Conference movies::cycle_racing

849.0. "Rod M's Majorca Training (Rod 1 Bike 0)" by ULYSSE::virenq.vbe.dec.com::ULY2::HEMMINGS (Lanterne Rouge) Tue Apr 22 1997 17:14

This is what happened, sort of.

Sat 5th: collected by Niall (my brother), drove to Gatwick, met Phil and   
Chris, checked in for our 16:00 flight. Only to be told it would now be   
leaving at 21:30. What do you do in Gatwick airport for 5.5 hours? Eat,   
drink, shop, get bored. Upon arrival at Palma we were met by the minibus   
Niall had arranged and taken to the Taurus Park hotel in S'Arenal near   
Palma. Up to our room at midnight, knackered, only to find the bathroom   
roof leaking water. In another room half an hour later feeling totally   
wasted. Bed at 1.00am.

Sunday: sunny day, blue sky, warm! Leisurely breakfast, put the bikes   
together, finally out. Along the strip on the seafront up to Palma and   
eye up all the other bikies and holidaymakers. Topless count: positive.   
Slowly through Palma then start to climb up out of the city towards the   
Col de Sa Cruz, past gardens and greenery and with a seaview opening up.   
On the col proper I went bonkers and zipped up hard as I could to arrive   
at the top with my throat rasped. Chris and Phil took longer having   
stopped to fix the first of many punctures on Phil's 18mm Grand Prix   
tyres. Niall made it up shortly afterwards, sweaty as fuck and despondent   
with the effort needed. A nice descent, some steady riding and we found a   
lunch stop at a ranch-type resto and had a damn good paella. No-one   
wanting to go too far today so after a fairly hefty climb straight out of   
Pugponyent, it was downhill to Palma and the seafront home. Time to   
change and check out the beach. Evening, a Fred Rompelberg meeting. Quite   
a lot of people and just like last year we were the only Brits among a   
group of mostly Germans and Dutch. Applause fur Fred, bitte! And a   
warning, that after 12 weeks of no rain the roads 'were like glass'.   
Chris found this idea amusing and wouldn't stop taking the piss out of   
it. Beers after, and a discovery: Tunel, a green sweet liqueur that we   
would all grow fond of.

Monday: Phil, Chris and I lined up for the Schnell group, about 18 people   
today. Several other groups would cover the same route at a slower pace,   
Niall signed up for yet another group going a different route. Speed   
group leader was Eric Seraphim, 13 times Polish track champion, applause   
fur Erick bitte!
A big guy, mid-30s, very tanned, rode track style by spinning faster   
whenever he needed to get up the front. Well, we rode a good pace to the   
lunch stop at 80km, but on the way back with about 40km to go Eric   
grinned and rode to the front and wound the pace up. The group, which   
contained a number of strong cyclists responded and the next hour was   
hell, riding in pairs at average 40kph on a windy draggy coast road.   
Through some bad planning I had to do two turns at the front with Eric,   
glancing despairingly at my HRM ratcheting up to 180. Eight of us made it   
back to the hotel with Eric, having done 150km at an average 33.1 kph. I   
was shagged, the others too. What the hell, big beers later. Chris wanted   
to go the topless bars (Bar Top Less) despite the high drinks prices but   
we talked him out of it.

Tuesday: weather bad. Grey, drizzly, very windy. Declared an official   
rest day instead of Wednesday. I rode with Niall out on the coast road   
for a 60km round trip. Felt quite good despite yesterday. Big beers   
later, finishing at midnight but Phil and Chris stayed up till 2am.   
Crazymen. The noise of the wind kept me awake for much of the night, that   
and Niall's snoring.

Wednesday: weather still just as bad but we're riding anyway, hilly   
today. Eric set a brisk pace right from the off. One of the group was in   
a hurry and going through the suburbs he went in front of Eric. Eric   
waited until he was *just* past a right turn and then whistled at him as   
we swung off and he went straight on. Eric was boss, no doubt about that.   
We went steady-to-fast on draggy roads up to Bunyola then in light rain   
started the climb proper, the col de Hono. Very beautiful, quite Alpine   
with flowers and craggy mountainsides. Phil and Chris honked off in the   
lead group but I didn't like that pace and followed. Some time later I   
came up to Phil, grinding up in 42x22 and dragged him back up the Chris   
who was a little way ahead. We went over the top together onto a short   
but very technical descent which you had to take very carefully on wet   
roads. I got a little ahead here and arrived at the stop, where the   
support van was, a minute or two behind the leaders. When Phil and Chris   
arrived I joined them for a much-needed chocolat chaud, but when we came   
out we found Eric had pissed off already - damn. The three of us rode on.   
About 20km down the line on a fast, slightly descending road I heard a   
crash behind me and looked back 50 metres to see Chris sliding across the   
road, he'd lost it on a 90-degree right-hander. He was grazed and shaken   
but ok. Another guy came up to us while we sorted Chris out, Paul, a   
belgian, and the four of us rode briskly together back to S'arenal,   
shortening the planned course slightly. That was 106km for a 29.9 kph   
average. Big beers later, cruising the strip and seeing which bars would   
offer us a drink just to go in - they have people on the road accosting   
you.

Thursday: weather still grey and windy. Speed group smaller every day but   
today there's an old bloke on a Colnago and christ do his brakes squeal   
ear-piercingly. On the climb to Valdemossa he's way off the back and Eric   
shepherds him up ("der ist ein klimb-problem mit der oldman"). At the top   
he's instructed to wait for the next group which he grumpily does (in the   
group meeting that evening he said that there were non-Rompelberg people   
in the group winding the pace up, and that he was only 100m off the back,   
both total bollocks. The next day he tried to join the speed group again   
and Eric told him to fuck off.) After Valdemossa there was sun again! And   
a lovely descent down to the rocky western coast. I stayed with Eric on   
this but all but one other dropped back a little, then when the climbing   
started again I felt good and went off the front with another guy, big   
gear climbing. I blew after about 5 km of this, discouraged because the   
bike gear-changing wasn't so good. We had a caf� stop shortly after and I   
made a very bad discovery. The gear changing was bad because the   
down-tube cablestop had come unglued from the frame. It was detached from   
the frame because there was a crack in the downtube running most of the   
way round it. Not that again! Utterly dead bike and 60km from home. The   
others carried on and I took a taxi 30km up the road to Capdella where   
the support van was, then got a lift home in that. Well, bad enough to   
break the bike but I was pissed off for missing a good ride on a   
beautiful road. Big beers later. Crazymen.

Friday: very sunny, factor 25 weather. I hired a Rompelberg bike, alloy   
with Ultegra STI, pretty good kit. The speed group was down to Eric plus   
5 today. Chris and Phil had backed out, opting to go and do the col de   
Soller on their own. Eric had been making noises about a flat superfast   
175km. This would be good training but I was despondent at the thought of   
five hours of following a wheel, especially as I suspected I could be the   
weakest of the remaining five. There's a wheelerbahn, a banked 330m cycle   
track, at Sineu, and that's where we went first. The slower groups came   
in as we waited in the sun at a caf�. I made a decision - I wanted my big   
day in the mountains and so I was going to go off and do Puig Major on my   
own. I felt happy as soon as I left, no more stress of high-speed group   
riding. Through Inca and up towards Lluc where the climb started. So many   
people out, and no-one passing me at all up a terrific twisty climb.   
Where the road from Sa Colabra joins the Puig Major road, at about 700m,   
I came up to a group of five and went past. Two of them didn't like that   
and came past me and hammered into the distance, the road now up and   
down. After a long chase I caught them, but they ignored me, not liking   
having been caught. One of them blew, and the other kept up the pressure   
on more continuous climbing and pulled away from me. After the tunnel he,   
then I, passed a group of four. Well, *they* didn't like being passed.   
Two of them came past me and went off in hot pursuit of the first guy on   
a section of more climbing. Near the top the third caught me, a German,   
and motioned me to stay on his wheel. I managed to, just, once again   
hitting 180 on the HRM. The descent into Soller was full-on. We recaught   
one of the German's group and hurtled downhill so that at Soller I had   
covered 100km in 3:20. A food stop there, then bye-bye to the Germans and   
I took the up-and-down coast road through Deia to Valdemossa and home for   
162km at an average of 28.2kph. At the final meeting that evening we all   
got our medals for our riding, me claiming 609km for the week. The   
kilometre king claimed 700-something but Paul the Belgian must have had   
way more than that. Like me he had opted out of Friday's speed group and   
had been up to Cap Formentor on his own for a 200km round trip.

Saturday: sunny. I woke up with a sore throat. Chris's knee had begun to   
hurt so no cycling for him. Niall, Phil and I went up to Randa to do the   
climb to La Cura, a hilltop finish at 543m. I felt fit but very tired and   
didn't push it. An easy return to S'Arenal for a final 50km to our week   
in Majorca '97. A big lunch, a walk on the beach, and at 6.30pm the   
minibus to the airport. Packed airport, delayed plane, touchdown in   
Gatwick at 11.30pm, home at 1.30am.

Now I need to buy a new frame. But first I need rest and to get rid of   
this cold.

Sounds like a nice time. Sorry to hear about the bike frame, though!
						-- Tom