Our fifth and final day and I was hoping for a fourth consecutive ton in terms of kilometres ridden each day. That didn’t come to pass, but I can hardly complain given the overall experience. It had the appearance of a trip down memory lane towards Calp(e) and Moraira, but as it turned out, while there was some familiarity, there was also a lot that was new.
Cami action
Nothing new to start the day as it was another beauty with gilets and arm-warmers only really necessary for the opening swoops down from the villa and out through the suburbs into the camis. Richard improvised a fair part of this, but that was not an issue as the camis were their usual quiet and endlessly varied selves and we finally saw a Spanish train having crossed the tracks multiple times without so much as a barrier or warning light.
We made good progress in tight formation all the way up to a roundabout and a short stretch of busy main road. Which is where Graham nipped across and Trevor hesitated leaving me nowhere to go, but once the traffic cleared normal order was resumed ahead of the next turn back off into those camis.
Having survived another brief bolt down a main road we stopped briefly to stash unnecessary clothing and make ourselves more comfortable before heading up the opening climb of the day. Over the summit we reached a literal and metaphorical crossroads where those that wanted it were offered an easier and more direct route to our coffee rendezvous in Moraira.
All hands to the pump
No sooner had Maddy and Graham turned that way then Richard stamped on the pedals only to find his chain wasn’t engaged with either chainring. A short period of faffing later we were back rolling towards Teulada, albeit with Richard wary not to use his largest two sprockets less the jockey cage clip his spokes and having realised that he only had the route in his head (and on my head-unit) and not on his computer.
Not that the route to the summit of the Fustara descent was complicated, but we reached the roundabout before that to find the road closed. Vehicles were coming the other way so we decided to ignore the signs and stay en route only to find traffic policemen at the next junction directing traffic away from where we wanted to go. Riders were appearing from the climb that anyone who stays in Calp(e) will know so well and a couple of (presumably) locals were allowed through, but we were advised to follow the diversion.
This diversion was far from scenic as it was through suburban sprawl that was far less fast and sweeping than our intended route, plus being shared by diverted traffic, but eventually we reached the Moraira road to find that that too was closed. We nipped across while the marshal was distracted, but were almost immediately flagged to the side of the road by the Spanish equivalent of AMS motorcycle marshals warning of an oncoming peloton.
The race is on!
Once that had passed and regular traffic started coming back past we rejoined our route only to meet the remnants of the race coming towards us around the next hairpin! Eventually we rolled into Moraira for the obligatory tourist shots in front of the statue of the man bending over backwards, which Richard didn’t want to be in, but the two passing ladies insisted upon.
Moraira photoshoot
On the other side of the tower that marks the Moraira seafront we found Graham and Maddy already seated at the cafe at which we’ve invariably enjoyed our final holiday coffee. If we’d known then how long we’d have to wait for lunch then we might have asked what cakes they had, but the four of us were playing catch-up so would have to make do with the complementary chocolate bar alongside our caffeine all while serenaded by the local Elvis impersonator.
Turning inland and north we were now effectively already heading for home, but not without a detour to see the sights of Granadella. Before that we’d have to endure the busy main road and the grind of a climb up to Benitatxell. Richard and I lucked out on the lights here, but the others weren’t far behind and we were all back together for the right turn out towards the cape.
The first part of this was a big road, but was at least quiet until we got into the next town and the second right turn towards our destination. After a handful of roundabouts the carriageway began to climb and Maddy and Clint decided to “give it some beans” so I jumped across to enjoy the ride to the next crest.
A Granadella day out
Normal service was resumed as we descended after a brief stop as Richard indicated the final right turn out onto the peninsular. I had expected beautiful sea views, but these were still only fleeting even over the last hump as we suddenly turned back inland into a wooded valley. It was all worth the wait as we emerged into a beautiful sheltered cove with a sandy beach and a yacht on its mooring.
Once we’d enjoyed taking in the sights Richard offered a return via the way we’d come, which Graham took, or a cheeky set of switchbacks affording views over the cove. For “cheeky” read a workout for the glutes as it was a series of 10%+ ramps which Richard would have romped up had his chain not come off on the first!
Xavia line-up
Full speed downhill to lunch in Xavia ensued once we’d gathered at the top, but not without a slight deviation to take in a view of Xavia seafront, before we pitched up at a beachside cafe in search of some seating and eating. While it was warm in the sun, this particular cafe terrace was in the shade and seemingly also in a windtunnel. Gilets and armwarmers could only offer so much, so while we awaited our fries and sandwiches we headed indoors to warm-up.
Once back outside we of course stripped back down again as Rich promised another cheeky climb back up to near the lighthouse road we’d discovered on day one. By now we knew full well what “cheeky” meant, which in this case was something reminiscent of the backstreet climb from East Dean to Friston Pond, albeit on steroids. Only Graham took the easier way out and he only just reached the Montgo summit meeting point just ahead of us.
Cheers!
As mentioned in my introduction I would have liked to have made this ride 100 kilometres, but it would have been rude not to have joined the others for a beer at the cafe near the villa on our final ascent. Not before a labyrinthine route through the houses and one last 20% ramp to really earn that beer. It would also have been rude to have left without the early-departing Maddy joining us with the dogs even if that meant a second pint to power us up those final slopes.