Leaving the house last Sunday to join the Benissa group, I was already a litle late. Yet I could not resist stopping to capture the magic of the blazing globe as it climbed above the limits of the Mediterranean sea. Half way to Benissa, at Benimarco, I waited for Pete and Jim, who had also been delayed. So by the time we reached the plaza in Benissa, the group had already left. Just as we caught them before entering the quarry gorge, I suffered the first of two punctures. Those at the front were still unaware of our presence but, as is the custom, everyone stopped until the tube was replaced.

As the clouds thickened and rain seemed imminent, there was some trepidation when Santi then got a puncture. Incidentally, Santi and Chimo recently took me along to watch a match of Trinquet at Pedreguer. This uniquely Valencian variant of  the Europe-wide game of pelota,with its many forms, is played in a long, high hall. The hard ball is hit with the hand by players (1-3) on either side of a net. Scoring is very similar to tennis but there are so many idiosyncracies relating to the scoring, the rules and the betting that continues throughout each game, that it makes for fascinating viewing. Fifty years ago, all the streets would have been filled by locals playing the game – without nets, just lines drawn across the dirt – each Sunday in every Valencian village. (You will not find the Trinquete in Benissa unless you go to the Bar Trinquet; you pass through the back and the hall is situated at the rear, surrounded by houses and shops).

This ride was unique in that the half way point, at which we take a break for our almuerzo (early morning meal), was back in Benissa at the Casa de Cultura. Entering from the rear, off the beautiful street where so many senorial houses, or palaces, continue to coyly hint of magnificent interiors, we parked our bikes near the stone statue of the rice-planter kneeling by a rock. Long gone are the days that the men of Benissa make two trips a year to the rice fields near Valencia, one to plant and the other to harvest. A local told me that the rock for this statue came from Sueca, the center of the rice area.

Twice during the week I have enjoyed rides with the English group of Pedreguer. You never know who is going to turn up but you do know that every Thursday it is the same route, covered at a rattling pace. Unusally, there were only four of us this week that stayed together for the whole circuit. Climbing up the Pillarets, near Pego, Jim all but snatched victory from Sandy in the traditional sprint to the top. I was not far behind as I improve slowly while nearing my best riding weight of about 72 kilos.

I have all sorts of ideas of rides I would like to do in the future. Writing these blogs and reading your comments has given me great pleasure. I feel very grateful to those of you who have followed me. But I am now thinking of activating the Facebook account I have without ever having used it. (So if you have invited me to be a friend and I have not answered, please understand that I will not have seen the message!)

So thank you once more, and hopefully we will meet on Facebook – once I can get my head around it!

Very best wishes,

Eric.