Cyclist
Gravel Big Ride: Welcome to Girona, cycling central
The qualities required of a good gravel ride are not dissimilar to those you would ask of a decent pub quiz. Make it too easy and pretty soon everyone will get bored (did someone say Gravel World Championships?), yet if it’s too challenging, catering strictly to specialists, frustration will set in. No one wants to look like a dummy so, whether you’re testing your legs or cerebral lobes, both trails and trivia should provide a gentle massage of the ego.
In addition, both should contain enough variety that the differing talents of everyone in your team are catered for – something that has been grasped by my ride partner and guide for today, Louise from Girona bike shop and touring company Eat, Sleep, Cycle.
Louise has devised a gravel ride that will take us from the heart of Girona in a large anticlockwise loop, and which will take in tough climbs, speedy flats, forests, orchards, smooth tarmac, cobbled streets, pretty hillside towns and some of the most perfect gravel you could hope to find.
To get my excuses in early, I inform Louise that the day before I not only made an assault on the infamous Rocacorba climb (10km at 7% average gradient) but then followed that by joining a 50km group ride that I thought might be a gentle social spin. It turned out that – this being Girona – the group was full of pros, and while the pace may have been gentle for them it was leg-shredding for me.
Louise tries to reassure me that, although today’s ride has almost 1,300m of climbing, it’s mostly packed into the first third of the route. I’m not sure that this is particularly comforting but at least the temperature is perfect, neither too cool nor as ferociously hot as it has been here lately.
Louise has selected as our starting point Plaza de la Independència, which seems appropriate considering how active the Catalan independence movement has been in recent years. In fact, the square memorialises the town’s thrice-successful resistance against Napoleon’s French forces in the 19th century and, truth be told, the Catexit campaign (as no one is calling it) has seen better days.
Exploring the town the previous day, I stumbled upon a convenient visual metaphor for such waning fortunes – a wooden hut, attended by just a couple of genial older folks and in need of more than a mere lick of red and yellow paint. A poll taken late last year found only 31% of people now support independence, while recent regional elections revealed a dimming of support for hardline separatists.
So when we start off on our ride, it’s in the knowledge that this part of the world will remain a part of Spain for the foreseeable future.
The road less travelled
With the sun peeking above the buildings, we make our way out of Girona through narrow streets. Louise stops briefly to chat to a woman pushing a buggy, and subsequently informs me it was the wife of journeyman pro Joey Rosskopf. This really is Cycling Central.
Paved streets soon give way to rough stuff, while neutral gradients become incrementally positive. As my legs struggle to adjust to this early test, I begin to regret the heavy crema catalana dessert I enjoyed at dinner last night. I stomp my way up the first ramps while doing my best to find what looks like a suitable line.
Fortunately the gravel surface is firmly packed and forgiving, and I can let my bike find its own line. It seems to know exactly where it’s going, and the summit arrives sooner than expected. When we pause before rejoining the road I’m even more surprised to check my computer to find we’ve risen 300m in a few kilometres.
When we hit smooth tarmac our climbing speed increases considerably, although not quickly enough to prevent being overtaken by a rider emblazoned in the yellow kit of the Visma-Lease a Bike women’s squad. She’s going too fast for me to spot who is behind the shades, but all I can tell you is it isn’t Marianne Vos.
If we were to continue along this same road we would reach the church of Santuari de la Mare de Deu dels Àngels, where Salvador Dalí married his muse Gala in 1958. Instead we turn off to the right for a few kilometres of rolling terrain. Wild scrub lines the sandy path and everything is so still and silent that I’m able to tune into each crunch and crackle of the tyres against stones and the occasional snap of a twig.
With almost a third of the ride done and a brisk tailwind helping us along, we are comfortably enough on schedule that we have time to stop in the walled medieval village of Monells. A leisurely caffe sin leche in the 10th century square alongside a group of jolly cyclotouristes from Kent is followed by a bidon refill from the public fountain before getting back on the road.
Except, of course, it’s not actually a road. The gravel path takes us between fields where there are no vehicles bar the odd tractor. The sky is cloudless and the going is easy. Every hilltop is crowned with an ancient castillo, most of which have switched their purpose from repelling invaders to welcoming guests.
The easternmost point of our ride is at the town of Pals, where we turn north and soon find ourselves in cider country. If that phrase conjures images of straw-hatted Somerset yokels supping from earthenware flagons, then it’s time to rethink. Girona’s apple industry is rather more sophisticated, and Louise has planned a lunch stop to match.
Mooma is a farm, cider house and restaurant that is more opulent than the roadside vendors I usually patronise for my mid-ride nutrition, but I don’t put up a fight when Louise insists we order the botifarra dolça amb poma i sidra, which translates into reality as sweet sausage with apple and cider. As long as we can have croquetas as well. And patatas bravas. Not forgetting the pan con tomate. And we should probably at least sample their speciality ice cider. It’s only polite.
The sweet apple sausage thing is somewhat odd, but delicious enough to make me forget that we still have a full afternoon’s riding ahead. Louise obviously knew exactly what she was doing when she front-loaded the climbing.
First food, then drinks
To say we make a sluggish start to the second half of the ride would be a huge understatement. A couple of kilometres of quiet rural lanes brings us to our next stretch of mercifully level gravel. Two abreast, we scoot along a farm track reminiscent of the Breton ribinoù you see at the one-day Classic Tro Bro Léon. I try to decide whether the crown or the side is better for my digestion.
Only 15km out from lunch and Louise informs me it’s time for our third stop of the day, just past the village of Parlavà. Apparently our day will not be complete without a stop at the craft Doskiwis brewery. Again, who am I to argue? She’s the expert around here.
Most people probably don’t recognise the exact point at which they reach middle age. For me, I realise it has arrived as I scan the names above the bar to decide which of the craft ales I most like the sound of. Summer Teeth leaps out, a mango sour IPA that apparently pays tribute to American indie band Wilco whose albums – one of which was called Summerteeth – I had at least six of back when I was a student.
I ask Michael, Doskiwis’ Antipodean owner, if Via Girona, another IPA, is a reference to ‘Via Chicago’, one of the most popular tracks in the band’s catalogue. I get the impression I may have pushed the whole Wilco connection too far when he mutters that it is just a coincidence. Louise’s eyes are beginning to glaze over and I get the hint that it’s probably time to go.
I ask Michael if I can buy a can to take home in my bar bag. ‘On the house,’ he says, and I promise to repay him with a mention in a certain cycling magazine.
Back to base
We’re 26km from home, the sun is out and I’m loving life. With just a few interruptions, the next 15km is almost entirely off-road, predominantly a singletrack path that runs alongside the Onyar river. It weaves its way through a monocultural forest planted to prevent the river from flooding, and the canopy cover generates a welcome natural air-conditioning effect. In places the vegetation encroaches on the path so much it’s hard to see the route, but I manage to avoid steering into a swamp.
On the final run-in to Girona, Louise suddenly ups the pace. As I do all I can to cling to her wheel, I wonder if she is late for an appointment or just desperate to get home. It turns out to be neither. She’s just an incredibly strong rider and loves the feeling of stamping on the pedals.
Which comes first – the love of that feeling or the strength to do it – I don’t know, but I guess it’s just want happens when you become a resident of Cycling Central.
How we did it
Travel
Cyclist flew to Barcelona, just over two hours from London. From the airport it’s a one hour 20 minute drive to Girona. Flights also go direct to Girona, although less frequently than to Barcelona.
Accommodation
For our Girona gravel adventure we stayed at Can Campolier, better known as Rocacorba Cycling (rocacorbacycling.cc). It has rustic charm aplenty, great food and is a cyclist’s retreat par excellence, located just a couple of kilometres from the famed Rocacorba climb and run by WorldTour cyclist Ashleigh Moolman-Pasio and her partner. In Girona, Cyclist also stayed at the central Hotel Carlemany for two nights (hotelcarlemanygirona.com).
Thanks
Many thanks to Pilar Herrero at the Catalan Tourist Board (gencat.cat) for help organising our trip, and also Louise Laker and her team at Eat, Sleep, Cycle (eatsleepcycle.com) who provided bikes as well as designing and leading the ride. More thanks to Michael Jones, master brewer at Doskiwis (doskiwisbrewing.com) for opening up on his day off and having excellent taste in music. Lastly, thanks to photographer Patrik for being my occasional ride buddy and always encouraging me to have dessert.
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