I was hasty in deciding to make my previous blog the last one I would do. In truth, I do enjoy doing them. So you will continue to be assailed by my blathering.

With so much heavy work to do in the garden recently, I have found it difficult to justify doing longer rides. When Tim said he was intending to up his mileage as part of his training, I could not resisit suggesting a ride together. Now Tim is getting to be something of a “mean machine” on the bike. He completed the Lanzarote triathlon earlier this year and is now training for the one in Salou 2012. But he promised he would not be interested in speed, it was more about getting the miles in. 

Twice before I have cycled up to Torre de Macanes (or, Torremanzanas), the mountain village from where the stone for our walling was quarried. The route covers the 150-160 kms that we wished to cycle.

We made good time along the N332, cycling to the far side of Benidorm before turning up to Finestrat. It was now nearly 10am and the windcheater had to come off before starting to climb. Suddenly it is as if the whole Mediterranean comes into view behind us, the little island of Tabarca a mere speck. Ahead of us, mountain peaks betray a world quite disti ct from that of the coastal fringe. As ever on the road from Finestrat, I – and Tim also – gasp at the unspoiled majesty of  the mountain scenery, all laid out seemingly for our private pleasure as no other traffic is to be seen. Not even another cyclist.

With the summit of Aitana, the highest peak (1500m) in the area, ahead of us we branched off to Relleu. Already the clear mountain air was ringing out to the sound of “come on Eric!” It went quieter on the particularly tough climb nearer to Torremanzanas as Tim’s chain was slipping and he could not use bottom gear. That made his legs burn a bit.

Tim (not short for timid, honestly) blocking the view of the mountain valley by Torremanzanas. Can you see the small Xmas. tree?

Ladies unloading wood for the fire in Torremanzanas

Torremanzanas itself is a delightful little place. It is very friendly for one thing. (A meaning for Macanes is said to be “the kind people”). But there always seems to be a rhythm of life there, not just the quiet moving around of old folk  in a village that has lost its purpose. The little bar by what passes as the plaza served us tostadas and coffees outside where the warmth of the sun made us reluctant to move on again.

But Tim had to get back for a 10km run so off we went, climbing up again to the Puerto de Benifallim (Benifallim pass) at 1030m. Now the next photo was taken on the descent with Aitana to the right and Alcoy over to the left. It does not do justice to the view but it might have saved our lives. As we continued down through steep, tight bends – in single file, I might add – a taxi came steaming up the hill cutting the bend completely. If we had been just a little further ahead he would have wiped us out.

Me

Just when you think you have reached the bottom a short steep climb of 20% rears up before you, but then you reach the main road where you would turn left to Alcoy but we turned right to head for the Tudons pass. There was a risk we would be back a little too late so we then took the left turn towards Gorga. This way we were able to reach Castel de Castels where we filled our water bottles from the fountain. As Tim remarked that we were nearly home I replied that there was a time, not that long ago, that a ride to Castels was a day out!

The windcheater had to go back on for the fast ride to Benigembla through valleys to where the late winter sun does not always reach. I had to laugh at Tim as he surged past and shouted “tuck in behind me” as he sped off. “I would if I could catch you”, I shouted back.

From Jalon back home I was running on the reserve tank, feeling quite depleted though also somewhat delighted that I did not have to accompany Tim on his 10km  run.

Distance  151kms    Time cycling  6hrs29mins    Average speed  23.3kph

News about Thamsanqa.

As I have previously related, the Dutch charity BeMore, who have been so supportive of Thamsanqa in recent years, have pulled out of South Africa completely due to the rising costs there. However, they have liaised with a group of Dutch supporters of Thamsanqa who have now formed a foundation, “Stichting Thamsanqa.nl”. From January they will have their own website, dtails of which I hope to post. The foundation will raise money for Thamsanqa by holding events and regular subsriptions as well as sourcing volunteers to help out at the orphanage.

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.

If it drizzles in the UK, any cyclist worth his salt would still go out. Here it is different. With rainy days being so infrequent on the Costa, the chance of getting wet can send a shudder through the spine of even determined cyclists. The rain is late this year. Last Sunday showed no sign of it, though at 8 in the morning an extra vest was a wise addition. The Benissa cycling club meets at 8.30 in the plaza so in my case I have a half hour to climb up there.

First we hurtled along the coast to Altea before climbing up to Callosa. The rollercoaster through the Bolulla valley is good preparation for the 10km climb to Tarbena. Already the group had fractured. But this is not a race and the ascent is so beautiful that one could be excused for taking one’s time.

Part of the ascent to Tarbena.

Nevertheless, we regrouped before the very top so that we rode together to the Bar Pinet in Tarbena, well-known for its owner, who lost most of one arm in the Civil War. This of course was not the reason that the service was so slow on the day, but we lost far more time there than ever we would have liked. So much so that when we had rode over the Col de Rates to Parcent, all the Spanish riders understandably decided, unanimously, to head straight for home. That left just Pete and Jim, Nino (Dutch) and Jurgen (German) and myself  to finish the scheduled route through Orba and Gata. I taunted the Spanish lads that we were the “autenticos”; I just hope that they understood I was joking. We are their guests, and very grateful to be included.

Distance   110kms    Time cycling  4.5hrs    Average speed  24.4

(For a host of photos and videos of this, and other rides, I recommend you visit www.ciclistasbenissa.blogspot.com)

Yesterday I plucked up courage to join the Pedreguer cycling group. Thursday is the day when the fastest follow a route that does not vary from one week to the next but is always at a good speed. The last time I had joined in, when I was not in good form, I struggled badly. So I was a little apprehensive. Jurgen, Jim and I rode together to the Tasca bar near Pedreguer where the group meets for a pre-ride coffee. (On Tuesday, riders bought 6 copies of my book “A Home to Head For”, available also through Amazon). Amazingly, only seven of us turned up. It was not because they were at home reading my book but because there had been some talk of a gota fria (exceptionally heavy rain).

Two hours later we had passed through Oliva and then Font d’en Caros, managed the loop around Ador, Villalonga and Podries, passed round Gandia and arrived at Miramar on the coast, where the barman was busy extending the awning to allow us shade while we ate our tostadas. By now we were only five as Ken had had to stop at the bike shop in Gata and Gary had got lost in a village before Ador. We had waited for him but to no avail; he turned up however as we were halfway through our food.

Then back through Oliva and off to Pego from where we took the Pillaret ascent. Invariably this climb causes a few muscles to flex and ends in a sprint. The route back through Sagra, Orba and the Jalon valley is taken more leisurely.

The whole trip was delightful. It is so much more enjoyable when you do not feel you are on the edge of your ability and can arrive home and still get stuck into some work instead of retiring to the couch for a doze!

Distance  135kms  Time cycling  5hrs    Average speed  27.1kph

My thoughts are never very far from the Thamsanqa orphanage in Port Elizabeth and Tia and Loise who manage it. Despite constant setbacks, Tia’s recent health issues being particularly difficult, they continue with a never-say-die attitude. In Tia’s most recent blog, she has kindly made great reference to myself, which I thank her for. But please look at the new group that has been formed in Holland by people who have helped at Thamsanqa and realise the tremendous work being done and the vulnerability in the wake of the charity Be-More pulling out of South Africa. Volunteers can now organise time at Thamsanqa through this group if they so choose.

Tia’s blogsite is www.tiathamsanqa.blogspot.com

I particularly find interesting what she writes on parenting, although we have brought up three of our own. To read this, click on the the right of her blog, where it says “on parenting et al”.

The rains have now come with a vengeance.

Best wishes,

Eric.