Tarbena, another nostalgia trip. This really is a lovely bit of road and draws the rider in as we headed up to Castell de Castells where we explored the steep narrow streets, before tackling the nasty steep haul out of the valley and over to the “Rollercoaster” to Tarbena. It is steep. Very. And longer than I remembered. The next bit is probably the most enjoyable bit of tarmac in the area, a 6 kilometer rollercoaster through the hills dropping through almond groves before plummeting down to Tarbena, again with views to savour. By now I was riding solo again, the others having long since disappeared, so I opted for carrying on down the Tarbena descent to Callosa, itself a thoroughly enjoyable bit of road, and then the winding roads back to Calp via Altea, which featured those tunnels again, this time decidedly unpleasant in rush hour traffic. It had been a long day made special by some wonderful views.

Our last day in Calp was another sunny one, probably the best of the week. All week long the rock that is Penon de Ifach has been staring down at me and I had already decided that I had to get to the top. Not on the bike, of course, that is beyond anyone apart from Danny MacAskill I suspect. This was a morning off the bike but very much with the camera. Paul chose to join me whilst the rest of the gang headed off on separate missions into the hills for their last rides. Paul and I strolled down the prom gazing at the rock in some awe, trying to spot the route up its impossible slopes. The way up is impressive with a tunnel carved out in one place and a lovely graded paved path up through woodland to reach it. Back in the UK we would be paying substantially for the privilege I feel sure, but here access is free for all to enjoy, if you have a head for heights. The Penon is a National Park, having come into public ownership in 1987 and offers much in terms of flora and birdlife to enjoy on the ascent. At 332m it is no walk in the park and there are places where the path clings to the side of the limestone cliffs in a seemingly impossible manner – definitely not for the fainthearted. Finally, after an hour or so we emerged onto the final scramble up to the summit which overlooks the town far below and offers some fantastic views, especially on a day like this. The camera was VERY busy, and we exchanged photos with Eduardo, a chap from Girona, who was clearly enjoying the challenge and wanted to get a few snapshots on his phone. The summit was a busy place despite the relative inaccessibility of this place and grabbing a summit shot was a question of timing as groups of walkers with selfie sticks did their best to get in the way. The walk down involved a detour to a mirador with further views from this special place before we finally reached the sanctuary of Calp tarmac and reflected on a thoroughly enjoyable climb. Time for lunch so we found a beachfront restaurant and savoured a lazy lunch with cheeky beer in the hot sunshine. Paul declined the offer of a final, short ride, preferring to rest his tired legs (he had had precious little preparation for this trip and his legs were clearly feeling the effects of several hundred kilometers of hard riding), so I saddled up one last time and road out to Moraira for a coffee in the sun and then one final climb up to Teulada and that descent to Fanadix – great way to finish a fine week of riding.

It has indeed been a week to savour, and has whetted the appetite for next time. It remains for me to thank everyone who rode together through the week – Paul, Ali, Chris, Kev, Dave and Dave, Big Andrew, Keith, Lee and Bill, and an especial thanks to Chris for organising the trip. I remain hopeful of getting an invite next year if only because everyone wants to get a copy of the 2018 DVD!
Total Spanish riding
Distance ridden: 449km
Total ascent: 7592m

March 13th 2017: Spanish report (part 1)

And so here we are, three days into our Spanish cyclothon and we are enduring an enforced rest day as Storm Manuel tears down the Mediterranean coastline of Spain from Valencia toward Cadiz. A spectacular electrical storm last night over Calpé (or Calp as it is also known) has been followed by strong winds and torrential rain (some 6 inches have been forecast for the 24 hours to tonight). At times the road outside the hotel has resembled a river and most of us have now exhausted our supply of civvies in dashing across the road to the supermarket and a rather foolish attempt to stroll into Calp town to do some (wet) sightseeing. The hotel bar has done a brisk trade in coffee and drinks all day as guests wait for the rain to abate. So far it hasn't. Calp has not been the place to be today!

We have enjoyed a couple of cracking days however, with opportunities to head into the mountains and sample the best that the Costa Blanca has to offer from a cycling perspective. Delays to our inbound flight, thanks mainly to those kindly French air traffic controllers who seem to delight in causing discomfort to so many European travellers, meant that we caught the Alicante rush hour and so did not arrive at our hotel on the first evening in time to enjoy a proper ride out after the traditional balcony bike build. A brief 2 mile sprint up the prom along the seafront was about the best we could manage as the sun set over the spectacular outline of the Penon de Ifach, Calp's symbolic rock in the sea.

Saturday dawned clear and blue, the cloud-free sky setting the tone for the day. After some discussions in the bar the previous evening Team GeriAtrics had settled upon an ideal opening day tackling the Coll de Rates, a Vuelta veteran climb, as part of a gentle opening day loop of some 50 miles. The ride out of Calp is up, whichever way you go, but the cimb to Benissa is never fierce and gradually the mountains drop into view and suck us in. From Benissa it is gentle all the way to Parcent where the smell of coffee was too much and the team sat in the morning sun gathering strength for the climb ahead. The Coll de Rates is an old friend to some of us, familiar from our trips out to Denia back in 2009 and 2010. Horrific winter weather has destroyed the Stoppomat timing machine but the climb remains intact and a joy from start to finish. Whilst the team set off at a pace I resolved to enjoy the views with my camera (perhaps an excuse not to rush, but justifiable in my view) and capture the scenery as best I could on the way up. I was, strangely, gutted that my time was NOT the slowest on Strava that day - there is a lesson there for me I feel. From the top of the climb, where many cyclist of different tongues gathered to reflect on their performances, the views were stunning both out to the coast and inland. We headed inland, bound for Tarbena and lunch, enjoying a rolling fast road for 10km or so with views to distract the unwary. At Tarbena we regrouped and threaded our way down through narrow streets into the heart of the village where we found a gem of a café where the Spanish Revolution was still being celebrated in some style. Our Spanish and the proprietor's English were not well matched, so ordering was an interesting affair. Most of the menu was off, but we could have pretty much anything as long as it was in a bocadilla. Served up with beer/coke/coffee/water, it did the job. From Tarbena our route now took on a glorious descent to Callosa, sinewy and technical but on lovely roads where the surface was good and true (so very unlike roads back in the UK). All too soon we were down and it was decision time. The day was still far from over and so Paul, Kev and I opted for the climb to the spectacular mountain village of Guadalest, whilst the rest of the team chose the continuing descent back to Calp. 5km up the road from Callosa we encountered barriers across the road, semi-permanent as they wre bolted to the tarmac. No cars could pass this way, but it was possible to lift our bikes over the barrier and start the climb to Guadalest, wondering what we might find. 4km later we found out as we came across another set of barriers and then a huge chunk of the road missing. It had been swept away in the bad weather earlier in the year and now awaited some pretty major repair work to reinstate the road to its proper condition. It was catastrophic and spectacular stuff. and we inched our way round to continue the climb into Guadalest, taking in the amazing views of the Marina Alta mountains at their very best (and of course taking a few photos on the way). In Guadalest Kev held our bikes whilst Paul and I went to explore the old village perched high on the rocky promontory which can be seen from far below. It's a short climb up steps into the tiny village full of tat shops and cafés but the views from here make it all worthwhile. Kev eschewed the opportunity to share it, but he is looking forward to seeing the photos! Now it was time to head for home. The descent from Guadalest would normally be fast and fun but the muddy road surface and the bits missing along with the barriers make this more difficult. Before too long, though, we were back in Callosa and now continued back down to Calpé by the same route the others had used. The highlight was the road between Altea and Calp which climbs over the foothills of the nearby mountains through a series of tunnels before spitting us out above Calp where the views over the town and Penon de Ifach were spectacular. More photos. Finally, after a last lingering few moments on the prom enjoying the evening sun on the rocky face of the Penon, we finally rolled back into the hotel, a handy 101km in the legs and some great memories of a fine first day.

Sunday's forecast was not quite so promising but in the end served up another treat, perhaps not quite so warm, but equally sunny and totally unlike the weather back home. A good day for a bike ride! Most of he team are planning a ride out through Benidorm and up the might Port de Tudons, an epic ride on a beautiful day. For Paul and myself the day has something different in store as we aimed to ride instead up to Parcent once again and meet up with he Balfours who live in that neck of the woods. Helen was busy with a local sportive but Chris was available and ready to ride so we trundled up the CV745 once again, through Benissa and Xalo to meet up with him around 11am. Time for a brew back at their place before a dally into the mountains away to the north on roads not previously travelled. Chris suggested the climb up the Vall de Laguar to the hilltop village of Benimaurell and he chose well. By now the early morning chill had gone and the thin clouds peeled back to leave us with another sunblock day as we rolled down to Orba and began the steady, at times sharp, climb up to the Vall de Laguar and gawped as the views rolled out before us. As usual Chris, despite his bad back and not being fit, left us for dead, but it wasn't a day for hurrying and he showed admirable patience and stopped to point out the worthy photogenic landmarks. It was lovely. And Benimaurell was a gem, we stopped at a typical Spanish café with views out over the valley down to the coast and drank it all in, along with a beer, coffee and some tapas. It was good to catch up too, and we spent a pleasant hour exchanging news before setting off back down what proved to be a lovely descent to Orba. Back at Chez Balfour we were reunited with the coffee pot and waited for Helen to return with news of her sportive. The ride back to Calp was enjoyable, though our outward headwind had by now changed to the homeward headwind (how does that work?), but the net descent made it a nice end to the day's riding and werolled back into Calp satisfied with our day out. By the sound of it the rest of the gang were satisfied with their day out too. Which, given the forecast for Monday, was all well and good.

March 6th 2017: Spanish stroll

As I write this it is just 3 days till we jet off to sunny Spain. At least that's what the brochure said! Time will tell but it can only be better than the weather we are enduring here in Blighty as the endless round of winds, rain and mud take their toll. Calpé in the spring sunshine seems pretty enticing right now, and even if it does rain it has to be warmer. I don't think I can describe myself as match-fit, but a few days in the Marina Alta mountains of the Costa Blanca should prove a fine tonic. It looks to be a good group, a mix of ages and a healthy appetite for enjoying the cycling and the scenery. And the beer and cake!

February finished with a flurry with a couple of late rides to close out the month. Probably not the best quality, that has proved difficult with the weather, but we did finish with an enjoyable ride out to Tatton Park with Pete and Sharon to sample some cake. We got wet, and the winds blew. The aftermath of Storm Doris was clear to see with plenty of trees down (including one in our back garden). Helen and I came across a stricken tree on the River Dee cycle path the other day, another casualty. My solar panels confirm the fact that February has been pretty rubbish with so little sunshine, not ideal preparation for Spain. Still, I have now serviced all the bikes ahead of a busy summer of cycling, and they are all running pretty smoothly (for now).

The spring classics are now well underway and Paris-Nice got going yesterday - in the rain. The Strade Bianche one-day classic on Saturday was completed in atrocious conditions - only 89 riders finished as the parcours was transformed into what amounted to a mudbath. Michal Kwiatkowski's fine victory brought some welcome relief for beleaguered Team Sky as the fallout from Jiffygate continues to dominate the headlines. I can't help wondering whether the media coverage has irretrievably damaged Sky's image, perhaps it really is time for Dave Brailsford to do the decent thing and fall on his sword. We may well never know the full facts in all this but Team Sky would surely benefit from a broom and some serious sweeping.
Totals for February
Distance ridden: 744km
Total ascent: 5824m

February 25th 2017: Spring Classics

It's almost March (not sure where February has gone) and Spain is only a couple of weeks away. I confess the prospect of some warm dry weather is exceedingly attractive at this moment (fingers well and truly crossed!). I have spent some time (and money) servicing the best bike (Trek Domane 5.9) which will be accompanying me on this trip (I have now forgiven the Di2 cable aberration last summer in the Pyrenees) and it now sports shiny new cassette and chain as well as brand new tyres (Vredestein Fortezza Senso 25's in a return to my favourite brand). A couple of test rides have renewed my love of said bike, it really is a joy to ride. February has continued to throw some pretty rubbish weather in our general direction, including the latest Storm, Doris, which hit us on Thursday. Getting out has proved problematic at times but somehow I have managed a dozen oor so rides and notched up a few kilometers in my legs. My first foray up Sunspot this year, last weekend, was enjoyable if slow. And I grabbed a rare outing with Cal and Mike one afternoon, stopping for a pleasant coffee at Bank Mill our on the Solway coast. It's a shame we don't get together more often. Helen and I have finally managed a couple of rides together, and her sister and a friend joined us last weekend as we headed out to Eureka where the scran is more than tasty. Cumbria has proved unusually mucky his winter as the mud left by tractors together with the seemingly increased season for hedge-cutting, means that the chances of a puncture are greater and a prolonged bike-cleaning is required after every ride. At least in Spain that shouldn't be a problem!

On the pro scene the 2017 cycling season is now well underway with the first Spring Classic, Omloop Het Nieuwsblad, taking place today and Greg van Avermaet repeated his win from last year ahead of Peter Sagan. Meanwhile the Tour of Abu Dhabi has seen a showdown of the world's top sprinters on stages 1 and 2 (1 each for Cav and Kittel so far). Perhaps ominously, Alejandro Valverde showed some good early season form as he won the Ruta del Sol ahead of Alberto Contador (a single second spearated them in the end), whilst other top GC contenders have eased their way into the season with some early outings. It looks set to be a fine season. One last point is that the Uk branded Tour Series returns later in the Spring with the usual city-centre crit format and includes a round in Northwich on May 12 which should prove to be well worth an evening out for some fast city-centre racing.

January 30th 2017: The joys of a freshly serviced bike

When winter comes calling the roads round here acquire a quality all of their own which at times renders a bike all but unrecognisable after a ride. Modern tractor design seems to have resulted in the muddy top layer of most of the fields round here to be relocated onto our roads, along with the barbed hedge-trimmings which, while necessary otherwise our hedges would be 20 feet high, nevertheless create a slalom track for us cyclists as we try, mainly in vain, to avoid the worst excesses of grime and puncture-bearing thorns in the ever increasing gloom as yet another short day comes to a grey end. Yep, those are the joys of winter riding.

And yet... On a day when the sun shines and the rain has kept away for more than a week and the temperatures are not so low as to render the road surface questionably icy it can be a pleasure. The light can be magical and, dare I say it, the dusting of snow on the Lake District mountains from a week ago, along with the slightly misty quality to the air makes for some dazzling scenes in this part of the world. And, of course, the cake still tastes good! A week or so ago I met up with good friend Cal and we headed out on a dry but dull day into the Pennine hills above Shap, east of the M6 motorway, bound for a café unknown to me, the Orton Scar Café, nestling at the foot of Orton Scar. We wound a way through Penrith and out up lanes I never knew through villages with names to marvel at - King's Meaburn, Maulds Meaburn, Crosby Ravensworth. And lovely villages too, worthy of a stop or two as we rode higher and higher into the Pennines, before finally emerging on the top of Orton Scar, the countryside falling away dramatically below us to reveal Orton, Tebay and the distant Howgill Fells. It was wonderful stuff, never steep, always interesting and, in good company, gone in a flash. The descent into Orton was like that too, fast and over far too quickly. And what a welcome as we rolled into the café - free wifi, cheerful service and lovely food. The cake deserves an honorable mention, but it was the soup which hit all the right notes on a cool grey day. It took us a while to extricate ourselves from the warmth and head back out up over the Pennines to Shap and back toward Penrith. Only 50 miles but a glorious winter day on the bikes.

This last week or so I have subjected two of my bikes to a dose of tender loving attention, a new cassette and chain to the Enigma along with some retuning, and more recently a full service for my latest Trek Domane. And yesterday I took said Domane out for a short Cheshire spin, rolling through the lanes south east of Chester for a couple of hours, luxuriating in smooth gear changes, and a quietness to the bike unknown for so long. All those creaks and rattles were, temporarily at least, gone and I could enjoy the sound of the wind on the wheels, the bird song from the hedgerows (yes, there was some!) and my own voice as I hummed in tune with my bike. It was a joy. Sadly, the bike still needed a wash on my return but only a light one to restore the waxy gleam to the paintwork. If only it would last.
Totals for January
Distance ridden: 518km
Total ascent: 5115m

January 6th 2017: Photo highlights of 2016

The start of a new year is a perfect time to have a quick look back at some of the highlights of last year, and photographs provide an ideal medium to do so. The slide show below gives a snapshot of some of those highlights from 2016. Enjoy!

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