Gran Canaria Diaries Day 1: December 3rd

My alarm kicked in at 5am, but in all fairness I’d got to bed pretty late so luckily I wasn’t in a deep sleep. 21 minutes to Bournemouth airport and a 5 minute check in procedure reinstalled some of my faith that, despite economic uncertainty and a country run by what would seem like the cast from the muppet show, there are some perks to living in Great Britain still.

A strong tailwind meant that the flight time to Las Palmas was cut to 3hr 30 minutes (no complaints there) and I was soon pulling up outside my apartment, poised to get the bike prepped and out on the road. I shut my eyes for a few minutes towards the end of the drive (fear not, I wasn’t in the driver's seat) and on opening was greeted with the first laugh on the island. Now I know that things sometimes get lost in translation, but really there’s no excuse for this one. Maybe a typo on what should have been a good bit of branding for French Connection UK, who knows? I’ll let you decide.

I’ve been to GC a good handful of times now so working out routes is normally done on the road depending on weather conditions and how big I want to go. Today was restricted due to travel and the eventual first pedal stroke coming at just gone 2pm. Immediately I felt a touch over dressed. The knee warmers were just too much so on the climb to Fataga they found a warm spot in my back pocket. It’s pretty much all uphill on the GC60 to Ayacata before bearing left on the GC605, a rather bumpy road, and descending back towards the coast to complete a 55 mile loop. To see the road winding away into the valley below is rewarding to say the least. Tree lined ridges in the distance, whispy clouds above and the sea glistening as the sun sets on the horizon. Mr Garmin could sense water, depicted by the large blue area on the screen. Good to know he was witnessing what I was seeing as the day slowly came to a close.

The bike is like the best medicine you can buy. It’s amazing how in just a few hours you can feel like a totally different person. The only low point being when a rogue Sugababes track found its way onto the playlist on my I-Pod, and with so many in the sport of cycling proclaiming their innocence to the masses with the next “believe me” campaign (albeit not over a Sugababes track admittedly) I’m going to have to join them when I say I have no clue as to how it got there. “Somebody must have tampered with it, I want my B-sample tested, it was for my cat…” I’m sure you’ve heard it all before but you’ve gotta believe me.

As I clipped the skip button the next track more than made up for the punishment I’d subjected my ears to. Diesel Power intoxicated every receptor in my brain like only the Prodigy can and with tarmac unraveling in front like a ribbon at Christmas it was time to punch the pedals in a race to beat sun down!

For Day 1 GPS info click here