Spanish Biking ...

The Prologue
The trip started fairly low key – first Joe & John got to talking then my Dad jumped on the back wheel, quickly followed by Jim. I am not exactly sure when or exactly why (other than the thought of biking for a week with pals appealed) but before the trip left, I had added my name to make the Scottish contingent up to a respectable number of five !

Joe sorted out skedaddle (the tour company), flights to and from Glasgow, bike bookings, and hired bikes for himself and John but it wasn’t going to be that easy. Dialogue with skedaddle revealed the hire bikes were still to be bought and would we mind transporting them from the UK. That gave the logistical issue of how to get 5 guys, 5 backs and 5 bikes to the airport at 5 o’clock in the morning. A fairly cost effective solution was a van hire. Van booked and my Dad went to pick it up on the Friday afternoon – 1st problem …the guy who had the van the day before smashed it beyond driveable condition (vehicle incident number 1). Thankfully the hire company sourced another van and we were sorted again. Meanwhile, Joe had decided on a new camera …after interrogating the girl in Jessops for the best part of an hour (poor lass it was only her 2nd day in the shop) he decided on a rather funky wee Canon. We were about to leave when Joe asked about memory cards …the girl opened the box to check only to find that whilst an SD card was included …there was no camera in the box !

Arrival in Malaga
Early rise, van packed and we arrived at the airport. Checked in and it was coffee time (the first of many).

Following our flight to Malaga, we were reunited with our bikes which had all survived the journey…just (why do airlines take such poor care of luggage???). We met up with the majority of the other folks on the tour. Paul (offshore rig worker with a nice bike …a very nice bike to be exact), Robert (Londoner and top roommate), Caroline (aka posh white trash, bunny boiler but with a heart – don’t worry she knows how that nic came about), Chris (driest and funniest sense of humour ever), “big” Yella (fast Dutch triathlete). One guy was missing and was to arrive later was Charlie (who informed us he hadn’t been on a bike for two years ….). We met Dan, Tim and David who were to be our guides and support for the week.

We were transferring to west towards the chic resort of Estepona, when Dan got a call which informed him the clutch / gearbox on the minibus had gone (vehicle incident number 2). With a bit of shuttling about, we all arrived at a rather posh hotel more suited to golfers. We set about building and testing bikes …some bikes needed more attention than others!

A few beers later and we could even remember everyone’s names!

Day 1 Estepona-El Bosque
Following a leisurely breakfast we took the short transfer out of town and started to climb up Sierra Bermeja in order to start the tour with a downhill! During the ascent I am sure it was John who commented “I wuidnae like tae be oan ma bike goan up this” Mmmmm

The first descent was a taste of things to come being steep and fast through amazing scenery. It seemed all too easy …and it was, until the first hill. Those who know John know he isn’t “keen” on hills. Shortly after the first coffee, we were all climbing up something very similar to the hill we previously ascended in the Landrover. It was clear at this point there was going to be three groups – the fast boys (only Big Yella & Paul made it into this group), the main peleton and the social group who swept up the rear. At the top of the climb was a village where we all regrouped and cheered as one by one everyone arrived. John thankfully looked happy if a little tired. Another descent over some unfinished road (was mountain biking included?). We arrived and were just eating lunch when I heard a short pop followed by a scoosh of air i.e. my bike had a spontaneous puncture. Bike fixed and fed we started again. We were beginning to figure a pattern – steep descents are followed by steep climbs. In this case it was a steep climb through a gorgeous pine and cork forest. The next few hours were spent pushing towards our overnight stop in the tiny white village of El Bosque. Daylight was against us and as it got darker, we grouped up to stay safe. Those who made it, rolled into town just after dark. Those who were sensible were already in the Landrover with bikes on the trailer. First day riding was over and I was trashed – Grade 1 to 2 ?!?!??!? A snooze, some Jay Farrar on the MP3 player, a bath, a meal and more sleep Zzzzzzzz




A typical climb !


Day 2 El Bosque-Ronda
Waking surprisingly fresh, the day ahead was discussed with Tim. Concerns about the first climb were raised but he assured us that we didn’t start on the hill straight away. He was correct (well kinda correct) …there WAS at least a 400 yard roll before we turned left and started to climb. Ascending up the narrow forest clad mountain road which winds up the Sierra Grazalema was spectacular if long …very long. We climbed up towards a high coll (no – not Joe although he was having fun), we saw enormous Griffen vultures look at us in a hungry kinda way, we saw road workers and a camera crew look at us in a mad kinda way. One by one everyone arrived at the summit of the climb all tired and all buzzing.



Tired but happy ...


Re-fuelled we descended towards the village of Grazalema it's self. Very kindly Paul had cleared the road of sheep previously and it was head down and go as fast as you dare. Down in the village my Dad informed us that he had heard a “ping” from his rear wheel. The “ping” was made by a couple of spokes breaking free from the cracked rear hub!!! Mechanic Jim trued up the wheel to make it rideable at least.

Lunch was down by a river and the group separated for the afternoon – my Dad on the Landrover (confidence a little shot …he was opting for a wheel purchase in Rhonda option) and the fast boys were heading for an extra (steep) loop …without the support vehicle. The social group headed off for an easier out & back loop which included a coffee stop.




Skedaddle say:- “From here we continue through the hills and valleys until the dramatic sight of Ronda appears on the horizon - perched on a cliff top high above us – this is our base for the following two nights.” They were not kidding …the climb towards Ronda was murder. One of those awkward gradients that there is only a wrong gear (either too high or too low) – thankfully the right gear became apparent as the legs started to complain …the lowest you have. Still it was good opportunity to play head games till it was over. Regrouping just outside Ronda (beside a statue of a red deer stag that I never did find out the story behind) the story of the extra loop was told – a mix of narrowly averted mental breakdown & tears from Paul with big Yella demanding food “NOW” and having to eat things he didn’t like. I was glad to be in the social group.

The lack of pasta was kicking in and a group breakaway was formed to find a source of carbs. Paul, Caroline, Robert and myself ate in a small café whilst the rest ate in another posh place. Not exactly sure how …but some of us ended up in a bar called “Huskies” till around 1am. In our defence, it was a sports bar !?!?

Day 3 Ronda
This day had two options have a walk around Ronda which is surely one of the most interesting, picturesque, and famous towns in all of Andalusia, with it's narrow streets, plazas, cliff top views, and historic bull ring. Apparently, this place was a favourite haunt of Orson Wells and Ernest Hemingway.

For the rest of us there was a “short” bike day – descend back out of town and along the gorge to the hill town of Cortes. It was on the way back that Jim attained the team Scotia land speed record recording a top speed of 73.5km/hr !

Day 4 Ronda-Antiquera
Leaving Ronda behind, we headed towards Antiquera. The countryside changed dramatically. The steep climbs and descents were replaced by rolling agricultural land.

Funniest moment of the day came when from a distance of about 200m I saw two dogs go for the wheels (legs?) of Joe & Charlie. As Charlie headed into the distance, Joe span at a cadence of somewhere around 140 rpm – apparently he had just chosen an easy gear to help his increasingly sore knee. I nearly fell off my bike laughing – this alerted the dogs that they could either continue the pursuit of Joe …or turn and have a shot at me ! As they approached, I did a u-turn and sprinted in the opposite direction. As I passed Caroline, Robert & Tim I shouted something about “mind the f@ckin dug” to which Tim commented that he had never seen a Scotsman run from a dog ! Thankfully all the exercise seemed to calm the mutts in question and we got past intact.

After regrouping, Joe and I managed to set a good pace towards Antiquera only broken by the best coffee stop of the trip.



Beats workin eh ?


The town seemed big …very big. After being out on small roads almost devoid of traffic, arriving in Antiquera in the evening rush was a little overwhelming. We found the hotel and went out for a wander to locate a post office. After much map reading and a few wrong turns we eventually found the place …then spent the rest of the evening stumbling into post boxes. That evening we ate in a restaurant where newly qualified chefs work – it was evident that the portion control module had not been covered! VERY full …we waddled back to the hotel and another sleep.

Day 5 Antiquera-El Chorro
The early part of this day was very similar to day 4 except for the wind. As we headed up the first climb it was a major struggle to remain on the road. For some reason Tim & Joe (whose knee was getting worse) had stopped at the most exposed part of the road and set up a feed station – pausing for even a brief few minutes and we were frozen. We opted to continue down to the next village and have a stop there. The descent was hilarious (if a little unpredictable). If the constant high wind was bad …the gusts were worse. Funnily enough the gusts seemed to always hit when a car was approaching in the opposite direction.

Continuing on, and the road surface was mixed. It was either the usual perfect surface or major roadworks or loose gravel – thankfully we had been warned and everyone made it safe without incident.

The descent to El Chorro was interesting. Tight corners which got tighter as you went round them. The poor wheel rims were burning by the time we arrived at the rather obvious hotel. I say “rather” obvious because my Dad managed to miss it and continue down the hill. When it was evident he was missing, David sorted a search party. Charlie found him sitting at the bottom of a dead end road enjoying the view of the lake (and apparently it is always my fault he gets lost ?!?!?)

El Chorro is famous for a number of reasons – in “north of Balloch” terms, it is famous for hot rock excursions made by Joe, Alan “Big Yin” Kelly amongst others. Joe had the full El Chorro experience planned out for us. We took in views of the Kings Walkway, the railroad tunnels as well as stories about the various climbs. We also heard the story of “Emily” but that is one for another time …



View from the railroad ...


Day 6 El Chorro-Marbella The last day!
Had it really have been the best part of a week since we arrived at Malaga?

Joe was back on the bike for a last blast as we left the gorge fades behind us and headed through the groves and terraces towards the impressive white village of Alhora. As we had coffee, we overheard David mention something about the next section being VERY steep. It was nice to find out that he was referring to the descent through the town rather than the next and last climb which took us to the summit of the Puerto de Ojen.




Stopping just outside Marbella for a last coffee we enjoyed the views over the Mediterranean. Apparently you can even see over to Morocco on a clear day. From here was downhill all of the way to the sea. It seemed a shame to stop.

Bikes packed back into boxes, we headed in search of a suitable bar. No sooner had we sat down with a beer and the rain started outside – kinda nice that it waited for us to finish!

After another big meal a few of us went for a ramble around the town via a couple of bars and what seemed like a club before settling down to a wee table with a view. Paul seemed to be especially taken by the view down the street.

Next morning and it was airport transfer time for most. We were relaxing in the hotel foyer when David rushed in to inform us that the Landrover had broken down (stuck in gear) and was blocking the street (vehicle incident number 3) – we got it moved but the gearbox was done.

Post Tour Malaga
Team Scotia had opted for an extra night in Malaga before heading home. Goodbyes said we headed to another hotel, stored the bikes and went exploring. Due to a nagging doubt about getting the boxed bikes on the train to the airport we nipped in to the station. Joe checked both with station staff and security that it was ok to take the boxes on the train – both groups confirmed “si”. The rest of the day was spent around the streets (and bars) in town. We sourced a rather good Chinese and paddled on the beach. Categories for prizes were discussed and nominations made. Winners were:

Most Improved Rider – John “I dinnae dae hills” Queen
Funniest Moment – Joe “trackstand” Coll

It was hard to compare a typical UK city with Malaga on a Saturday night. Mainly because in Malaga, there was no real evidence of the drunken violence that usually accompanies bar closing time. Rather than us not wanting to be part of Europe I think it might be a case of us not being grown up enough to join Europe.

Next morning we had breakfast, visited a cemetery, the Picasso museum (well Jim and I did the arty thing whilst the others went back to the beach) and all that was really left to do was get to the airport. Back at the hotel the news from Glasgow was not good. Eva had collected the van to collect us …and the cutch was quickly burning out (vehicle incident number 4). Thankfully it seemed to be holding enough to do the airport run.

We had devised a fairly cunning plan – my Dad in a taxi with the bags and two bikes leaving John & myself to get the 1st train and Joe & Jim bringing up the rear with the last bike. Ticket purchased from the machine and we headed towards the barrier. Just before I put the ticket in I heard a very gruff “NON”. I turned to see a wee pug faced Spanish lass (who obviously didn’t own a bed with a right side) growling. I was informed that I was only to speak to her in Spanish so decided to wait for Joe. We briefly discussed making a run for the train but considering we had boxes and the security guy had a gun …we chose to wait. Joe arrived and started the dialogue. The fact he could speak Spanish only bugged pug face even more – despite a valiant argument, we lost. I thanked the security guard for his help and we left …quickly.

Up at the taxi rank we touted the idea of loading us and the bikes into a single taxi – the guy looked confused. In the end we were helped by a 2nd driver who smelled a fare. The drivers were the polar opposite from the woman in the station soon we were loaded up we were on the way –some difference in attitude !

As always, the conversation turned from a retrospective view of the trip to “what is next” …




Life is a beach ...