GIBRALTAR GIBRALTAR - HOW BEAUTIFUL YOU ARE !!!!!!

GIBRALTAR GIBRALTAR - HOW BEAUTIFUL YOU ARE !!!!!!

Really short post to let you know we have arrived safely in Gibraltar.  We will post the details of today's cycle later.....

Fozball Team Rule !

Day fifteen 15 June 2013

Stage 15 Utiel to Albacete

67 Miles

Today’s ride was shaping up to be another reasonably easy day. However, the forecast was showing a big glowing sun and with temperatures over 30 degrees. We left the hotel just after 8am and set off for our first stop in Villatya 22 miles along the N322. The conditions were perfect, light winds, cool temperature and flat smooth roads so we made good progress and met Steve at a Hotel/Truck stop service road and, as usual, he had picked a great spot in the shade. Suitably refreshed we set off towards the next stop. Our spirits were high and the previous days tiredness had given way to the urge to sing.

That would have been great but none of us could remember the full lyrics of any of the songs. Rawhide was popular, as we knew most of the words, but dum dedum substituted the forgotten verses. Various incomplete rugby songs were sung and other rude versions of popular hits were warbled out and thankfully the sparseness of the local population meant that no innocent bystanders suffered. We took a break from our X Factor practice sessions and stopped and took this picture.

 The singing stopped shortly after we left the truck stop as we needed all the oxygen we could suck in as we had a 7% climb for about 5 miles.  This proved not to be so tiresome as the ascents on the previous days. Over the past couple of weeks we have  developed our own ratings for the severity of the climbs we have encountered. Unfortunately some naughty words have slipped our grading system and therefore we cannot publish details. Whilst climbing this challenging hill, the temperature started to rise and we encountered a blistering 40 degrees and combined with the the arid air made the part of the ride a bit uncomfortable. Off the top of the hill was a different matter. The super smooth roads had a long decline, which made for fast and effortless pedalling to our next stop.

We met  Steve at the small town of Fuentealbilla. He had selected a shady spot once again and we tucked into our french bread, cheese , salami and Spam (yes Spam). Whilst stuffing our faces with the necessary nutrition we were approached by a local lad on a bike.Not just any old bike but an Specialized S Works bike (Binky, you need one of these , in white). The lad was Felipe Medina and he is the owner of the town's petrol station and he was keen to swop cycle stories and he wanted to swop

cycle tops. We duly swopped one of our Sky tops and we are now the proud owner of a rather nice top from the local cycle club (see tomorrows blog).

We were quickly joined by Felipe's friends, Jose Juan, Jaunito Spuknik and Arturo Valero.

Felipe's excellent English ensured that we were able to chat about cycling. They had already been out this morning (thus sensibly avoiding the heat of the midday sun) and they are planning to cycle over the Pyrenees next week.

Whilst chatting to Felipe, he asked if we knew anything about Spanish football and Andrés Iniesta. He is  a famous Barcelona player and he scored the winning goal (1-0) against Holland in the final of the 2010 world cup. It turns out that Andrés Iniesta is the son of Fuentealbilla and that he still has a house in the town. Felipe then took us to see the house and the small statue placed opposite it in his honour. All around were pictures and posters of the local lad made good and it was obvious they are very proud of his achievements.

Andrés Iniesta

 

We said our farewells to Felipe and we made  way back to the route to the next stop. Whilst cycling along, Foz let out a joyous cry. It turns out that his odometer on his bike hit 11,000 miles so we had to stop and take this picture.

Stage 16 tomorrow and the weather forecast is, you guessed it, sunny and hot and we are only cycling 59 miles, yipee!

Ride stats

Distance 68.96miles

Average speed 13.79 mph

Max speed 35.6 mph

Ride time 5 hours 0 minutes

Total miles 1209
(only 391 miles to go!)

Day fourteen 14th June 2013

Stage 14 Teruel to Utiel

68 mile

The dawn chorus that announced the start of the new day was orchestral in its magnitude accompanied by an equally bright sun and cloudless skies. Accumulated exhaustion was manifesting itself with tired limbs and a feeling of tiredness at the beginning of the day. With a struggle we hauled ourselves from our beds, kitted up, loaded the van and headed for breakfast. Fuel tanks suitably replenished we briefed up the day and then headed out before 08:45 hours.

Spirits were high after the previous days toils, aided by the fresh air and relatively flat roads heading out of town. We knew the course to the first stop would be a welcome relief and it absolutely lived up to expectations. The surroundings were hugely pleasing to the eye with colour, variety and fertility in abundance. Teruel sits in an oasis of pleasantness with rich terracotta soils and evidence of agriculture abounds. 

Having left town the verges to the road were a symphony of colour with splashes of crimson, yellow, white and lavender offset with the intense green of the grasses flowing away to our left and right. The morning breeze sent ripples through the upturned stems and a gentle swish meandered across the lands. Beyond were a plethora of vegetable patches neatly dividing up the landscape, interspersed with groups of trees, equally varied, displaying a spectrum of greens set against an azure sky.

We then cycled through a scene reminiscent of monument valley with relatively gently sloping hills topped with stark vertical sided angular flat tops, the red of the rock mottled with sprigs of greenery.

8%, we salute you!

The calm was broken by three off tune singers breaking into a variety of tunes, all off key and the words ill remembered. Soft pedalling was the order of the day, taking in the wonder that abounded and a timely chance to preserve energy. The road twisted and turned gently with each bend bringing new delights. Soon rocky cliffs rose up on either side flanked by thick stretches of tress, some of which closed in above us as we rode, bringing with it a fresh coolness aided by bubbling streams meandering as they flowed. How delightful it would have been to stop and have a picnic or sit lazily on the river banks with a rod in hand, unconcerned as to whether the float would bob or not.

All too soon the first 22 miles were over and as we broke cover from this wonderland we took a right turn off the N330, stopping in the small town of Torrebaja. Steve as ever was waiting with fresh supplies of French sticks, cheese, ham, salami and fizzy drinks. Back in the saddle we headed back out of town. Almost immediately the surrounding countryside had returned to aridness with stunted pines littering the landscape.

A photo opportunity of a hillside village from a bridge and before long we were into another long climb. The sun was beating and the temperature was up into the mid thirties. A low gear and grind out a rhythm to get to the top was the order of the day. As we strung out and entered our own zones, it was an opportune period to make peace with the spirits and to think of the people important in our lives both past and present.

As the climb commenced there was an abundance of yellow on either side of the road, acting as our fanfare. That soon changed to sheer walls of white rock acting as an amphitheatre. The intensity of the heat was amplified as it rebounded around this cauldron and we half expected to hear a roar of expectation from an invisible and demanding crowd, at the first sign that one of the toiling gladiators should slip or falter.

Not far from Lenciana (not posed at all)

Eventually the summit was reached with beads of effort flowing freely past brows, into blinking eyes and dripping from the ends of noses. The saltiness stabbed the eyes causing involuntary wincing. The fanfare of yellow at the commencement had returned for the finale of the climb too. The Director Sportive was at the summit, ensuring that bidons were replenished before setting off again. The worst of the toil was over and flatter lands beckoned. We turned off the main road, passing through a small village and then another cheeky climb followed. Before long we were into more fertile and green lands again, the odd farmer and his tractor enlivening the vista.

We saw this tree and would like any of you followers to name it.

What is this growing?

Back onto the main road and a few miles to the next roadside stop set amongst some pines. More cheese bread and ham and a natter in the shade of the trees before the final miles to day’s end. Another change of scenery beckoned, as we broke from pine clad rolling hills onto flatter plains with small vineyards dotted here and there. What should have been an easy roll in proved more taxing with a punchy headwind forcing us into a low tuck and a weary grimace as we ground out the last few miles.

Hotel suitably located we then set about some cycle maintenance to keep the steeds in fine fettle for the last six days.

What's this all about?

Ride stats

Distance 67.8 miles

Average speed 13.3 mph

Max speed 29.5mph

Ride time 5 hours 06 minutes

Total miles 1142

https://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/fundraiser-web/donate/makeDonationForFundraiserDisplay.action?fundraiserActivityId=287378

We push on

   

  

The Fozball Team

Day thirteen 13th June 2013

Stage 13 Alcaniz to Teruel

92 miles

It had been a very hard Day 12, but yet more beckoned. If we were going to get the same weather today as yesterday, we were going to struggle. Having eaten out at a local restaurant the night before, we awoke to the alarm clocks ringing at 6am. Departure had been set for 7:30am for another punishing day. The first 60 miles of the ride was uphill! God help us. Was Day 13 going to be unlucky for the Fozball Team....read on and find out

We cooked up our own breakfast of porridge, packed our bags, checked over our bikes and finally left Alcaniz at around 8am. We had a gruelling day ahead, with 92 miles to complete over some significant mountain ranges. We needed to get some quick miles in before the temperature became unbearable again. At the 18 mile mark we paused – this was the point where we had completed 1,000 miles, the most any of us had ever done on a tour.

The temperature stayed at around 22 degrees as we pushed on, climbing all the way. Gradients ranged from 3% to 7%, with the odd little downhill stretch. However these were always greeted by another long and straight uphill section. We stopped at Los Olmos at the 27 mile mark, having climbed 2,000ft. Steve had secured a position in the shade near a local school. We ate and drank as much as we could to ensure we could maintain our strength for the long day ahead.

Onwards we went, but this time we noticed that the air temperature did not rise so quickly, we were being cooled by a gentle breeze. The next stop was Escusha at the 49 mile mark. We climbed and we climbed and before long we were entering the town, which appeared to have grown up around coal mining, but the pit and processing plant had been shut down. It didn’t look good, a town in a deep recession. It was sad to see. When we looked up at the mountain ridge that overlooked Escusha, we saw dozens of wind turbines spinning lazily in the breeze. Was it these that had forced the min to close? Were they replacing the power generation potential of all that coal? Who knows. 

Leaving Escusha we headed up again, the temperature soon reached 35 degrees. Oh no, not again we thought. But over to the West clouds were looming, and we kept getting offered the shade of the odd cloud right above us. We could see rain in the distance too. When we reached the top at 1,180m above sea level after a punishing climb, the temperature had plunged to 22 degrees and we descended onto a plateau that lay between two mountain ridges.

 

We pressed on and soon reached the climb up to the second ridge which was at 1,380m, but Matt had got a puncture on the way up and we had to stop for 15 minutes to fix it. Whilst doing so, thunder roared above our heads. The summit was at mile 60, so 32 to go! We descended and got some fast and easy miles in, but we were feeling drained. Rain drops fell every now and then, but it was not enough to soak us through, just a little refreshing!  By mile 75 we stopped again, this time at a place called Alfambra. Steve had found us a small restaurant where we could sit outside and enjoy a cool drink.

17 miles to go, could we do it? We pulled out all the stops and pressed on. Whilst cycling this last stretch, we noticed an old railway line and disused stations all the way along. It looked strange, as if it had been partly restored and then abandoned. Or had it ever been completed in the first place? The line ran right into Teruel but not a single sign indicated what was happening to it. Anyone with any info, please get in touch with the Fozball Team, we would love to know more.

The scenery had constantly changed throughout the day, from barren, rolling mountains to rich and fertile valley floors. What we knew for certain was that it was beautiful:

There was one last surprise, yes, you guessed it, another climb into Teruel. However we did it. We arrived at the hotal having covered another 92 miles. We had spent 7 hours and 35 minutes in the saddle and had arrived at the hotel at nearly 7pm. We still had to do the washing of clothes and bottles, checking of bikes, writing of blogs and going out to find a restaurant to eat. We had averaged 12.1mph which was good considering we had climbed a vertical distance of nearly 2 kilometres! On one of the descents we had reached a top speed of 45mph – not for the faint hearted. We fell onto our beds and dozed. We were shattered, but we had done it. Lady luck had shone upon us today. Moreover, the team had stuck together and was now a strong as ever. We only have 530 miles to go, there is a small light at the end of the tunnel. We could actually do this!

The Fozball Team

Day Twelve 12th June 2013

 

Stage 12 Huesca to Alcaniz

96 miles

The Furnace Fiesta

A clear blue vista greeted us as we awoke early after our previous days efforts. A quick check of the limbs and all seemed to be in order. The previous days challenge had led to an end of stage euphoria, as for a bunch of old blokes we thought we hadn’t done too badly. It had been a long day in the saddle but every minute was worth it – despite the screaming muscles and mile upon mile of twisting steep climbing.

The divide between Spain and France drawn by the might of the Pyrenees brings a stark contrast between north and south. The voluptuous and curvaceous rolling hills of beautiful France, signifying her rich fertility is in stark contrast to the harsh and macho aridness that greets you when descending from the mirrored snow capped peaks. Could this be an omen for the day ahead?

We left earlier to try and achieve some miles before the heat of the day set in. We rolled gently out of Huesca onto flat and even roads. We spun our legs freely and surprisingly there appeared to be no ill effects from the previous day. Our spirits were high and the easy rolling roads allowed us to eat into the days total with little effort. An easy day beckoned.

Traffic was light and three abreast cycling was the order of the day. The landscape was fairly featureless, but a glance rearward from whence we came brought another smile of satisfaction as the imposing grandness of the Pyrenees gradually receded behind us.

Our first stop was upon us at the small town of Heurto. Steve had warned us that he may be a little behind us due to a fuse issue with the van and the fact that the shops didn’t open until 09:30 hours. We entered town whistling the theme tune to The Good, The Bad and The Ugly (votes please on which of the Three Amigos matches the aforementioned description !! :)). That set the dogs barking and I sure we heard some of the wooden shutters to the dwellings being slammed shut from within. With no gunslingers in sight, we had a little tour of the town and headed up a very steep footpath to the ruins of a small ‘Castillo Heurto’. Someone had turned the temperature up a few notches and we headed for some shade and to keep a look out for Steve. Our ‘Director Sportive’ soon rolled into town in the mean blue wagon and needless to say set the dogs barking again. We wended our way down to him and topped up our bidons, had a quick sandwich and then rolled out of town. Today would be a breeze.

The temperature had ratcheted up another few notches by now and was already at about 28 C. The land was flat and dry on either side of us with the odd dwelling or power line broke the even landscape. The odd buzzard circled lazily overhead as if keeping an eye out for an easy meal if we didn’t make it. Gradually some hills appeared in the distance which seemed a way off and probably something we would tackle tomorrow. The mercury tripped 30C and the pedalling became more laboured. An expanse of rocky white soil, parched and baked hard by the relentless sun lay in swathes on either side. It seemed impossible for any plough to break this crust, but surprisingly there was some signs of cultivation, with straw coloured crops still and motionless in the cauldron. The long strip of black which guided us along was bordered by grasses and scrub which had been dappled here and there by a touch of colour – the crimson of poppies, the canary yellow and clean white of daisies and the soft lilac of lavender – as if by an artist’s brush. As the soft purr of thin rubber on the asphalt drove us onwards, out of the corner of our eyes we could catch the odd drab brown bird darting off low over the straw coloured fields, or the random fluttering of black and yellow butterflies attracted by the bloom.

We crossed a bridge under which was a stark man made canal, carrying the only jade coloured water for miles. Almost immediately the road began to rise and to our left the large expanse of higher ground greeted us. The mercury was steadily rising and was now in the mid 30s. The air was hot in the nostrils and cycling with the mouth open was a risk as it attracted all and sundry flying insects like moths to a candle (on the descent from the Pyreness the previous day, Foz’s entry to Spain was greeted by some insect flying into his mouth and stinging him. His impersonation of dolphin speak at the side of road caused some bemusement to Matt and Pete). 

A new adversary was now squaring up to the team. The heat. The sun beat down like a hammer on an anvil and sapped moisture and power from already tired limbs. There was no respite, nowhere to shelter. It was necessary to keep pedalling to allow an airflow that kept some semblance of even temperature. Gaps appeared in the formation as we ground our way up the pass, each rider keeping their own pace. The summit was eventually reached when a potential catastrophic mechanical problem hit Pete’s trusty Cervelo. Going for a gear change, there was a rending that caused his rear gear hanger to shear. His chain twisted and fell between his cassette and spoke, dragging his derailleur inwards. A gnarled and broken mess was the result.

Steve our trusty hero was summoned and before too long the van with spares and tools was with us. In the shade of the van, Pete then set about fixing the problem. Fortunately Matt had brought a new spare rear. The damaged chain was split and removed, the rear hanger replaced and the ‘new’ wheel installed. (Fortunately good preparation ensured we had the right spares with us). Pete would have to tackle his own wheel later in the day.  We utilised this pit stop to act as our second refreshment of the day. The temperature was getting progressively hotter.

We set off again. The breeze induced by our momentum was like sitting in front of a hot hair dryer. 39C was the latest reading. The water in our bidons was as hot as that from a kettle not long boiled. We kept downing it, but it was not enjoyable and did little to slake our thirst. Onwards we struggled, head down trying to maintain a rhythm in the unrelenting cauldron. The landscape remained stark, until all of a sudden and without much of a climb, we started a long and winding descent. The intensity of the heat was amplified as it was reflected off the road and the rocks which rose on either side. Gradually the vista opened and the harsh straw coloured grass was replaced with stunted and rounded pine trees added a welcome dash of green. The rocks changed from white to a reddish brown and with it the soil. Rectangular huts that blended impeccably with the surrounds started to spring up. With single sided sloping roofs topped with tiles matching the surrounding browns. Tiny little windows boarded from the inside with Hobbit sized doors.  

We wended our way downwards and then across a bridge spanning a large reservoir. Swallows circled low across the waters below us, flitting to and from their nests tucked up against the piers and making the most of the insects on the wing. We stopped for a quick photo, it being almost unbearable not to maintain the breeze. A quick temperature check – an oven topping 40C. So much for the day being easy and still another 20 miles to go.  

We limped into the last pit stop of the day and all were muted. It was almost too much effort to utter a word. Steve had done us proud again by finding some shade. Glory hallelujah. We quaffed as much liquid as our stomachs would allow. With sweat still beading our brows we reluctantly remounted for the final push. Only another 15 or so miles – and surely no more climbing for the day.

How wrong. Almost immediately it was straight into another unrelenting climb. With our energy reserves sapped, it was hard going. Our reward – a descent into Alcaniz for the last couple of miles. A final sting was a steep gradient up to our apartment for the night. Unbelievable temperatures over a taxing course. A huge achievement to tick this one off the list. Another 95 beckons for tomorrow. 

Ride statistics

Distance 96 miles

Average speed 14.4 mph

Ride time 6 hours 39 minutes

Top temperature 40C

The Fozball Team