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Most
people love to see their name in print so your correspondent has
set himself the task of reporting on the annual Vuelta Mallorca
while mentioning every rider. This will guarantee at least twenty
two readers.
The advance party led by Ken Perkins arrived on
Thursday. The weather was decidedly mixed but by the time your
correspondent arrived from Luton on Monday it had improved dramatically.
There were no reports of heroics and it seems that the earlier
rain had severely curtailed activities and the advance party had
got no further than Campernet Caves and Petra.
With the arrival of Ramon things moved up a gear
or two and a fast group was established. The Orient was visited
for the first time and surprisingly Derek was the man in
form on the climb although the odd couple Terry and Cyril had
been showing some form on the lower slopes.
The next day a gang of four went to Cap Formentor.
Ramon was the last to arrive having been thrashed by Yvonne
but he made an early departure from the cafe and only Ken Perkins
managed to catch him. Ramon headed for Campernet where
he met John Barton and his Scottish sidekick Dougie for afternoon
tea. Suitably fortified they then dashed back to Càan Picafort
at a great rate. Yes it is true, when Tam. gets his bulk rolling
on a flat road he can press on good style.
On the Friday the Laughing Group arrived. The
usual suspects were all present and correct apart from David Livingstone
who was sin bicycletta. He did, however, have a doctoràs
note excusing him. A surprise addition to the party was Kevin
Reilly but more about him later.
The advance party had discovered a very pleasant
bar run by a very friendly Morrocan.
It was generally agreed that the Campo Cruz beer
was an improvement on the San Miguel at our previous haunt. Furthermore
our new host gave us a generous choice of free drinks at the end
of the evening rather than the usual ńcough mixtureî.
Sadly your correspondent, who was celebrating
his birthday,† can relate
little about that Friday night save to say that the friendly Morrocan
rescued him when he was at a low ebb and despatched him home safely.
There may well have been a run on the Saturday
but your correspondent knows nothing of it as he was confined
to his room for most of the day.
On Sunday a large group headed in the direction
of Randa but only Ginty, Ramon and R.A. Robson made the climb
to the santuaria for mass. The slackers chose to remain in an
elegant restaurant at the foot of the climb. Meanwhile in another
cafe Di Moyes, in the time honoured fashion of British tourists
everywhere, decided to have a cultural experience† and try a Mallorcan lunch. Snail soup for starters
with frog to follow.
The next day the grouppo followed the Cami de
Muro in the direction of Santa Maria. Ramon attacked at the entry
to the Forest of Arrenberg but he was chased down by Kevin Reilly.
It soon became clear that all was not well with big Kev., the
boasting stopped, he could not handle the big ring, Ramon had
no choice but to abandon him at the roadside and press on alone.
Eventually Kevin was bundled into the sag wagon (well a taxi actually)
and sent back to the hotel. Ramon pressed on over the Coll de
Hono to the Orient and then as previously agreed via Llosetta
and Selva to Lluc. Alas the rest bottled out of the second climb.
Mention must be made of the achievement of Ginty
who rode a permanent randonee taking in all the major climbs on
the island. The total distance was 146 miles which is long way
by any standard. He declined to say how long he was on the road
but it was still light (just) when he got back so he must have
been cracking on in places.
Each year the social riders like to test their
mettle on the Orient ride. They went via Inca where they stopped
for cafe. Ken Beck, Paul Mayor and Terry Dolan caught up at this
point but Ramon, who had followed the Cami de Plod, through Buger
and Campernet as recommended by Geoff Hornby, was still chasing.
The group split apart on the climb with Joan Bradley and Tam at
the rear. Di Moyes† was
going well on her super new Roberts compact†
with Dougie chatting away at her side. Further ahead was
ńthe boyfriendî who was going well for a raw novice. Nevertheless
he must have been disheartened to be dropped by Miss Mayor who
was climbing like a good un. First man on the road at this point
was the Pocket Rocket Alan Clark but he was beginning to struggle.
We all regrouped in Bunyola and then enjoyed a downwind cruise
to Santa Maria for luncheon.†††
Vuelta regulars will know that the hardest climb
on the island is the Coll de Puig Mayor which climbs to over 1000
metres. Your correspondent believes it is an essential test of
manhood to complete this stage each year. The night before there
were four riders up for it. Ginty, R.A. Robson, Keith Coppell
and Ramon. However come the depart there was no sign of Robert
Albert. Apparently he had been muttering over breakfast that he
was nearly seventy and he did not see the point of killing himself.† Hardly the Dunkirk Spirit is it?
The intrepid threesome set off in the direction of Pollensa with
Ginty to the fore. At eighteen miles as the climb to Lluc† began Ramon was distanced.† At the foot of the Coll de Soller he got to
within 150 metres of Ginty and his eternal shadow Keith but they
pulled away again on the climb. Ramon finally rejoined the front
group at the feeding station at Santa Maria after a chase of forty
seven miles. All that remained was twenty five mainly flat miles
along the Cami de Muro back to Can Picafort.
On the drag into Muro Ginty launched a vicious
attack but Keith and Ramon clung onto his wheel. At that point
Ginty new he was beaten but he continued to swap turns with Ramon
while† Keith just managed to hang on. As the group
swung into the finishing straight Ginty launched his sprint, Keith
was immediately dropped but Ramon surged past with both arms aloft
and ten digits spread wide to signify his tenth victory in Mallorca
( more likely his childish obsession with the Johan Museeuw, ed.).
After 92 gruelling miles Ginty had lost by half a wheel.††††††
Following the departure of Ken Beckàs group
your correspondent remained on the island for three more days.
Showing a singular lack of imagination he†
went round the Orient for the fourth time. He also went
to Colonia de Sn. Pedro off the Arta road. This is a pleasant
seaside hamlet and apart from the long drag back to the main road
it is a superb recovery ride yet so far as I can recall our party
has not been there. Perhaps next year.
No report on the Southport C.C. in Mallorca would
be complete without a Brooism. The main man was not as active
on the bike as in previous years due to some discomfort in the
saddle area. Surprisingly he declined to take Yvonne up on her
offer to apply a bread poultice. Perhaps he thought Spanish bread
was too crusty for the purpose. However he remained in good form
in the bar, particularly the night that he and Cyril went wild
on the brandy. It was bad timing, to put it mildly, that the next
day he was booked on a coach/boat trip round the island.†
He did however avert a conflagration in a seedy cantina† when he spotted smoke behind the counter and enquired of the owner
ńwhatàs the Spanish for your binàs on fireî?
As always the package tour experience left something
to be desired. The Clumba Mar had the feeling of a detention centre
for delinquents or possibly a tatooistsà convention. The
food was instantly forgettable yet, paradoxically,†
your correspondent compensated for the lack of quality
by eating too much. Word from the Monte Carlo was that the food
was little if any better there.
All the best from your Metropolitan Correspondent.
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