Meanwhile, back in Belgium....

Has been below freezing for a while, and I've been lazy. Finally, enough was enough, I got off my ass and onto the bike. Here is the trailhead near the house:


It was an ok ride, in the snow in the Lummen Loop (aka, the Halen Loop). Traction for the most part was pretty outstanding! I actually ran into 2 cyclocrossers on the trail, it seems I wasn't the only one with cabin fever.

Spain - the motion picture

A re-cap of the action in video.

Spain - el final

Last day. We had to check out and point the car north, so we made the rather huge effort to get up at the crack of eight and get in our biking clothes. The restaurant wasn't even open for breakfast until 9 - I love spain. It was cool and crisp but the sky was blue as can be and as we pedaled up the road climb, the splendor of waking up and getting on the bike before noon became increasingly apparent.


Today's trail was absurdly titled "el moabo", because the british authors of the book thought that anywhere with some slickrock bits must be just like moab, utah. Well, it wasn't moab but it was, for me, the best trail of the week. If it had been 3-4 times at long it would be world class. But as it was, dodging in and out of trees, little drops, steep sections, and, yes, nice patches of slick rock...it was dreamy.


I think if you stayed in el chorro for a week and rode this trail a few times, learning all the corners and lines, it would be a whole bowl of fun.


A deceivingly long and steep road climb then took us up to the top of a mountain where, surprise, there was a huge concrete resevoir. Must have been quite a job putting that in.


But the views were stunning, the weather was clear as a bell and it was well worth the climb. On top of all that we got the longest descent of the week, starting out flowy in the trees, but after a few switchbacks turning to steep, loose, and very rocky. Right down the face of the mountain. This is what seat post quick releases were made for. Unfortunately Peter did not have one of these, but he made it down ok. For me, it was nice to get a long, fast descent in before heading back to the flat lands.


Which is what we did next. 24 hours later we were in snowy Belgium. Doh! But the trails of southern spain have only offered a glimpse of their secret treasure. I'm sure I'll be back. Possibly soon if this weather continues.

Spanish trails, part dos

Day 2 brought showers of rain and cold temperatures, so we fell back on our lazy plan B to do some sight seeing. Nearby Granada proved an easy target so we checked out a lot of old buildings. Afterwards, Peter got a haircut and a shave at a Spanish baber, which was filled with old men singing and drinking brandy. Classic.


Day 3 was really day 2 of riding, we found a loop in the extremely vague guide book that "guaranteed" big views of the sea and lots of singletrack. El Chorro was threatening rain, but by the time we got near Mijas, on a big hill overlooking the sea, the sun was out and it was warming up.


After a coffee, a freshly squeezed orange juice, and some churros, we set out on the climb.


Directions were, to no one's surprise, impossible to follow, but somehow we managed to find the singletrack. The long climb led to a long and nasty singletrack climb, which led, finally, to some tasty spanish trail riding. The trail was mostly angled slightly down but traversed across the mountain, so speeds were high enough and not too technical, just technical enough to make it fun.


This ride was a figure 8 loop, and we connected 3 other bits of singletrack before the end of the day. One of which was a loose, rocky, steep-ish and technical affair. Pure joy. Peter rode tough with his 80mm fork and negative rise stem.


Finishing at the car, we had a fat spanish meal and a san miguel at the same cafe. The sun was shining and it was 18 degrees. Enough said.

Spanish trails, day 1

Ah, sunny Spain. So warm, so beautiful... Our first day out, according to our trail guide book (written by british people), promised huge climbs, huge views, and huge descents. Perfect. After a leisurely taken breakfast, we set out from El Chorro, pedaling up into the hills and across the Guadalhorce dams. British instructions were extremely vague at best, so we were checking the book just about every 3 or 4 minutes. But eventually we made it on the first big climb of the day, up into the mountains.

Peter's kit matched my bike nicely


The climbs were big and steep. And big. And steep.


But being the manly men that we were/are, we eventually made it over.


Oh, and it was really beautiful.


One of the many stops to check the stupid book...


At the top of the climb I noticed that one of my suspension linkage bolts was gone. Whoops. After some creative problem solving, it looked like I wouldn't have to walk down hill. Thank goodness for that. The descent was long and rocky and fun as hell. Big fork and big tires were hard on the climb but paid off in spades on the descent. The only drama was losing the best bit of singletrack due to poor instructions on our book's part.........


...it made Peter so angry that he had to make this face


More to come!

¡España!

With nothing but snow and gloom on the belgian forecast, and only similar on the uk forecast, I abandoned the plans to visit the sis in London and drove south to the sun. Tachelet came on board and we headed to the promised land - Andalucia.


It was a bit of a haul to get down there - about 20 hours of driving - but worth it. Short sleeve weather when we arrived, and the place we were staying, www.elchorro.es, was stunning.



El Chorro is a tiny town famous for its rock climbing. The hills promised countless kilometers of technical singletrack above. It was destined to be a fine trip.


The view from the hotel. More mtb stories to come soon.