Mallorcan Velo Professional (MVP) Club

Let’s put is this way – it started well!

Everybody picked up by the minibus Patrick had organised. Each stop an excited face boarded and we were off. That was until we got to Buckland Manor, by the time we had driven through the ornate gates, up the gravel road, passed the deer park and Stewarts butler had loaded his matching Louise Vuitton luggage, we were getting a bit pushed for time. The first navigational error ‘that anybody could have made’ we missed the Easyjet check in. Why don’t they make themselves more visible – perhaps a garish colour? Note to self – email Stelios.

Made it through all the security although my hips sent all the alarms off. Still no harm done and the latex gloves weren’t that bad. Got to the gate only to be confronted by stroppy woman not allowing Malc C on with his Dolce & Cabbanna handbag. Anyway after firmly putting her in her place – he meekly put it in his wheelie cabin bag and spread his contraband amongst us and ate four bananas. Arrived in Palma airport, all bags off and then the amusing Majorcan pastime of hide and seek with the transfer driver being ‘it’. Patrick & I won the match finding the cheeky monkey hiding behind a rubbish bin having a smoke with a tiny piece of paper with my name written in feint biro. The journey to the accommodation was uneventful and nobody noticed my anxiety increasing by the mile muttering ‘well what can they expect for £13 a night’ – anyway it was ok! We had a whole apartment block to ourselves with two adjacent rooms on the top floor – Patrick, Nigel, brother in law Tom & I in one and Lord Buckland and his staff Mat, Malc C & Duncan in the other.

Scouted the place and had a couple of beers on the seafront first night. Eventually found the supermarket and bought loads of crisps. We then thought we would have a few beers, meal (with beers) and bed.  Malc C volunteered to be kitty keeper (more of this later).

First day
Collect bikes and complained a bit. Then straight off for Cap Formentor – fantastic ride 27.5 miles 3000ft climbing. Out to a lighthouse with a café – although the freezing temp of 23 degrees had the locals in their duffle coats and scarves. On the way back my chain snapped. Eventually Stewart decided to come back and rescue the situation with chain tool and quick link. He was all smug until I reminded him that it was the quick link I lent him three months ago. Quick lunch and then off to the flesh pots of Can Picafort for a Burger King and tattoos all round. 23 miles 300ft. Evening of hushed tones as the reality of the torture Nigel had planned for us the following day began to sink in. Stew and Mat decided to berate Juan the bike man for not putting a 40 ring on the back cassette along with stabilisers. Fewer beers consumed. Although enjoyed a good evening of slagging off everybody who didn’t come on the trip (be warned).

Second day
Up at crack of dawn. Nigel spooks us all by packing loads of Jelly Babies and 4 gallons of water. People start thinking my brother in law Tom had the right idea of feigning exhaustion and staying at home. Met by transport taking us to farthest point of the island. Bikes in the trailer – us in the leather seats team bus delusions of grandeur and talk of Castelli team kit ensued.
Arrived in Andraxt and spurred on by Garmin working & Duncan & I both agreeing on the route, five of us set off at a pace to Palma, whilst Patrick and Nigel wanted to go on the correct route. Eventually regrouped and oh how we laughed – at least it was an easy day coming up!

The route back was along the north coast through the Tramuntana mountain range 75 miles and 8,170ft of climbing. Amazing route through windy mountain roads and orange sun drenched ancient villages perched on cliff tops looking out to sea. We split into natural groups (Nigel & everybody else).

Passed some amazing places for coffee, which clearly were not good enough for us and settled for lunch at Soller at a pretty quayside restaurant that gave a fantastic view of the hurricane blowing outside. Quick calculations and we realized it would be dark before we got back. I impressed the group with my Spanish, uttering ‘la cuenta por favor’. To which Patrick helpfully added ‘and can we have the bill love’.

Right out of Soller started the epic Puig Major climb. More red spots on strava than a polka dot jersey. Put it this way JV would have loved it. Nuff said. Got to top and Nigel lied and said it was all down hill to home. On the way back Malc C broke a spoke & developed a wobbly front brake and was ably assisted by Mat in exchange for lighting up his pitch back mountain ascent back to base. Meanwhile Stewart got blown off his bike by 55mph winds (he was right about the stabilizers).

Well earned evening of beer wine, port and Lemoncello under pretense of celebrating Duncan’s 60th birthday. Also formed the Mallorcan Velo Professional (MVP) Club, decided on constitution and elected Duncan as grand master and when he dies Malc C will take over (and having Castelli kit). Went for an Indian but soon left as we were affronted at a noisier party of people than us. The MVP just can’t stand losing (except the beer kitty – which we did loose).

Third day
Bit worse for wear. Split into two groups. Nigel, Duncan Patrick and I in the Intensive Cardiac Ward group and Stewart, Tom, Duncan & Malc C in the Burger King and tattoos group. Group one spent the day on a 50 odd mile with no elevation just trying to stop Patrick having a heart attack. Group two just had a great time doing a 40 mile pootle less elevation with coffee.

Back to the airport and Malc C noticed he had left his phone in apartment transfer man helpfully turned around and phone retrieved. Malc then caught up with his Candy Crush.

Got to airport noticed wanted posters with Pete Buss’s picture on them.

Back home and slept ‘hasta la próxima vez’.

Peter Baker