Go to Cyprus, they said...
Right they were... Cyprus, in my book, beats anything Mallorca offers and is remarkably close to Calpe’s iconic routes.
I’ve been in Cyprus for one week and, like Albania and Switzerland before it, my mind is utterly exploding at the beauty of its topography. I feel so grateful to be here at this time of year amid such impeccable weather conditions, able to ascend high into the mountains (relative to home), walk the streets under a clear night sky, and grab a taste of exquisite speciality Cypriot coffee—Virgilio explained to me what it was exactly. It’s quite honestly astonishing. Everything I hope life to be.
After two week-long holidays in Switzerland and Albania, respectively, I had an overwhelming feeling that the UK wouldn’t align with what I wanted to get out of my winter training. I heard about Cyprus last year, when some friends came to Cyprus for their training, planting the seed of the idea—Inception style. The miles they were able to lay down was a very attractive prospect.
I knew going into my second year in the professional peloton that I wanted to sew together everything I have learnt, so far. That meant whisking myself away to a location that could offer uninterrupted miles so that I could have the biggest summer smiles—as the cliché goes. The possible locations, although limited, were Morocco, Cyprus or Turkey. Two of those lines went dead, leaving the very real prospect of Cyprus to linger in my mind as I went on my off-season adventures to Switzerland and Albania.
The dizzying perspective shift that hiking the highest peaks in Switzerland and driving around the majestic plateaus of Albania—both with incredible people who inspire me in countless ways—helped install a can-do attitude, which drew images of Cyprus to the very forefront of my mind.
A seed grows into a plant, just as our thoughts are the seeds that manifest in reality
The final drop of water—to continue the analogy—I needed to allow the Cypriot idea to bloom fully was that of David Bradford’s Cycling Weekly travel month piece featuring the Agora Hotel of Aleksander Eng in Pano Lefkara. It captured my attention, and in my cold-call email, I referenced the very fact that I felt I picked up that Cycling Weekly edition, at the Eurotunnel ‘funny how things happen just at the right time!’ I said.
As I was reading the article, it filled my brain with dreams and ambitions. I knew the potential the camp held to improve my level. I knew what it could be. I was dreaming of it. It was in my hands—my responsibility—to make my imaginings damn well happen. That power tingled within my veins. It made my stomach churn. It was welcome, yet simultaneously, I wanted it to go away. The only way of doing that was to dive head first into the three weeks away. So I booked my flights to this majestic island of far-eastern Europe, midway through my holiday in Albania.
I had that flickering of butterflies flapping in my stomach as I drove to Gatwick Airport with my Dad. I was excited, yet wholeheartedly nervous. It wasn't until I landed and completed my first ride that I found the location had downright smashed my hopes and dreams.
In many ways, Cyprus is like a carbon copy of the roads of Calpe. The beige rocks parallel to the tarmac are smooth as silk (the occasional crack here and there). Gradually the road ascends away from the coast and into the mountains. The ride can distinctly be broken down into three sections:
The warm-up, featuring a slight drag for the first hour,
The mountains, where the majority of the climbing takes place,
The final gradual, but fast, descent towards the coast providing the ability to work on my aerodynamic position. Thus keeping me concentrated for the entire 5-hour ride.
The only difference is that I’m riding on the left-hand side of the road just like I’m at home—which is quite disconcerting having taken a four-and-a-half-hour flight from the UK.
Cyprus is an exceptional place to ride my bicycle to train for my upcoming second season in the professional ranks. I believe it to be crucial to build a big strong base, as you can see from so many riders whisking themselves off to greener pastures. It feels like a place where I have the potential to level up. Thanks to garnering some fresh perspectives by spending time with incredible people and expanding my horizons beyond the wearisome colour of the UK.
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In Cyprus, the sunlight is kissing my skin. The warmth from the mellow breeze on my skin increases my energy levels but I also want to smile and gaze at the environment around me. I am finding it incredibly fresh—mentally and physically—uplifting and completely energising. I’m lucky to have a smile on my face every day I take to the roads here.
In the summer, I went to Aix Les Bains for an 11-day training camp, solo. I thoroughly enjoyed my time. In my own space, looking after myself, and spending countless hours on the roads, and in the Airbnb on my own. It was a pleasant experience to live the monk life for those dozen days. In balance, it can teach you a lot to implement routines you didn’t know you wanted, alongside keeping the place clean and tidy. It also encourages me to get out of the house, even if it’s just for a walk down to the café to people-watch. I’m proud of the work I put in the summer, and if I can muster the same here in Cyprus, I’ll be more than satisfied.
What helps in keeping the head level, when spending so much time with yourself, is speaking with people, either on the phone or in person at the café. It helps even more that the people here are super kind. They don’t have their heads in the sand—or phones. They don’t turn their chin up at you as you’re walking down the street. They aren’t afraid to ask questions. They’re inquisitive for someone else's stories, which encourages my interest in theirs.
For example, I took my first day of riding in a leisurely manner (it can be quite stressful establishing your surroundings), so I decided to become acquainted in the only way I know how, grabbing a coffee. Nick, from Nick’s Coffee Bike, served me the recommendation of the Brazilian bean, after hearing a super smooth double espresso is my preferred choice. (The other option was a harsher, more bitter Chilean roast). Then to finish the ride in the late afternoon sun, Cherbal served me some pasta and chicken at the Sea Joy All-Day Lounge. There he had no qualms in his curiosity about asking what my maximum speed on a bike was. I responded with 100km/h in Belgium. For context, I’d hit 83km/h on my ride that day.
The most recent example was meeting Virgilio at the Lazaritis café on the old-town square. Enquiring if we could share a table, I am never going to turn away the added company, and we sat talking about the origins of Cypriot Coffee, and the peculiar pancakes he enjoyed. It’s moments, nay, names like that which really ignite the memory with stories that mean something. If I can remember the names of the people I meet, I find it brings me back into the moment and encourages even more vivid memories of the events. Pierro, Aleksander, Peter & Gail, Daina, Chris and Alexey are all other names I’ve encountered thus far, and with Zeno arriving on Friday I’m sure we’ll explore a little further afield in the next 11 days.
Cyprus, in my book, beats anything Mallorca offers and is remarkably close to Calpe’s iconic routes. What I think is going to be the defining factor for why this country is so great for riding, and one of the major reasons for choosing it as my destination is primarily the way I, the rider, interact with the traffic.
In the UK, I faced a winter where the roads were strewn with parasitic road works springing up in random locations by the day. It was not an attractive prospect to contend with. Every time I'd get the motor running, I’d stop and have to restart it. Additionally, there is the relentless cold, wet weather, endless honks and even the permanent traffic lights to contend with! I believed it was not conducive to improving my level this winter, especially when so many friends, colleagues and competitors were flying off to sunny Calpe, Tenerife or otherwise—the distinction in our tanlines of years gone by proves my point. In the UK, the riding was not consistent enough, it was tiresome and dreary. There were too many potholes where I had to choose between the disgruntled driver and a cataclysmic collapse of my rim.
So the consistent, unrelenting climbs which can last up to 40 minutes if you include the draggy valleys before the major climbs reach their crescendo are incredibly welcome. The opportunities to improve my motor are incomparable to what the UK might have offered me this winter. Perfect for putting together a November training of Z2 and Z3 base.
In recent months, I’ve taken to listening to podcasts on my Endurance rides, occasionally slipping them into my interval sessions too. In the UK especially, I find that the use of earphones helps to increase my mental capacity, by removing much of the overwhelming external environment. Be that the winter gales, or the myriad cars blasting past me at revs close to the red. It’s tedious to listen to those impulsive noises for hours on end. Hence, I find the podcasts settling and less distracting than my environment.
The landscapes surprised me, to no end. Naturally, I scoured Google in the weeks leading up to Cyprus to look for attractions, riding routes, and—of course—cafés to spend my afternoons surrounded by people. I was hugely mistaken for believing Cyprus to be yet another island entirely covered in beige, just as it is in Calpe. It has its coastal paradise for holidaymakers to enjoy their beachside vacations to the very tips of the peaks of Col du Rates and Porto Tudons, but here when you get into the hills surrounding the town of Farmakas, you get some vibrant oranges and deep earthy browns.
I have also been forthright in rekindling my attachment to nature’s spirit through this summer. Mother Nature is all-powerful. I feel it in my chest when I’m lying on the grass in my garden, or sitting outside with a book in hand for the first thirty minutes of each morning. So when I left the shores of Britain, I was set the challenge, suggested by Scott Frey, to ride without the use of earphones on my Endurance rides and utilise the ‘high-quality’ music sparingly.
With the wise voice of Matthew McConaughey ringing in my mind, I decided to take out my headphones for the final two hours of my ride. I promptly found that when I rode into the majestic mountains of the island for the first time, and after two hours of riding the shallow gradients to reach the foothills, I began to notice the presence of nature around me by opening my ears and eyes. It duly delivered. Mother Nature etched herself on my mind for those two hours, as this extract from my journal attests:
Once I got to the lower slopes of the Machairas mountain, gazing up at a golf ball-like communications tower I was astounded by the complete change of scenery to that offered down in the Nicosian plains below. As I ascended the long, sloping grades from Lythrodontas, I briefly followed two chirping, playful swallows in the wood-laden oasis in the mid-mountains. I was surprised to see the beige colours, synonymous with the Mediterranean latitude, had relented, giving way to the dark earthy browns of the fences & buildings of ancient towns and villages on the cliffs all around. The aesthetic was complemented by the sharp, deep orange of the dirt crumbling away on the steep upper gradients. The colours etched into the rock were synonymous with the dying of the sun, at the end of the day. Oh, how I’d love to witness the twilight sun, glistening on those rock faces, and have a grill at one of the many Pine-covered picnic sites lining the twisting beautifully consistent bends of the abundant climbs in the region. More of that, please!
As I’m sweeping beneath the trees taking in all of Nature’s beauty, I’m also in awe of the free-flowing descents of Cyprus. It’s an opportunity to practice my descending abilities which are, all too often, neglected in the UK. The chance to approach a hairpin at 50+ km/h having flowed through the previous five corners, with my eyes up the road, preparing for what’s to come so I can approach the obstacle (car or bend) in the best way possible, whilst maintaining the highest average speed. No risks are taken, because come on, it’s November, but to get that flow back and remember how to go downhill, and really lean on the tyres, is a welcome feature of being here at this time of the year.
Another 11 days lie ahead of me here in Cyprus, now with the exciting addition of having a training partner. My ex-teammate, and good friend, Zeno Moonen, is joining me in Larnaca for the latter part of this camp. That means the ‘Monk Mode’ period is ending—an experience I’ve particularly liked having. I’ll be jotting down any more anecdotes that we experience in the next week and a half. Maybe I’ll share them if I find them particularly compelling.