Who would have thought pedalling through sand in the scorching sun would be the best Sunday of the year?
IN MY head there are bike people and not bike people. The bike people wear flowing white linen and take leisurely rides around flat terrain only to stop by a lake and feed some ducks. Gears? Pfah! The bike people in my head rarely break a sweat let alone climb a hill.
In my head there is nothing remotely pleasurable about waking at sparrow’s chirp after a heavy night and heading out to the picturesque north-eastern stretches of this island for a 20km pedal through the dust.
The above text serves nothing but to give readers an idea about how far removed from reality I am…
REAL BIKE people wear tight little pants and have backpacked bladders filled with water and a little tube that brings it to their mouth. Bike people have hooks, clips, keys, wrap-around glare-foil sunglasses, shoes with spikes and gel-filled seats. I am not bike people.
Bike people are also punctual, so when I arrived at the Ledra Palace checkpoint and was almost blinded by a vision of Lycra shorts and shiny helmets I almost turned my little pink horn around and headed home to catch dawn.
Reinforcements arrived minutes later, as a delightful mix of not bike people just like me rattled to my side. When the gathering of friendly faces had amassed, we all rode to the waiting buses.
Bikes were loaded with military efficiency, heads counted and off we went. Introductions were made, some people knew each other, everyone was affable.
You might wonder how I got here. I certainly did as we travelled through the Sunday morning traffic in north Nicosia towards Boghazi and up towards the Karpas peninsula.
I like to think I was duped. Grappling with a Saturday shift at my desk the day before, the phone rings. It’s my other half, at the Micromania counter where he’s picking up his bike from a service. He’s with the shop owner who I met the week before when I picked up my spanking new treddly with a big girly seat and hot pink horn.
I haven’t been on a bike for 15 years but I thought it would be a nifty way to get fit and, considering how awful Nicosia traffic is, I couldn’t imagine a better way to move around.
Honey, he says, how would you feel about going to Karpasia for a ride tomorrow? A vision forms (again in my ridiculously idealistic head) of streaming through the beautiful slopes of the island’s tip with the wild donkeys and the fabulous blue sea lapping on either side of me. Ummm… OK.
It’s Duke’s turn on the phone next as he waxes enthusiastic about the ride and the times and what we’ll need and did he mention we’ll be setting off at 8.30am? Ummm… OK.
The bus coasts past the monastery of Apostle Andreas and comes to a halt out the front of a taverna.
Bikes are unloaded, tweaked and pumped and we’re off. The bike people whiz off ahead and I’m swept with relief as the ‘keep fit’ people meander into the scrub. Bye bye bike people.
Did I mention it was my birthday?
I won’t lie. The Karpas ride was the most challenging experience I’ve had in a very long time and on my 27th birthday I came face to face with my shameful lack of fitness. How could it come to this? I thought, as I panted my way over the very first hill, trying to reacquaint myself with gears and watching absolutely everyone pedal past me.
My tyre got stuck in the dirt and I had to pick the bike up, the hill was too steep, the sun was too hot and who put all this sand here? On top of this, my constantly begging my bicycle to be nicer to me was doing little for my cause.
Just when I thought the embarrassment was too much to endure, it hit me: I was my own worst enemy. It wasn’t so bad at all… OK, I was a little out of breath, but nobody was watching. Sure I was slow but nobody was waiting. With each red-faced push I realised my only opponent was myself and that I was a total wimp.
To their credit, the ride leaders are absolute angels. They hover around just long enough to let you realise you aren’t alone but not long enough to make you feel like a loser. You take the ride at absolutely your own pace and stop whenever you feel you need to. As long as there’s no disaster, the success of the ride is entirely up to you.
After the first three kilometres I actually realised I was enjoying myself. My lungs burned, my hat blew off but the view was breathtaking and the bike was doing what I told it to.
A couple of times I stopped in my tracks to catch my breath and make sure I wasn’t having a heart attack but that was the worst of it. I made it through the 20kms with a smile on my face and was rewarded with a beautiful fish lunch, beer, breathtaking views and a swim – and the sleep of the just all the way back.
I enjoyed it so much I plan on doing it again – today I’ll ride 30kms downhill from magnificent Kantara castle to the sea at Davlos, where I’ll moan at my sore feet and bicker about those really tough bits. I’ll then eat more fish by the sea, toast my co-riders, swim and secretly plan the next ride.
The fine print:
MICROMANIA’S bike rides run like a well-oiled speed racer. Everything is planned, down to the meal you’ll have when you stop. If you’re going to sign up you need to call ahead and clear your entire day for the excursion. If you don’t book and just turn up, you run the risk of being left out.
BE PUNCTUAL: Arrive at the stated time and maybe five minutes early. The more time the crew spends waiting for you before departure, the less time you’ll have to wheeze around the mountain.
BRING SUNSCREEN, water and a hat. Freeze a couple of bottles the day before and if you’re sensitive, consider carrying a light long-sleeved shirt in your backpack. Sunstroke is a disgusting and easily avoidable affliction so don’t be macho. These items are of utmost importance and all you will need on your back. Leave the rest of your gear on the bus.
STOW THE KIDS: Sorry, these rides are strictly for above 12s. Call in a favour: it’s just one Sunday out of their lives.
DON’T WORRY. I am the unfittest person I know and I’ll be right there in the back of the crew… waiting for the young nurse who doesn’t realise her bike has gears.
Meeting point: Ledra Palace Turkish checkpoint
Meeting time: 8.30am
Bus leaves: 9am
Arrival at Kantara: 10.30am
Riding Time : around 2 hours
Riding Distance: approx 30kms
Bring with you: Passport, water, sunscreen, swim wear and of course a helmet.
Bus leaves Davlos: 3pm
Bus arrives at Ledra Palace: 4.30pm
Level of competence: average and above
Age limit: 12+
Call Ricky or Duke: 22 661517 or 99 433972
