Pico de Veleta - Highest Road in Europe!

Positivistas Juliane and David had done the team research and selected the Sierra Nevada because of its reputation for quiet, smooth roads and plenty of climbing (by bicycle) opportunities.  The queen stage of our week was to be the ascent of the Pico de Veleta, a climb of more than 40 kilometers and 2500 meters elevation gain, which takes us up Europe's highest road, topping out at 3384 meters (11,000 feet) elevation, as reported in this article from earlier in the year.

We wanted to get an early start so we would be above the summer heat and reach the cool of the mountain air before early afternoon, so we planned to rise at daybreak.  But rest day had taken its toll on some team members, and we ended up heading out just before 12PM for the 2-hour drive down and around the base of the mountains.  We parked in Pinos Genil, just up the road from Granada, and started climbing around 2PM, in the heat of the day, from 750 meters elevation.

The others gave me a head start, since I was the slowest climber in the group this week, and I had my bike ready first.  As with elsewhere during our trip, we were pleased with the low traffic volumes, both on the climb along the "old road" (SE-39?) from Pinos Genil to Route A-395, and from there all the way to the top.

I climbed slowly but steadily through the heat of the lower slopes, gradually gaining elevation and, with it, the feeling of being "up there" above the distant plains.  After about 45 minutes, Juliane "the gazelle" zoomed past with some encouraging words.

Looking down at Guejar Sierra from the visitor center

I stopped at a visitor center around 1600 meters elevation to see if I could refill my one empty bottle. I asked the man at the reception desk about "aqua" while gesturing to my bottle, and he pointed me toward the rest rooms in the back.  The tap I found bore a clear "not potable" diagram -- a big red "X" over a water bottle.  Back at the front desk, I asked him "aqua potable?"  He shrugged his shoulders, so I left without refilling my bottle.  At least the air was noticeably cooler now that I had reached the higher slopes.

At around 2000 meters altitude, I stopped at the sign for a photo and rest, and MOB and DJ arrived.  After MOB also posed for a photo, they gradually moved ahead of me.  MOB's training week in the Alps, and recent rest, had brought him back into strong climbing shape.

I caught up with the others a little further, at a turn off before the entrance to Prado Llano, the ski village, and again at around 2650 meters where they had made a wrong turn and needed to back-track.  I was still with MOB at 2750 meters where there was another altitude sign, and an opportunity for more photos.  (We eagerly await MOB's trip report and official team photo).

Climbing past Prado Llano

The "real" highway ended above 2500 meters, and from there we passed an open gate and were on an old road, much less well-maintained.  It had been paved once, but at places was now deteriorating into potholes and a rubble of broken concrete.  We needed to get off to walk from time to time.  The others on the climb were all hikers and a few mountain bikers.  We saw only 2 road cyclists on the entire last 1000 meters of vertical climb, younger guys already on the descent.

We are going up there.

We came from way down there.

I should have stopped for more water at the temporary cafe in the parking lot just before the gate, but was eager to catch up with the others, and still had more than a half liter left.  And hadn't we all been skeptical we would be able to go far once the road deteriorated?  So surely I would be back at the cafe before long.  Not.  

The winding road.  A gradual climb ... but one starts to feel the altitude.

At least DJ had an extra bottle of water with him, and I could beg 300 mls or so to add to my supply.

Still climbing next to the ski lifts.

One of many areas where we needed to dismount and walk.

After the others completed their detour across the ski slope and again surged ahead of me, I climbed more slowly yet, the altitude and exertion starting to have an impact, until I needed to dismount at a long gravel patch around 2950 meters elevation.  The others were already back on their bikes and I could see two yellow jerseys disappearing into the distance.   I had eaten my last snack.  I had only a few reserve sips of water left.

We are nearing the top of the world.  Not paved right here ... but passable.

The road loops around to the right and approaches the summit from the non-cliff side!

So when the gravel ended, I kept walking, no strength to try to continue the climb by bike.  And I walked, and walked further.  After about 45 minutes, and at least 4 kilometers, I was up, above the turn-off of the road that went around the mountain (and down past our team HQ in Capileira), onto the top of the Veleta.  I could look down onto Capileira, Bubion and Pampeneira in the valley to the South.  It felt like I was on top of the world.

Left fork - to summit; right fork - around the mountain toward the South.

Looking over the top, and down to Capileira, Bubion and Pampileira.

Closer up view of the villages.

With a mountain bike, I think we probably could have kept on going over the South side, along the dirt/gravel path, and been back at our lodgings after a spectacular descent.  Indeed, as we instead started the descent retracing our path down the North side, we saw a few mountain bikers on the climb, as the time approached 7PM, who were likely doing this.

Positivo Espresso-Approved!

On top of Europe

On the descent, we stopped at the parking lot cafe at 2500 meters, drank liquids, ate, refilled our bottles, and then continued.  We managed the rough road to the top and back without a single flat tire/tube.  From the cafe, we enjoyed a very fast and non-technical descent, along quiet, smooth and wide roads, covering the remaining 30+ km distance to the car in under 45 minutes.

The Spanish Job

After a long week of cycling during LEL, what better way to recover than ... more cycling, in Spain, at the Positivo Espresso Sierra Nevada (Alpujarra) summer training camp.

Time does not yet permit a full report, including the "queen stage" of our successful ascent of the Pico de Veleta, ... but for now a few pictures I hope will help to quench our viewers' thirsts.

We traveled in a black, white and grey VW Golf convoy, in honor of the 2003 remake of "The Italian Job".

Our base camp, strategically located above Capileira at 1700 meters elevation for altitude adjustment,
approximately 2 kms from the end of the paved roads.

Looking up at Bubion (right front) and Capileira (left rear)

Trevelez, the home of the Spanish ham (jamon), through which all rides seemed to pass.

Inside J. Jimenez, direct seller of Jamones, in Trevelez

Juliane "the gazelle" Prechtl, at the intersection beyond Trevelez through which almost all rides passed.

Another perspective on "the intersection".  Note the very low traffic volumes.

Positivistas David, Stephen and MOB in Valor mid-ride

Another view of the middle/upper villages of Trevelez, approximate elevation 1500 meters 

MOB poses behind the "Bimbo truck"

London-Edinburgh-London ("LEL") 2013

Last week I rode LEL.  I arrived in London on Thursday late afternoon -- just enough time for clearing the worst of jet lag -- and stayed in Lambeth (close-in SW London) with Positivistas David and Juliane.  It helped to be with friends on Friday and Saturday, since it prevented me from sleeping all day, ensuring that I got at least some decent sleep each night.

My Ti Travel bike, Voyage Voyage, rests among David and Juliane's vintage parts collection

Near David and Juliane's home in London -- a sign on the Council-owned housing block

As seems usual for these long randonees, I finished near the back of the pack, but at least with plenty of reserve strength left "in the tank" and hours to spare before the cutoff time.

It was a really great, memorable experience, as one of these rides should be.  How does this ride compare to Paris-Brest-Paris 2011, or the 2012 Cascade 1200 or Rocky Mountain 1200?  

The Prologue departs central London, just after 6AM on Sunday July 28

LEL is longer.  Indeed, including the prologue, and the ride back into London on Friday morning, and a few minor detours, I traveled nearly 1500 kilometers in 5 days.  300 kms (190 miles) per day.  So it is as if I rode Tokyo-Itoigawa, slept 4 hours, then repeated it again ... 5 times in total.

While LEL is longer than PBP, Cascade or Rocky Mountain 1200s, it is not necessarily harder than these.  That depends on weather -- heat, rain and wind -- and this year we cannot complain overall, even if we did suffer from headwinds in the afternoon on Day 2 and again on much of Day 4 and 5, and we did get rain at times on Days 3 and 4.  

The English countryside, mid-day on Day 1,  north of London

Two factors make LEL a bit easier.  First, the time cut offs at controls seem very generous, making it possible to rest earlier and longer than would otherwise be the case.  Second, while there is plenty of up and down, and a few real climbs, there are no long "all category" efforts, and long stretches are entirely flat.

In the Fenlands, a flat stretch on Day 1 -- nice while the tailwind lasted

Same location, looking to the South

My ride plan was to finish Day 1 early.  I arrived at Market Rasen a little after 7PM, ate, slept for 4+ hours, then started Day 2 in the wee hours of the morning.  I had only ridden the prologue plus 248 kms of the real event, but had been up since 430AM, so a real rest seemed in order.  When I awoke at 1:00 AM, a gymasium that had been nearly empty was now full of sleeping riders.  As I left the control, a few very tired riders were still arriving.  I used a similar strategy on subsequent days, though my arrivals were later at the end of Days 3 and 4.  This plan allowed me to avoid crowds at the controls, by and large, and to ride relatively fresh each morning, starting at a time of day when there is zero traffic and putting in significant mileage before breakfast.

North Yorkshire on Day 2 -- the Howardian Hills

Same

North Yorkshire lavender

North Yorkshire -- on the return leg

Castle Howard, North Yorkshire, as the rain starts on Day 4

Support/volunteers.  The LEL organization and volunteers were incredible.  It takes a huge effort just to feed 1000 riders across many controls over 115 hours, and Audax UK came through.  This event was larger than any UK predecessor, and I was well-fed, had a place to sleep, and got some help with directions, bike repairs, etc. as and when I needed it. 

Barnard Castle (the ruins, not the town that bears their name)

There were a few controls on the return legs where I was greeted by the same person serving food as on the outbound leg.  At Barnard Castle (or was it Thirsk?), one elderly woman volunteer looked as if she had been working non-stop the 2 days since my earlier visit.  She used her left hand to support her right arm, near collapse, as she ladled food onto my plate.  Dedication.  And so mutual respect was shown by the riders and the volunteers.  I hope that we riders expressed sufficiently the gratitude we felt toward these volunteers, to make the experience worthwhile for them.

On Yad Moss, Day 2.  At 600 meters elevation, this pass is the highpoint for the entire ride ...

More Yad Moss

Crowds/fans.  There were none, with a few, very limited exceptions.  This is one area where PBP is and will remain impossible to match.

Riders.  The Brits and Scots were great hosts.  They were happy to offer advice.  Often as I sat down at a table in a Control, or rode with others, I was greeted with a proud “I live nearby here …”  and some interesting comments about the upcoming roads, sights and topography.

The French, Germans, Danes, Poles, and others (Taiwanese, Spanish, and on and on) were in evidence, recognizable by their jerseys and often riding in groups.  The U.S. and Canadian members were lower key (except maybe Liz, the sole Canadian woman entrant, who wore her Canada colors proudly).

I rode part of the time with friends, most of the time alone or with people I did not (yet) know.  Theo, from BC, had told me he would be at LEL.  We started the prologue together but were quickly separated.  I found him again 18 hours later, at the top of the first climb on Day 2 a few kms out of the Market Rasen control, lent him a tool needed to fix his light bracket, then we rode together 80+ kms to Pocklington.  We rode together again on the afternoon/evening of Day 4.  

Likewise, I rode the prologue and part of the initial stage with Inagaki-san, friend and Vice Chair of Japan Audax.  I saw him again at various points, and he also led the group that rode in the rainy dark evening of Day 4 from Pocklington back to Market Rasen, over the Humber Bridge in the dark and wind.  

Inagaki-san at Saturday's registration, hair flowing

I met Istvan (aka Steve) at times, a Hungarian who said he has lived in Stuttgart for 30 years. I passed and kept well ahead of him on the early morning of Day 4 as I climbed Yad Moss.  On Day 5 we rode together and shared the hard slogging into a headwind from Market Rasen to St. Ives, making easy work of a stage that caused many to suffer.  

I also rode for part of Day 3 in Scotland, and the last 2 stretches on Day 5, with Stephen, a Brit who lived in Japan in the late 1990s, when he worked for Nokia and Japan was a hotbed of innovation for the mobile internet.  I relied some on his knowledge of local geography, and helped make sure he did not fall asleep as he flagged near the end of the course.

As for the Japanese participants, Inagaki-san was his usual irrepressible self.  When he tired on the evening of Day 4, he started yelling “gamba, gamba, gamba” at the top of his lungs, taking aback some nearby riders but successfully giving himself the strength to continue.  There was one other Japanese rider I recall at the finish profusely thanking (in English) others who had helped him make it through.  Otherwise, each Japanese rider seemed mostly to keep to himself.  They did not ride together, even when several of them were very close by on Day 5 and might have done so.  I did not see them ride with other non-Japanese either.  Perhaps it was the ever-present language barrier? At least there were no serious accidents, and I suspect that all or nearly all were able to finish the event.

Scenery.  The scenery was always pretty and sometimes spectacular.  It seemed more varied than PBP, taking in numerous different regions, instead of Brittany.  Particularly memorable were the Howardian Hills and nearby areas in York, the Penines (including Yad Moss) in NW England, and Scotland.  But Essex and other areas closer to London also were beautiful.

Roads.  The road surfaces varied, but at least traffic was light in most places, and drivers were courteous.  England and Scotland are criss-crossed with a huge number of local roads and lanes, which is a major advantage in planning an event like this, as compared with the Rocky Mountain 1200 in BC, where there is often no choice except to ride a major road together with trucks, buses and cars.  Indeed, the network of roads and lanes seem to make Britain a kind of potential cycling paradise ... when the weather cooperates.

All in all, congratulations are in order for Audax UK.

Audley ("oddly"?) End, a great house now open to the public, near dusk on the last day of LEL

See also: my report of the 3rd day of LEL, spent in Scotland.

For further reading, see Susan Otcenas' (Oregon-based randonneuse) LEL ride report which offers a more chronological narrative of the event.

A Traveler's Guide: Scotland in 19 hours (LEL)

Late Thursday night I completed the 2013 version of London-Edinburgh-London, together with 800 others.  Actually some completed the ride over a day earlier, a few later on Friday morning, and several hundred of the 1000 starters not at all.

Audax UK did a fantastic job in providing controls that featured hot food, a flat place to sleep (with blanket), mostly warm showers, toilets with functioning plumbing, bike mechanical assistance, etc. for 1000 riders stretched across many hundreds of miles over a 5-day period.

Sorting the drop bags at the start -- color coding avoids misplaced bags!

The ride offered far too much to relate in a single blogpost, so let me introduce the event by featuring the middle (3rd) day.

I started riding after 2AM Tuesday from Brampton, in NW England near the Scottish border, and returned to the same location, having completed a 300km loop mostly through hills, before 10PM the same evening.

It was the hardest day of LEL; except perhaps for the others.

For the prospective visitor to Scotland, I highly recommend this bicycle loop as an efficient way to see a lot of the country.  It is best to prepare ahead with maps and a route plan, since the locals speak a different language than the English a few miles to the South.  Scottish can be very difficult to understand, if one must stop to ask directions.

We rode from Brampton to Moffat, via Lockerbie, the town made world famous by the Libyan bombing of a PanAm 747 many years ago.

From Moffat, our course took the scenic route (Route A701) and we ascended the "Devil's Beeftub". What is a "beef tub" and why might it have a demonic connection?  I did not know. Other place names were equally (or more) obtuse ... and seemed as if they must have far more distant origins. This visit, like any good 19-hour visit to a new country, inspired me to want to go back and learn more, to find out why anyone would call a location the Devil's Beef Tub?

I am told that the view from the top of this climb is spectacular.  Unfortunately, we climbed in fog and mist, which had yet to burn off.  We were not about to wait at the top for something as unreliable as the local weather.  At least we could enjoy the spectacular wildflowers along the road, and the nearby sheep.  And in the end, the fog lifted as soon as we had descended into the valley to the North.

Descending from the Devil's Beeftub toward Edinburgh

More of the countryside SW of Edinburgh

As we descended through the beautiful valley to the North, on one of the worst road surfaces of the entire 1500 kms, we passed Tweedhopefoot, then a sign identifying the "Source of the River Tweed" (and, I speculate, also the indirect source of the fabric known as Tweed, and of NYC 19th century politician William Magear Tweed a/k/a "Boss Tweed", and other tweeds).  A few miles further on we passed through Tweedsmuir.

Then it was on toward Edinburgh.  (To avoid embarrassment, please remember that it is pronounced "Edinborough" with an "o" instead of a "g" at the end.  It is a big enough city in these parts of the world so one really is expected to know this, even as a visitor!)

What can I say about Edinburgh?  Not much.  As we approached, we went up and down, and up and down, and way down, then up, before arriving at the Control, located just south of the city at Gracemount High School. I am told it is a great, historic city.  Any visitor should allow at least a few days to scratch its surface, instead of only an hour or two.  I would love to return, as soon as possible.  

My best view of Edinburgh, from a hillside well to its South

But for the road cyclist, it is not recommended.  First, there is "big city traffic":  lots of people in a hurry to get somewhere in their motor vehicles.  Second, there are hills.  Too many hills, too steep for road cycling, if the intention is to get from point A to point B without getting completely exhausted and bathed in sweat.  And third, it can rain at any time, almost at the drop of a hat.  And it did, the heavens opening up just after I left the Control, even on what had been a glorious day a few moments earlier.

From Edinburgh we headed toward the south, this time on real back roads, with low traffic volumes, and spectacular views.  We slogged from sea level back up to above 500 meters elevation, all of the climb on an exposed hillside, riding into a stiff headwind.  The headwind continued for the rest of the day.  The rain came and went.  The scenery was incredible, more wildflowers and always sheep, sheep, more sheep.

Looking back down the hill

Looking up the hill ... and into the wind

In England I saw foxes, various game birds (pheasants, etc.), bunny rabbits, sheep, cows, horses (large, race, pony, etc.) dogs, cats, frogs, snakes, etc.  In Scotland, sheep.  And more sheep.  A few cows, yes, but mostly sheep.  In England, the sheep seemed very relaxed, at peace with themselves and the world.  In Scotland, the sheep were eating frantically, with a devotion I have rarely seen in any living being engaged in any activity.  Perhaps they were the Devil's sheep?  They were bigger than English sheep, and all appeared to have been recently shorn.  They ate as if every piece of grass were the last on earth.

Unfortunately, while the sheep made an impression on me, they did not make it into my photos in any significant numbers, so you will need take me at my word, or go visit yourself!

After two long climbs into the wind, a long hard slog up a valley into the wind, and two more descents on rough roads, we finally made it to the Control at the little hamlet of Traquair.  This was the most jolly Control of the entire 5 days.  Perhaps it was the recognition that we were "over the hump" and headed home, and had just cleared one of the tougher stretches?  

Or maybe it had something to do with the little portions of Glenlivet 12-year-old Scotch whiskey offered to each rider?  The Glenlivet, made with water from the River Tweed, of course, was delicious.  Highly recommended as a souvenir of a visit to Scotland (but a bit heavy for the road cyclist to carry, so best to pick it up at the airport, in duty free).

The "valley of death" -- it looks pretty, but straight into a stiff headwind with 850kms and many hills behind already 

There were plenty more hills after Traquair, another mini-Control at Eskdalesmuir, then a lonely climb in the rain and a nice gradual descent along a river (with plenty of "rolling" hills along the way), before re-crossing the border and riding a mostly-flat stretch in the gathering dark from Longtown to Brampton, via the A7 and A5071. 

Back at Brampton, there was enough time for a few hours of sleep before the start of the 4th day.

P.S.  I should note that my one-day tour of Scotland's hills covered only the "lowlands".  The Scottish "highlands" are further to the North and, even hillier.  Audax UK is planning a Scotland Highlands, Glens and Western Isles 1300 km event for summer 2014, for anyone who wants to see more of this spectacular country.  (Warning:  That is a very hilly event, so best not tried with a fixie.)

UPDATE 1:  After the end of my trip, upon returning to Japan, my crack team of research assistants discovered, following exhaustive research using the latest in tools ("Google" and "Wikipedia"), that the Glenlivet distillery is located far to the North, in the Scottish Highlands, and is nowhere near the River Tweed.  So either I was hallucinating, or I fear that someone at the Traquair control was having a bit of fun with us outlanders when they said that the scotch whiskey came from the River Tweed.

UPDATE 2:  In case the style of this post is not immediately recognizable, please see the bestselling book "Dave Barry Does Japan" for a master humorist's attempt to write about a country he does not know at all, based upon the most superficial of impressions formed during a short visit.  See also MOB's classic 2008 post with its description of Japanese pachinko sprawl, the True Tokyo-Itoigawa Monogatari.