When this picture was taken around 2km from the top of the Category 1 rated Sa Calobra climb I could have described to you in great detail the interesting patterns the sweat dripping off my nose was making in salty swirls on the top tube and bar stem of my bike. I could detail how I was internally measuring my increasingly snail like progress up the climb by mentally noting each time that tiny bit of grit melted into the lefthand shoulder of my front tyre passed through my narrowing field of view…… I can’t tell you much about the fabled scenic views all the guide books wax lyrically about because by this point 100% of my attention was invested just in the immediate area around my front wheel and the effort it was taking to keep turning the cranks round. I did occasionally look up, really just to see how far away the next hairpin bend in the road was, but as this was only making that voice inside my head question my life choices even louder every time there was still no sight of the top of the climb I was trying not to do it. My world had shrunk down to the little square of tarmac my bike and I were currently occupying.

As I struggled round the next bend with my computer telling me the gradient was now hitting just over 12% I glimpsed out of the corner of my eye the stone archway over the road which the locals call ‘Nus the Sa Corbata’ (the Tie Knot) this is the 270 degree twist near the top of the climb were the road twists back around and passes under or over itself depending on your direction of travel, it’s not the actual top of the climb but there’s a little café there and a car park and unless you’re shooting for a KOM Strava attempt its where most riders tend to call the climb conquered and stop for a breather, and that was most definitely my plan!

Now salvation was at least momentarily in sight and I had something to aim for the dregs of my morale crawled off rock bottom and trying to ignore the impending cramp in my quads I attempted a strong finish to the climb. A couple of riders had passed me a few corners previously in very smart matching kits on identical expensive looking Bianchi bikes, but now looking further up the road I could see one of the pair had dropped the other who was now dangling a few hundred yards ahead of me and was hunched over his handlebars weaving slowly across the ribbon of tarmac – he looked like a man who had blown up in a big way and catching him was now my goal. With a new found single minded determination I set about reeling him in. Upstairs in that bit of headspace that runs self produced commentary on a loop I was pretending I was Stephan Roche chasing down Laurent Fignon on the famous La Plagne stage of the 1987 Tour De France as I slowly drew along side and then gradually drew ahead of him just before the last bend before the archway. (Roche actually never quite caught Fignon that day but Phil Liggett’s famous commentary still echoes on almost 40 years later) 500 meters later I was leading the bike on the wooden railing opposite the car park desperately licking the dregs of my last energy gel off its foil pouch and wondering why on earth I hadn’t ingested it at the bottom of the climb were it would have done me some good in my fight against gravity!

Now I’ve helped to partly expunge that mildly traumatic memory by writing it down let me take you back about 4 hours and 80 ish kilometres to the start of the day and describe briefly how I got to sitting shaky legged on the roadside barrier at the top of probably the best know climb on Mallorca. The second day of our Mallorca adventure got underway nice and early under the sort of mildly sunny sky and mid twenties degree temperatures that makes late September / early October the perfect time to go riding on these islands. Knowing Carl the mild mannered masochist had planned a big day out for us Benno and I made sure we maximised out calorific intake again at breakfast and after a couple of minor navigation wobbles we headed out of Port de Pollenca on a leisurely meander towards the village of Campanet. This first 20km or so was a pleasant rolling ride along some really rather picturesque roads at the base of the slightly forbidding looking hills to our right hand side, easy riding pootling along chatting three abreast admiring the scenery with hardly any traffic. Eventually we turned right and started the fairly gentle ascent up to the small hamlet of Caimari which is where the fun began.

Sure we’d seen a fair few riders on the roads up to this point but the narrow streets of Caimari seemed to be sucking in cyclists from all directions like some sort of inter-dimensional hoover for people wearing Lycra. Suddenly the road was full of carbon fibre and the sound of clicking gears and shoe cleats snapping into pedals was drowning out the odd motor vehicle which occasionally wended its way through the sea of bikers. It turns out Caimari is the gateway for most riders looking to add the Sa Calobra climb to their palmares and the road up into the mountains leading out of the village was a solid procession of riders of all shapes ages and sizes girding their quads for what was to come. Before the famous hairpins of the Sa Calobra there are a couple of pretty significant ‘bumps’ in the road that must be negotiated however. The first of these is the Category 2 climb Coll de Sa Batalla which at 8km long with an average gradient of 5% doesn’t sound too bad, I’m telling you now its a fair old pull uphill with some sections getting into double figures. As a warmup for what’s to come later its a good leg stretcher.

What did strike me as I toiled up the lower slopes of the climb was how patient the local car driver’s were. The road isn’t busy by UK standards but there were a few cars trying to negotiate the straining groups of two wheeled loonies and finding especially on the more congested early parts of the climb that it was nigh on impossible to get past big groups of riders going pretty slowly. Now back at home this would have produced epic levels of rage, shouting, honking of horns and most probably a serious accident as a driver who because he or she has been held up for more than 10 seconds by a cyclist will then attempt an incredibly dangerous passing manoeuvre in a red mist of biblical rage. Here the drivers just tootled along patiently waiting for their chance to pass, probably knowing that they stood no chance at all for the next 10 minutes or so. I even overtook a couple of cars early on in the climb as they were stuck behind a large group of riders, the drivers saw me catching them and waved me through on the next hairpin even pulling over to make space for me to pass on the inside of the corner. I’m telling you for somebody used to the invective filled bile usually spewed at cyclists back home from anybody in a motor vehicle that seems to be driven by the national press of this country it was actually a bit disconcerting!

Coll de Sa Batalla is considered one of the best climbs on the island and now I’ve ridden it I can see why. Its hard but not too difficult, long enough to be a decent test and the scenery especially in the second half of the climb is spectacular. Deciding early on that today was one of those rare days when I had apparently rediscovered some decent climbing form I’d gradually pulled away from Carl and Benno on the lower slopes and by half way up had fallen in with a couple of other riders and we’d pushed on together riding as a loose trio, even engaging in a bit of ‘through and off’ complete with elbow flicks to encourage each other through when the climb flattened out for a kilometre or so 3/4’s of the way up. No words were exchanged, there was no need – we were just three cyclists joined in a temporary alliance against gravity.

At the top of the climb the famous Repsol petrol station and cafe waits to welcome the tired cyclist. Its a chance to refill the water bottles, top up the caffeine stores with a strong coffee and have a well deserved slab of cake or a sandwich surrounded by fellow sufferers of all nationalities while contemplating what lies ahead because this is the gateway to the infamous Sa Calobra section of the ride. Just past the Repsol station the road forks, if you turn right it’s a long sweeping descent back to the coast and the sanctuary of Port de Pollenca, if you carry straight on then …. well I was about to find out! A few minutes later Carl and then Benno rolled in and after a restorative coffee, cake and ice cream we set off again on the road which would take us to the top of the Col de Reis which marks the top of the Sa Calobra section. This is another ridiculously senic section of the ride, a fast undulating few kilometres with some great views out towards the coast before a final sharp but relatively short kick up to the summit of the Col de Reis.

Regrouping again by the sign marking the peak of the Col de Reis Carl who’d ridden this route before told me I’d want to turn my ancient GoPro on which I’d attached to my handlebars for the next bit then launched himself down the descent like a Lycra clad lemming trying for a Strava KOM by taking the direct route straight to the bottom of the cliff. After trying to keep up for the first four or five hairpins while watching him overtake a motorcycle, several cars and a group of very surprised cyclists while going around at least one corner sideways with his back wheel locked solid I decided discretion was the better part of valour and engaged self preservation descending mode. I tucked in behind the motorbike that was going just fast enough between the hairpins to make overtaking it a high risk lottery and feathered the brakes for the rest of the drop down to the harbour at the bottom of the hill.

About half way down the swooping descent the blasted motorbike finally pulled off out of the way letting me past but a few corners latter I caught a group of six or so riders who again were going just fast enough to make getting past them a high stakes game of chicken. Still at least it gave me time to take in the quite spectacular views, and also more unfortunately it also gave me lots of time to regard with increasing horror the sweat soaked visages of the steady stream of tortured looking cyclists inching their way painfully back up the road in the other direction. Never have I been more acutely aware of the old adage ‘what goes down must come back up again’……..

By the time Benno and I had caught up with a slightly wide eyed and adrenaline soaked Carl at the small harbour village at the bottom of Sa Calobra my hands and forearms were cramping from the constant squeezing from the brake levers and my poor old front brake was starting to make some interesting noises when pressed into action, but knowing that the brakes were going to get zero use as soon as we set off back up that very worrying looking climb I decided that was most certainly a problem for later on. After a quick and distracted lunch during which my eye was repeated drawn to the riders struggling up and around the first few corners of the climb away from the harbour we set off to make our ascent back up the col. Now I’m not going to lie, this was the first cat 1 climb I’ve ever ridden and I can’t say I really enjoyed it. In retrospect by starting just after lunch in the early afternoon we picked the busiest time of the day traffic wise to climb it and the steady steam of cars and the odd tourist bus made especially the lower slopes quite congested, in fact we even came to a grinding halt soon after starting when we all got caught behind a coach which was stuck on one of the bends after meeting a line of cars coming the other way.

The traffic did thin out after that and after awhile I did manage to get my head down and find some sort of rhythm as I ground my way upwards. Now really good riders can conquer Sa Calobra in around 30 minutes – it took me about twice that, and towards the top which is cruelly the steepest section I was really struggling. I was as close to getting off and pushing as I’ve ever been when I finally rounded the corner that put the stone archway over the road in sight. After Carl and Benno had rejoined me at the cafe near the top and we’d all had a decent rest I don’t think any of us really had much more to give but we still had a fair way to go to get back to Port de Pollenca where we had to return the bikes to the hire shop before they closed for the day. Once we’d ground our way back up to the highest point at the summit of the Col de Reis there was some blessed respite downhill and then on the undulating road back to the road junction at the Repsol garage where we swung left for the run back to town. Carl assured us it was ‘all downhill from here!’ , well it bloody wasn’t the next few kilometres had some nasty sharp climbs in them which had me desperately hanging onto Carls back wheel loudly questioning both his character and parentage in colourful language I won’t repeat here.

Thankful we did eventually begin the long sweeping decent of the Col de Femenia half way down which my front brake decided it really had nothing left to give and left the chat leading me to rather unceremoniously plow past a largish group of riders near the bottom of the Col just as the road started to flatten out unfortunately also cutting in front of a car as I did so which earned me several exasperated shakes of the head from various riders and a annoyed blast of the horn from the driver who was I think rather taken by surprise is I careered past them muttering ‘sorry’ over my shoulder….. I just couldn’t slow down in time honest!

From the bottom of the bottom of the descent after stopping to regroup once again we had a nice fast 10km or so on the flat main road into Port de Pollensa leaving us plenty of time to return the bikes and collapse into the chairs back at the same cyclist bar as yesterday for some well deserved beers. That had been a big day out, 108.40km total and 2,036m of climbing made it according to Strava a record braking distance and elevation gain in a single ride for me and certainly one I’ll remember for a long time. If your thinking of coming to Mallorca to ride your bike it’s certainly a challenge how ever fit you are, and one I’m sure I’ll be repeating at some point – I’m already wondering how much time I could shave off some of those iconic segments with some better fuelling and pacing ………