A few riders are walking, and I consider joining them I’m barely going any faster anyway
goes by, meaning all my early effort in forging ahead has effectively been for nothing.
We’ve already gained 300m in the opening 12km by the time we reach the first (official) climb, yet that’s about as easy as La Purito ever gets. The initial 3km of the Collada de Beixalis ranges between 15% and 18% and, sure enough, the lead riders hammer into it, keen to whittle down the front group. It’s only 8.30am and
I’m already sweating hard. One by one riders are forced to sit up as the pace takes its toll, and when the gradient stiffens again near the top a gap starts appearing in front of me, too. It’s a question of when, not if, I let it go.
Fortunately the easy descent that follows allows a regrouping and we stay together on the early slopes of the subsequent Coll d’ordino.
But then, almost imperceptibly, the split starts to develop and before I know it a group of nine riders has begun to pull ahead. They’re clearly stronger so I decide to settle into my own tempo while I still feel good.
At the 1,980m summit there’s a brief moment to drink in the epic view, with most of Andorra spread out across the huge valley below, and then we plunge into a long, fast and fun descent of nearly 30km. The super-light Canyon is as happy railing through turns as it is climbing, so I pull away from the group behind until we get to a flatter part and they chase me down again.
The event’s idiosyncrasies mean we retrace the route back to the start, then race through the capital city of Andorra La Vella on roads still open to traffic in peak holiday season. In a highly motivated group near the front of the race it gets a little hairy. Luckily, years of commuting through Bristol have prepared me well.
The third climb of the day is the 13.4km
Col de la Rabassa and it kicks straight up to 15% from a roundabout in the town centre. At one point we can see the first group above us, maybe a minute ahead, then they’re out of sight and mind once more. The gradient sticks at 12% for 5km and everyone shifts to riding at their own pace. I drift ahead of the group but by the top my legs are starting to pinch and I hope I haven’t overcooked it.
Suffer, recover, repeat
The descent is another good one – Andorra’s roads are velodrome-smooth – and I reel in three riders from the first group. We get to the bottom together and weave through the chaotic combination of holiday traffic and hundreds of mid-pack riders coming the other way. It’s far from clear which way we have to go. The event signs are easy enough to spot but there are no kilometre markers or colour coding for the long/ medium/short routes. I heard later that some junctions saw confused riders heading in all