Three am in Evesham and a fine drizzle coated Dave Newboulds car as it pulled up outside my house, kissed my sleeping wife, kissed my sleeping dog and we were off.
With Tony Canning and Simon Walker picked up enroute it was not long before we pulled into car park 1 at Birmingham Airport, at almost exactly the same time as Paul Dare Robin Walker and Martin Hall, who had arrived together. Helen Russell found us in the departure hall and the party was complete. The usual airport procedures were obeyed and soon we were up and away, glancing down on the slightly gloomy sight of the south of England flashing by.
Majorca, hot, sunny and we all felt good. Onto coach 633 and out through the centre of Majorca, destination The Hotel Maritimo in Alcudia. The bus driver took us on a circular tour once we had entered Alcudia, dropping off passengers on the way. At one time only a couple of hundred yards from our hotel he decided to head for the farthest part of town and have a cigarette, and wait whilst we slowly steamed on the coach. After some negotiation (which got us nowhere!) Robin got a couple of taxis and within minutes we were at our hotel.
After a wash and brush up, the group took the 15-minute bus ride to Port de Pollenca, to pick up the bikes from Bruce at Pro Bike Hire. The day finished with a trip to “Posh Paddy’s” bar where we all enjoyed the “quality entertainment”(except Robin who fell asleep!)
Aaahhhh!!! The bikes have been vandalised!! Yes on entering the “secure” cycle shed we found that several cycles including 3 of ours had been damaged or parts stolen. Tony had a Campag Record carbon rear mech stolen, others had handlebars, stems etc damaged or removed. Other cyclists too had parts of their own cycles taken, all in all someone had removed almost a complete bike in various bits.
Bruce came down and to his credit after only a couple of hours either parts or complete cycles were obtained and we were out on the road. We went out on the Garden road through Sa Pobla and on to Santa Margalida where we stopped for lunch.
We returned through Muro where on a sweeping left hand bend (that we need not have gone down, due to taking the wrong road) Paul’s bike slid from underneath him and he landed hard on his left side. His left arm, hip and leg taking the brunt of the fall. To his credit as he hit the floor he bounced back up, and within seconds he was back on his bike, bruised and blooded. We took the quickest way back, through Sa Pobla and the marshes of S’Albufera. We managed a creditable 50 miles following an eventful day.
That night we took in a beach bar, and chilled out on a wonderfully warm evening. I feel asleep watching Paul apply neat surgical spirit to what appeared to be a dramatic flesh wound to his left thigh.
Warm and sunny, not a cloud in the sky. Decided on a 09.30 am start as the destination was the usual opening run to Porto Cristo. Helen and Dave took the lead as we made our way towards Sa Pobla. Helen was nearly taken out at a roundabout by a taxi driver; whilst Dave had an enthusiastic road worker wave a sign inches from him as we sped through the marshes.
The pace was fast along the undulating roads towards Santa Margalida, with a little more traffic than usual. At Manacor, famous for its pearls, the bunch was split following a moment’s indecision at a roundabout, but the team regrouped under a large Diplodocus that stood on the side of the road at the entrance to a prehistoric park.
Once in Porto Cristo it was clear why we had come back to Majorca, beautiful azure sea, golden sands and a baking sun that beamed down on us from a clear blue sky. We stopped at the same restaurant as last year, which meant the same short, but no less severe 1 in 4 climb away, on stiff legs and bellies filled with burgers.
The group set off towards Arta, where Simon and Martin split off to take in a further climb that Martin wanted to bag! The rest took the undulating road towards C’an Picafort where a speed in the low 40’s where reached on some of the amazing descents.
Back at the hotel it was a Jacuzzi that helped tired legs. Everyone was looking a little weary, it had been a long hot day.
I was awoken at 4.15 am when Paul had inadvertently switched the room lights on with his head! He then took several attempts and every possible lighting combination to switch them off.
After the hearty breakfast we had become accustomed to, Robin set off for Bruce’s shop has he had noticed a strange reoccurring noise in his bottom bracket, we had arranged to meet him at the shop before our attempt on the Lighthouse at Formentor. On our way to this rendezvous, we almost became involved in a 3-car collision, bus, car, and lorry. The car deciding that the cycle path we were on was the best escape lane, and swerved on to it 100 yards in front of us.
The first climb out of Port De Pollenca up to the coach park is pretty stiff, and one to be taken at one’s own pace. So we decided to regroup there. The road then dropped for several kilometres before setting out for the promontory on which the lighthouse sits. The Tunnel that caused some concern last year didn’t appear to hold the same fears, as this was passed without incident (mainly due to the fact that riders removed their sunglasses before entering).
At the top there was the same magnificent views and the same magnificent prices that we had seen before, (£3.40 for a can of soft drink!). Lunch was taken in Port De Pollenca after a short stop at the beach. That evening the group went into Port De Alcudia where we toured the expensive boats in the marina and watched the sun go down over the mountains from a rather nice beach bar, followed by shots in the Queen Victoria, a slightly less upmarket nightspot.
Are you hot? I am hot! Announced Robin at breakfast to a group of German pensioners at the next table. Without any knowledge of colloquial German Robin had just made a small faux pas. Inadvertently the sentence translated, as I am Horny are you Horny? It certainly made their day!
Today’s destination was to be the monastery at Ronda, a towering climb that on a good day enables a 360-degree view of Majorca. After a bit of a faltering start, we took the route out through C’an Picafort then on to Santa Margalida, this was along some busy and hot (not horny!) roads.
After Algaida the climb came into view, an imposing mount with a golf ball style early warning station sat on top. The first couple of kilometres were steep, but it settled down to a climb of about 5.5 k at an average of 6% gradient. At the top the view where shrouded by a little heat haze but still impressive with views from the mountains in the north to Palma in the south. We all posed for a group photo, then enjoyed a fabulous descent back down to Monturi where from a rooftop terrace we enjoyed some fine food and super views.
The roads back where superb, fast and flat with a strong sun beating down on us. Then Robin’s crank fell off! The one that had been making the creaking noise all week, the one that he had taken to the shop to have investigated, only to be told it was his peddle. Well it was hot; we were miles from home and Robin face 25 miles back peddling with only his right leg! Time for some Evesham Wheeler’s repair skills. Martin using a technique, which for the purposes of copywrite cannot be fully described, persuaded the crank to stay on the splines. With the deft touch of a surgeon he carefully manipulated the crank into place. All was saved.
We took the shortest route home while Robin and Simon headed for Bruce’s shop to sort out the bike. That evening it was the beach bar after 75 miles in the saddle.
Sa Colobra, the big day. And it was hot, and getting hotter (rather like the German pensioners!) We went out on the Bypass, then along the garden road to Pollenca, where the roundabout signalled the start of some unrelenting climbing. Up and up to the summit of the Coll De femenia at 515m. The group was keeping well together on a long undulating and increasingly hot climb.
A rest break was taken just past Lluch Monasery, then the descent into Sa Colobra, Oh, just forgot about the 300m climb that leads you to the top of the descent! Then down and down, flashing past cars and coaches, passing within inches of eye watering precipices and jagged cliff faces. Down into the resort of Cala De La Colobra.
It was time for the food of champions, Hamburger and chips! Trying not to think about the 10k at 6% that faced us in temperatures that were reaching 33 in the shade, and we didn’t have any shade!
Ok, time to go the slow grind began. 300 m out of the restaurant and the realisation you had no more gears left! On and on, hotter and hotter, the road, the cliff faces and the passing coaches all radiating heat. With every hairpin the road kicked up, coaches that passed minutes ago were now appearing again 100’s of metres above seemingly driving in the sky. We passed a lady lying on a rock about half way up the climb, her husband tipping water over her to cool her down. Then it appeared the arch that signified only a kilometre to go to the summit, only a few minutes grind and then the 300m downhill to the café under the tree, and water, food and more water.
The descent was breath taking; still on a high from the climb it was eyeballs out all the way to the roundabout at Pollenca, and then the coast road home. A very hard yet satisfying 75 miles.
That night, all still elated from a super day in the mountains, the group held a bit of a beach party where a guest appearance from Reggie Perrin brought the perfect end to a perfect day.
Back in the hotel room I had the privilege of falling asleep to a fine display of shadow puppetry. I still cannot guess some of the animals portrayed.
The final day. We wanted a winding down day, so a visit to some of the smaller local towns was the order of the day. We had just had 3 consecutive days climbing. So a gentle tootle through the countryside was just what we wanted. Out through S’Albufera and the marshes, through the market gardening land to Sa Pobla, and on to Buger, then taking som quiet green lanes (Ecovries) to the hilltop town of Camparet. We managed to loose Robin here on one of the climbs, however, he managed to find the correct way out of the village. We did eventually, but by this time he was miles ahead, his heart set on finding the best sardines in Majorca.
We took delightful country lanes back to Port De Pollenca where we had lunch. Then it was back to the hotel, and the poignant moment when the removal of your pedals signifies the end of the cycling. Bruce picked up the bikes at 5pm.
We spent the evening down on the beach; it was a little cooler this evening so a shelter was built from available loungers. Dave and Helen gave out certificates for all those that had been on the trip; each one carefully crafted to highlight the contribution each of us had given to the week. I will personally treasure my Tiara, as Queen Of The Mountains, for some considerable time.
Robin gave an excellent summary of the trip and thanked Dave for organising the whole event, but just as we were basking in the applause and congratulations there was the worry that mosquitoes may mar our enjoyment, so Dave produced some industrial strength repellent, Robin due to the failing light (and cheap Cava) had not fully realised that he had the spray nozzle pointing directly into his own face. Upon depression of the button Robin squirted neat mosquito repellent into his right eye, with the inevitable painful consequence. Luckily Tony was on hand to flush out the incapacitant by using the water from the melted ice that was keeping the beers cold. This action needed to be repeated several times before Robin was able to see!
We all got back to the hotel and after a small nightcap, floated off to bed.
Being picked up at 8.40am ensured that we all had a hearty breakfast. And soon, all too soon, we were somewhere over the south of England staring at the tops of clouds, and anticipating the inevitable bumpy landing that welcomes us back to Birmingham. (I am glad too say that this years landing was particularly bumpy!)
Back to the cars, and back to Evesham. A great week away, every one played their part, everyone joined in and a holiday I shall remember for a long time.
Thanks Robin, Martin, Paul, Simon, Tony, Helen and Dave for your friendship and companionship on this holiday, There are some things I will never forget, despite how hard I try!
