Last day! Sometimes it seems that we have packed a lot in, and sometimes it seems to have lasted a little more than 5 minutes. What could/would we have done differently/better? The easy answer is to add a second month, then we could have covered those long driving distances more sedately and over a lengthier period, thereby allowing us to opportunity to get some sort of a ride done each day. But, if you don't have two months and must cut your cloth accordingly ......
There is always next year.
Reveille was shortly after 0700, and breakfast just before 0800, setting off to T3 aiming at a 0900 check-in. Every time in the past, I have made some sort of wrong turning when heading to Ts 1, 2 or 3. Not so this day; straight to the door, bang on 0900. Not only that, the exit from LHR and onto the M4 & M25 was a dream too. Memo to self: always visit LHR on a Sunday.
Sunday, 20 September 2015
Saturday, 19 September 2015
Day Twenty-Nine : 19.09.2015
A day without haddock is a day lost. And all the better with mushy peas.
Not much to achieve today, except to do laundry, get Forest's bike boxed neatly (and hope it stays that way through customs), eat breakfast, eat lunch, drive down to Heathrow, find the Ibis, eat dinner and turn in. Haddock, chips & mushy peas had been mooted for lunch, so breakfast was kept smallish. Dinner too. The Ibis was noticeably dripping with F's country(wo)men.
We were thrilled that the clutch made it down the M40 without giving up the ghost; that seems such a long time ago now.
Day Twenty-Eight : 18.09.2015
Another laid-back start to a day; now that we had switched to Caen for our Portsmouth sailing, we had two extra hours to kill. We left at 1400 instead of 1200.
The drive back to Caen (actually, Ouistreham is where the ferry leaves from) was one of 40 miles, most of it squally. On this occasion, the ferry icons on the road signs definitely WERE to be followed, and very good they were too. After the check-in booth, we were ushered to the very front of Lane 5 on the waiting area. Other lanes were being filled sequentially. Why, then, were we so favoured? It became obvious later.
A coffee seemed a good way of filling the time until we were called back to cars to load up. Twas ever thus. Lane 4 started away. Then 6, 7, 8 and on up to 12. We sat there like lemons wondering how we could possibly have offended the port authorities. The rain came and went, then came again. It dawned that Lane 5 was being used for those folks who had switched/been switched from other bookings, and that the 'originals' were being pushed forward, despite arriving there approx 90 mins after us. The ferry was packed and we ended up loaded on a 30-degree ramp. Fingers crossed that the guy in front of me on that ramp would be good at handbrake starts. And that I didn't mess up when my turn came either.
We enjoyed quite a few Brit school groups on board, going home after a 'residential experience'. Just like old times? The kids were great, not one cross word in six hours.
Arrival at Portsmouth was late, and the queue to drive through customs used up another 20+ minutes, so we were not free of the port area until nearly 2015. Forest took over the driving shortly out of the city and took us the M27/M3/A34/M40/M42/M6Toll/A5 route home to Sutton Maddock. Arrival 0020. Pretty much everything was left in the car overnight. That's tomorrow's business. A cup of Rosie Lee and bed.
The drive back to Caen (actually, Ouistreham is where the ferry leaves from) was one of 40 miles, most of it squally. On this occasion, the ferry icons on the road signs definitely WERE to be followed, and very good they were too. After the check-in booth, we were ushered to the very front of Lane 5 on the waiting area. Other lanes were being filled sequentially. Why, then, were we so favoured? It became obvious later.
A coffee seemed a good way of filling the time until we were called back to cars to load up. Twas ever thus. Lane 4 started away. Then 6, 7, 8 and on up to 12. We sat there like lemons wondering how we could possibly have offended the port authorities. The rain came and went, then came again. It dawned that Lane 5 was being used for those folks who had switched/been switched from other bookings, and that the 'originals' were being pushed forward, despite arriving there approx 90 mins after us. The ferry was packed and we ended up loaded on a 30-degree ramp. Fingers crossed that the guy in front of me on that ramp would be good at handbrake starts. And that I didn't mess up when my turn came either.
We enjoyed quite a few Brit school groups on board, going home after a 'residential experience'. Just like old times? The kids were great, not one cross word in six hours.
Arrival at Portsmouth was late, and the queue to drive through customs used up another 20+ minutes, so we were not free of the port area until nearly 2015. Forest took over the driving shortly out of the city and took us the M27/M3/A34/M40/M42/M6Toll/A5 route home to Sutton Maddock. Arrival 0020. Pretty much everything was left in the car overnight. That's tomorrow's business. A cup of Rosie Lee and bed.
Thursday, 17 September 2015
Day Twenty-Seven : 17.09.2015
We must have been the last guests out of the Ibis Style, Bourges. This probably meant that everyone else had pretty much the same opinion of its décor, and could stand it no longer; the translucent, pukey-green, plastic chairs at breakfast were the last straw.
The day was almost a clone of yesterday: find the correct autoroute, point the car north, and drive at approx 75 mph until the hankering for coffee became just too strong. A little light relief was brought by leaving the A71/A10 monotony and using la route nationale 154 for a while across country via Chartres, Dreux and Evreux, before joining a different autoroute out to our destination for overnight, Honfleur. A regular Ibis has got our vote tonight, better by far, but the bath 'room' is a soupçon tiny; I have seen bigger broom cupboards. And expensive! Honfleur definitely fits the honeypot category. This was borne out by our stroll around the chic & authentic (but twee & chocolate-boxy) harbour area. How does €18 for two beers sound? Yes, exactly, we agree!
The excitement of the day came courtesy of an email waiting in Alan's in-box when we relaxed upon arrival in the hotel. Grace à Dieu, I decided to read emails at that juncture, and not leave it until morning, for instance. The ferry company had written to advise us that our crossing tomorrow has been cancelled! Having got the info early allowed us to spend an hour communicating with the company, ending up with us switching from a Le Havre departure at noon to one from Caen at 1400. The reason, apparently, is that the boat we should have been using has been confined to port somewhere by bad weather, and simply will not have got to Le Havre by the time it's needed. We wonder how many folks will not have got this info and will present themselves tomorrow morning for an absent ferry.
The day was almost a clone of yesterday: find the correct autoroute, point the car north, and drive at approx 75 mph until the hankering for coffee became just too strong. A little light relief was brought by leaving the A71/A10 monotony and using la route nationale 154 for a while across country via Chartres, Dreux and Evreux, before joining a different autoroute out to our destination for overnight, Honfleur. A regular Ibis has got our vote tonight, better by far, but the bath 'room' is a soupçon tiny; I have seen bigger broom cupboards. And expensive! Honfleur definitely fits the honeypot category. This was borne out by our stroll around the chic & authentic (but twee & chocolate-boxy) harbour area. How does €18 for two beers sound? Yes, exactly, we agree!
The excitement of the day came courtesy of an email waiting in Alan's in-box when we relaxed upon arrival in the hotel. Grace à Dieu, I decided to read emails at that juncture, and not leave it until morning, for instance. The ferry company had written to advise us that our crossing tomorrow has been cancelled! Having got the info early allowed us to spend an hour communicating with the company, ending up with us switching from a Le Havre departure at noon to one from Caen at 1400. The reason, apparently, is that the boat we should have been using has been confined to port somewhere by bad weather, and simply will not have got to Le Havre by the time it's needed. We wonder how many folks will not have got this info and will present themselves tomorrow morning for an absent ferry.
Wednesday, 16 September 2015
Day Twenty-Six : 16.09.2015
An autoroute day had to be undertaken, taking us from the north of Barcelona northwards towards the French coast. Half of that overall total distance (400ish miles) was planned for today, leaving the second half for Thursday.
As things turned out, the weather was fine and the traffic light, so we pressed on well over half way and ended on <500 miles for the day, giving us only a 4-hour jaunt tomorrow, to somewhere like Honfleur perhaps. We shall see.
The high spot of the day, in more ways than one, was the crossing of the jaw-droppingly beautiful Millau Bridge, a masterpiece of engineering. The low spots were two, both labyrinthine and frustrating trips towards and around motorway rest areas, clearly designed by someone who cut his teeth on those puzzles we had as kids in our comics, whereby anglers A, B, C & D sat at the corners of the picture, with their lines hopelessly entangled, and we had to work out which line had the sole fish on it.
Let it also henceforward be known that Ibis Style hotels have, in fact, very little.
As things turned out, the weather was fine and the traffic light, so we pressed on well over half way and ended on <500 miles for the day, giving us only a 4-hour jaunt tomorrow, to somewhere like Honfleur perhaps. We shall see.
The high spot of the day, in more ways than one, was the crossing of the jaw-droppingly beautiful Millau Bridge, a masterpiece of engineering. The low spots were two, both labyrinthine and frustrating trips towards and around motorway rest areas, clearly designed by someone who cut his teeth on those puzzles we had as kids in our comics, whereby anglers A, B, C & D sat at the corners of the picture, with their lines hopelessly entangled, and we had to work out which line had the sole fish on it.
Let it also henceforward be known that Ibis Style hotels have, in fact, very little.
Tuesday, 15 September 2015
Day Twenty-Five : 15.09.2015
Many times I have used that pricelessly descriptive word 'lollygagging'. Today was made for it. All we had to achieve today was i) find the ferry; ii) get on the ferry; iii) eat some kind of lunch; iv) get off the ferry; v) find the exit road leaving Barcelona to the north, the AP-7; vi) find our overnight hotel near Junction 13 thereof.
Breakfast was drawn out as much as humanly possible, much of it spent identifying all the new boys & girls in the hotel, and which country they might have come from. Packing took only a few minutes more, including getting bikes from the lock-up, and we were gone by 1130. Nice job, Josep & Hotel Villa Singala, nice job. Alcudia is ten minutes up the road, and check-in deadline was 1230. Ample time.
Again the signage was less than definite, but we cracked it, mainly by steadfastly ignoring those boat icons we had followed so religiously in Barcelona last week. On arrival in the marshalling yard, with 20 minutes to go to deadline, there was ONE car ahead of us. By deadline, there were still <20. Where, then, did all those dozens of people come from, who were already finishing up their lunches as we got on board? Oh, by the way, again we had to endure the nonsensical party game, whereby passengers get out of the car and traipse through the Ellis Island embarkation shed, while the driver takes the car on board. The shed on this occasion, though, was a high-tech clone of an airport departure lounge, with all the x-ray and similar technical wizardry of such a facility. Was it used? Of course not. It was completely ignored. Surely any self-respecting terrorist would have left all the armaments in the car anyway, wouldn't he, to be driven aboard utterly unchecked? Or am I missing something?
The crossing lasted 6h 30m. It felt like it. Paella and meat balls put a dent into the first hour, but after that ..... Yawn! And it was very, very hot, stuffy and airless in our assigned lounge seats. Many trips to the open air were needed.
We actually left Alcudia 10 minutes early, and picked up further time along the way, docking at Barcelona almost one HOUR early, 1935 instead of 2030. Good job too, as the road signs to get cars out of town and on to the AP-7 northbound were again dire. We fluked it, guessed a lot and arrived at the Mercure Granollers off Junction 13 by 2045. Tapas and two pints for dinner.
Monday, 14 September 2015
Day Twenty-Four : 14.09.2015
The last riding day (probably) of the trip, as we have many miles to drive and ferries to take after reveille tomorrow morning. A loop was planned based on the Tramuntana mountains and the corkscrew road & climb down to Sa Colobra and back up, with a return via the flatter lands and the coast.
An early breakfast paved the way, and we left before 0900. A small hiccup lost us a half hour, when the two of us got separated in traffic, with Forest, of course ending up not knowing which way to go. Fortunately, mobile-phone contact inter partes decided to work today, and we hooked up again at the bike shop. Off to the hills without further delay.
Traffic was light, and the climb into the Tramuntana from the east was enjoyable - nothing to get into a lather about, after the Izoard. An hour of gentle spinning saw us at the T-junction on top, where the road to Soller/Sa Colobra splits off to the right. Our exit road for later in the day goes left. Still not much traffic to cause concern, so Sa Colobra looked a runner. Until we got nearer to the next Y in the road, that is.
There had been growing coach activity along the switchbacks getting to the Y, not all of it patient. And quite a few of the attendant grockles in rental cars had scant idea of how to behave around cyclists. At the Y, the turn off for the narrow, twisting mountain-road drop to Sa Colobra, all was a stationary park of coaches and their passengers, rental cars, stalls selling 'stuff' and the odd cab or three. No-one could actually make any progress down the descent to the sea.
Sadly, any attempt to ride down there (and worse, back up again) would have been an unpleasant, maybe dangerous, mistake, so we lost a dozen miles or so from our itinerary, by heading back instead to the junction on the top road, from an hour or so earlier. The descent to the south, back down to Caimari, Selva and Campanet (where we lunched in the square) was a bit of a flier. But, if you have paid the entrance fee, you deserve the ride.
The last leg back to base was familiar, out to the sea, turn north and follow the coast road to and through Alcudia. Two pains au chocolat & two Cokes (A) and a pint of Estrella (F) put some energy back.
An early breakfast paved the way, and we left before 0900. A small hiccup lost us a half hour, when the two of us got separated in traffic, with Forest, of course ending up not knowing which way to go. Fortunately, mobile-phone contact inter partes decided to work today, and we hooked up again at the bike shop. Off to the hills without further delay.
Traffic was light, and the climb into the Tramuntana from the east was enjoyable - nothing to get into a lather about, after the Izoard. An hour of gentle spinning saw us at the T-junction on top, where the road to Soller/Sa Colobra splits off to the right. Our exit road for later in the day goes left. Still not much traffic to cause concern, so Sa Colobra looked a runner. Until we got nearer to the next Y in the road, that is.
There had been growing coach activity along the switchbacks getting to the Y, not all of it patient. And quite a few of the attendant grockles in rental cars had scant idea of how to behave around cyclists. At the Y, the turn off for the narrow, twisting mountain-road drop to Sa Colobra, all was a stationary park of coaches and their passengers, rental cars, stalls selling 'stuff' and the odd cab or three. No-one could actually make any progress down the descent to the sea.
Sadly, any attempt to ride down there (and worse, back up again) would have been an unpleasant, maybe dangerous, mistake, so we lost a dozen miles or so from our itinerary, by heading back instead to the junction on the top road, from an hour or so earlier. The descent to the south, back down to Caimari, Selva and Campanet (where we lunched in the square) was a bit of a flier. But, if you have paid the entrance fee, you deserve the ride.
The last leg back to base was familiar, out to the sea, turn north and follow the coast road to and through Alcudia. Two pains au chocolat & two Cokes (A) and a pint of Estrella (F) put some energy back.
Sunday, 13 September 2015
Day Twenty-Three : 13.09.2015
Last night we again checked the weather forecast for the region, the logic being that we would try the ride out to the Tramuntana mountains and the Sa Calobra climb on the cooler of the two riding days remaining here on Majorca. Marginally, Monday offered the better option, so today we made do with a gentle loop.
Out again into those deceptively twisty lanes in the triangle defined by the three towns of Puerto Pollença, Pollença & Alcudia. And yes, we yet again emerged onto a major road we weren't really anticipating. No matter, it was Sunday; very little about. Thence into the see-and-be-seen square for vanilla milk shake (A) and café olé (oh, all right, au lait, if you must) for F.
In previous years I have started the ride along the promontory to the NE of Alcudia, but never stuck it out to the end. Off we set, and, after many switchbacks, we didn't get to the end this time either; the last two miles or so constitute a militarised zone, and there is a tunnel completely blocked off by a no-nonsense steel gate. We got the message and decided to simply call it a day there and then, except that we had to first ride back over those switchbacks, through Alcudia and to base.
Meal tonight was at that same neighbouring hotel; the quality last night had been as impressive as it had been unexpected. F repeated the serrano-wrapped chicken, whereas A went for Iberian pork cheek. Huge, as seems to be the theme here. No breakfast will be necessary tomorrow.
Out again into those deceptively twisty lanes in the triangle defined by the three towns of Puerto Pollença, Pollença & Alcudia. And yes, we yet again emerged onto a major road we weren't really anticipating. No matter, it was Sunday; very little about. Thence into the see-and-be-seen square for vanilla milk shake (A) and café olé (oh, all right, au lait, if you must) for F.
In previous years I have started the ride along the promontory to the NE of Alcudia, but never stuck it out to the end. Off we set, and, after many switchbacks, we didn't get to the end this time either; the last two miles or so constitute a militarised zone, and there is a tunnel completely blocked off by a no-nonsense steel gate. We got the message and decided to simply call it a day there and then, except that we had to first ride back over those switchbacks, through Alcudia and to base.
Meal tonight was at that same neighbouring hotel; the quality last night had been as impressive as it had been unexpected. F repeated the serrano-wrapped chicken, whereas A went for Iberian pork cheek. Huge, as seems to be the theme here. No breakfast will be necessary tomorrow.
Saturday, 12 September 2015
Day Twenty-Two : 12.09.2015
Same time as yesterday for reveille; we wanted to get on the road to the Cap Formentor lighthouse. It was a Saturday, of course, so it would be no surprise for there to be many extra grockles on the route, if we had left it too late.
Off we set up the short climb to the first overlook, the one we had done as an hors d'oeuvre last evening. It is only a 15-minute jaunt, and we were up there by 0930. The parking area had just half a dozen cars in situ, and the attendant was coping admirably. The remainder of the 12-mile ride out to the lighthouse was enjoyable and smooth. Especially the smooth part; the road has been resurfaced since I last did it, in May 2014. It is now glorious, like a baby's bum.
At the lighthouse it got busier and busier as we watched, and all in ten minutes. Time to leave. And by the time we got back to that first overlook, it was absolutely heaving. No space to shoehorn even one more car in. The attendant had long gone. Given up in disgust, I'd say; there were some quite ridiculous driving manoeuvres on display.
Back down to the café opposite the hotel, with barely 24 miles yet on the clock, for a cooling Coke/Mountain Dew, with a coffee/pastry chaser. What to do now, though? An afternoon route was plotted out to Sa Pobla & Muro (prime ensaimada country), then east to the coast at Can Picafort, followed by a turn north back to Alcudia and base. The road out to Sa Pobla was disappointingly busy, but we should have seen that coming, given how it links to the main Palma motorway. Curiously, at our second pastry stop, at a Muro patisserie I knew from previous visits, we could overhear a chap talking about the very part of Yorkshire we two had been staying in just over a fortnight ago!
The loop back to base was quite uneventful, but hot; a pound or two will have been lost today, for sure. Tried hard to get the hydration thing right though! The BBC weather promised a thunderstorm for 2000 tonight, so we decided against the regular trek to town, as that would surely have seen us drowned. The hotel a few doors down provided us with splendid fare, and the promised storm came, only 15 minutes off schedule, while we were inside. Result.
Off we set up the short climb to the first overlook, the one we had done as an hors d'oeuvre last evening. It is only a 15-minute jaunt, and we were up there by 0930. The parking area had just half a dozen cars in situ, and the attendant was coping admirably. The remainder of the 12-mile ride out to the lighthouse was enjoyable and smooth. Especially the smooth part; the road has been resurfaced since I last did it, in May 2014. It is now glorious, like a baby's bum.
At the lighthouse it got busier and busier as we watched, and all in ten minutes. Time to leave. And by the time we got back to that first overlook, it was absolutely heaving. No space to shoehorn even one more car in. The attendant had long gone. Given up in disgust, I'd say; there were some quite ridiculous driving manoeuvres on display.
Back down to the café opposite the hotel, with barely 24 miles yet on the clock, for a cooling Coke/Mountain Dew, with a coffee/pastry chaser. What to do now, though? An afternoon route was plotted out to Sa Pobla & Muro (prime ensaimada country), then east to the coast at Can Picafort, followed by a turn north back to Alcudia and base. The road out to Sa Pobla was disappointingly busy, but we should have seen that coming, given how it links to the main Palma motorway. Curiously, at our second pastry stop, at a Muro patisserie I knew from previous visits, we could overhear a chap talking about the very part of Yorkshire we two had been staying in just over a fortnight ago!
The loop back to base was quite uneventful, but hot; a pound or two will have been lost today, for sure. Tried hard to get the hydration thing right though! The BBC weather promised a thunderstorm for 2000 tonight, so we decided against the regular trek to town, as that would surely have seen us drowned. The hotel a few doors down provided us with splendid fare, and the promised storm came, only 15 minutes off schedule, while we were inside. Result.
Friday, 11 September 2015
Day Twenty-One : 11.09.2015
Breakfast was at a sensible time for the sleep-deprived, 0830ish. We wanted to get on with the riding day, having been 48 hours off the bikes. In the night, it had been raining again, so it was good to see some serious blue over the Tramuntana when the curtains went back.
To begin, we took the short ride up the coast road to Alcudia, for two reasons: it has a splendidly well-preserved, walled old town; and also it gave us the opportunity to check out the correct approach for cars to get to the ferry. Once bitten, twice shy.
Thereafter through the lanes to Pollenca, some 5 miles from its Puerto Pollenca cousin. An easy 5 miles too, as we hooked onto the back of a Swiss cyclo-vacation group, and got an armchair ride pretty much the whole way. Pollensa provided our first coffee, and then it was off to the pretty bay at Sant Vicenc for an omelette lunch.
The third part of the day was the ride up the incline to the scenic overlook on the road to the lighthouse. Only a couple or three miles at 6% max, an absolute breeze after the Izoard. 6%? We scoff at 6%!
Forest had taken such a shine to my dinner last evening that it had been cast in stone for 24 hours that we would be returning to Tiberi for him to sample it. Thankfully it proved even better than he had been expecting.
To begin, we took the short ride up the coast road to Alcudia, for two reasons: it has a splendidly well-preserved, walled old town; and also it gave us the opportunity to check out the correct approach for cars to get to the ferry. Once bitten, twice shy.
Thereafter through the lanes to Pollenca, some 5 miles from its Puerto Pollenca cousin. An easy 5 miles too, as we hooked onto the back of a Swiss cyclo-vacation group, and got an armchair ride pretty much the whole way. Pollensa provided our first coffee, and then it was off to the pretty bay at Sant Vicenc for an omelette lunch.
The third part of the day was the ride up the incline to the scenic overlook on the road to the lighthouse. Only a couple or three miles at 6% max, an absolute breeze after the Izoard. 6%? We scoff at 6%!
Forest had taken such a shine to my dinner last evening that it had been cast in stone for 24 hours that we would be returning to Tiberi for him to sample it. Thankfully it proved even better than he had been expecting.
Thursday, 10 September 2015
Day Twenty : 10.09.2015
As you already know, today started at around 0440, when the lights came on in the Neptuno Lounge, where 90% of the passengers were asleep. Very swiftly we were up and doing and down the stairs to the car deck - no issue this time with non-drivers accompanying drivers to their vehicles. Very, very odd and inconsistent.
Forest drove down the ramp at almost exactly 0500, and out into the pitch-black night. No, we had not fitted the headlight beam deflectors, and still haven't. A couple of mistakes later, and we found our way along the coast road towards Puerto Pollenca. And there we got some money out of the auto bank, parked up, dozed and waited for the light to come up. At this point Alan took over the driver's seat and pottered along, trying to recall his former cycling routes, and where likely hotels might be. Almost immediately the Villa Singala presented itself. It looked just the job for one night, or two, as we later decided. Job done. When the manager appeared, we checked in, organised the security issues for the bikes, mended Forest's flat and meandered our way through the day.
Rain caused the abandonment of riding, so dinner was the only issue left to organise. Excellent it was too. The very popular Tiberi hit the spot once again, the only place where folks were still queuing at 2130.
Forest drove down the ramp at almost exactly 0500, and out into the pitch-black night. No, we had not fitted the headlight beam deflectors, and still haven't. A couple of mistakes later, and we found our way along the coast road towards Puerto Pollenca. And there we got some money out of the auto bank, parked up, dozed and waited for the light to come up. At this point Alan took over the driver's seat and pottered along, trying to recall his former cycling routes, and where likely hotels might be. Almost immediately the Villa Singala presented itself. It looked just the job for one night, or two, as we later decided. Job done. When the manager appeared, we checked in, organised the security issues for the bikes, mended Forest's flat and meandered our way through the day.
Rain caused the abandonment of riding, so dinner was the only issue left to organise. Excellent it was too. The very popular Tiberi hit the spot once again, the only place where folks were still queuing at 2130.
Day Nineteen : 09.09.2015
Well now, today was pretty much as humdrum as yesterday had been superb. Until the last 30 or so miles. And those last miles were memorable for all the wrong reasons.
Departure from the utterly beautiful Vallouise was at 1000, exactly as planned. The route south took in the towns/cities of Gap, Aix-en-Provence, Arles, Nimes, Montpellier, Beziers, Perpignan & Girona, en route to Barcelona for the 2230 ferry to Alcudia on Majorca. All was the predictably smooth and on-schedule péage Autoroute driving experience, even the short non-autoroute tour round the dual carriageways of Aix. We even delayed ourselves a little to allow the Barcelona rush-hour traffic to slacken. Or so we thought.
The Autopista system into and around Barcelona was reached at 1900. A Spanish crow would have flown to the Alcudia car ferry from there in about 10 minutes. Spanish crows, of course, would know where the ferry sets off from. First-timer foreign drivers, of course, do not. So you would think it a great plan to follow signs for 'Port', embellished by a boat icon, would you not? Yes, we fell for it too. We eventually followed those icons through the 'port' gates after about half an hour of crawling through the last knockings of rush hour. A somewhat irked cop basically told us to bugger off and use Exit 21 instead. We did. At this point the signage was virtually useless, as we emerged into the maelstrom of city-centre traffic, right at the end of Las Ramblas. A few circuits, in the gloom, of the waterfront later, we turned down the only road left untried. Yabadabadoo. We made it to the topsy-turvy waiting area at 2045, only 15 minutes before deadline. One hour & 35 minutes longer than that Spanish crow.
At this point things went further downhill.
My booking details on the iPad were deemed unworthy. Traipse over to the booking hall and queue to get a paper jobbie to show to the parking fellow back in the car area. What did he do with it? Tore it up, of course. Next we heard that only the driver is permitted to be in the car when taking the car aboard. Passengers have to go into the loading shed and later be herded onto the boat on foot, hopefully to have the fortune of hooking up with the driver later somewhere on board. Imagine, if you will, how that works if you are a single parent travelling with your truculent, behaviourally-challenged 16-year-old or your elderly and confused mum or dad. Crazy. Mad. Appalling. And those are the polite words.
Now the only good bit about Balearia Ferries: the überstylish airline seats, booked for some overnight kip, were excellent. Oh, a second plus point: it left bang on time.
We wanted a beer. Forest coughed up. Now we had run out of crinklies, less than sensible perhaps. No matter, we would pay by card for the paella that had taken our eye. It is the year 2015, and in modern Spain credit cards are not valid on the Majorca ferry. No matter, we would go to the money machine. You got it: in modern Spain there is no money machine on the Majorca ferry.
Tomorrow WILL be better. It began as Forest drove off the ferry into the Majorcan black at 0500, again bang on time.
Departure from the utterly beautiful Vallouise was at 1000, exactly as planned. The route south took in the towns/cities of Gap, Aix-en-Provence, Arles, Nimes, Montpellier, Beziers, Perpignan & Girona, en route to Barcelona for the 2230 ferry to Alcudia on Majorca. All was the predictably smooth and on-schedule péage Autoroute driving experience, even the short non-autoroute tour round the dual carriageways of Aix. We even delayed ourselves a little to allow the Barcelona rush-hour traffic to slacken. Or so we thought.
The Autopista system into and around Barcelona was reached at 1900. A Spanish crow would have flown to the Alcudia car ferry from there in about 10 minutes. Spanish crows, of course, would know where the ferry sets off from. First-timer foreign drivers, of course, do not. So you would think it a great plan to follow signs for 'Port', embellished by a boat icon, would you not? Yes, we fell for it too. We eventually followed those icons through the 'port' gates after about half an hour of crawling through the last knockings of rush hour. A somewhat irked cop basically told us to bugger off and use Exit 21 instead. We did. At this point the signage was virtually useless, as we emerged into the maelstrom of city-centre traffic, right at the end of Las Ramblas. A few circuits, in the gloom, of the waterfront later, we turned down the only road left untried. Yabadabadoo. We made it to the topsy-turvy waiting area at 2045, only 15 minutes before deadline. One hour & 35 minutes longer than that Spanish crow.
At this point things went further downhill.
My booking details on the iPad were deemed unworthy. Traipse over to the booking hall and queue to get a paper jobbie to show to the parking fellow back in the car area. What did he do with it? Tore it up, of course. Next we heard that only the driver is permitted to be in the car when taking the car aboard. Passengers have to go into the loading shed and later be herded onto the boat on foot, hopefully to have the fortune of hooking up with the driver later somewhere on board. Imagine, if you will, how that works if you are a single parent travelling with your truculent, behaviourally-challenged 16-year-old or your elderly and confused mum or dad. Crazy. Mad. Appalling. And those are the polite words.
Now the only good bit about Balearia Ferries: the überstylish airline seats, booked for some overnight kip, were excellent. Oh, a second plus point: it left bang on time.
We wanted a beer. Forest coughed up. Now we had run out of crinklies, less than sensible perhaps. No matter, we would pay by card for the paella that had taken our eye. It is the year 2015, and in modern Spain credit cards are not valid on the Majorca ferry. No matter, we would go to the money machine. You got it: in modern Spain there is no money machine on the Majorca ferry.
Tomorrow WILL be better. It began as Forest drove off the ferry into the Majorcan black at 0500, again bang on time.
Tuesday, 8 September 2015
Day Eighteen : 08.09.2015
Well, this is what we came for, to have a go at one of the major cols, one of those made into a household name by regular inclusion in Le Tour. The one that got the nod was the Izoard, south-east of Briançon. To make life easier for cyclists, and to eschew maps, the classic climbs & routes have a series of signs, every kilometre, featuring distance to the col, current elevation and the percentage gradient to be enjoyed until the next such sign. Sometimes the gradient information is encouraging, and sometimes not.
We left Vallouise at roughly 1030, fully intending to take the whole day over the venture. The route suggested by the above-mentioned signs takes riders away from major roads as much as possible. Thus the back road to the second town, Guillestre, held to the quieter bank of the river and consequently featured possibly the biggest gradient of the day, with many miles still to go to the col. Fatigue, particularly of those legs, still complaining fiercely from the 'walk' up La Blanche on Sunday, had already set in.
The climbing started straight out of Guillestre, although the official starting-point of the Izoard ascent was yet to be reached. From the river at the bottom to the col marker at the summit, it took over three hours of grunt. We did, however, stop for a recuperative coffee half-way up. A priceless decision; the body coped much better with the second part of the climb, post-coffee, than with the first.
The top was strewn with all sorts of folks. French school parties, Euromotorbikers (the col is on the Grande Route des Alpes), fellow cyclists, walkers and assorted bumblies doing not very much, apart from buying mementos they did not want or need from the kiosk. Obligatory photos were taken, drinks guzzled, bidons refilled and arm-warmers and gilets donned for the descent to Briançon. Monsieur Garmin told us later that the temperature on the descent was 46 degrees F - chilly. You would not want to be flying down without an extra layer or two.
Between 15 & 20 minutes later we were down in Briançon. Top speed 39 mph. Nice. It's good that you get a great ride when you pay such a steep entrance fee.
The route back to our starting-point was once again beautifully marked via backroads with those waymarkers. The final job of the day was to get une flute from the boulangerie in Les Vigneaux before climbing again, back to the billet. We arrived at 1755. A major day.
We left Vallouise at roughly 1030, fully intending to take the whole day over the venture. The route suggested by the above-mentioned signs takes riders away from major roads as much as possible. Thus the back road to the second town, Guillestre, held to the quieter bank of the river and consequently featured possibly the biggest gradient of the day, with many miles still to go to the col. Fatigue, particularly of those legs, still complaining fiercely from the 'walk' up La Blanche on Sunday, had already set in.
The climbing started straight out of Guillestre, although the official starting-point of the Izoard ascent was yet to be reached. From the river at the bottom to the col marker at the summit, it took over three hours of grunt. We did, however, stop for a recuperative coffee half-way up. A priceless decision; the body coped much better with the second part of the climb, post-coffee, than with the first.
The top was strewn with all sorts of folks. French school parties, Euromotorbikers (the col is on the Grande Route des Alpes), fellow cyclists, walkers and assorted bumblies doing not very much, apart from buying mementos they did not want or need from the kiosk. Obligatory photos were taken, drinks guzzled, bidons refilled and arm-warmers and gilets donned for the descent to Briançon. Monsieur Garmin told us later that the temperature on the descent was 46 degrees F - chilly. You would not want to be flying down without an extra layer or two.
Between 15 & 20 minutes later we were down in Briançon. Top speed 39 mph. Nice. It's good that you get a great ride when you pay such a steep entrance fee.
The route back to our starting-point was once again beautifully marked via backroads with those waymarkers. The final job of the day was to get une flute from the boulangerie in Les Vigneaux before climbing again, back to the billet. We arrived at 1755. A major day.
Monday, 7 September 2015
Day Seventeen : 07.09.2015
This morning both of us were moving exactly like marionettes. Somewhere up above, an operator had us dangling on a system of strings. Overnight the quads had become extremely tight and sore; walking down anything, especially stairs, was a bit of a trial. And comical.
It seemed that there would be two approaches: take a day off and hope that the problem eases by tomorrow; or ride and hope that the problem eases by tomorrow. We went for the latter, but rode only a smallish loop based upon L'Argentière, including the inevitable coffee stop. Nevertheless, the ascent of Puy de Saint Vincent was demanding on those already-screaming quads, not to mention the climb back to our La Casse base afterwards from the valley floor down in Vallouise village.
Hopefully, the legs will not complain too much when we attempt a full day tomorrow up into the higher & longer stuff. Ferry bookings for Majorca and for getting back to the UK got done later in the afternoon.
One thing we did get right today was hydration.
It seemed that there would be two approaches: take a day off and hope that the problem eases by tomorrow; or ride and hope that the problem eases by tomorrow. We went for the latter, but rode only a smallish loop based upon L'Argentière, including the inevitable coffee stop. Nevertheless, the ascent of Puy de Saint Vincent was demanding on those already-screaming quads, not to mention the climb back to our La Casse base afterwards from the valley floor down in Vallouise village.
Hopefully, the legs will not complain too much when we attempt a full day tomorrow up into the higher & longer stuff. Ferry bookings for Majorca and for getting back to the UK got done later in the afternoon.
One thing we did get right today was hydration.
Sunday, 6 September 2015
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