Re: Mallorca blog

[ValleyMan]

Due to IT issues, the account of our trip to Mallorca will now have to take the form of a historical narrative, rather than the hoped for contemporaneous reporting from the front line. I will attempt, however, to keep the air of anticipation and suspense by posting one day at a time.

Those who were able to access the internet whilst away fought off the pangs of homesickness by avidly following the Narberth Blog. I am pleased to confirm that the Sweaty Ed Weather Forecasting Service was clearly operating at a similar level of accuracy to that of the Met Office, however, have yet to receive any feedback on the once-in-a-lifetime sausage sale, or hear any reports on the levels of debauchery and depravity reached in the sleepy village of Ludchurch during our absence.

Anyway, on with the Blog…

Day 1

With my legendary sense of timing, we arrived at Bristol Airport at 2.45, well in time for the opening of the check-in at 4.15. After an abortive kip on a cold floor we headed for the coffee shop and met up with John and Gareth from Pembroke Dock who were adherents of the N B Coaching sect. So engrossed were we in discussing the trip that we missed the opening of the check in and joined a sizable queue with a motley assortment of Aces (Nicola, Carlton, Carl, Jenina, Pat, Victoria and Nick) who had staggered over the road from their B&B. No sign of Andrew and Huw….

Once bags and bikes were checked in we hung about for a bit speculating if they had over-slept or broken down but then thought sod it, they never wait for us, and went through to Departures, only to find the grinning pair with faces buried in a bacon butty. They had got to the front of the queue when check in opened and gone straight through without a thought for the rest of us (I would say typical, but it would be wasted…).

The flight was full and uneventful and in no time we were waiting in trepidation for the delivery of the bikes. One by one they rolled into view with no obvious signs of distress. Next up, we met our transfer to the hotel. The mini-bus was fine, but the trailer was clearly too small. Despite the valiant efforts of the driver, they would not fit and so to everyone’s relief he gave up trying to crush them in and off loaded a couple to the his mate’s van parked next door.

We arrived at the Hotel Duva by about 12 and as the rooms were not all ready, we set about putting the bikes together. With a bit of mutual support we were all soon doing test rides around the basement car park clunking up and down the gears in self-satisfied manner, apart from one.

Huddled over his bike was Andrew who could not get his saddle on as the seat post was stuck in the frame. Try as everyone might, it would not budge. Andrew was crestfallen, it was like child staring at his favourite teddy bear who’s head had just come off. This was serious and necessitated a trip into town for help…

Kim and John’s hired bikes were late being delivered and so we missed the group ‘off’ to the Cap de Formentor Lighthouse deciding that food was a necessity before attempting what was billed by Nick as a bit of a ‘leg stretcher’. Kim, John, Gareth and I therefore did our own ride out there and whilst the weather was trying it’s best to improve, it was still overcast with a bit of drizzle occasionally (1-0 to Sweaty). This gentle ride turned out to be a 25 mile out and back trip with 860m of climbing. It was, however, spectacular with sections of hairpin climbs and descents; nothing too steep, just very long. The road surface was variable to say the least with quite a few descents on broken tarmac with loose graven on the corners (and bloody big drops off the side!)

On the way out we saw Andrew and Huw coming back having completed only half the ride, with Andrew mounted on a very unfamiliar red steed that he had rented for the afternoon whilst his favourite toy was being seen too. They we rushing back to get a prognosis.

The regimented regime required us to go for buffet supper at 6.30 to be at the team meeting for 7.30. There was no shortage, or variety, of food which was in unlimited supply. Carb-loading heaven.

Over supper, Huw gave us an update on the first operation as a disconsolate Andrew stared forlornly into his food. No immediate appointments were available at the recommended surgery and so an alternative around the corner was found. The mechanic there at first tried some gentle persuasion before getting out the hammer (Andrew winching at every blow as Huw played out the scene with a bread roll), but to no avail, ‘there is nothing more I can do, but you are welcome to get a second opinion’. After some pleading an evening slot was found at the ProCycle hire shop so after choking back the tears as he stuffed the last of his gammon steak and chips down his neck, Andrew decided to forsake the evening meeting to go and comfort his beloved Kuota during what might well be its last few hours on earth.

Meanwhile, we were briefed by the team leaders for the following day’s excursion. A relatively flat 60mile circuit with a café stop was planned (we had ask the Aces what one of those was). There was much debate about which if the 4 groups to be in and we all plumped for 2b (after many predictable Shakespearean references…). Due to the numbers, 2b was to be split the following morning into 2b(a) and 2b(b) but more of that in the next instalment.

We had now been up for nearly 36 hours so after a quick nightcap it was off for an early night.

To be continued….