Falling in among Sadists and Masochists

It seems as though I attract that personality type.  Or, at least, it seems that way when I think about the guys I cycle with.  Dave plans our overnight tours.  His latest one is a three-day jaunt up into La Mancha and is reputed to be a very scenic, colorful ride through wine country (and now the kicker) including some "steep" and later "long, steady" climbs.  One of the highlights is going to be a cruise (my misnomer) through "one of  the jewels of La Mancha set in a deep river gorge."  Sounds great until you think it through.  "Gorge" is a low spot-usually cut by water, low is only reached from high, and can only be escaped by going lower (not a good idea) or higher-meaning climbing.  
Then there's Peter who lives for climbing and drools in a Pavlovian cascade when he hears Rebate, Hondon Valley or Guadalest.  Whenever he's not thrashing about in his sailboat, he's wagging his rear wheel at us mere mortals waaaay downhill.
We won't elaborate on Gary other than to mention that he breaks chains going uphill using the big ring.  Why he even bothers to weigh himself down with the small ring(s), I don't know.

And the latest is Richard, who on a supposedly tranquil trail cruise along the Segura River, announces that we are going up "that street".  An intown Orihuela lane that turns into a brutal climb up to the monastery.  I say brutal, because I was riding my ancient, steel,10-speed Colnago  and not the new carbon, 20-speed  Cannondale.  I watched him disappear uphill on his triple-ringed mountain bike as I dismounted at the halfway point and started pushing.  I joined him in a celebratory beer at the top, once I quit gasping for air. No complaints from the resident clergy as, after all, "It would just be rude, not to have a beer at the top."

Back Home in Algorfa

Well, the whole London/Wedding trip is done and over,  It ended not without another airline insult-a three hour delay in London.  Guess it wasn't their fault.  Our pane had flown to Algeria earlier in the day and the ground personnel there decided to start some sort of industrial action.  No comment!

The pic is of Canary Wharf viewed across Surrey Quay, taken as we were walking back to Tim's apartment after a fun dinner with Matt, Kim and the girls.  Had a pint with Matt at the Union Pub near Paddington Station and then went to their flat in the "Little Venice" neighborhood.  Very cool place in an old brownstone, with lots of room, high ceilings and a spare flush that operates with a chain.  I haven't seen one of those since I worked Dodge City with Wyatt.   Prominently posted on one wall was a poster that proves that the "crap" derived from Mr. Crapper's invention....interesting....

 

Now to clean up and spruce up the BH for sale.  Don't need three bikes here, and space is at a premium.  Gotta set up the "studio" again and get to work on some more painting projects.  Is is off to Vietnam in about five days for Tim & Ngoc's Buddhist wedding.  I'm hoping someone has cooked up an overnighter for the Amigos-timing would be perfect, but my fitness might not be.  So I'm the last one over the hill, at least I'll make it.

Trio enroute to Maine

Here is the happy trio wandering the streets of Murcia heading for Bistro Zaher to try the fabled Pastel de Murcia.  It is my favorite reason for going to the city, other than the art supply store and gallery Angie Meca.  We were happy to see that the store hadn't been badly affected by the recent flood, though the waters were probably only inches from their front door.  Sad to say, my favorite painting was not there-no mean feat to buy since it had a tag of Eu.650.  Anyway, the pasteles were fine, as expected and Jordan was delighted by the merengues and eclairs she chose.  The proprietor showed his gratitude by giving John and me a "secret" drink that was delicious and powerful, mixed with two shades of firewater.  One was clear and quite tequila-like on its own.  A small amount of that was mixed with about a jigger of some sort of Jerez brandy.  I'll have to check it out further when I have more time.  

How they wound up having lunch in Murcia is a long sad story.  In a nutshell, I mis-interpreted the train schedule and we wound up buying tickets in Callosa for a train that wasn't coming until their Madrid train left Murcia.  So We "raced" there in a car, sometimes listening to a lying GPS and sometimes relying on gut feelings and/or my recollection of landmarks glimpsed briefly while travelling in a speeding peloton.  We arrived at the station about five minutes after their train left.  So, after buying seats on the four-something, they had seven hours to kill.  Unfortunately, Is and I had to drop them with baggage (which had been locked in the car while we lunched), as we had to go home to straighten out baggage snafus with our London flight.  

The tired trio should be checking into their hotel room across from the Palacio Real in Madrid right about now.  My error lost them an afternoon in a beautiful city, but I'll make it up next time.  The rest of their stay was hectic with lots of sightseeing, some swimming, giraffe-feeding and cycling.  Jordan's favourite site was Guadalest, a Moorish castle built on a mountain top in the mountains West of Benidorm.  I was quite impressed with the view.  Had been there before on the soaking, almost-freezing and clouded-in cycle trip last December, and hadn't seen a bit of the castle due to the clouds and rain.