Bianchi’s, Bedfordshire Clangers and Chocolate Toothpaste (C#48)

Thursday 13 October, 104 Miles

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Since embarking on this 60 Centuries project I’ve written a few times about the Bianchi family and the special relationship we share with our bikes. So far I’ve met quite a lot of Bianchi cousins and even a few who could be long lost brothers and sisters. We mostly all share some celeste DNA, though, in the interests of diversity, some of our cousins have a preference for other colours. What unites us is the love; no the passion, for Edoardo Bianchi’s legacy which we guard jealously, value greatly and celebrate joyfully.

Well, today was a chance to meet some new relatives, a couple of uncles and an aunt. Now you may be thinking that I’m losing the plot and getting a bit carried away with myself here. But let me reassure you that I am still firmly grounded in reality. I think! On my list of potential century rides was one based mostly in Bedfordshire. A little while ago I discovered that Bianchi’s operation in the UK is based in Bedford which set a train of thought in motion. How about starting and finishing from their offices?

With 'Uncle' Andrew and 'Aunt' Lucia at Bianchi UK's HQ

So at the Cycle Show in Birmingham a few weeks ago I called in at the Bianchi stand and met Aunt Lucia. We had met briefly before and she also played a vital role in getting me back on the road when my Nirone frame needed to be replaced just a couple of weeks before last year’s Lejog. Lucia introduced me to Uncle Andrew and I made my pitch. Andrew couldn’t have been nicer and asked me to get in touch with him by email to set something up. I also mentioned that I was planning to write a piece about the history and culture of Bianchi and he said he knew of another uncle, who was also a colleague, who would be able to look over my draft. And guess what? Uncle Pasq’s surname is Bianchi! How surreal.

So today I headed over to Bedford and made my way to their offices. After some quick hello’s and bit of discussion about my intended route we gathered outside the office so Pasq could take a few photos to commemorate the occasion. With darkening skies, I was keen to make a quick start and we agreed to save the chat for my return. Getting through Bedford was very easy with the aid of some excellent cycle paths. Then it was north to Kimbolton before turning towards Rushden. Along the way I paused at Tillbrook to snatch a photo of The White Horse. I’ll be back here in a few weeks for lunch. It’s about halfway between where my sister and I each live and we meet here from time to time for a goss. If you like a good Sunday roast this is a great place to indulge. Although I was tempted to cross The White Horse’s threshold it was much too early in the ride to justify so, with slight reluctance I got going again.

Most of the ride now was through a succession of gentle ups and downs. None too steep or long but enough to give me a reasonable workout. This time last week I remembered that I was riding under blue skies with temperatures in the mid-20’s and climbing El Canto. What a difference a week makes. Today was much cooler at around 10°C, with a strengthening wind and some heavy showers in the distance. With an amazing stroke of good luck I managed to dodge all the showers.

Arriving at Ampthill I headed eastwards and although I was still on relatively minor roads, there was a noticeable increase in the volume of traffic, much of it due to the afternoon school run. One of my hopes for the ride had been to buy a Bedfordshire Clanger. This is a traditional dumpling, similar to a pasty, but shaped like a sausage roll with a savoury filling at one end and a sweet one at the other. Originally, Clangers were made with a suet crust but nowadays apparently a short pastry is used instead. It was very much a staple in the diet of 19th Century agricultural workers. Riding along the High Street at Meppershall I spied a traditional bakery so I thought my luck would be in. Entering the premises, the person behind the counter gave me a big smile. I bet she was thinking – hungry cyclist = big spend. So I popped the question: “Do you sell Bedfordshire Clangers?” “No” came the terse reply, accompanied by a scowl. “Oh, that’s a shame, any suggestions where I might get one?” “Not really, you could try in Bedford.” “Well, thank you very much.” And our little exchange ended with said bakery person wishing me “the best of British” in the most insincere tone I think it was possible to muster! So, no Bedfordshire Clanger for me. Not today at least.

Leaving the bakery and the baker behind me I headed on through Biggleswade (where I have since learnt I could indeed have bought a Clanger, not dropped one) and St Neots then I was soon heading back to Bedford and Bianchi HQ where my uncles and aunt were awaiting my arrival. After six plus hours in the cold, with a cold and riding into what felt like a headwind all the way meant that I was a tad locked up. A quick wash, a change of clothes and a with a warming coffee I began to feel half-human again. So it was with more than a little enthusiasm that I was ready to learn more about the family.

In a very short time, I learnt a lot from Pasq about Bianchi’s history. I’m keeping this under wraps for now as I want to write a ‘special’ on Bianchi’s history and development. Pasq has kindly agreed to give my efforts the once over – something I hope he doesn’t regret as, based on our brief discussion, I fear I could be a long way off the back of the peloton. Both Lucia and Pasq have long associations with Bedford so were quite amused by my Bedfordshire Clanger experience and had a lively discussion amongst themselves about where I could buy one. They also told me about another local delicacy – Chocolate Toothpaste. And readers, Google it if you want to know more. I fear that I will have to do a fast hundred here just to burn of the culinary calories on offer.

Andrew spent some time telling me about Bianchi’s operation in the UK. I learnt that they sell around 4,000 (road) bikes a year. That there are 90 dealers across the UK (chains like Evans are considered to be one dealership). The average Bianchi buyer is aged between 40 and 50; 35% are women. Although the facts and numbers are important; this is a business after all, what we spent most time talking about was Bianchi the Brand. I have often said that Bianchi owners share a language, much of which is not spoken but only felt and absorbed. Listening to Andrew was like having unique access to the Bianchi dictionary. At its simplest level, I can use words like reputation, longevity, affinity, passion, lifestyle as examples to articulate what the brand means. But there is always something else that you know is out there, just beyond reach, that is the unique ingredient in Bianchi DNA. It is something that many other bike manufactures strive to attain but, in my view, never quite manage. And it is the reason why true Bianchista’s get such a thrill from their bikes. At a few points during our conversation I really did feel that ‘Uncle’ Andrew had taken me through a door to another world.

Agreat memento from a great day

But all good things come to an end and I was stunned to see that we had been chatting away for over an hour. At the end of a working day Andrew had been incredibly generous with his time. And to make the day even more special the Andrew presented me with a superb espresso cup and saucer as a memento of my ride. Grazie mille Andrew, Lucia and Pasq. Passione celeste!

Day 6: Saillagouse to Canet-en-Rousillon: Mountains, Gorges and the Sea (C#47)
103 miles, 2,700feet

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We'll be up there in a couple of hours!

I woke  early this morning at around 6:00am. Immediately I began to wonder what the day would bring. Sitting out yesterday afternoon’s storm in the café when I had seen a snow plough heading up the road we would be riding in about two hours time, as well as snow covered cars coming down the other way I was a tad concerned that we might be in for a tough and potentially dangerous ride. It was still pitch black when I slipped out of my bed to peer over the hotel balcony. Not even the silhouettes of the mountains were visible so I couldn’t tell if the snow was still there or not. All I knew was that it was very cold as my breath formed dense vapour trails around me. I guessed that it was well below freezing.

After about half an hour the tops of the mountains slowly appeared and I could just see that they were dusted with a light sprinkling of snow – rather like icing sugar on a sponge. Another good sign was that the sky seemed almost cloudless so hopefully any frost on the road surface would have melted by the time we started riding. And slowly but surely the eastern sky grew lighter and lighter. Was it too much to hope for a clear dry day on this the final stage of our Tour?



By 7:30 I was dressed and heading across the village square to a nearby brasserie for breakfast. (Our hotel had closed for the winter so wasn’t offering any food, just a bed and a shower for the night.) Entering the brasserie I felt like a regular customer as I had enjoyed a great dinner there the night before and it was also where we had sheltered from the storm when we first arrived in Saillagouse yesterday. I received a cheery "Bonjour" from the owner so I really did feel at home. And the excellent French breakfast – croissants with jam, pain au chocolat, fruit and strong, black coffee were just what I needed to set myself up for the day ahead.

With breakfast behind me I returned to our hotel, packed and loaded my bag on to the van and retrieved my Bianchi. After five days of riding it needed a bit of tlc so I gave the frame a thorough wipe down, cleaned and oiled the chain, checked the gears were changing smoothly, inspected the brakes and put some air in the tyres. Then, emerging from the front of the hotel into the courtyard I looked upwards and was treated to the sight of a clear, blue sky with perfect visibility. I just knew this was going to be a good day and possibly even a great day.

Views don't get much better than this

One of the defining features of this Tour has been how each day seems have been even better than its predecessors. Just when you think things can’t get any better, whether it is with the riding challenges or with the scenery, something new and breathtaking occurs. At this rate I’m in danger of exhausting my vocabulary of superlatives!










The profile for today’s final stage was totally different to the previous five stages. In a nutshell it started with a climb of around 3,500 feet over the first ten miles followed by a descent of 8,000 feet over the next 80 miles. With a total distance of 92 miles, the team had suggested that we ride on at the end so that I could complete another century in my 60 Series. This seemed like a great idea and for me, it would be fabulous to ride it with some good friends. Completing a century with the 'Elites' would be very special indeed. Well, enough of this blether. What about the ride?

The Elites celebrate the last climb of the Tour

We clipped in and headed upwards out of Saillagouse. Already the road surfaces were drying in the sun so frost was unlikely to be a consideration. As we gradually climbed upwards we could see the mountains on our right swathed in bands of cotton wool white cloud. Yet again, the views were spectacular and it was quite an effort to avoid stopping continuously for a photo. Eventually we reached the top of the climb and after a short flat stretch we stopped at a small information centre to enjoy a round of espressos and celebrate the completion of our last major climb of the Tour.







Infused with our caffeine shots we remounted and set off on what was likely to be the longest descent I had ever ridden. The first section of the descent was on fast, smooth, wide, dry roads with excellent visibility ahead. The sweeping curves meant that it was virtually unnecessary to use the brakes. Instead this was an opportunity to relax and let the bikes lead the way finding their own courses downwards. It’s hard to express the feelings and sensations of descents like this. I’ve filmed quite a few sections and I hope that the results will better capture what I experienced than I can with mere words!

After about 20 miles the character of the surrounding countryside changed dramatically. Instead of riding down a wide, gently sloping valley floor a change in the geology signalled the start of a deep, forested gorge. Now we were on an different sort of descent altogether – narrow roads, tight corners with wet patches in the shade where the sun had yet to penetrate. Riding here required much more concentration and close attention to bike handling. Although it was still about letting the bike do most of the work, it was also about keeping speeds in check. Basically riding involved pedalling out of a corner into the straights, braking as late as possible, then leaning and freewheeling through the apex of the bend before starting over again. And always trying to look about 20 yards ahead at the line to be followed with an eye open for the possibility of oncoming traffic. Left hand bends are easier as you can see further round them; with right hand bends there is always the possibility of the bend tightening up into a curve of 180° - or more! To give this some context, I took nearly an hour from the start to the end of the gorge, descending about 3,000 feet over 20 miles.

Mark gets a bit carried away in the Gorges de St-Georges!

We stopped at the bottom of the gorge where the rock faces closed right in and for a couple of minutes were almost speechless and drunk on the euphoria of the descent. For me, this had been totally exhilarating. As we gradually recovered the power of speech the banter turned to suggestions of riding back up to the top and repeating the descent. If only! Sadly, we still had 50 miles to reach our destination plus that extra 10 to knock off another century.







Emerging from the gorge the ride took yet another turn. Now we were in a wide open valley with distant cliffs. Mile long straights, surrounded by vineyards with occasional small villages where people were lunching outdoors were the order of the day. And our approach to riding changed too. It was time to go into time trial mode and the six of us, resplendent in our yellow tour jerseys, rode wheel to wheel in line in the classic team time trial formation. Amazingly, we were still going gently downhill and for mile after mile we spun along almost effortlessly at 18-20 mph.

Gradually the outskirts of Perpignan got nearer and nearer and we passed by heading towards the Mediterranean coastline. Arriving at our destination, Canet-en-Roussillon, we were still a few miles shy of the desired century so we rode along the coast and back to claim the missing few miles enabling me to bag my 47th of the year. This ride marked two other significant events though. In addition to being the 47th of my Century Series it was also my 100th all-time recorded century. But much more than that it was a landmark ride for one member of the team. Vince clocked up his first ever century so I was really pleased for him and proud to have been a part of it. Welcome to the club Vince!

The Elites - together as always

As always with the last day of a Tour I have mixed emotions. And the end of this tour is no exception. As I reflect on the last six days I feel so privileged to have been able to enjoy such spectacular riding and share it with such great friends. So, as I have already wittered on for far too long I would just like to say “Chapeaux et merci beaucoup mes amis!” or “Sombrero y muchas gracias a mis amigos!"

Day 5: Sort to Saillagouse: The Big One
70 miles, 6,781 feet

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Today was going to be a day of two's. Two quite different climbs and two countries. First up after leaving Sort was the Coll del Canto. This is a Category 1 climb that featured in this year’s Tour de France. It was also the climb that Alberto Contador finally abandoned his Tour de France on having crashed earlier in the race. The Canto is about 12 miles long and rises 3,396 feet at an average gradient of 5.5%. The first part of the climb is probably the hardest in terms of steepness. Gradually, as you gain elevation the gradient lessens. The climb is marked by a series of hairpins which add to the sense of occasion.

Not quite halfway up the Canto

Leaving Sort I headed upwards, setting a pace that I hoped I could sustain for the next 90 or so minutes that I expected the climb to last. As I rose ever upwards the views were spectacular – deep valleys with mist and low cloud hanging to the hillsides with the mountain summits peeking out above.

Still climbing - in the mist

After about 40 minutes visibility closed right down as I rode into the clouds. Now I could only see about 50 yards ahead. Riding in these conditions was quite an eerie experience and also a little disconcerting as I had no real means of gauging the gradient in front of me. But after about 30 minutes I emerged from the clouds and could now see all around me again. Looking at my Garmin I estimated that I still had a couple of miles of riding to reach the top. I eventually reached the summit sign 1 hour and 33 minutes after setting off from Sort. I certainly knew that I had had a good workout – and a really enjoyable one. This was exactly why I had signed up to do this tour!

Made it and what a great climb!

After posing for some photos and a bit of banter with the gang it was time for the descent. As I’ve written before I’m usually a bit of a wuzz at descending; I came off a few years ago and my confidence took a knock – as did some of my body parts. With an amazing bit of good luck I found my descending mojo today and was able to fly downhill, well fly in my terms, over the next 16 miles. With wide, smooth and dry roads I felt quite relaxed about going full gas. This was pure exhilaration, sweeping round the bends and hairpins using the full width of the road. All I really had to do was maintain a light touch on the brakes to scrub off some speed approaching the tighter hairpins, relax and let the bike do the work. Leaning into and out of the bends was fantastic and I felt in complete harmony with my Bianchi. This has to rank as one of my most enjoyable and exciting rides. Sadly it was all over too soon as I arrived at the support van for a welcome shot of caffeine.

Adiós España

Setting off again it was time for part two of the ride and a totally different experience. In a nutshell this was one 40 mile climb at an average gradient of 1.5% all the way to the end of the stage. With a tail wind we seemed to fly along the Vall du Segre. Although the mountains were still high – we were about 10 miles south of Andorra – this was a quite a wide valley so there was a much more open feel to the forested landscape. In no time at all we were over the border and back into France. No more Spain on this tour.


As we approached our destination at Saillagouse the clouds darkened and a tremendous storm threatened to engulfs us. Spikes of lightening and explosions of thunder were bursting all around us. It was a race to the finish to avoid getting drenched and we made it. Phew!

I finished yesterday’s blog by asking “Could it get any better?” Well the answer is a resounding ‘YES!'

Day 4: Campo to Sort: Hairpins, Hairpins and More Hairpins
73 miles, 6585 feet

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There are three roads out of Campo and each one goes uphill so there’s no escaping a nice little climb to start the day and warm the legs. Rumour had it that today was going to be the hardest stage of the Tour. Hmm. Before starting I had to carry out a little bit of bike maintenance as I had noticed yesterday that my lowest gear wasn’t quite engaging and I thought that the derailleur might have been just touching the spokes of my rear wheel. Not a situation that I wanted to take my chances with. A quick inspection confirmed that the derailleur mech was properly aligned so it was simply a case of adjusting the cable tension and I was sorted. Phew!  All this meant that I was the last of the Elites to be ready for the off.  But as ever the team were great and waited patiently for me.

Hairpins of the Puerto de Bonansa

The climb out of Campo was on a wide main road at around 6-8%. Fortunately it was still quite cool so I didn’t have to endure the potentially sunstroke inducing temperatures of yesterday afternoon. By the time I reached the top of the climb after about 5 miles I was warmed up and ready to go. A fast descent took us down to the Valle di LIerp before the second climb started. This was going to be the pattern for the day, long ascents followed by descents with virtually no flat terrain in between. The next ascent was the 10 mile climb to the Puerto de Bonansa which topped out at 4,500 feet. It was simply exhilarating as we rose up through the pine forest, round hairpin after hairpin finally emerging at the top for a photo. And, if the ascent was great then the descent was at least as good.

Time for a well-earned top up

After a refreshment stop at the end of the descent the next climb soon started. This was the Coll de Creu de Perves at 4,400 feet. I managed to film the whole climb so I hope to be able to share some of the highlights when I get back home. Suffice to say that the climb was at least as good as the previous one. And as for the descent, well what a thrill! I flew down, which for me as a wuzz at descending was quite a feat. It was a case of going flat out on the straights, slowing as little as possible for the hairpins and letting the bike do most of the work.

The day's final descent - to Compte

All too soon we were back in a valley bottom and heading for the last of the day’s climbs. This was a cheeky little number which took us over the shoulder of the Serra de Rulxou. Another fast descent to Compte followed. This one was a bit more technical as the road surface much was rougher, the bends were tighter and there was more oncoming traffic. On a road which is less than two car widths wide, where fast descending means using every square foot of tarmac, and the absence of safety barriers between me and a drop of several hundred feet, the prospect of meeting an oncoming car or even a stationery cow certainly lifted my adrenalin levels.






I managed to reach the Vall de La Nogeura Pajlaresa at bottom without incident and then it was a fast blast along a fairly busy road to our destination at the town of Sort. Along the way we passed a rider who warned us of heavy rain ahead. By an amazing coincidence one of our group, Vince, had a puncture. Once he’d replaced his inner tube and we’d got going again the shower had passed us by. The only evidence was a wet road surface with some rear wheel spray. This was indeed another superb day in the Pyrenees. Could it get any better?

Day 3: Jaca to Campo: An Exhilarating Day in The Mountains
73 miles, 5,620 feet

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Leaving Jaca

Today was going to be the first day in the Hautes Pyrenees, what this tour is really all about. We slipped out of Jaca into a lovely early morning misty vista. By my reckoning today was going to be a superb one weather wise. The omens were good and I was sure that as the sun burned off the mist we were going to enjoy clear, blue skies and warming temperatures. Within a couple of miles we were onto the first climb of the day, reasonably short and sharp – just the sort of climb to warm my legs as a prelude to the main event of the day.

Drunk on the scenery?

Once again, the countryside did not disappoint – we were riding through some lovely pine forests and the air was rich with the smell of resin. Although the roads were a bit rougher than we had become accustomed to they were relatively traffic free and so very enjoyable. Our ride was broken up with several photostops. There were so many opportunities that I began to wonder if we would actually reach our destination before sunset. Every corner we rounded seemed to throw up an even more spectacular vista. And in the background the high mountains were gradually growing closer and closer. Reaching the first feed station at 25 miles gave us a chance to pause and draw breath – not from the efforts of riding; more from an overindulgence of soaking up the scenery.

Suitably refreshed we set off again for the main event of the day, the ascent of the Puerto del Sarrablo. Over the next 22 miles this rose nearly 2,000 feet at an average gradient of 1.6%. The lower sections seemed almost flat but as we climbed higher and higher a few steeper sections reared up to test our legs. Reaching the top of the climb took me around 2 hours – and I rode it without stopping. (I’ve made a video of the ascent which I hope to post when I’m back home.) At the summit we paused to regroup and enjoy the most spectacular view so far. The view was enriched by the sight of a pair of Griffon Vultures circling effortlessly overhead. For me this was easily the high point of the Tour so far and I’m struggling to find the words to express my feelings. So you’ll just have to accept that it was beyond description!

That's not the way down Michael!

Unfortunately we had to move on. If I thought the ascent was spectacular then the descent was possibly even more spectacular. For once I was able to shed my inhibitions and really enjoy the descent at speed. With an average gradient of about 8% and dozens of open sweeping curves I was able to wind it up and simply fly along – I’ve video'd the descent too so hopefully I've captured a sense of exhilaration that I felt.









Martyn and Amanda were waiting at the bottom of the descent with our lunch. By now the temperature was rising steadily so we were glad of the refreshment (that cool melon was yummy!). But we had to press on over the final 20 miles to Campo, our overnight destination. This final leg was hard; very hard. In temperatures that rose to 30 degrees, with absolutely no shade, the final 9%, two-mile climb of Foradada was quite a challenge. The longish straights added to the pressure and I could see the air shimmering ahead of me. This was very much a case of turning the cranks one revolution at a time and grinding it out!

Eventually we reached the summit and then it was a very fast descent to Campo. I managed to touch nearly 50 mph before reaching the bottom – and I wasn’t the fastest by a long way! At last we reached Campo, a small, sleepy hamlet surrounded by the mountains in every direction. All that was needed now was a cooling glass of beer and I wasn’t disappointed!

Day 2: Pamplona to Jaca: A Foretaste of Things to Come
77.6 miles, 4,423 feet

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Perfect road for a time trial

Under rather grey skies and a cool temperature we gathered outside our overnight base in Pamplona to prepare for today’s stage. The route promised a steady ride with "no significant hills" (in the words of tour organiser Martyn) so it was a sort of transitional stage. We managed to find our way out of Pamplona without too much difficulty and were soon into open countryside. Ahead of us in the distance were the Hautes Pyrenees, which we will be riding in tomorrow.








The Elites were in good spirits and together we made excellent progress on some superb smooth road surfaces. I dropped off the back of the group at one point to take a photo and then indulged in a spot of time trailing to get back on.  It was pure bliss to spin along almost effortlessly at around 25-30mph for a couple of miles with the aid of a tailwind and the sound of my tyres swishing on the smooth surface. It made me realise how crappy the roads are back home. After catching up with the rest of the Elites we rode together to the first feed stop at around 25 miles. With a mug of coffee and a banana inside me I was fully recharged and ready for the second leg.

Geoff crests an 'insignificant' hill!

After about 30 miles we arrived at the only real climb of the day – in two parts at around 9%. We were riding on what was the former main road; a new dual carriageway had been built alongside us which carried most of the traffic. The surface of the ‘old’ road however was better than most of the equivalent minor A or B roads in England.

Getting over the climbs we then rode alongside a reservoir, the Embalse de Yesa, which was almost empty of water. Around us were spectacular limestone hills with some impressive cliffs. This was certainly very dramatic countryside. And the high Pyrenees dominated the background – a reminder of things to come over the next few days. This was the sort of country that I have seen before in spaghetti westerns. I could almost imagine Clint Eastwood, some Mexican bandits, a mule and maybe even a nun emerging from one of the many canyons we passed.

Fuel - strictly for the bike, and not the rider!

After topping up at the second feed station we then had a long and quite testing ride for the final 25 miles – all uphill at an average of 1-2% with a few slightly steeper sections. With a headwind and rising temperatures this was quite hard work. We shared the leading and so maintained a reasonable average speed. Arriving at Jaca we stopped for a cooling ice cream an McDonald’s – not quite PC for ‘elite’ cyclists, welcome nevertheless. Jaca sits in the shadow of some impressive mountains which I am sure we are going to get to know – intimately.

Tour of the Pyrenees, Day 1: St-Jean-De-Luz to Pamplona; A Warm-Up in Some Hills
67 Miles, 5,843 ft

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Today has been a very long time in the making! After last year’s Land’s End to John O’Groats tour the so-called ‘Elites’ who may now become the ‘Super Six’ decided to do another tour together and the Pyrenees was our destination of choice. So about 12 months ago we booked our places with ACT Cycling Tours. Subsequently we even had a very wet training weekend in the Lake District back in May (see blogs for 29 April to 2 May). So it was great at last to actually be standing on the road in St-Jean-De-Luz ready for Le Grand Depart. So much anticipation; now the reality was upon us. And the prospect of riding together again was brilliant.

The Elites: (l-r) Vince, Nick, Andy, Michael, Geoff, Mark

After a short detour to the beach so we could say that had actually started from the Atlantic coast (Andy was the only one who actually went on to the beach and dipped his tyres) and a group photo all we were off. There are 15 of us on the tour so some new names to remember and some new people to chat about. Sunday morning in Saint-Jean-De-Luz is a fairly up quiet time so we were able to ease ourselves into riding on the other side of the road without having to worry too much about  and the traffic.  In no time at all we were heading south and heading up the first climb of the day – a fairly short and gentle ascent of the Col de Ibardin that warmed up the legs.This also marked the border between France and Spain – with a quick photo call. Then we dropped down a fairly steep and very hairpiny (?) descent to Bera and into the Valle del Bidasoa. Fantastico!




Apart from the stunning scenery, sunny skies and lively banter, two things struck me. First how smooth the road surfaces were and second how little traffic there was. This meant that we could really enjoy our surroundings. So much so that we relaxed and began riding two abreast on what, back home would be a fairly major ‘A’ road. Our enjoyment was somewhat shattered by a loud hailer announcement of “Hombres - uno!” as a police vehicle, complete with flashing blues, passed us by. Oh dear, a potential diplomatic incident within the first 20 miles. So we tucked in behind each other and continued on our way to the first feed stop at Sunbilla where Martyn and Amanda were waiting for us.

Stunning scenery near Salidas

After refreshing ourselves we set off for the main climb of the day – around 15 miles through some fabulous forest. At an average gradient of around 3% with short stretches up to 6% it wasn’t very steep, just long. Sweeping hairpins added to its interest, though the longer, straighter parts were more challenging mentally. Every so often, spectacular views opened up which helped to show how far we were climbing. After about 90 minutes, we reached the top, regrouped and headed off on a fantastic descent – fast, sweeping curves with smooth dry road surfaces – bliss!

Roadside repairs!

Sadly, all good things come to an end and we reached the bottom of the valley for our second refuelling stop. Then it was a fast blast towards Pamplona, slightly marred by a succession of mechanicals – one puncture, two chain unshippings and one broken chain. But the team was well up to the challenge and it was great to see everyone pitching in and helping friends who had experienced some bad luck. Who knows? Tomorrow it might be my turn to need some help.







All too soon we were into Pamplona, riding through the outskirts and into the historic old part of the city to reach our hotel. Unpacking, I discovered that I had left at home the cable that connects my camera memory card to my iPad so the photos will have to wait until I get home.  Aargh. And if I was told this was the route for tomorrow, my only comment would be “What time do we start?”