Adventures in Mallorca 2018
It’s official, the best cycling week of your life — aka the Mallorca Cycling Camp — This year consisted of Seven days, eighteen teammates and more epic twist turns and climbs that could fit in a single sentence…all in the books. Read on to learn (and see!) how it all went down, as well as how you can snag a spot for the second annual trip to Mallorca (hell yes we’re going back).
The hotel caters to athletes and families, so you feel right at home, whether you are there to get in a great training week or mix in time with family - they have you covered. On grounds, there is a bike shop, lap pool, spa, lounging pool, game area, restaurant, bar and so much more!
Epic Rides
While no picture can do the rides justice, we sure are going to try. Nothing can capture the exhilaration of chasing teammates up and down the amazing terrain. Just when you thought things couldn’t get harder, steeper or more beautiful…they always did.
We conquered the Lighthouse ride, Sa Collabra with its 26 hairpin turns, and the Puig Major…yes, all 10k right to the top of the highest point on the island. Elevation gains aside, it was the daily coffee stop(s) for a "cafe con leche" and perhaps a piece of cake or pastry that really made the camp an event to remember.
The only thing better than zipping through uncharted country roads in a tight pack is having a delicious refueling break and then doing it again…and again!
24/7 Guides
The team from Mallorca Cycling Tours was incredible. They literally hand-crafted routes for us and made sure that we were one step ahead of everyone else. We seemed to always be an hour ahead of traffic and chaos. And when things did go wrong (flat tire, broken spoke, anyone named GeoffJeff) they were on hand to help make it right. From Axel breaking all our spirits to Stevie confusing us with his Scottish accent to Tracy herding cats, they had us covered. Hell, they even helped shepherd campers home from 2 am karaoke just in time for the next ride. Most impressively, they made sure everyone got in a good ride, regardless of their fitness or condition.
Time with team mates
Our favorite part of the cycling camps has to be hanging out with the Team. While there was time to swim and run, without a race in the near future these camps are a chance to kick back. The stories are endless, and the only thing better than learning about everyone else’s family and future is the apparently endless supply of local wine and amazing tapas.
Exploring History
Even just random towns and churches we came across were amazing. Some of them were built in the 1400s, and you could literally feel the history oozing from the cobblestones. Dashing through the narrow side streets on our way to the next olive grove or winery sighting, you couldn’t help feeling like you were trespassing on hallowed ground.
There was time at night to explore local areas like the Old Town in Alcudia (host of the 70.3™ on the island). And the truly adventurous headed out for excursions to check out new areas of the island we didn’t hit on our bikes. There’s the third-largest Cathedral in Europe and a world-class aquarium in Palma. The one-of-a-kind underground lake in the Caves of Drach, and much more.
Joining Camp in 2019
We will have 25 camp slots available. Slots will open to returning campers first. After that, the remaining slots will open first come, first served to the Team. You can register by making a deposit (100% refundable through 9/1/2018). There will be a waitlist of 5 campers at a slightly higher price.
There will be a family/spouse activity option, with their own guide of the island for adventures. More swag, team dinner, airport taxies and much more!
Stay tuned we will be opening the camp VERY SOON!
Comments
Venue: Mallorca (also spelled Majorca) is a Spanish island southeast of Barcelona in the Mediterranean. April weather is the start of the dry summer season, just before the temps begin to rise. Instead of the 40+ (C) seen in the summer, usual days are 20C (68-70F), sunny, perfect cycling weather. So all the Northern Europeans who have been jonesing for some outdoor riding show up then to get some serious miles in. The local government has responded to this in the past two decades, paving many of the double-track farm paths, as well as the roads leading into and up the mountains which line the northwest side. Hotels, eager to fill the early season beds, began to cater to cyclists as well. The result: roads filled with bikes, at times outnumbering the cars. And en entire infrastructure of bike shops, guide services, and cafes (many had bikes racks like you'd see in T1/2 outside) devoted to making roadies feel wanted, even loved. Our own hotel (Hopesa Villa Concha, in sea-side Porta de Pollença) specializes in triathletes, with an in-house bike shop and storage facility, along with a 25 meter racing pool with suction gutters, swim toys, and enough business that lanes must be reserved. Every morning, for instance, I'd walk to breakfast and look out on the Royal Air Force triathlon team hard at work under the watchful eyes of their coaching staff.
Food: The hotel provided buffet breakfast and dinners. Breakfast was over-whelming: baked goods, chef cooked egg dishes, on-tap coffee, yogurt, fruit, granola, cheeses, meats, bacon, juices, etc, etc. Dinner was also substantial, all-you can eat. The only oddities: in order to get anything to drink in the evening, you had to rely on a waiter to come by, take your order, than bring it to the table - even water. And no coffee or hot water at night! There was also a bar for day-time snacks, and late night imbibing if you couldn't get out. Our team had about half our evening meals out at the local tapas restaurants along the shore just two blocks away. Popular places included: Simba's, Daniella's, the Imperial, and Tolo's, which is a favorite of the Sky team and features signed TdF Maillot Jeunes. But the real highlights were the cafe stops, usually two and four hours into the rides. Always overflowing with cakes and old-world ambience, in the middle of villages along the way, usually reached by narrow cobblestone alleys.
Riding: Five scheduled rides, with many of us adding an additional day either before, after, and on the programmed "rest day" in the middle. Two rolling rides of 56 miles, two climbing days of 85 and 65 mi, and two "easier" days of 26 miles each, for a total of 500 km and 20,000' of climbing. As I noted, the pavement was almost uniformly smooth and conflict-free with cars. Many opportunities for strong riders to band together in the flats and cruise @ 25-28 mph. The truly unique ride came on day 3, down, then back up Sa Calobra (the snake), the winding road featured in Mariah's third picture above. 45-60 minutes of 10% grades on a narrow track hacked out of the mountain running down to the sea. A mecca like the more famous climbs of the Tour, Giro, and Vuelta, it attracts 1,000s of cyclists every day in mid-late April, looking a lot like a climb in an Ironman - all bikes, few cars. Oh, and a few tourist buses taking up most of the road. Two days later, we attacked the "Pig" - Puig Major, the high point of the island. Not as steep, not as narrow, but a bit further away. Luckily, on the return trip, my small group of 3-4 campers latched onto a train of Germans who towed us the final 10 miles into town.
Support: In addition to the always stellar the EN team of Coach P, Mariah, and camp director Emily Brinkley, we had a professional group of guides from Mallorca, a bunch of Brit ex-pats who didn't mind our Yankee ways and never lost a rider. While one *could* ride the island without guides, for first-timers it was very re-assuring not to worry about where to go, as long as we could keep up with them!
This is a week for serious athletes. It makes for a great volume boost leading to an early season A race, or a fun time to build strength ahead of structure tri-training for later events. I was one of the slowest EN riders, and my w/kg is about 3.2 (3.55 on Zwift). So I'd suggest that a minimum of 3.0 w/kg is needed to successfully participate in this adventure. We usually split into 2-3 groups, and were amalgamated by our guides with another clutch of riders (Brits) who made out little caboose of 3-4 ENers into a full peloton of 20 or so. I'd think that a w/kg of at least 3.0 and a month of steady training is needed to feel comfortable during the week. From March 12-Apr 9 I rode 22 days on Zwift plus 4 outside for a total of about 150 miles/week, and felt like I was fully ready to go on day 1. I rode a rental bike, top-end Bianchi from the hotel shop, with Di2, a compact crank, and an 11-28 (switched to 11-32) cassette. The bike was very comfortable and I had no fit issues, no discomfort from all that riding. But the only reason I didn't bring my own bike was not wanting to lug it around during the 5 days before and 5 after I spent touring Spain with my wife.
Since I was going all the way (10 hours just to get from Seattle to London then 2-3 hours more to Mallorca) and went with my wife, we tacked on 4 days in Barcelona before (helped a lot with jet lag), and 5 days after with ex-pat friends who live on the Atlantic coast, and hour SW of Seville (which we also visited with them). I'd strongly recommend doing something similar; if you've never been to Barcelona, it's worth 2-3 days minimum to explore.
There's a reason I've been going back to Mallorca for the previous 7 years, this 8th year (and undoubtedly beyond) with EN!
I tell people that the nicest roads in Texas are the worst roads in Mallorca, it's totally true!
“Sa Calobra” - “The Snake”, in Catalan
After two days to acclimate - rides of 56 miles/3.5 hours and 28/2.5 miles - our guides deemed us ready for Sa Calobra, the feared and legendary route from the Tramuntana crest to the sea. This road probably started life as a Roman goat track. Descending 687 meters (2,280’) in 9.6 km (6 miles), it rivals the climbs of cycling’s Grand Tours in length and steepness. In fact, on the unofficial website, “Top ten Craziest Switchback Cycle Climbs in the World”, it ranks #7, just ahead of the Stelvio in Italy’s Giro, and Alpe d’Huez in France’s Tour. The grade averages over 7%, hitting 14+% in many places.
The route begins at what seems to be old Roman arch. The road immediately starts a sinuous descent through a 270-degree turn back underneath the arch, and doesn’t let up from there.
Unlike modern road builders, the originators of this route simply took the terrain as they found it. Instead of cutting into the hill, they built up the roadbed with stone walls on the outside. It courses down a rocky canyon, treeless in its top half, one lane wide the whole way. This time of year, the few tourists in rental cars are vastly overwhelmed by a continuous stream of bikes. And those bikes can easily outpace the motor vehicles, scooting by through hairpin corners, hoping to avoid the bikes and cars coming back up the hill.
Fifteen to twenty minutes of coasting and braking is all it takes to reach the sea, passing from the cool breezes of 55-60 F at the top to the balmy 68-70 at the shore. About five miles down, the road makes its one concession to the terrain. A cooling cavern has been carved through the limestone bedrock, barely wide enough for the tourist buses which start coming down after noon each day.
The seaside village is Euro-quaint, all stone and cobbles, with a tiny beach sheltered in the cliffs which define the small settlement. Some of our gang, seemingly proud of the descent they’d survived, posed for a group photo - and then the REAL fun began.
Starting back up the beast, the road immediately hits 10%, and more. At least the first two miles afford some shade via the sheer rock walks and gnarly pinion pines. Arriving at the tunnel, I found a car backing out towards me. I had to stop, of course, which I knew would be problematic. At this gradient, with my wonky right knee, it might be a little tricky to get going again while remaining upright.
I quickly saw the problem - the first tourist bus of the day descending. Of course, there was no way through the crevice for both vehicles - the bus driver had to be very skilled just to keep from clipping the outboard rearview mirrors. I remounted, skirted around the still descending car, and shot through the tunnel just as the bus exited.
Behind him were scores of cyclists, half of them cursing in at least a half dozen languages, and several cars, all going at the bus’ speed, as there was no room for anyone to pass. Uphill riders had it a bit easier, as we were perforce going a bit slower, and thus took up less lateral space.
This scene repeated itself maybe twenty times more during the hour it took me to ascend The Snake. While it might have seemed scary to have those monster busses aimed right at me, I quickly realised the drivers were pros - they did this every day, and their livelihood depended on not hitting me. As long as I stayed on the fog line far right, I had, oh, maybe a foot or so of safe space between me and the meter-high wheels.
It was a grind all the way to the top. While the power numbers on my bike computer would say otherwise, it seemed like the hardest sustained mountain climb I could remember doing. For sure, it was the steadiest - my “variability index” was 1.0, meaning I was working at the same effort level for each and every pedal stroke - never a chance to ease back and rest (if I slowed my cadence, I might not start again!), and never a surge (if I tried that, I wouldn’t have enough gas to make it all the way back up).
Returning to the arch, I stopped to take in the scene. I silently vowed to return next year, with 4 more teeth on my biggest rear cog, and make it up that damned Snake in under an hour!