MAJORCA 2009 – the experience according to Jo

The week in numbers: 75 / 70 / 90 / 84 / 89 / 67. That’s kilometres on each of our bike rides. Total: 475. Maximum speed: 52 kph. Dead bodies: 3. (We heard that a 79-year old cyclist had a heart attack on the road; next day we saw a pair of stockinged feet sticking out from a covered mound in the car park at Lluc monastery – wondered where the ambulance that passed us on the way up was heading; and a cyclist apparently keeled over on the toilet at a party on their last night).

Names of the week (in no particular order): Campanet, Buger, Muro, Petra, Seycelles, Lluc, Puy Major, Cala San Vincent. Not Randa, not Soller, not the Orient, not the lighthouse. They’re for next time.

Smiles of the week: silly things like Mike’s buns, bananas stolen from the breakfast buffet, everyone’s nicknames: Stealth, Donut Dave, Rocket.

Triumphs of the week: finding myself fitter and abler than predicted, but still learning to ‘dig in’ on a hill; keeping up with the others on a slight gradient (hill to me); finding my pace and keeping at it till the top, rewarded by coffee and cake or bocadillo con queso e tomate; descending smoothly and fearlessly (the latter is an aspiration not an achievement).

Staying at a place with a 30 metre pool was amazing and meant the Pollensa Park hotel was teeming with triathletes as well as cyclists, and even some iron women who did Iron Mans but looked and sounded very ordinary close up.

Next year: I’ll see if I can beat my record for piling mounds of salad into my bowl, and a steady four on puddings. Only to load up for cycling so I can get out there and bust some ass on those hills of course.

Clarion Club House ... we had a cycle ride out here today - 65 mile round trip from Horwich to the Clarion Club House at Roughlee. Set up 99 yrs ago by the Nelson Independent Labour Party and still run by volunteers, it offers an open fire, an even warmer welcome and credit crunch beating pints of tea @ 50p (last price rise in 2007). You bring your own sandwiches (Sainsbury's at Burnley supplied ours) - they sell sweets and minerals - and then it is lunch looking out over Lancashire from the veranda. No finer way to spend a day! Only open Sundays and some bank hols. Martine

Cheshire Cat Sportive.. kitten or tiger?
66 miles and 5000 ft of climbing

Black ice at 8:00am left us huddled in our various vehicles waiting for the sun to rise. And it did. Miscalculations on the clothing front had me with surgical gloves over my inadequate ones and Jude lamenting her collection of warm tops neatly folded in draws.

At the first feed station Dave became Donut Dave but did not give in to Mike goading him to eat a 3rd. By the time we caught our first sniff of Mow Cop, donuts, nerves and sun had warmed us. Any lingering chills were seen off with the effort it took to ride up the 25% incline. 3 came away with medals for a clear run. As always, i was spurred on by the sight of men pushing their bikes. Sort your gearing boys!

After Mow Cop that we knew that hills were the order of the day ... and so their were ... relentlessly. Macc Forest had us threading the bike thru the eye of needle to avoid ice on the road but we gobbled up the challenges .. hill we love 'em! and yes there were even more boys pushing as i danced on my peddles. And that included Swiss Hill - a cobbled hill climb. The hardest bit was avoiding the charlies who gave up but then just stood where they stopped. Jude and I gave them clear instructions - MOVE! NOW! We got some unwelcome info from a guy at the top... cobbles played havoc with his manboobs seemingly.

The home stretch was flat and world champ Glynis powered us home for a 6hr finish - including stops - 5:15 worth of riding.

The "goody" bag was interesting - nothing to eat and mainly leaflets on how to torture ourselves some more . Any takers?