Europe

Day 1: 19th September ’10

Distance: 14.90 miles
Total Distance: 14.90 miles
Route: Gatwick Airport » Gibraltar Airport » Gibraltar Town

Woke at 3.30 am and asked myself repeatedly was “anything worth getting up for at this time?” Bike box attached to the car hurriedly, bags stashed in the boot – and we set off in search of a plane to speed me south. Gibraltar airport is tiny, and passengers need to walk across the runway to reach the town. Not particularly easy when hauling a heavily loaded bag and bike box strapped to the frame. I reach the hotel and decide to head straight out into the invitingly warm late summer sun. The climb to the top of the Rock is expectedly steep – a good warm-up for the days that lie ahead. The Rock seems to exert a distinct effect on the micro-climate; the skies are grey and humid on the lee side sheltering the town. The eastern, mediterranean-facing slopes experience bright-blue skies. It seems that the weather follows the British everywhere.

Day 2: 20th September ’10

Distance: 75.58 miles
Total Distance: 90.48 miles
Route: Gibraltar Town » Sotogrande » Estepona » Marbella » Fuengirola

I rise early after a good nights sleep. There’s time for a good old-fashioned English breakfast before making final adjustments to the bike and heading out on the first day of the Challenge. There’s confusion as I attempt to pay for my room; “You are Phil Hambley, No? – You do a charity work… then the room is for free”. A lovely gesture that is both unexpected and greatly appreciated. (Many thanks to Rolly and the kind and generous staff at Queen’s Hotel)

I ride the 1.6 miles to the border and pass quickly into Spain. It’s not possible to follow the coast for long and so I have to head inland and sharply uphill; the roads are treacherous and fast but I manage to locate a gravel path running parallel. 8 miles into the ride and already I need to remove my somewhat annoying bike helmet and put on my mechanic’s hat instead. I locate and quickly fix a ‘snakebite’ puncture – one caused by the weight of the bags and a lack of tyre pressure pinching the tube against the rim when riding over a large bump. I get lost in the very well-to-do but boring ‘Sotogrande’. A huge thunderstorm breaks and I get the sinking feeling that I have left it too late in the year for the Challenge and that the weather will not be on my side.

The roads get worse – there is only one road that heads up the coast from Gibraltar, and it is a dual-carriageway. All of the little seaside developments are linked to this god-awful road, but unfortunately not to each other; there is no point in heading towards the coast to get lost down a maze of roads that will only resurface 50 metres further along from where you had left it. In the afternoon, I stop by a quiet beach to rest and eat – and also investigate a strange noise coming from the bike. I realise to some horror that both bolts supporting the base of the rack (holding the panniers) have snapped off during the mornings ride, and that I could have ‘come a cropper’ at any point. Had the rack slipped from position and gone into the spokes that would have been game-over – and no messing.

I have spare bolts and tape these in place to avoid any future tragedy from materialising. I have been lucky with the rack – no doubt a result of poor reassembly following the flight over – but you need some luck, and I will take whatever comes. I camp in the evening. A delightful place that charges 25 euros a night to camp on granite-hard ground next to a motorway.

Day 3: 21st September ’10

Distance: 74.44 miles
Total Distance: 164.88 miles
Route: Fuengirola » Torremolinos » Torre Del Mar » La Herradura

I wake before dawn, quickly pack the tent and bags in order to make a fast getaway. Next stop Torremolinos; a place that has held my imagination since I was a young lad. I can distinctly remember once seeing a postcard that read, “Torremolinos. Wish you were here… instead of us”. Disappointingly, it turns out to be not that bad a place; certainly no worse than the majority of development along this stretch of coast. Malaga seems an impressive city, although it’s Western approach is the land the town planners forgot. I end up darting along a stretch of motorway to cross the river – a non-speeding fine seemed preferable at the time to a 20 mile detour that crossing the river by other means would have entailed.

East of Malaga and the roads slowly transform into the justification for coming to this place; foul dual carriageway thins into modest roads hugging the shores of the Med. The roads get quieter still and then climb higher. Long sweeping curves, ascending and descending, cliff faces glow dark red with the evening sun.

I find a lovely sheltered campsite 50m from the beach. As a rule of thumb, the enjoyment of a campsite is inversely proportional to the cost of the pitch. This one is half the price of last nights sorry excuse.