Hot & Windy with a Castle and some more wind!

From here you can see almost the entire Mesaoria plain and Famagusta bay

I was up and about before the builders this morning, 7am , an ungodly hour in my UK life but here it just makes sense. My decision to avoid Ami Whinehouse last night was the right one for me, as I managed to get some overdue sleep.

The road North to oblivion

I took a look at the routes and decided that the running order was irrelevant. I opted for a figure of eight route that would see me climb the mountain range twice as well as do a lot of rolling hills on the plain.

The end of the road

Yep, thats where I'm going..Up!

Setting off there were none of yesterdays mechanicals, and Rubic was in a good mood. All the best bikes shut up and get on with it I told him. He didnt reply.

The wind today was particularly evil. From the North predominantly, although it had been designed to come at me from all directions as well. The road up through th etown of Iskele goes North to the mountains, and as the hills dragged on one by one, so the wind increased, increased and then ..increased again.

I'd forgotten how tiring these foothills can be. The seem harmless enough, but combined with the winds today they were quickly categorized as 'killer' .





Knackered, the climb proper began. The road surface here is excellent. In fact it is on the entire route, except in the small villlages where it deteriorates to UK road surface standards.

The switchbacks on this climb are not that tight, they go on and on, and are reasonably 'gradual'. There are a few 'get thy fat arse out of thy saddle and put some effort in' stretches but mostly I was grinding away sitting in the saddle.

I'm starting to think Rubic may be a dog Bike

The views just get better and better as the climb progresses. It's hard to keep riding when there is a photo opportunity at every corner. The heat was intense and I was grateful for the cooling effect of the wind, even if it was amputating my legs slowly.

Along the mountain ridge

Looking down to Kaplica, at the end of the road.

At the top I was rewarded with what I think is one of the most beautiful places I have ever ridden to. Kantara and it's anciant crusader Castle. The views are stunning. I sat and rested at the top of the climb, and chatted to a few German tourists who had 'finally made it' up the climb in thier hire car.

Rubic living on the edge

 

 

The crusader castle at Kantara

Here I saw a black cat, immediatly I was on full alert. Clearly there are witches in these parts too. I moved it away from Rubic before it's owner arrived on a broomstick and hexed the rest of my ride. I decided against walking around the inside of the castle, I've done this before and didnt want to leave Rubic at the mercy of the local coven.

Cypriot witches familer gets to close to Rubic!

Instead I rode back along the mountain ridge and parked myself in the shade of the cafe in the square. Here I made short work of two cokes and a 2 litre bottle of water. The heat was dehydrating me and I knew how important it was to stay hyrdrated.

Two ice cold cokes and two litres of ice cold water pleeeeeeeze!

The ride down the other side of the mountain to the village of Kaplica is a fast roller coaster. Tight switch backs and sheer drops, make this one of th emost exhilerating rides on Cyprus. On the way down I saw not one car, just a tourist bus full of children struggling up the climb.

Kaplica is a small village, the high street is a pig to ride up, but I was riding down! At the T junction at the bottom of the road the only car I had seen in an hour made a B line stright for me missing me by inches. He stamped on his brakes, jumped out and ran towards me. Now, being an English Cyclist I am used to UK drivers behaving like this and readied myself for the inevitable barrage of verbal abuse and profanities, as is customary in Mordor (where I live in the uk!)

What I happened next had me smiling from ear to ear. He smiled, offered out a hand to shake, and apologised profusely in broken english. "So sorry, so sorry Mr, ok Mr? So sorry!"
We laughed, shook hands and went our seperate ways. This is how it should be.

The mystery of the wind here continued to bemuse me. It had been coming from the north on the southern side of the mountain, but now, here on the northern coast it was absent! No wind is a GOOD thing for a cyclist and I was happy. What I hadnt reckoned on was the associated rise in temperature. I rode along the coast to the east in an oven. Here I found myself doing what I never thought I would do. I was missing the wind.

The climb backover the mountain was hot work, but I kept the faith and new on th eother side Cyclops would have provided a cooling 'breeze'. Breeze! No shit! He's laid on a veritable fest of wind, from all directions! At least I got my wish. Clearly the black cat & it's owner hadnt had time to curse the ride after all.



I hit 50 mph here, and it was at this moment I decided to try out my newly learnt kamikazie skill of top tube crouching. Getting down on the top tube against the wind is the tricky bit. I found it easier to grab th etop of the hoods first, then VERY slowly shift my bulk from th esaddle down to the top tube. Any erratic movement at this point would have meant certain dismemberment and likely death. This I felt was a price worth paying for an extra 3mph speed. Any phyciatrists reading this please PM me.

The route then took my through mehmetchik and back down to Bazra....Bafra.




 Here I turned west and followed the road back, battling a cross wind all the way. Now there is only so much cross wind a cyclist can take, so I turned north, inland and started climbing again. I did this to pick up a headwind, much more fun! Not.

This part of the route was a real drag, directly into th ewind again, climbing all the way. Turning left at the roundabout I had last visited an hour or so before the wind was once again to my right, doing all it could to force me into the fields to my left. I didnt see any goats today, clearly they are allergic to wind I summised.

The final run downhill to Bogaz was a dream, strong tailwind and  downhill. Perfect. Once again I used my new top tube seating plan and flew past the tractors like a pro who lost his way in the tour de france.

The final run back along the coast was painful, my feet were killing me on the pressure pints from the SPD cleats. The wind was again sapping my energy, and it was a relief when the final turn came to get me home.

This was a tough, hot ride. I drank nearly 8 litres of water en route and didnt even feel like a pee! I would recommend it as a top ride, but it really is only suitable for strong riders with a 'yes I can' attitude.

Right then, job done. Recovery shake and a rest time!