Mules go Mad in Mallorca

Way back in November 2014 The Mules sent an expeditionary force to the Island of Mallorca to determine whether its monument climbs could be accessed and conquered.

Other requirements were also sought with one proviso.

That only adjectives beginning with the letter G could be used.

Good accommodation, great bikes, good food, great beer, and of course gigantic climbs.

In the interests of all, hangovers and gastric poundage were obtained along with a bike supplier and stable for the Mules.

After much preparation the clubs first full blown tour took place this September. 

Assembling at Leeds Bradford Airport we could easily have been mistaken for a syndicate who had just won the lottery. Smiles were fixed and kind of strange, with joviality in abundance.

For the trained eye there were subtle hints that we were in fact two wheeled athletes.
The odd club cap, Rapha T shirts, and the domed outline of cycle helmets straining inside bags restricted by airline allowances.

Having a Dr with us is always good, having a Spanish one that speaks more languages than a united nations translator is a bonus.
That is until the Italian Flight attendant asks if there is a Dr on board the plane.
Super Mario (Manuel) was able to provide sufficient assurance to a poorly passenger and flight staff that we didn't have to go to Paris.
We had no bikes waiting for us there !!!!

The Hotel anticipating our arrival  sorted our rooms out in double quick time to ensure that we could relax with a few Cerveza by the pool.
During the libations there were a number of tentative auditions in an attempt to mimic Daniel Craig emerging from the water. Nobody came close.
The following morning the Mules emerged starry eyed with the anticipation of both pleasure and pain.

We were collected  by a mini bus which towed our bikes in a trailer and were driven to Inca where we started our first ride. 

It was simple, ride to Sa Collabra and then back to Palma before drinking beer and wearing are pre purchased Rapha Sa Collabra T Shirts.

Hey Shrimpers Sa Collabra is just round the next bend

After climbing for what seemed half a light year we eventually crested and came across a Cafe with lots of cyclists milling around. 'Thank F**k for that I thought' I heard that Sa Collabra was tough but it was in fact a killer. 

After taking my first sip of coffee I practically spat it all over the table on hearing that 'We had only just reached the Mountains'

 Sa Collabra was miles away. Andy Worrall at least found it amusing

The adrenalin that comes with fear soon kicked in and as we passed through the tree line the task at hand suddenly came into perspective, quickly followed by my repeated turrets.

It was magnificent and terrifying in one snapshot.

Being too engrossed in the mattress densities and the alcohol content of the beer, I had spent little time researching the Terrain during the preparations. It was not until I was surrounded by the set of Lord of the Rings (Mount Doom) that I realised that with Sa Collabra you have to go down, then climb up.
Its the toughest 'cul de sac' in the World.
I like going downhill fast......... especially with the added risk of almost certain death if you miscalculate your descent. It gives you a heightened sense of focus, or madness.

 Of course what goes down must also come up. about 12 mins down and an 70 mins  back up.
For some (Malcolm) it was pretty routine.

For me it was a hallelujah moment.
Right up there, a bucket list top ten at least.
The daily ride was only 62 miles but my suffer score was reaching 300.
Epic they labelled it - They were right.

Prior to the ride I did not really like the Rapha 'Sa Collabra' T shirt.
Visually it reminded me of a biology class at school and learning about the Spirogyra.

One of the characteristics of the Spirogyra is that it produces great amounts of oxygen and
after I had stopped panting and brought my heart rate down to a sensible level I eventually saw the irony.
Sa Collabra did look like a Spirogyra but instead of producing oxygen it demanded it like a disgruntled highwayman.

 The evenings celebrations continued well past a sensible time but this was a trip about riding hard and playing hard. The humble Mule only knows it tough.

The next two days saw further adventures and frolics and of course numerous visits to various watering holes.

For the seasoned cyclist going to Mallorca, Gran Canaria or Teneriffe has become and integral part of Spring training. I see all the benefits but for me its better as an end of season blow out.

Ride London 2015 Revisited

The Drama

Mules United

When I first rode 'Ride London in its inaugural year of 2013 I unashamedly finished with tears in my eyes - Tears of pure joy. In a different body those feelings may have been replocated by being part of a star studded Peloton, but in reality I am just a MAMIL, a (Middle aged man in Lycra), a dreamer with a predominantly two wheeled imagination.
Ride London brought and continues to bring my dreams alive to a level that is palpable.
After a disappointing storm affected 2014, 2015 provided an even greater event. Riding down the Mall in a Mule 'Chain Gang' at close to 50 kph, after 100 miles of sun drenched euphoria was truly - living the dream. 
Doing it with your twin brother along with other English, Welsh,Polish, Korean and Yorkshire Mules from our Cosmopolitan Club made it all the extra special.
The joy, camaraderie and endeavour can be seen in the following pictures.

Rochelle Gilmore - Founder of Wiggle Honda Womens Team

Malcolm and Pam showing that two is not always a crowd

Malcolm recruiting new riders for next season

Matt and Katherine

Race Time

4:30 AM Ready to rumble

The start

Anglo Dutch breakaway

Box Hill or in Yorkshire a rural speed bump

The Yorkshire Mules

The Finish

A record number of Mules have applied for 2016 so watch out for the Mule trains.

Malcolms Madness

Each year since the Mules Club evolved we have embarked on a 'Summer Club run' designed to test our metal and have some mutual suffering. Usually this has involved finding a masochistic route with a selection of double digit gradients on the local North Yorkshire Moors.

During the actual rides it would become custom to laugh at our stupidity and pained gurning expressions, to tell exaggerated tales of elevated wheels, lack of gears, and descents breaking the land speed record.


This year the task of selecting our route was devolved to 'Malcolm' who is known by some as Lucifer or 'Diablo' for the wry smile he presents when watching his fellow riders suffer.
It is said that Lucifer fell from great heights, well this one descended on a Canyon Racing bike and wants nobody to return to the paradise that a summit might offer.
He would carefully select gradients to keep his disciples legs burning from his 'Velo Hell'

Amongst dozens of unnamed climbs he chose Blakey Ridge as our monument climb, way up on the North Yorkshire Moors. A place so remote that I expected to see 'The Slaughtered Lamb' and some American back packers deviating from the road.
Malcolm also put in his order for some gale force wind and squally rain to stack the odds in his favour.

Prior to our departure some of our club members started to drop out perhaps knowing 'The route', Malcolm, the weather or all three!!!

What alarmed me was the calibre of riders left.
I am no climber - but I can climb.
Knowing my limits I tackle these beasts as slowly as I can, often reassured that there will be some who will suffer more than me. For this trip I knew I was to be the 'Lantern Rouge'.

Those who elected to go or were drugged by Malcolm were all related to Mountain Goats, where I was a prairie dog.
Maybe .......the thought passed my mind. I would be Lucifers first Victim?

The countryside was breathtaking, and the initial 'Rises' as Malcolm put it -were significant ascents to me. As the terrain became more exaggerated so did my breathing and sense of terror like a condemned man travelling to the Gallows.

Well Blakey arrived and it did not fail to disappoint, rearing up from the valley bottom like a striking Cobra, all menace, aggression, and terror.
Malcolm was already hatching his next devilment by the time I arrived at the top, shaken and stirred and in need of some splints for my legs that felt like 'under set' Jelly.

When its all over and you are fortified by Cake and Ale things never seem so bad.
Malcolm knows us well.
He gives you just enough pain - but not too much, to ensure that he gets to choose the route next year.
Isn't that what the devil would do?

All in all the day was spectacular and my stories have have exaggerated to new heights.
Thank You........ Lucifer

Toerclub Volendam - Here come the Dutch

(Dutch Corner at Alpe d'huez (Tour de France) velo passion personified)

As I have previously reported the passion for cycling in the UK has grown exponentially over the last few years but for one neighbouring country in particular that passion has always been there.

People often remark that Norwegians are born with skis on, well the Dutch have a similar trait.

They are virtually born with a bicycle - or fiets - attached to them. 

Almost as soon as a Dutch child is able to walk, he or she learns to ride a bicycle. They grow up on bikes. They ride them to school as soon as they are able to and when they are nine years old, they are expected to pass an informal test - an actual cycling demonstration - and earn a cycling diploma.

As teenagers, they go out on dates on bikes, with one person on the front and one perched side-saddle on the back. Lovebirds, young and old, ride side-by-side, precariously holding hands. People of all ages and socio-economic status - including government and other dignitaries - regularly commute to work on bikes (a flat bicycle tire is a common excuse for being late for work). Police patrol the streets on bikes, and most holidays of choice involve bicycles.

And bicycle use continues throughout old age.

Cycling in the Netherlands is a way of life. It is second nature. The Dutch do not typically get up in the morning and say "Today, I think I'll go biking." They just do it routinely, as a matter of course. They run errands, shop, go to work, and socialise on bicycles. They also carry anything and everything on a bike, including furniture, numerous shopping bags, four or five children… and even the family dog.

Practicality and day-to-day bicycle usage go hand in hand in the Netherlands; indeed they are the cornerstones of life in this traditionally Calvinistic nation. There is very little that is not done on a bicycle in this cycling utopia where an astounding 29.000 kilometers (18.020 miles) of dedicated bicycle paths (Fietspaden) lace this tiny country of only 41.526 square kilometers (16.033 square miles).

Global model for cycling 

With the largest proportion of bicycles transportation and the highest density of bicycle facilities in the world - including a cycling-dedicated infrastructure bar none - the Netherlands is considered to be the global model for cycling. Bike paths run alongside almost every road here, and there are even separate traffic lights for cyclists at virtually every intersection, with the bicycle symbol appearing in red, yellow and green. The infrastructure is totally geared toward cycling, making it a serious mode of transportation and an integral part of Dutch society. 
The Netherlands is the only nation in the world with more bicycles than people. In a country with 16,5 million people, there are 1,1 bicycles for each one - or roughly 18 million bikes. In Amsterdam alone, there are approximately 550.000 bikes, versus 215.000 autos. 75% of all Amsterdam residents (aged 12 or older) own a bicycle; half of them use it daily. That astounding, nationwide fleet of bicycles - the highest bicycle density in the world - has a major impact on such a tiny country.

Cyclists’ paradise

 If you happen to come into contact with a car the driver of the car is deemed to be at fault unless he or she can prove otherwise.

If Heineken did cycling - they would surely use Holland

Maybe that why it’s a Dutch Brewery.

Earlier this year we were contacted by Rob van der Plas of the Toerclub Volendam, which was founded in 1989 and has over 400 members.

They wanted to do a mini tour riding from Volendam to Rotterdam (Ferry to Hull) 100 miles or so around East Yorkshire before getting back on the Ferry and riding home.

They asked for some local guidance and support and the Mules were honoured to help.

On the morning of their arrival the heavens opened to ensure a traditional English welcome.

I had mistakenly thought that there were 17 riders an amount that one might expect on a mini tour.

I was wrong -There were in fact 70 !!!!!!!!

Comprising of men and women of all ages and sizes there were some common themes.

They could all cycle with skill, politeness and etiquette that sadly I rarely see in group riding within this country.

They snaked through the countryside of East Yorkshire with tempo and self-discipline providing a spectacle for the locals who instinctively put their hands together in applause. The first part of the route was confined to the Holderness plain (Flat lands), which would have been similar terrain to what they would be used to.

We then turned inland to Burton Agnes, Kilham, Langtoft and then over to Sledmere Hall for lunch.

We were joined for lunch by the ‘sun’ that obviously decided to come out in appreciation that the rain failed to dampen anybody’s spirits.

After lunch the course got a bit lumpy towards Fimber, Fridaythorpe and Huggate before dropping down to Beverley via Middleton on the Wolds and Lund.

The feeling of leading such a large bunch was exhilarating even more so when some of the riders asked me to slow down. It was not something that I have often had say to me before, but something that i have often said as I slip off the back on a big climb. 

I eventually  left the group close to Beverley with a great feeling having had one of my most enjoyable rides ever.I hope to  stay in touch with the Dutch for a return visit.