'Rest' day

I saw on tv that the very top riders in the world have things called 'rest days'. This sounded like a top plan to me so today i decided I would follow in their footsteps. Clearly this would  help my performance....on the bike...on the bike!

I also read that on rest days tour riders need to exercise and eat well, and so it was that I found myself heading for the chamber of horrors here known as the Gym.

The Gym here is well equipped, and tantalizingly close to a wonderful pool and sun terrace, not necessarily the best motivation I thought.





I choose a well situated torture machine  and set about figuring out how the dam thing worked. Clearly I was stronger than I thought as the first push sent the 'weights' hurling skyward. I re-adjusted the weights added another to make two in total. No point in overdoing things.  The room was clearly designed by the Spanish inquisition, various instruments of torture in every corner. I found a rowing machine and rowed across the swimming pool below at least 50 times in my mind.

Three youngsters came it and started playing with some dumbells, lifting them. Aha! So that is what one does with them I thought, and set about an extreme & dedicated resistance regime.



I spent nearly 90 minutes tortuting myself in this manner, all the time telling myself it would help me on the bike. I shall let you know in a few weeks, months...years?? If this is true or not.

Such olympian efforts require a dedicated recovery regime. So it was off to the cafe for a healthy lunch, then off to maximise the benefits of siesta time. It's a tough life, but somebody has to do it.

In the meantime Rubic hasn't even left the appartment, the lazy git!

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!

DipKarpaz

I'm claiming an extra 15 miles on top of these Garmin stats as I didnt turn it on until I got to Bafra...so there!




 Bang bang, yell yell yell some more, crash bang, yell yell yell, crash......these are the sounds of the builders dawn chorus that welcomed me to the land of the living at 7am. This was a very good thing as it instantly confirmed to me I was actually in Cyprus and not in just one more weird dream state. This was real!

Instantly I leaped out of bed with all the delecacy of a drugged up hippopotomus, found the kettle and plugged in the kitchen. This was going to be a good day, all good days start in chaos.

The plan was to follow a route I had imported to my Garmin edge 800 last night. Little did I know that God Garmin and that bar steward Cyclops ( the God of all things Cycling) had other plans for me today.

Fully kitted out in my new team Cube cycle God Lycra I jumped on Rubic. Rubic let out a groan, I was reminded of Celestes whining in such moments, and had a 'quiet word'. If there is one thing I cannot abide it's an insolent bike.

I turned Rubic south and we negotiated safe passage over the newly laid Tarmac road to the main road running along the coast from Famagusta. Rubic wasn't happy, his indexing sucked and shifting down to the lower rear cogs wasn't happening. I pulled tightly on his reigns and parked him on the side of the highway. A quick glance at his rear end told be he had a loose tension cable. Not a good thing on any bike, let alone a male bike.

I rode back to base camp where I could sit down and re fit the loose cable easier than on the side of the road. Relaxing the shifters to get some slack, re clamping the cable and bingo....it seemed to work! I headed off again over the tarmac road to oblivion. Rubic still wasn't happy, I pulled up in a garage and, with the 'help' of three teenagers on one moped, re tensioned his cable a couple of times until finally he stopping complaining and got on with the days adventure.

We headed East to Bazra...erm...I mean Bafra., as I am informed by more politcally aware peeps than me is it;s real name. To be honest I think Bazra is a little more apt, but hey I didnt write the map.

Noahs Ark

Here I found Noahs Ark. Apparently he left it here after a minor flood issue a few years back and somebody smelt gold and turned it into a huge hotel were he beached the thing! This is where route one was supposed to start, so here is where I turned on my Garmin full of expectation.

God Garmin however had decided I wasnt worthy of a track line to follow. I could hear Cyclops wetting himself with laughter as I remained cool, calm and only swore a few times. In such situations mere  men have a plan B. Cyclists however go directly to plan C. Make it up as they go along.

Plan C for me today meant following the good road until it became a bad road, having a rest and coming back again. This is how I  ended up riding to the town of Dip Karpaz today. Here the good roads goes into town, and the bad road back comes out of town. As I dislike bad roads, Dip Karpaz became my destination.

This road is about as flat as it gets here on Cyprus, no hills, just anoying bumps once in a while. It is mostly open countryside and as such it is WINDY. It was hot , very hot and there was zero shade. Cyclops had however provided plenty of market stores stocked with cold drinks. He must have been in a good mood that day.

I was feeling strong and I reached speeds in excess of 30 mph at times on the way to DipKarpaz. There were the ever present goat herds, a few underfed donkeys and a wrinkly bloke selling his melons beside the road.

I rode past a school and the kids waved and shouted 'hello sir hello sir' at me. I hope they all have happy lives, they made mine happier today.

Downtown DipKarpaz

DipKarpaz is a smallish town, with several mosques, a war memorial and about six small shops. It also had a few English lads and lasses in flip flops trying to get into a hire car they had locked themselves out of somehow. I sat on the war memorial resting and enjoying the show. Drivers, nuff sedded.

Rubic taking a leak

I turned Rubic into the wind and headed West back towards Iskele. The headwind was very strong and energy sapping all the way back. Rather than admit if was beyond knackered I stopped and casually took some photographs. It's important to maintain 'cool' at such moments I feel. Nothing worse than a dying MAMIL (middle aged man in lycra) at the side of the road eh!

 

Riding on the aero bars helped cut some of the wind drag, but I did need to stop at a gargae to down a shark energy drink and a green iced tea. Here an elderly bloke started stroking Rubic. Lucky I wasnt on Celeste or I may have decked him! Nice fella though really, little did he know he was chatting up a male bike, poor sod.

Onwards we rode into the incessant wind. The cars all pass wide here and some toot and wave in support. One guy slowed down next to me and tried to pass me water. I had nowehere to put it so had to decline but how nice was that eh!! UK drivers should adopt this attitude, only I suggest replacing cool water with hot chocolate and a slice of cake.







This road has a lot of debris and litter on the roadside which is a shame, however just off the roadside are some lovely little beaches and bays if you take a look. These are easier to see on a bike than in a car.

Cyclops holiday home on Cyprus

Look! NO CARS !!!!!

Mine!

The skies were darkening as I pulled into Bogaz fishing port for a looksee. The first heavy drops of rain hit my helmet about ten minutes down the road. Cyclops had saved his worst until last as usual. Stepping on the gas in a final 'sprint'  to the line I we made it back just as the heavens opened. Hot water fell from the sky, the first rain here in months apparently and a welcome sight indeed. Instantly the electricity went off all over the region. In the uk the wrong type of snow is an issue, here more than two rain drops seems to have a similar effect.

Storm brewing at Bogaz

I was invited to go to an Amy Whinehouse tribute gig tonight, but I elected to avoid a late night out. Life here starts early because of the heat, so I want to recover and be fit to ride again in the morning.

So in excess of 80 miles today, not a bad first ride this trip!

The unpacking of Rubic

Dawn broke and I was still sweating in the heat. Looking around my room at the self inflicted chaos of my arrival I resolved to take immediate action. I rolled over and went back to sleep.
Two hours time difference isn't much in the global scheme of things but as a man I reserve the right to jet lag, at least until Mid morning.
The Iskele 'open tennis championships' were in full swing at 8am under my window. It makes a real change from the traffic noise at 8am back in the uk.
Opening one eye slowly like a little boy on Christmas morning , my new bike lay in pieces on the floor beside me. Finally it was time to unpack and build up the bike.



On previous trips out here I have ridden Celeste, my bianchi c2c via nirone alu carb. This time however I'm going to be riding my new Cube GTC Agree race 2014 bike. Celeste is taking a well earned rest having served me well on previous trips and all summer in the uk.
I'm still undecided on a name for my new bike. The obvious one is Rubic ( Rubic cube, get it?) I will see if the name sticks and suits its charachter, yes , all bikes have thier own character!
So for now, Rubic, it is.
Re building Rubic took a while. I was very careful to avoid loosing anything or assembling him while in cock up mode. I couldn't see any damage after the flight so all is looking good to go.



So far God Garmin is taking his time finding the orbitting satellite marked Northern Cyprus. Images of a goat in a spacesuit flash through my head. As with most things out here, it will happen 'one day'!
Remarkably I seem to have forgotten absolutly nothing, and it all fitted into the bike bag, bike, clothes, shoes, washkit ( for the weekends) , the lot!
I've got time here, so today is about getting the kit sorted, adjusting to the heat and time difference and generally slobbing out.
Slobbing out is a technical term used by 'pro cyclists of the highest calibre', such as me, for pre ride preparation. It's of course critical for toned Herculean athletes to get in optimum shape, and fine tune and tweak everything at least 20 times before donning lycra and venturing out to boldly go where some have been before.
It's time for me to get real, get out and get riding...

several hours later,,,,

right then, best laid plans and all that. I find my self 'trapped' at the resort for this afternoon as today was the day Cyclops instructed his road work minions to tarmac the road in and out of the resort. Its exactly the kind of tactic I should have expected from him! The tarmac is sticky and in the heat isnt drying . Sticky tarmac on my tyres is a BAD thing becauss it atteacts all kins of glass and rubbish which cause Punctures. These I do not need. Niether did I fancy a day cleaning the wretched stuff off my tyres.

The plus side of this is that the road will be newly surfaced and  the pothole obstacle course to the main road here will have gone. Yay!

So I decided to make the most of this time and get some route planning done.Never let it be said that this entrepid cycle bum goes swimming, to the sauna, jacuzzi, beach when there is work to be done!

Route planning may sound easy, however with today's modern cycle GPS devices being designed by God Garmin , a degree in nuclear physics, nuero surgery and mathematics is a necessity. I have none of those, but I do have something called 'pig headedness'. This skill has been put to the test today, and I have not been found lacking. Plotting a track file of some distance for use in a garmin requires reduction in track points. This is achieved via a gpx editor and a lot of swearing.

Cycling isnt just about turning your cranks these days it seems!

So, job kind of done, I decided to cook a chicken. Its what I man has to do when trapped by tarmac. The chicken deserved better I must say.

Here is a shot of the sunset tonight from the balcony here