Monday, 10 April 2017

Spring training 7

Last day on the bike today, which was just as well because there was nothing left in the tank. Legs were hurting, bum was hurting, feet were hurting; so S has sourced some alternative beachwear for our day off tomorrow . . .


. . . Yes, you neard correctly, Greg has allowed us a day off the bike; like good children we have earned a 'non-velo' reward - it will be interesting to see how the other, neglected, muscles work. So, today was treated very much as an end of term 'leisure ride', with attendant novelty wear . . .

Buenas noches

Sunday, 9 April 2017

Spring training 5 & 6

Two days, two climbs. Yesterday, Greg upped the pain on the two 'recovering' cyclists - me and S - and took us up the 8 km climb from Caimari to Lluc. My Spanish is very thin, but I now know that Lluc is pronounced Yook and, by extension and much more importantly, the beer Estrella is pronounced Estrooya. It's vital to get these nuances of communication correct. Anyhow, back to the story . . . having trained up for 4 solid days of 45 milers we upped the anti to a 62 miler with a solid 580 m continuous climb thrown in. This was S's first proper climb - you know what I mean, not up to Princetown or the Bwlch- so we were interested to see how she would fare. Well, she made it no problemo and even managed a celebration at the top amongst all the racing snakes and fancy-bike types (not a proper steel lugged frame in sight) . . .


The top of the climb is actually the Coll de sa Batalla and the monastery of Lluc is down below a few km - always a treat when you have to cycle up then down, knowing that you have to cycle back up again before you can go down. We returned the long way, and the lack of fitness certainly made itself felt, not to mention the lack of saddle hardening - Oh for my comfy Brooks saddle which is formed to the shape of my bum.

Today we set off along the coast to Cap Fermentor - another up-down-up sort of ride. The weather has been fantastic and we are in the pre-season before the 'Watneys Red Barrel' crowd turn some parts into Treco Bay on a an August bank holiday . . .

The ride to Cap Fermentor, a promentory in the northeastern tip of Mallorca, is spectacular . . .



But we did have to get there by bike, and S was wearing her camo' top again, so hard to spot her amongst the flora . . .

Buenas noches

Friday, 7 April 2017

Spring training 4

It's easy to forget the day/time/century when on holiday. But we are in a catholic country and Easter is around the corner so, conditioned by school assembly and forced Sunday school attendance of yesteryear, we stopped in the local 15th century church for a look around - well, actually to use the toilets . . .

According to the brochure, the effigy of Jesus gets an outing once a year at Easter when he is transported to another loacal village and back again . . .


Thereafter, taking the back roads to Alcudia, the walled port on the north east of Mallorca, we once again came across another Jesus installed just inside the city gates, this time getting the 'wire brush and Dettol' treatment, presumably in preparation for another Easter outing around the town . . .


Initially I thought, as you probably do, that the bloke on the right was a sightseer. But no, he was actually there to hold the ladder - maybe this is one of those EU regulations that we are burdened by, to the detriment of all the entrepreneurial swashbuckling that British business will unleash in the near future . . .
. . . oh, yes, back to reality. The first real climb of the holiday took us up to the Mirador de la Victoria, on a headland near the port of Acludia where the views were magnificent. S even had a smile on her face at the top . . .


We returned via the beach, where things a starting to gear up now that the sunny weather is here . . .


Buenas noches

Thursday, 6 April 2017

Spring training 3

Mountain biking is a variation of the sport of cycling which involves the use of specially reinforced frames with suspension forks, big tyres with nobbly bits, a helmet with a peak on the front; and in this case shaved legs are optional. However, Greg has invented a new variation whereby the carbon framed road bike with 23 mm tyres will do dual duty as a mountain bike - it is, after all, very light to carry. Road cleats? . . . no problem, they can be turned into makeshift crampons in extremis; and if you get a pinch flat while shuddering over the jumble of boulders and flinty rocks . . . well, those skinny tyres are easy to pump up again afterwards. So it was that we ventured forth, like Indiana Jones in search of the lost Arc, with Lou resplendent in her full camo' top . . .

. . . with spooky prescience from yesteday's post, if she had wandered too far from the trail we would never have found her. Alas, equipment failure curtailed our journey, but we did manage lunch amongst the gargantuan creatures that inhabit this forgotten realm, before starting the treacherous descent back to base camp. As you will have already concluded, dear reader, I survived to record our amazing adventure in what I can only describe as a 'Lost World'.

Back on the road then, to Artà and the Santuari Sant Salvador, a walled fortress high above the town, for a very windy café con leche . . .

Buenas Noches