The Long and Winding Road

Hurtling down steep cobbled streets and stairways, the world’s best mountain bike racers will compete for the Redbull Valparaíso Cerro Abajo this Sunday 11th February, leaping over obstacles in their race against the clock.

We faced the problem of climbing the 20-25% gradient up those very same streets with our fully loaded touring bikes. Of course we cheated and found a very nice taxi with a bike rack.

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This made for a very pleasant 70km cycling day down the coast to the small seaside town of El Quisco.

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Our bikes are thrilled to see the Pacific Ocean for the first time

Refreshed from a fish supper straight out of the sea, we cruised through several more seaside towns the next day, watching families enjoy all the traditional activities. With cool air temperatures from the cold sea and a rocky coastline it felt a bit like Whitby!

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Playing dare with waves

From the port of San Antonio we climbed slowly up the brilliantly named Ruta de la Fruta (Fruit Road) which brings a procession of fruit trucks from the interior to the ports laden with all our winter strawberries and blueberries.

These trucks are huge. Fortunately we could hear them coming from a long way off, roaring like dragons until they showered us with dust as they whooshed past. After an hour we were glad to turn off onto a side road and head back to the coast.

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At the top of the Ruta de la Fruta (the wrist protectors are for sunburn)

I’d warned Clare that this would be a long and winding 100km day. I hadn’t warned her about the sting in the tail … mainly because I didn’t have a clue it was coming.

Needing to recharge for the final 20km, we stopped for peaches, bananas and yoga in a shady bus stop. There are lots of these in Chile, all identical and they are fast becoming our favourite picnic spots. As Clare completed her sun salutations to help ease her back, I studied the map and elevation charts … and almost choked on my lemon soda!

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Yoga in a bus shelter

Ahead of us were 7 … SEVEN!!! … Bath sized hills to climb before we got to our destination, the surf village of Matanzas.

I decided to soften the blow a little so told her there were “just a few small hills” ahead. At the bottom of the second hill I then pretended to look hard at the map before announcing there might be a “few more”. I only admitted to the full horror of the situation at the 5th peak.

To be fair, Clare was an absolute trooper even as we pushed our bikes up the 10% gradient into a strong headwind on the last climb … well and truly knackered.

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Reaching 101.6km just ahead of the last climb

Looking again at the map that evening it seemed that the terrain for the rest of the coastroad was going to be much the same … lots and lots of ups and downs. Time for a) an unscheduled rest day and b) a new plan.

After a very pleasant day on this strange, wild, foggy coast we decided to head inland through what looked like wide undulating valleys. The only problem was that there were hardly any hotels or casas on the way … so the daily mileage was still going to be big.

Passing lots of signs for rodeos, we were clearly in cowboy country as we wound our way past small wooden homesteads each with a tiny field overflowing with produce.

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Can we hitch a ride?

The smooth paved road then abruptly ended and we had our first taste of the legendary Camino de Ripio (gravel roads) that criss-cross Chile. These become corrugated on the flat, loose and sandy uphill so they are not at all the ideal cycle path. Not bad on a mountain bike, impossible on a road bike they were just about manageable on our touring bikes.

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Two hours and 30km later, we were very relieved to get back to a normal road at Litueche.

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“As God looked at the world he had created in seven days, he realised that there were still some things left over: volcanoes, virgin forests, deserts, fjords, rivers and ice. So he ordered the angels to dump all these things behind a long mountain range. The mountains were the Andes and so Chile was born. The most diversified country in the world!”

Anon

From Litueche the cycling was magnificent as we swept through the wide Colchagua Valley on the smoothest of roads. This is big, beautiful, earthy country with wide horizons across farms and scrubland dotted with rocky outcrops.

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It seems that Chile is adopting all the best trees from across the world. Australian eucalypts, American giant cacti, Scandinavian pine, Caribbean palms, European poplars make for an eclectic mix. We often looked out at beautifully nurtured vineyards on one side of the road, acacia bushes on the other. France to the left, Africa to the right.

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France to the left, Africa to the right

One night we stayed in an old Jesuit Hacienda (estate) at Marchigue. The next in a glamping pod set high above vineyards south of the old colonial village of Lolol. Both were the only accommodation within a 50 mile radius, both lovely in very different ways.

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Hacienda
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Glamping

Now we’re further inland the days are hotter. On the day we reached Talca, we both drank seven litres of water … and it was still a long time until we needed to pee!

Perhaps it was heat and dehydration, perhaps it was the last steep hill or perhaps it was the stress of having to use the main highway to cross two rivers … but we were both very, very tired when we staggered into the city. Consecutive days of 90km across hill country had proved too much for us.

Fortunately we found a lovely German oasis, Casa Chueca (the wobbly house), set in beautiful grounds with many quirky features that include an outdoor bath, a go karting track and an arboretum. A bell is rung at 7pm each night for delicious vegetarian meals that are served at a communal table.

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Casa Chueca

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It really is an outdoor bath!

“I don’t want to leave” says Clare, “I’m not ready to get back on my bike.”

Perhaps we’ll stay an extra night … or two?

Andy

 

Our route so far …

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Confessions of a Touring Cyclist

In the end Clare didn’t have to throw her toys out the pram!

She didn’t even have to resort to the advice our good friend Maria gave her before we left … “you’re a strong girl, Clare, but remember if it ever gets too tough … just cry!”

The charms of the Casa Chueca (the wobbly house) seduced Andy to stay for another day and then another and then another. We used the time to plan our ride through the agricultural belt of mid-Chile and realised that the distances between accommodation would become even bigger – one day topped 150km.

Maybe it was time to jump on a bus?

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Talca bus station

We’d always understood that buses in Chile were happy to accommodate cyclists, especially if the bikes were carefully packed in cardboard boxes.

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But as soon as our bus arrived, it was clear there was going to be a problem!

Many Chilean buses are double deckers with first class downstairs, standard class up top. The space for those luxury first class seats is taken from the luggage compartment which is squeezed into a high, small trunk at the rear. It’s tight, even for normal suitcases.

To be fair, the driver and his helpers did their best to get our bikes on but it soon became obvious they simply weren’t going to fit. As the other passengers started to glare in our direction, he decided to do the right thing and dumped both us and our oversized boxes by the roadside before disappearing off in a trail of dust.

Now what??

A taxi? A rental car? Hitchhiking?

In the end, the best option was to ship the bikes as cargo and get ourselves onto another bus. As it was one of the busiest holiday weekends of the year this was easier said than done but we did manage to grab the last two seats on the last bus out of town, arriving in Temuco at 2am.

The problem was that the bikes would take a bit longer to make the same trip … not arriving for another 5 days.

So here is our confession …

We haven’t ridden our bicycles anywhere at all for ten days!

Nothing. Nada. Not a single pedal stroke.

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Anyone for biscuits? Anyone?

Our journey by bus proved to be interesting. As the main form of public transport, bus stations are jam packed with travellers, stalls and mayhem. They have the feel of a busy airport with buses gliding in and out every few minutes, transporting people and goods to every corner of the country.

Although the route is only advertised between major cities, the driver will happily pull over in the middle of nowhere to drop passengers off or to welcome waitresses laden with pre-ordered food and drinks.

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This enforced lack of cycling has meant we’ve been free to explore the country in a different way.

We took a trip from Talca up to the Laguna del Maule near the Argentine border. A large magma bubble is lifting this lake and the volcanoes around it by 2.5cm every month which means we’d be nearly 1 metre higher if we were to come back in three years time. Mind you, in three years time we wouldn’t be able to enjoy watching condors soar above the magnificent waterfalls that tumble out of the lake. Chile’s biggest hydro-electric project is going to turn the tap off and redirect the water down some huge pipes instead.

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Laguna del Maule
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Waterfall
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Back massage

To reward ourselves at the end of a long dusty ride across the middle of Chile, we had booked a couple of nights at La Baita Ecolodge in Conguillío National Park as a special treat. Now bike-less, we rented a car in Temuco, changed the dates and went anyway.

This proved to be a blessing in disguise as the car meant we could explore more of the park and were fresh enough to tackle two of its iconic hikes. Set around the still active Llaima volcano (it last erupted in 2008), the huge larva fields, glaciers, crystal clear lakes and ancient forests of Conguillío are achingly beautiful.

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Llaima Volcano, Conguillío National Park

It was the trees that really took our breath away. Araucaria (Monkey Puzzle trees) and Southern Beech competed for domination 40-50 metres above our heads as we strolled through a soft low canopy of Chilean Bamboo. Often described as a living fossil most of the Araucaria we walked past were over 1000 years old.

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Araucaria (monkey puzzle) trees
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This mama is 1800 years old!
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Trekking through a bamboo canopy

We met a wonderful group of Canadian women from Kingston Ontario, one of whom was Jenica Rayne, a professional musician and singer songwriter who was able to conjure up any song on her guitar. It turned out that Isobel, the owner of La Baita, was also a well know singer in her youth so whilst she entertained us with some haunting Chilean love songs, the rest of us tried to remember the words of songs ranging from Dylan classics to Jason Mraz.

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One of those unforgettable, unexpected evenings …

Perhaps the moral of our story is that sometimes it can be better for touring cyclists to get off their saddles and explore the world in a different way. We would have missed the wonderful hiking and the even more wonderful sing-a-long if that driver in Talca had let us squeeze our bikes onto his bus.

“Well open up your mind and see like me.

Open up your plans and damn you’re free”

Jason Mraz, from I’m Yours

We’re pleased to say that this story does have a happy ending … our bikes have arrived on time and intact!

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The bikes are back in town

This morning we’re back in the saddle, heading towards the Andes and the famous Chilean lakes. There are some challenging rides ahead but we’re really, really, really looking forward to it!

Clare and Andy

Chilean Curiosities

One of the great things about travelling slowly through a country for the first time is that there are always things about everyday life that are normal to locals but surprising to a visitor.

Here are a few of our favourite curiosities from Chile:

Making the most of every beach
On the cold Pacific Coast families played in the surf or sunbathed in coats and sleeping bags while further south in the mountains we were surprised to find a little piece of Rio. In Pucon thousands of holidaymakers flock each January and February to this beautiful black volcanic beach on the shores of Lake Villarrica. It isn’t a peaceful experience … hundreds of hawkers tramp up and down selling everything from rubber rings to that ideal beach snack, Mote con Huisillo.

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Shopping
Shopping in chain stores is the same here as anywhere else in the world but it’s a completely different experience in small local shops and bars.

Let’s say we’re buying some lunch in a Panaderia (bakery).

You start by telling the assistant what you want. She writes it down and gives it back to you. Then you take the order to a stern looking lady in the caja (cash booth), hand over your money and she gives you a different receipt. With this you return to the counter and give the receipt to the assistant. She studies it carefully, picks out what you want and eventually hands it over.

It’s a long process for a couple of empanadas!

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A caja or cash booth in a local supermarket

Nescafé is treated like gold
Whilst there are lots of lovely cafes in the more touristy towns, the rest of Chile has yet to fully embrace the global coffee culture.

Coffee here is usually made from weak instant powder but what it lacks in flavour is more than made up for by the ceremony. Nescafé, milk powder and liquid sugar are solemnly brought to the table so you can mix the ingredients exactly to your taste in tiny china cups. Only when you’re satisfied you have the right combination will the waiter carefully add hot water.

In several supermarkets we’ve even found a locked cabinet containing ‘special goods’ … in this case bars of chocolate and yes, jars of Nescafé. Regular, not even Gold Blend!

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Check out the bottom shelf – too precious to sell?

Comfort Food
Whilst we’ve enjoyed lots of delicious fresh fish and meat, some Chilean food could be described as hearty or even stodgy. Many dishes are accompanied by large quantities of bread and rice and chips.

It seems to us that some popular foods simply remind people of a visit to their grandmother on a Sunday afternoon.

Two girls from Santiago told us about Manjar, a delicacy that no self-respecting Chilean would ever be without (they had a jar in their backpacks). “Have you tried Manjar yet? … No? … Well, have you eaten Nutella? … Yes? … Honestly, that stuff tastes like sh*t compared to Manjar!!”

With this glowing endorsement we rushed to a supermarket to find that whilst it’s not made from chocolate and hazelnuts, Manjar is indeed a sweet spread. The recipe is condensed milk and sugar so it’s basically a spreadable fudge. A delicious reminder of tea with Grannie!

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Sunday morning entertainment
Whilst the enjoyment of all this comfort food has become obvious in a few Chilean waistlines, we’ve found them to be really warm, friendly people. Sometimes a little shy and reserved to start with, they’re always polite and genuinely kind to strangers. We’re in no doubt that we’d get plenty of help should we get into any trouble on our bikes.

Chileans are rightly proud of their culture and heritage. This traditional dancing demonstration on a Sunday morning after church was not for tourists but for the sheer joy of it.

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Street Signs
Some of the street signs have kept us amused, perhaps because we’ve not been to parts of the world that need to advertise evacuation routes from volcanoes or tsunamis.

More confusing has been the absence of no-entry signs which has fooled us a few times. Instead there’s a polite arrow on the street sign indicating the direction of travel. Only in extreme examples do they feel the need to use a more forceful sign.

Street Dogs
Rubbish bins are placed on platforms all over Chile.

This was a mystery to us until we realised it was to keep the trash away from the enormous number of stray dogs (2.5 million by one estimate). Unlike street dogs we’ve seen in other countries they appear to be relatively healthy, well fed and docile. We understand this is because neighbourhoods feed and care for them as unofficial communal animals.

Cycling on Highways
There’s one big highway (Ruta 5) that runs from North to South as the main artery through the centre of Chile, traffic flowing at over 100kph. We were surprised to discover that it was both legal and common for cyclists to ride down the hard shoulder, sometimes for long distances.

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We were only brave enough to give it a go for a quick 20km dash when there was literally no other road. It was unsettling to have trucks and buses passing by at such high speed but good fun to go through the toll booths at no charge.

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How much for bikes?

Carmenere and Pisco Sour
Carmenere red wine has been a pleasure to drink. This was a grape variety from Bordeaux that was wiped out by the 1867 phylloxera plague and thought to be extinct. As it happened, cuttings had already been brought to Chile but they were mistaken for Merlot for over a century. Carmenere was only ‘rediscovered’ in 1994 and is now the darling of the Chilean wine industry.

Our favourite drink in Chile is fast becoming Pisco Sour, a cocktail made from pisco (a type of grape brandy), lemon juice, syrup and ice. The stronger Peruvian version adds egg white and Angostura bitters and is also very popular here. We think both are delicious … especially as a sundowner after another cloudless day.

So raising a glass of Pisco Sour we say salud to Chile and its many curiosities.

Clare and Andy

The Chilean Lake District

Sitting under the smouldering eye of Volcan Villarrica, Pucon is a South American mecca for adventure sport junkies. Here you can climb the volcano with crampons and an ice axe, raft down white water rapids, skydive or ride horses into the outback.

We left all these activities to more adventurous types and went for a bike ride instead, up to some beautiful waterfalls and on to explore Lago Caburga. Much of the ride was on ripio (gravel tracks) where predictably Andy went too fast down a slope, skidded in some loose sand and catapulted off his bike. Maybe a more extreme sport would have been safer after all!

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February in Pucon is peak holiday season when this small town of 20,000 welcomes over 180,000 visitors. Full of life and great restaurants we loved it, especially as our visit coincided with an excellent Jazz and Blues Festival which entertained us late into the night.

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No idea who they are, but they were great!

After leaving Pucon we slowly cycled around part of the Circuito de Siete Lagos (seven lakes circuit) managing to visit five of them and staying in some interesting small towns on the way, each very different in character.

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Our route from Temuco to San Martin de los Andes

Lican Ray is a small lakeside resort full of young working families. We stayed right on the beach and enjoyed both an extraordinary sunset and a chilly morning swim.

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No filter … honest

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Staying in a cabina meant we could prepare our own food. As Clare shopped for a rotisserie chicken, Andy watched a family set up stall to sell their homemade sopaipillas (fried bread topped with mustard or ketchup). So popular, they sold out in just 10 minutes but not before we’d grabbed one … it was not the healthiest snack in the world but was absolutely delicious.

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Sopaipillas, selling like hot cakes

Only 20km down the road was Conaripe, home to Termas Geometricas the most authentic hot springs in the area with 21 pools all at different temperature (35 to 45 degrees celsius) and set in a beautiful, narrow gorge.

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Panguipulli, the last stop on our mini lake tour was full of weather board houses that gave it the feel of an American frontier town. Here we enjoyed huge rainbow trout straight out of the lake.

Some of you have have been asking about a few bits of Andy’s kit that we’ve mentioned in previous posts. He’s still wearing his favourite cycling shorts, now sporting a shiny new button but still with the French safety pins holding up the fly. The fishnet undershorts have also made the trip but now have too many holes for a photo!

Unfortunately, Andy’s super-expensive-imported-from-America leather saddle stretched and sagged so he needed a new one. After trying out lots of uncomfortable saddles in different shapes and sizes, he remembered his Dad’s old one gathering cobwebs in the corner of the shed.

Instantly it felt like sinking into a favourite armchair.

OK, it looks a little ridiculous with it’s two layers of padding and attracts many derogatory comments from real touring cyclists. But with a comfy bum after 6 hours riding, who cares!

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Clare’s authentic Brooks leather saddle, Andy’s old armchair

From Panguipulli our gentle cycle around the lakes came to an abrupt end as it was now time for two days of serious riding up into the Andes. It turned out to be a bleak introduction to this famous mountain range.

We set off on a beautiful new road along the lake with lots of viewpoints to enjoy. A feature of new roads in Chile is that the distance from the start of the road is recorded every 100 metres. Unfortunately, different surveyors measure the road slightly differently making the distances more of an approximation than an exact measure.

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Here the yellow and white surveyors disagree by more than a kilometre!

It wasn’t the road, nor our legs, nor the many hills that marred this first day … it was the relentless rain and cold. By the end of the day Clare had hit the wall and even our bikes were complaining about the grit that had built up under their brake pads.

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After 40km we came across the first sign of life and stopped at a tiny shop hoping for a hot cup of coffee. Even though they weren’t a cafe, the family took pity on these wet and bedraggled strangers and invited us to sit in their front room for a very welcome cup of Nescafé.

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Still raining, we arrived at our destination – the wonderfully named Huilo Huilo (pronounced WEEL-oh-WEEL-oh and always with a smile) a private bio-reserve. Too exhausted and too wet to explore the spectacular waterfalls, volcanic museum and extraordinary hobbit inspired hotels it will be worth coming back on a sunny day (in a car!)

Early the next morning we caught the Hua Hum ferry (pronounced WAH-oom and always with a whoop) across Lagos Pirihueico and into the wilderness.

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Crossing the border meant for an early lunch as we were not allowed to bring any fresh food into Argentina. They were clearly worried our tuna sandwiches, tomatoes and bananas would import some deadly disease.

It was then a tough 55km ride along a ripio track through a lakeside forest, followed by a two hour climb up to the tree line until we eventually dropped down into San Martin de los Andes. With very few lake views, it became a bit of a grind.

However, yesterdays pain was todays gain – the rain had made the track firmer and prevented dust clouds blowing up from the occasional passing car.

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We were grateful for the company of the only two other cyclists crazy enough to tackle this challenge on this particular day. Pierre and Alex are two dashing young French touring cyclists, both seasoned adventurers who have already clocked 9000km on their journey from Bolivia.

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This is what real touring cyclists look like

Following his crash, Andy was a lot more careful on ripio, staying unclipped and in the granny ring for the whole day. Clare impressively ground her way up the hills by listening to Spanish-for-Beginners on a loop. Despite the improvement in her language skills, she’s decided that cycling on motorways is much more preferable to cycling on ripio!

Today the sun has come out and having enjoyed several beers by the lake we’re now looking forward to cycling further into the mountains and exploring more of Argentina.

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Seems the standard beer bottle in Argentina is a litre. We’re not complaining!

Clare and Andy

Camino de los Siete Lagos

Sometimes the intense joy that comes from bicycle touring can be almost too much to bear.

Last Sunday was such a day, riding down the magnificent Camino de los Siete Lagos (Road of the Seven Lakes) in Argentina between San Martin de los Andes and Villa la Angostura.

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Known as one of the most scenic bikes rides in the world, we were fortunate to enjoy it on a calm clear day beneath a cloudless sky. It began with a long climb out of San Martin, winding up the mountain for over 10km. Full of energy, we would have made it to the top in one go had it not been for a beautiful Mirador (lookout) looking back down the valley.

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At the top it felt like being launched into the high Andes as we swooped across mountain plateaus, down through dark ancient forests and past lake after lake of breathtaking beauty and crystal clear purity.

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We paused at the Arroyo Partido (the divided stream) where a few innocent rocks have caused the stream to split into two separate channels, one flowing to the Atlantic the other to the Pacific. It’s an important moment … if you’re a drop of water!

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There was an old mountain restaurant for coffee, the only one we saw all day. Then a picnic lunch next to the still waters of Lago Villarino. It was perfect!

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Lunch stop at Lago Villarino

After 78km we arrived at a junction leading to Lago Traful, reputed to be the most stunning lake of all, where we had booked a hostel. A paved road led invitingly up the hill that guards the entrance to the lake. Unfortunately it soon turned into the dreaded ripio!

Having now spent several hours bumping along the infamous South American gravel tracks, here’s our guide to the 4 different types of ripio we’ve experienced:

  1. Good Ripio  Hard packed mud, often kept damp under trees with just an occasional stone. A slightly bumpy but pleasant ride.
  2. Bad Ripio  Fairly hard packed gravel and stones, like a good farm track. Feels like being shaken around on a fruit sorting machine.
  3. Very Bad Ripio  Corrugated and full of ruts, huge stones and sand, like a very rough farm track. Feels like riding through a minor earthquake.
  4. Impossible (sometimes hilarious) Ripio  Deep sand or stones, as on a dry, soft beach. Causes the rider to grind to a halt and walk, or to catapult over the handlebars.

When riding uphill they adjust by one category (good becomes bad etc.). There’s no such thing as good uphill ripio. The volume of traffic is also a factor as each passing car creates a unpleasant dust storm.

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Walking through Impossible Ripio

The road to Lago Traful started out as good ripio but quickly deteriorated into bad, then very bad ripio with an unhealthy dose of traffic. We managed just 3km in half an hour with another 20km still to go. As Andy paused for a drink to sooth his parched throat an anguished howl rose up from the dust 50m behind him.

I … AM … NOT … RIDING … ON … THIS … RIPIO … ANYMORE

(Actually there was a more descriptive word between THIS and RIPIO. We’ll leave you to fill in the gap!)

The decision was made … we turned around and started hauling our bikes back over the hill. After all, it was only another lake!

There was still 35km to reach Villa Angostura for two now-very-tired cyclists. But there was a silver lining ahead … an extra rest day!

It didn’t spoil a wonderful bicycle touring day which included three new personal bests:

  • 115km cycled
  • 2040m climbed
  • 78 lake views

 

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A taste of the steppe

Two days later we cycled a mere 84km along the shores of the vast Lago Nahuel Huapi to the town of Bariloche, the centre of the Argentine Lake District. This included a brief introduction to the steppe, a windswept barren land of vast distances and big skies that stretches from the mountains to the coast.

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Mmm … where shall we go today?

Deciding that you can never see enough lakes we then spent a scheduled day off riding around some small but very pretty lakes near Bariloche on the Circuito Chico (small circuit) with time for both a long lunch and a little canoeing.

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Bariloche itself was something of a surprise. Built by Swiss and German immigrants it’s Argentina’s chocolate capital and is the base for one of the countries most popular skiing areas. There’s certainly no shortage of chocolate shops but instead of alpine quaintness we found a working town with some interesting rough edges.

We thought the town planners must have gone for a long Argentine lunch instead of working on a few architectural guidelines!

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Why build that monstrosity behind the pretty town hall?

After just one week in the country we’re not really qualified to comment on Argentina … but here are a few observations anyway.

It’s very different to Chile, partly because it attracted a lot of Italian as well as Spanish migrants. This is evident in great coffee and pasta, even better gelato but also in more aggressive drivers that are noticeably less tolerant of cyclists. Several times we’ve been angrily hooted off the narrow roads onto the gravel hard shoulder.

Supermarkets are dominated by three things – beef, beer and red wine – all vital ingredients for asados (big family barbecues) that are seen, smelt and heard across the country.

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Lots of red, hardly any white!

We’ve now travelled on both the Seven Lakes Road in Argentina and the Seven Lakes Circuit in Chile. We’re not sure if the names are just a coincidence or a bit of rivalry between neighbours?

Whichever it is, the Chilean lake circuit is smaller, gentler, more peaceful. The Argentine version is bigger, bolder and more dramatic. Perhaps this is a little like the psyche of the two countries?

Clare and Andy

Following Che across the Andes

In 1952 a 23 year old Che Guevara crossed the Andes with his friend Alberto Granado on a Norton 500 motorbike by taking 3 ferries and riding over 50km on rough tracks.

It was the beginning of a voyage of discovery across South America that was to heavily influence Guevara’s revolutionary spirit. His account of the journey was published posthumously in ‘The Motorcycle Diaries’ that were also brought to life in a 2004 film of the same name.

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A replica of La Ponderosa II – Che and Alberto’s motorcycle

We followed their route back across the Andes from Bariloche in Argentina to Puerto Varas in Chile.

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Bikes strapped to the front of the first ferry it felt as if we were about to travel into much more remote terrain.

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Nahuel Huapi Ferry

Before that we had a short ride to the next ferry that took us across the emerald green waters of Lago Frías. Then we passed through Argentine customs and the real cycling began.

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Lago Frias

We’d been told that mountain bikes were needed for these tracks, advice that proved to be right as the first 4km climb was too steep for our tyres to get enough grip on the sandy surface.

The only other cyclists we met did have mountain bikes so we were secretly pleased to discover that they also had to push their bikes up the hill. With her zig-zag pushing technique now honed on many ripio climbs, Clare easily beat these three strong young men to the top. Andy won a consolation prize for attempting to cycle the most, but he still finished in a distant last place … mainly because it takes him so long to get on and off his bike!

The actual border between the two countries was at the top of the pass although it was still some 30km down to Chilean customs, sensibly situated in the valley at Peulla.

The three mountain bikers soon sped off down the hill and from that moment we had the trail to ourselves. There were no cars, just an occasional 4-wheel drive bus taking tourists to the next lake crossing.

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Cruising slowly down

We took our time, cruising slowly down a good ripio track, stopping frequently to sit by a mountain stream, watch a pair of condors lazily circling overhead or simply to enjoy the near silence of the forest.

It was a real wilderness experience with moments of sheer elation and wonder, especially when we rounded a corner to gaze up at the hanging glaciers and waterfalls that tumbled off Mount Tronador, the highest mountain in the region by far.

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Mount Tronador

As the path flattened and the valley widened out into a riverbed, the track deteriorated into bad then impossible ripio so we found ourselves walking once again. This meant that we were extremely late arriving at the customs buildings, long after everyone else and after the officers had clocked off for the day.

Summoned from their houses, they stamped our passports and directed us to a small white bungalow “por los bicicletas.” A little confused, we rang the doorbell and waited for several minutes until a cheery official emerged looking as though he’d just been woken from a late afternoon nap.

He asked to see our bicycle documents. We had none, we had never heard of any bicycle documents. Oh dear … big problema!

Bemused and clearly worried that he might have to impound our bikes, his smile faded into a frown as he asked us where we had come from.

Telling him we’d cycled from Bariloche that day clearly wasn’t enough … he wanted to understand our whole journey. So with lots of actions and even a few vehicle noises we took him through our trip:

Londres to Santiago (plane noises, arms out) … Talca (pedalling motion) … Temuco (bus noises) … over the border to San Martin (more pedalling) … Bariloche (pedalling and puffing) … across Lago Frias (boat noises) … aqui (here)

“Ahora? he asked.

Guessing that he hadn’t understood, Andy went through the whole pantomime again. He waited patiently, then repeated a bit more insistently “Ahora? Ahora?”

“He means now,” said Clare, “I think he’s asking where we’re going next.”

OK … Petrohue (boat noises) … Puerto Montt (pedalling) … Santiago (plane) … Londres (plane)

With a big smile he sighed “Ahhhh … Bueno. No problema! No problema! Adios.” Then he shrugged, waved us off and shut the door.

We’re not sure who was more relieved. And we still don’t know what those pesky bicycle documents are for!

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The original Peulla Hotel, now closed

We stayed the night in a large hotel by the edge of the lake at Peulla. It was actually a little sad … only 10 years ago demand for rooms was such that a spanking new building was built to complement the faded old hotel that had been serving travellers for just under 100 years. More recently the number of people staying in Peulla has declined dramatically and the old hotel has been forced to close.

It was like wandering into the set of a Hitchcock movie.

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Only the ghosts are checking in …
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… or drinking in the bar

The third and final boat crossing was at 4.30pm the following day, arriving at Petrohue two hours later. As well as ferrying tourists, it’s a lifeline for the 30 or so families that live around Lago Todos los Santos. There are no roads, so their only access is from the water. They simply motor out on a small boat to the middle of the lake and jump on or off the ferry.

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Commuting from work – this lady had just hopped off the ferry

Arriving at 6.30pm was a bit late for our 60km ride to Puerto Varas but we thought we’d enjoy an evening ride along the promised ‘luxury cycle path’, anticipating only an hour or so in darkness.

It didn’t turn out like that!

As the sun set around 8.30pm a freak storm suddenly blew up out of nowhere. It wasn’t in any forecast. We scrambled into our rain jackets, put our heads down and rode into the darkness, only stopping for a much needed banana boost. The rain was so hard that drivers had to slow to a crawl, peering cautiously through their windscreens. We just hoped they would see these two bedraggled cyclists!

The cycle path turned out to be excellent, a real godsend. But progress in these conditions was still painfully slow and it was well after 11pm when we eventually arrived, dripping onto the steps of our guest house.

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Before the storm … celebrating the end of the ripio!

Over the next few days we completed our journey with a short 20km ride to Puerto Montt, a flight to Santiago and then to London.

In 6 weeks we’ve cycled 1,478 km or 918 miles in 105 hours, significantly less than our journey to Barcelona. But we’ve climbed up 22,260 metres which is a lot, lot more. That’s two and a half Everests!

Despite all the ripio, all the potholes, all the broken glass on the side of the road we haven’t had a single puncture. Not one! We’ve only had to cope with one broken chain (Andy) and one broken spoke (Clare).

Here’s some final maps showing where we’ve been:

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Santiago to Talca
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Temuco to Puerto Montt

We’ve had a truly wonderful experience … from the craziness of Valparaíso to the big skies of the Colchagua wine valley to the raw beauty of the Andes and their many lakes. It turned out to be a bit more adventurous than we expected but the extra challenge has started to make us better touring cyclists.

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Statue in Puerto Montt – Clare sometimes looked as worried as these two

One of our lasting impressions of Chile will be the people, amongst the gentlest and kindest folk we’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.

Thank you for following us on this journey. Until next time…
Clare and Andy

The Mallorcan Peloton

The first riders flew past as we turned the corner into a quiet country road that ran down a stunningly beautiful valley. It was three days into our bicycle tour around the island of Mallorca and we had just reached the north-west, one of the world’s most popular cycling destinations.

This back road turned out to be a home run for many serious cyclists who were coming down from an epic day of climbing through the Serra de Tramuntana mountains. In groups of two, three, four, even ten riders they effortlessly cruised past us, calling out a cheery ola or vamos before disappearing down the road. Some of them couldn’t hide their surprise at the unlikely sight of our bulging bike panniers on this unofficial racing circuit.

A loud whirring sound announced a much bigger peloton of about thirty riders cresting the hill behind us. They were moving very fast! For Andy, the opportunity to join in was too much to resist so I moved up a gear and accelerated, legs pumping furiously, sweat dripping from my helmet and the panniers almost jumping off my rack. As I was swept up round the next bend, all Clare could see was a yellow helmet disappearing into the pack and out of sight.

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An unlikely racer

This was my first experience of riding in such a large group of cyclists and the sensation was exhilarating! It seemed like twice the speed for half the effort as I was sucked into a pocket of air created by the riders in front. As the road twisted and turned down towards the coast, we rode at a much faster pace than I was used to. I can now understand why so many riders in the Tour de France shelter in the middle of a big group all day.  It’s so much easier!

Feeling like a real cyclist at last, I held a position in the middle of the group for several kilometres before slowly slipping to the back as the weight of my panniers began to take their toll.

It was only then that I glanced down at my phone and spotted several missed calls from Clare. Oops! Much to the amusement of the other riders, this meant an abrupt end to the fun as I thanked them and jammed on the brakes.

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Clare at the Cap de Formentor Lighthouse

It’s true, I had heard a loud cry of alarm from Clare as I’d first raced off but had dismissed it as one of the “don’t be so **** stupid” variety. Surely, she can’t be lost? There weren’t any other roads to go down.

Not lost … stuck!

As luck would have it a large thorn had popped open her front tyre at exactly the same moment I’d accelerated away to join the peloton.

This would normally have given her an opportunity to practise her newly acquired bike maintenance skills but that very morning she’d taken the spare inner tube out of her saddle bag. Apparently it was getting in the way of her large store of snacks! Instead, the tube was in one of my panniers now several weary kilometres down the road.

So ended my only experience in a peloton. When I told her about it, Clare quickly decided it wasn’t for her … “I want to use my own energy thank you very much. I don’t want to be crushed by a pack or pulled along by anyone else.” The spirit of a true independent touring cyclist!

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The Soller Valley

This incident was part of a delightful 10 days we recently spent cycle-touring around Mallorca. It’s a wonderful place to explore on a bike, especially in the Spring or Autumn when it’s usually pleasantly warm and sunny.

If you followed our ride from Bath to Barcelona last year, you’ll know that we were planning another longer bike tour this Autumn. As it turned out we weren’t able to get away for long enough, so a ride around Mallorca was a perfect short break instead.

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One of the many bays at Cala d’Or

Only last summer the Telegraph ran a feature on Mallorca under the headline:

Is this the world’s greatest destination for cycling?

It could be … the island attracts over 150,000 cyclists a year including many world class teams who love it for pre-season training.  Most are real cyclists from flat countries attracted by the spectacular climbs in the north and west. Indeed, there are so many people peddling up and down the more famous climbs that it can feel a bit like a ski resort … with cyclists replacing skiers.

These climbs are not so long or so steep to put off the humble older touring cyclist. Perhaps emboldened by our trip through the Pyrenees, we spent several days in the Mallorcan mountains and really enjoyed it.

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A typical inland view

You don’t have to hit the hills though as there are plenty of beautiful, quiet, flatter routes around the coast and across the interior. With lovely places to stay, wonderful food to eat and plenty of interesting things to do off the bike, Mallorca is an ideal destination for touring.

But surprisingly we only saw one other cyclist with panniers.  Perhaps this blog will inspire more people to take a bicycle tour round the island – it’s a great place for a first trip.

Here’s our route, we’ll let you know how we got on in a few days’ time.

Clare and Andy

Mallorca Map 2

Many Different Mallorca’s

“You say Majorca, I say Mallorca. Majorca. Mallorca. Majorca. Mallorca. Let’s call the whole thing off!”

As (not exactly) made famous by Ella Fitzgerald

Apparently, we Brits just couldn’t get our tongues round the double “ll” in the Catalan/Spanish spelling of Mallorca … so changed it to Majorca instead.

Nowadays Majorca is often associated with the beer swilling kiss-me-quick antics of Brits in Magaluf. But there are lots of other Mallorca’s to discover and a bicycle tour around the island is a perfect way to do so.

For those of you who might be even a little bit tempted to cycle there, here are the places we visited plus a few things that happened to us along the way.

Day 1 – Palma

Palma is a beautiful and fascinating old city with a history that embraces Islam and Christianity in equal measure. We spent one day exploring but you could happily enjoy several days there seeing the sights, discovering the art, wandering the back streets, eating the tapas, drinking the wine.

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The Spanish certainly know how to build cathedrals!

There’s lots to discover simply by wandering around. We came across this strange English Bookshop, an Aladdin’s Cave of assorted clutter overseen by an old chap who might have apporated straight out of Harry Potter’s Diagon Alley and spent much of his time shouting at customers because they were disturbing him from catching up on Strictly Come Dancing.

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How do you find anything?

As you’d expect, Palma is full of lovely small restaurants and this gave Clare a perfect opportunity to practise her Spanish. When she ordered asparagus but was served cuttlefish, she decided she might have a bit more to learn! Fortunately, it was delicious.

Day 2 – Palma to Cala D’Or

90km, 644m climbing, 5hrs 30mins (too long but easier for the next 2 days)

To be honest we found it a little difficult to hire bikes that came with racks for our panniers in Palma. There are plenty of shops renting out either fast road bikes or slow city-bikes-with-baskets but touring bikes are few and far between.

We found one in Andy’s large size at Nano Bicycles but there was nothing for Clare in a small size at all … which meant it became her lucky week! Deciding that we could manage with just two panniers, she was now free to try out a superfast Cannondale Supersix EVO Di2 from Bikehead, complete with electric gear shifters no less. It was light enough to pick up with one finger!

So the Girl Racer and her Packhorse eventually rode out of Palma and onto the long beach strip that runs south-east of the city. It was packed with day cyclists and we were relieved to escape into the quiet country lanes south of Llucmajor and head down to the lovely coastal town of Colonia de Saint Jordi.

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The Girl Racer
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Her Packhorse

As we stopped for a drink and large slice of apple cake, we realised we’d already ridden 60km which is normally enough for us. We probably should have stayed overnight in Saint Jordi but we’d already booked a small guesthouse in Cala d’Or further round the coast, so we climbed back on our bikes and pushed on.

After the hilltop town of Santanyi, we headed down a rough track through a national park on one of Andy’s dreadful detours to a small bay called Cala Mondrago. Luckily, it was worth it and from there the south-east corner of the island became both surprising and delightful as we explored the port of Porto Pedro and arrived in Cala d’Or.

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Cala d’Or

Cala d’Or means Golden Bay in Spanish and it certainly lives up to its name. Built around no less than five small inlets, including a spectacular marina, it is both manicured and affluent. Unsurprisingly we heard lots of Scandinavian voices and saw plenty of German newspapers protecting sunbeds on the pristine beaches. They know how to find the best places!

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One of five inlets at Cala d’Or

After a long ride, Andy was once again on a quest. Not for safety pins this time but for some soothing chamois cream to ease the saddle sores that were developing beneath my cycle shorts. Foolishly I’d left my tube on the kitchen table back at home. No luck … none of the bike-hire shops sold chamois cream, or indeed any of the other normal biking accessories. Clare suggested using sun cream instead … and I must admit it did help … a little.

Day 3 – Cala d’Or to Arta

64km, 718m climbing, 4hrs 30mins

This part of Mallorca was so pretty that it was tempting to linger. We pottered up the coast to the broad bay of Portocolom for coffee and then onto the working marina at Portocristo. Here we came across some port workers enjoying their Menu del Dias lunch, washed down by a surprising quantity of wine. It seemed rude not to join them.

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Do I really have to cycle this afternoon?

A good lunch, a few glasses, a swim, a lie on the beach later we reluctantly decided to pedal on, heading inland to link up with the Via Verde cycle track which follows a disused railway line that used to connect Manacor to Arta.

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The Via Verde

The Via Verde is a gravel track, tricky on the slim tyres of Clare’s deluxe road bike but perfect for my touring hybrid. There was so little traffic, I felt able to pedal whilst studying the map on the phone on my handlebars, completely forgetting the wooden barriers that blocked the path from time to time. It was a sudden but reasonably gentle crash, panniers flying but no other damage. A bit like a horse refusing a jump. Stupid boy!

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Stupid boy!

It was fun to roll into the old station at Arta making train noises. Less fun but very therapeutic was the guest house plunge pool we used as an ice-bath to ease our tired muscles. Just as well … there was still no chamois cream to be found anywhere!

Day 4 – Arta to Port de Pollenca

66km, 526m climbing, 4hrs

The only road out of Arta was the main Ma-12 but it turned out to be much nicer than we’d expected.  After a short climb, we rolled gently downhill for nearly 10km, feeling very smug as we passed a few cyclists puffing their way up in the opposite direction.

Knowing that the northern coastal strip was less interesting, we turned inland and immediately discovered yet another Mallorca. One of pretty remote farmhouses, surrounded by olive groves that were filled with sheep turned brown by the rust coloured earth, bells tinkling from their necks.

The backroads took us through several traditional Mallorcan walled towns in quick succession … Santa Margalida, Muro, Sa Pobla. Each with tightly packed streets and a church dominating the central square.

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The church at Muro

Then, we turned into the stunningly beautiful valley where Andy decided to take off with the peloton until Clare summoned me back to bring the inner tube for her puncture…

Once we’d recovered from all the hilarity, we cruised gently down to Port de Pollenca, our home for the next two nights and one of the most popular cycling destinations in the world. Cyclists come here in their thousands to tackle the challenge of the Formentor lighthouse and to climb the Tramuntana mountains.

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Looking across the bay at Port de Pollenca

Just what we were planning … let’s hope Andy found some chamois cream first!

We’ll let you know how we got on in our next post.

Clare and Andy

Mountains of Mallorca

According to Anders, the best 3 rides in Mallorca are Cap Formentor, Sa Collabra and the Ma-10 between Banyalbufar and Andratx. Anders is the very helpful Swedish owner of Bikehead, where Clare rented her bike, and he’s cycled all over Mallorca many, many times … so he should know.

We promised him we’d ride all 3!

Day 5 – Cap Formentor

43km, 1112m climbing, 3hrs

Having driven out to the Cap Formentor lighthouse the year before, we were a bit scared of tackling this spectacular winding road on bikes but it turned out to be a lovely ride and good training for the mountains ahead. Each climb is only about 200m high which is roughly the same as a Bath hill at home. Unlike Bath, there are plenty of scary cliff faces to peer down, the kind that give you tingles.

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The cliffs of Cap Formentor

Andy enjoyed a day cycling without panniers but was less impressed by a very slow puncture that needed pumping up from time to time. I thought it might be slowing me down when an older coupler cruised by on one of the steeper hills using apparently little effort. A bit miffed, I stood up on my pedals to accelerate until I realised they were riding electric bikes.

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A great day out on a bike

Cap Formentor deserves its reputation as a great day out on a bike. Our top tip would be to bring your own lunch so you don’t have to resort to a very expensive potato sandwich from the café next to the lighthouse.

Day 6 – Port de Pollenca to Soller

63km, 1400m climbing, 4hrs 30mins

Our first job was to repair Andy’s slow puncture so we headed to a bike shop to buy a spare inner tube. Hallelujah … there in the back corner was tube of chamois cream!

Aaaaahhhhh …

Climbing at an average gradient of 6% for 7.5 km, the Coll de Femenia was our first proper mountain road since the Pyrenees last year. It felt good to breath in cool mountain air again as I watched Clare race ahead, struggling a little with the weight of the panniers.

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Top of the Coll de Femenia

At the top of this first climb the road rose gently up through some stunning high mountain scenery until we reached a tunnel that marked the start of the descent. Sure enough, we sped down for a few km but our fun was ended abruptly by a sign announcing the start of another climb to the summit … up for another 5 kilometres.

Ouch!

It turns out there are two tunnels. Perhaps we should have looked a little more closely at the map!

When we eventually made it through the real tunnel-at-the-top, the view across the valley in the late afternoon sunlight was worth the effort as was the 18km descent, full of switchbacks down to Soller.

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View down to Soller

Day 7 – Sa Colabra

28km, 1200m climbing, 2hrs 30mins

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The road to Sa Colabra

The road down to the tiny port of Sa Colabra is both an extraordinary feat of engineering and a kind of folly.

Nobody is quite sure why Antonio Parietti, the Italian designer, created it in the 1930’s. Perhaps it was simply for the challenge and sheer joy of it, although it’s unlikely the workers thought so as they laboured to move a million cubic feet of rocks by hand to make room for all the sweeping corners and switchbacks.

Nowadays, it’s recognised as Mallorca’s best bike climb both for the physical challenge and the sheer joy of the incredible scenery. It’s a proper test, averaging 7% for 10km.

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Sweeping corners and switchbacks

We wanted to experience both an ascent and a descent of this iconic road and discovered that we could do so by taking a boat along the coast from Port Soller, returning late afternoon.

As we slowly made our way up from the port, Clare felt full of energy and passed quite a few MAMILS (middle-aged-men-in-lycra) on the climb, somewhat to their surprise.

Andy on the other hand, overtook just one cyclist and he doesn’t really count as he was pushing his bike at the time. I had no panniers holding me back that day so I had no excuses.  It’s the first time I’ve experienced that common cycling cliché … “he just didn’t have the legs!”

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Full of energy

Legs or not, it’s not often a bike rider gets the opportunity to complete a Strava segment with genuine professionals on the leader-board. The current leader of the Sa Colabra climb is Columbian, Sebastian Gomez from Team Sky, who sped up in 24 mins 54 seconds.

My time of 1 hour 52 mins 33 seconds puts me in 48,459th place (out of 48,844). Clare didn’t have Strava turned on, but it’s fair to say she’d be a teeny bit higher up the leader board.

At the top of the climb we were rewarded by the ultimate cyclists’ dream … a nice café with some excellent coffee. And of course, by the opportunity to swoop back down this amazing road in a fraction of the time.

Day 8 – Soller to Portals Nous

63km, 1483m climbing, 4hrs 40mins

The Sunday roads were empty as we climbed out of Soller heading south down the coast, a gentle autumnal mist hanging in the valley behind us.

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Looking back through the mist

This turned out to be a delightful section of the Ma-10, that runs the length of the Tramuntana mountains, full of breathtaking views out to sea from villages that cling to the wooded slopes.  The road is well graded and we only came across one steep section, just south of Deia.

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Stunning sea view

Around midday, we arrived at a junction and had a big decision to make.

Do we turn right and keep our promise to Anders by riding the long way around the coast? Or do we turn left up a shorter inland valley with the promise of Sunday lunch in the small town of Puigpunyent?

We turned left.

Touring cyclists like to experience a variety of different landscapes … and of course, touring cyclists like lunch!

Heading south, the inland route proved to be nearly as beautiful as the coast road, with gentle uphill climbs through vineyards and lemon groves followed by steeper switchbacks on the way down. It was so quiet we could look ahead to check for traffic before trying to take the racing line, almost like real cyclists.

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Autumn vineyards

Day 8 – Back to Palma

20km, 429m climbing, 1hr 30mins

On our last day, we enjoyed a gentle potter along the coast to Palma with time to pedal around the city and enjoy the sights.

Clare’s Spanish must have improved while we’d been away. This time when she ordered asparagus in the local tapas bar, she got asparagus. Vamos!

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Pottering back to Palma

As I’m sure you can tell, we loved our cycle tour around Mallorca and would recommend it to anyone.

The bad news … when we admitted to Anders that we’d only completed 2 of his 3 ‘best rides’, he told us that the one we’d missed (the coast road to Andratx) was the best one of all … by far.

The good news … this means we’ll have to come back.

After all, there many Mallorca’s to discover and we have barely scratched the surface.

Clare and Andy

As we cycled out one Autumnal morning

All the advice told us to take it easy the first day. So we decided to cycle 76km (47m) with 800m of hill climbing, riding with heavy panniers for the first time!

A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step (pedal turn). 
Lao Tzu

We were late leaving of course. The planned time was 10am, allowing for a relaxed coffee stop in Frome. The actual time was 12.30, which meant a quick sandwich stop instead. Packing, clearing up, faffing, locking up, checking, faffing, hovering, arguing, rechecking. It will be a familiar pre-holiday ritual to our children.

But the sense of freedom as we cycled down the familiar country lanes on a misty early Autumn afternoon was worth it. A rare moment much dreamed of that lived up to it’s promise.

We were able to stay on the pathways and quiet country roads of the Sustrans National Cycle Route 24 all day and for the most part it was well signposted and well maintained. First, it took us to Radstock and down the Colliers Way to Frome. This follows the path of the old Somersetshire Coal Canal, then railway, now a gentle, leafy track.

After lunch in Frome, the route took us through the centre of Longleat Safari Park where we enjoyed the solitude and unusual deep roars of lions mixed with the more familiar sound of sheep. For the final 25km we cruised down the Wylye Valley, gently descending with the river to the welcome sight of our inn on the edge of Salisbury, arriving just before dark.

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Longleat House

3 things we learnt today:

  1. Chamois cream is surprisingly tingly.
  2. It’s difficult to take a picture while balancing a fully loaded bike.
  3. Cycle at dusk near a river with your mouth open and you swallow a lot of flies.

 

Finally, we have a question…

Clare is carrying 14kg, Andy 15kg. But Andy weighs 95kg and Clare only weighs 55kg. Should Andy take more weight?