Last night I had a vague plan to ride to Girne (Kyrenia). It was going to be dependant of how I felt after yesterdays exertions. I was awake at 7am and itching to get back on the bike after a total slob out fest yesterday. It was a little cloudy and in order to guarantee sunshine I stuffed a lightweight rain jacket and arm warmers into my cycle jersey rear pockets.It's an old trick and never fails.
I skipped breakfast, drank a litre of water, jumped on Celeste (she's used to it by now, says it's her thing!) and rode off through Iskele turning left, to ride along the vast plain in front of the mountains, in the general direction of Girne. Here it was apparent that the local farmers were also Bianchi riders as they had wrapped the Bails of harvested hay in Bianchi celeste green!
I had been told Girne was nice, I was reserving judgement until I got there as in my experience what is 'nice' for car drivers is hellish for road cyclists. But I was expecting good things to happen like they always do when I ride. Good things therefore did happen.
For the first time on recent rides I found myself belting along at speeds up to 30 mph on the flat courtesy of an incredible (and rare) tail wind. I was cruising. I got lot's of 'toots' from drivers and waves wishing me well, as well as the usual courteous 'I am coming past' toot from behind. Only this one was from beaten up wreck that was once a van struggling to overtake me because of the speed I was travelling at!
Lasy night I had planned the route on bike route toaster. I planned it wrong. I have crossed the mountains here before and thought I would go over the same 'pass'. I remembered it to be a reasonable climb of about 5/10 on the agony scale. However the route I downloaded into my Garmin was become less and less familier the longer I rode along it. I ended up on a busy highwaygetting pretty close to Nicosia, not good. But I was on it , so no going back now. This route headed up over the mountains past a huge Turkish flag on the hill. I had seen this from the aeroplane window as we came into land two weeks ago.
I stopped at a 'Market'. Markets here are small shops selling just about anything. Usually family run, I think, and always in need of a serious clean. Health and saftey wasn't on my agenda however. Monster energy and water were. I stood there looking up at the flag and the climb ahead. The cars coming down from the mountain looked knackered, bit of a red flag that one!
There were lot's of soldiers around. Clearly this is a big miltary area and large sections of land are seperated from goat herders and sweaty cyclists by high barbed wire fences as the climb begins. I rode passed several tanks with machine guns on them parked directly on the other side of the wire. Perched on top of the tanks were young Turkish soldiers, clearly on a Tea break from Tank cleaning duty. They waved at me and shouted in English, 'Oh meee Gawd woo arr yuu??' I waved back, hoping they wouldn't shoot me, and wondering why they wanted to know who I was. The answer came to me in a flash. Only an idiot, masochistic, pro cyclist would be stupid enough to try to climb what was coming. I was that man, without the 'pro' bit.
The climb here is tough, not just because of the gradiant, but also because of the poor road surface which kicks in as soon as you start climbing. This is something I have noticed on hills all over Europe and the USA. I wondered if it was ever going to get better. It did, as soon as I reached the top.
Because of the poor road surface and the traffic passing way to close here, I rated this climb as 8/10 on the agony scale. I made a mental note to be more careful next time I used bike route toaster.
The long climb up
At the top I took a bow as a group of locals at the restaurant there waved and clapped. Clearly these were mates of theTank drivers below and had been alerted via top secret satellite communications of a dumbass cyclist arriving. I knew instantly these were off duty soldiers; they had no goats.
Gasping for my last breath I pulled over on the car park and took a few pictures. Taking pictures is always a good plan when you don't want people to see exactly how totally whacked out you really are.
My reward for all this sufferring was an amazing downhill ride into Girne, that went on for ever. I was overtaking lorries and cars all the way down. The big trucks are clearly afraid their brakes won't hold. I wondered how many of those trucks had been serviced by unemployed goat herders.
Unfortunately some of the downhill experince was affected by the road surface again. This time the surface had been deliberatly roughed up to stop car drivers from sliding down the mountain. Precisely zero thought had been given to the well being of insane foriegn road cyclists needing an adrenalin rush. I do despair sometimes.
Riding down at speed on this surface had me singing my all time cycling classic tune, 'Shake rattle and roll'. So I took my life in my hands and rode down the wrong side of the road because the surface was smoother for the uphill bound traffic. Several goats in roadside fields rolled their eyes.
As the descent levelled off I found myself being buzzed ever closer by drivers, always a sure sign I am approaching a town. Towns are where moron drivers live. They rarely drive their unecessary cars more than a mile or so, and the name of the game is to attack as many cyclists as possible in that mile to make them feel less inadequate. I had arrived in Girne.
I headed down through the small streets to the harbour. Here I saw why people had told me it was a nice town. They weren't wrong, the old part of town is very nice. The harbour has a lot of nice boats, restaurants, a castle of some kind and lot's of tourists being taken to the cleaners by excursion sellers. As one couple signed up for a Kantara trip I thought, 'Get a bike', and smiled inside.
I had ridden about 45 miles. I couldn't stay long as I knew I had a long ride back, and that I had to re cross that %$*!ing mountain again. So I took some pictures, bade the tourists good luck and rode out of town.
I stopped at a market shop as soon as I was outside of the main town. The ones in town are all too big and I wasn't happy leaving Celeste where I couldn't see her. Outside of town the markets have no problem with a tall smelly cyclist riding right up to the front door and into the entrance.
"Sam widge?" asked the young girl in charge of this particular market. I was tempted to reply that my name was actually Rolf but thought the joke might be lost. She had seen me looking in vain for food I recognised.
'Sam widge' arrived via courier from the cafe next door and I took luncheon on top of the ice cream refrigerator outside. She came back to ask if 'Sam widge is like?" I nodded, studied her leggins and thoughts crossed my mind that an English gentleman in Cyprus should probably keep to himself.
I knew my way now without the Garmin.
After riding about a mile up the wrong hill I turned it back on again. I needed to re cross the Mountains to get back to Iskele. I had three choices, all of which rated 10/10 on the agony scale. I decided to avoid the main road climbs in favor of riding a longer route than I had planned last night. I wanted to climb back up the Mountain at Kantara.I rode along the coast road on the aero bars getting toots from all directions. Clearly I looked the part. I checked to see if my lycra shorts had split.
The decision to make the climb at Kantara was based on my love of that climb. I have done it several times before and although this was the tougher side to climb from, I knew I would be rewarded with the most stunning views on the island when I got to the top. The first section of the climb is totally killer. A straight line gradiant I would guess at least 12% in places through Kaplica village with locals waving and praying for my mortal soul.
Then the switchbacks begin. I was already in my lowest gear, and as on Mount Olympus, spinning just wasn't going to happen. I settled into the inevitable slow and painful grind. The road surface here is actually excellent. Reason? There are no cars. Inch by inch I climbed all the time knowing 100% that there was no way I was going to fail. Finally I reached the top and re-categorized the climb to a 25/10 on the agony scale.
I rode directly into the cafe in the Square at the top to the amazement of the tourists eating more than I had all day at one sitting, while their big cars rested an arms length from thier tables.The bloke who owns this place recognized me. I have been there on previous visits and always stop at the top for a coke and to allow my lungs to re-line themselves. The German family next to me asked in English how many Kilometres I had ridden. I anwered, "Ich habe fast nuenzig milen mit Rad gefarhren". After a quick mental calculation the Mecedes driver shook his head in bewilderment and asked simply, "Warum?" Some people will never get it.
I was tempted to stay on the mountain to watch the sunset. I decided it was safer to ride down in daylight and after spending some 'me time' just absorbing the mountain I let go of my brakes and flew down on my second rollercoaster descent of the day! Perfect road surface, stunning views, no traffic at all, and I mean I didn't see a single
car. On the way down I came close to wiping out three goat herders though as they walked side by side up the middle of the road. I shot through a gap in between the two thinnest ones (I thought that was my best bet) and they yelled something at me which I assume was along the lines of, "oh my, your bum looks good in that".
Riding back across the plain to Iskele the cross wind picked up again and I was back on the aero bars riding past endless olive trees, yellow wheat fields and half finished houses with litle old ladies on doorsteps outside.
Riding through Iskele I rode past the wedding dress shop. Clearly not many local ladies getting hitched lately as they still had the same dress in the window I saw on my last visit a year ago. I wondered if the local lads were more attached to their goats as I sped along the final mile or so back to the appartment I had left this morning.
One hell of a ride!
Ride stats
104 miles
Max speed 39 MPH
Total Ascent 2144 metres
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