June 30: Engleshorn Hutte

 A Rosenlaui breakfast buffet is always a delight. You get proper coffee (for whatever reason, Europeans don’t really know how to make coffee the way I like it), fresh baked breads of all sorts, a selection of yogurt (today included Hazelnut yogurt, which I would get 3 bowls of), and then there’s a good selection of meats, cheeses, and fruits to top it off. We ate as though we wouldn’t get lunch.

I got out Xiaoqin’s bike, all prepped for riding, and Mark and her went up the Grosse Scheidegg road. Bowen, Boen and I then walked over to the Rosenlaui Schlutz entrance, but rather than entering the Schlutz, which wasn’t open yet, we walked up the trail that would exit. The trail turned out to be ideally sited for a hot day. The initial section runs next to the Rosenlaui gorge waterfalls, so you got natural cooling from the icy cold water. Even after we split off from the gorge waterfall, we were almost entirely in shadow for the climb, which eventually gave us a great view of the Rosenlaui glacier, which we were told is no longer close enough to touch even if we went for the Dossenhutte (2663m).

We encountered a few hikers, even at this early hour, and as we rose in elevation we saw the Wildgarst, Scwarzhorn, and Tschingel peaks across the valley. In one spot, we could even peek down and through the trees saw Hotel Rosenlaui, looking like a doll’s house from so far away. When we finally got to the Englehornhutte, it was only 10:15am and no one was there, even though we’d just seen some hikers go the other way. Well, the hut was open anyway, so we ordered a couple of quick snacks and a drink before refilling our water bottles from the water fountain and heading on the way.

On the descent, we followed the signs to Kalterbrunnen, passing a dirt parking lot way up there where I recognized the logo for the Englehornhut. “Wow,” said Boen, “They have to hike half an hour to get to their car!” Such is life in the mountains.

At Kalterbrunnen once again Andreas was not there, but they had a hazelnut cake so Boen, Bowen, and I decided to eat there. Bowen couldn’t have the hazelnut cake, so he ordered the Quiche. It was warm enough that I ordered a non alcoholic beer and Boen ordered a Rivella, which had become the default drink for the kids for the rest of the trip.

After that stop, we walked out and headed on the official hiking trail to Rosenlaui, which took us along Rosenlaui creek and then into a shaded section just before bursting out into Rosenlaui valley for the grand view of the two glaciers and the valley. From there it was a short walk to Hotel Rosenlaui, where the kids immediately retreated into their room to play video games (electronic devices are banned in public areas of the hotel), and I proceeded to process photos before heading down for ice cream and to wait for Xiaoqin and Mark, who had successfully started climbing the Grosse Scheidegg from Meiringen.

Mark was the first to arrive, and when he told me about the ride up I immediately knew that they’d taken the mountain bike path up instead of the car road. The mountain bike path is a lot steeper, but has the benefit that it doesn’t have car traffic and no chance of running into the post bus until it joins the Grosse Scheidegg road just before the Reichenbach Falls upper trailhead.

Then he dropped the bombshell: “You know the waterfall you can walk behind, the Giessbach Fall?” he said as I nodded. For me, it was always one of the highlights of the classic Rosenlaui loop. “There’s a fancy hotel just below it, The Grandhotel Giessbach. I’ve stayed there before with my sisters!” “Oh, that means you’ve walked behind that waterfall before?!” “We must have, since we probably didn’t spend all our time in the room. But I honestly don’t remember.” Xiaoqin showed up and ordered an ice cream as well, and we chatted about the ride. I told them that Isetwald had become a major tourist attraction because of a Korean drama, which was why it’s now so crowded over there.

After that, I asked if anyone else wanted to see Rosenlaui Gorge, since it was still open and we get a discount for being hotel guests. I’d done it plenty of time but it never got old. Mark and Bowen both volunteered so we went and paid the gorge a visit. There are two gorges in this area, the Aare gorge and the Rosenlaui gorge, but by far the better one was the Rosenlaui one. It’s wilder, more natural, and always had plenty of water. It’s a bit of a duplicated hike since we’re coming down the trail we did in the morning, but it was still worth it.

Tuesdays are traditional Swiss music days at Rosenlaui. There’s a dinner reception at 6:30pm, where you get appetizers, and then at 7:00pm, you adjourn to the dining hall. There, the Swiss band performs music. One song, then the soup, then another song, the salad, and so forth. The kids were not impressed, and could barely keep themselves from laughing. There was a moment of excitement when one of the singers fainted during the song and had to be revived and sat down. “Wow,” said I in a moment of naivete, “He over-strained himself singing and fainted?” “More like he drank himself into a stupor,” declared Mark. “Those guys have been drinking non stop since the reception!”

It had started raining as predicted, so we didn’t go for an after dinner walk. In fact, it was raining so much that we were going to do a rain plan for the next day, using the car to do touristy things and giving everyone a break.

Review: Do Hard Things

 Do Hard Things has the subtitle that it's about how the conventional idea of toughness is wrong. I picked it up expecting some wishy washy reference to literature like grit (which has long been debunked), and was very surprised when it turned out to actually say a ton of sensible things. (Management books, like parenting books tend not to be sensible) For instance:

Authoritarian parenting leads to lower independence, more aggressive behavior, and a higher likelihood for substance abuse and risky behaviors. In sport, the controlling, demanding style also fails. On the athletic fields, it’s linked to lower grit and an increase in emotional exhaustion, burnout, and fear of failure. (kindle loc 151)

I've read a number of parenting books about how authoritarian parenting is wrong, but none of them ever actually wrote down what the consequences were! The author, Steve Magness, turns out to have been some sort of high level running coach, and so his emphasis is on athletic performance rather than say team management.

My high level summary of the book is that building a high performance team depends on two things: selection (who you hire or recruit into the team), and how you nurture the team (how you manage the team once you've hired them). His point is that a lot of the conventional wisdom is about boot camp building toughness, but the reality is that boot camp is about weeding out people (i.e., selection), and after that the military actually works on giving its soldiers the tools to succeed before putting them through the punishing programs (i.e., there's quite a bit of nurturing and management going on). Mistaking the selection process for the management process is what causes people to think that authoritarian parenting or dictatorship style management works. From a manager's point of view, you should be tough during the selection process (i.e., your interview process should be rigorous, thorough, and tough), but once you've built the team, other parts of management become more important.

Contrary to our old-school expectations, developing toughness doesn’t involve training camps from hell or exercise as punishment. It doesn’t involve cruel, demanding bosses with little appreciation of the individual. It doesn’t involve strict, one-way-communication parenting with little feedback from your child on their needs. As my good friend Brad outlined when explaining what he’d learned in his first few years of parenting, “At any moment, your child can go from fine to a fit. After a long day, it’s easy to want to yell at them and tell them to grow up. But, especially with young kids, you have to realize that the emotions they’re feeling are real. Even if they’re inconsequential. It requires all the patience in the world, but I try to ask myself, how can I meet them at their level, explain it, and use it as a teachable moment. Yelling at them, exerting excessive control, all that does is teach them to be afraid of you. Why would I want to ingrain to only listen because they’re afraid of me?” (kindle loc kindle loc 3218)

 One of the most important pieces on this book is something that almost no other management books mention, which is the importance of eating with your team:

Gregg Popovich is the legendary coach of the San Antonio Spurs. When it comes to creating a team culture, he’s the envy of just about every coach, CEO, or leader out there. His players rave about the bonds they still hold with their teammates years later. One player recently said, “I was friends with every single teammate I ever had in my [time] with the Spurs. That might sound far-fetched, but it’s true.” One key to such cohesion? Team meals. Popovich dinner stories are almost apocryphal. Three-hour meals, with Popovich expertly choosing the wine and food. Tables arranged so that the players maximize interaction. Popovich eschews the NBA tradition of jetting out of the city straight after a game, and instead, the Spurs go straight to a meal and stay the night. No set agenda other than time together, and certainly no ropes courses or other contrived team-bonding activities...You can’t force cohesion or unity. It doesn’t come from trust falls, gimmicky bonding activities, or forced interaction. It comes from being real. From allowing people to lower their defenses and feel comfortable enough to be who they are. You can’t force it. All you can do is create the space for it to happen. The magic wasn’t in Popovich’s team dinners. It was in his creating space for genuine interaction...If you are at a company get-together or dinner and everyone is looking down at their phone, you’ve created the wrong environment. (kindle loc 3326-3363)

I've always had a low opinion of those fake bonding events, and here's one guy who understands that ropes courses, trust falls, etc aren't worth money compared to just freaking sitting down and eating with your team on a frequent basis.

The actual part of the book about management comes from asking your people to have a realistic sense of what they or cannot do, giving them control over which outcomes they want to achieve and how to achieve them, and then providing a way for the team to work together. It's really that simple, but so few managers successfully do this, out of a misguided sense that management is about yelling at people and trying to get the to do what they don't want to do.

This is a great book. If you want to learn how to manage (or parent), you owe it to yourself to read this book.

 

Review: From Star to Superstar - the Asian American Guide to Elite Colleges

 From Star to Superstar is a guide for Asian Americans for college applications. While demographic transition is likely to make colleges easier to get into in general, the opposite is true for the elite colleges, which draw from an international pool of students and are generally immune to US demographics. This book acknowledges the unspoken truth of college admissions, which is that Asian boys are at a particular disadvantage, suffering from both internal competitions (schools use a quota system to places a ceiling on how many Asian kids they are willing to admit), and from artificial barriers (originally introduced to limit the number of Jews in colleges and now redeployed to protect college campuses from over-performing Asians) such as personality scores, holistic review, and video submissions (that way even if you don't have an Asian name, just looking Asian can tank your application).

With this in mind, the book takes a multi-prong approach. Of course, academics is a given (hey, if you're Asian, this is expected of you, and at a higher level than your non-Asian peers). Then, you've got to demonstrate service that shows impact, leadership that demonstrate values (not just being president of school societies --- that might work if you're non Asian), essays, recommendations, and interviews.

Over and over again, the book covers much the same material in Cal Newport's book, How to Be A High School Superstar, but because it's got the word Asian in the title, my suspicion is that more Asians will read it. The basic thing is that your extra-curriculars have to demonstrate impact, and you have to actively cultivate your school teachers (and other adults) to be able to provide you with a recommendation and testimonial that reinforces the story you're trying to tell the admissions office.

There's also a section on tailoring the colleges you apply to your strengths, as well as taking an unconventional rather than direct approach to your major. (e.g, applying to be in Information Science instead of Data Science or Computer Science)

If you read this book, you'll come away with an idea of how much effort it takes for an Asian kid to compete and get into an elite school. You might even get angry about how all this additional side-work is a misallocation of resources that could be used elsewhere (e.g., maybe kids could spend more time outside or something). If you think this, rest assured that there are elite colleges elsewhere that don't make you jump through these hoops. It's just that none of them are in the USA (University of Waterloo, Cambridge, Oxford, ETH). But of course in those cases, you might actually have to study hard and do well on exams. But hey, if you're Asian, maybe that would fit your strengths. Having lived with those systems I'm actually quite relieve that I didn't quite have to do the holistics process back when I was applying to colleges. I probably wouldn't have gotten in.

April 12-13: Epilogue

 

We had breakfast in the morning at 7:30am, with everyone gathered around. Outside it was cloudy but not raining, though the wind was definitely blowing. Arturo and Mark were going to the airport at 10:30, Joe was going to Palma to pick up his wife, rent a car, and explore Mallorca for a couple more days before flying to Seville, and Stephan, Rosie, Otto, and Benjamin were headed home directly to Munich.

Our own flight wasn’t until 8:00pm, so we had all day. After breakfast, we packed Boen’s bike, which was in a cardboard box. We removed the front wheel, jammed in the fork stiffener, removed the rear derailleur and duct taped it to the frame. We then removed the handlebar from the faceplated stem, and then dropped the entire bike like that into the box, and then piled in all the padding we had brought with us from the US. I extracted all the duct tape I needed, then dropped the remainder of the roll into the box. We then taped up the box and put wheels at the bottom and rolled it back into the bike storage area.

That gave us plenty of time to get back to the hotel room, wash our hands, and pack and then check out of the hotel. We were all done by 10:00am, just in time to see Arturo and Mark off—their taxi had arrived early!

We took the bus to Alcudia, and this time found the city wall where we could walk on it—like a mini Girona! It was windy and we started feeling raindrops, but that did not stop the continuous stream of cyclists on the main road which we spotted as the bus drove us to Alcudia. I reflected later that given the large number of cyclists from England the rain might just be a familiar thing for them to ride through!

We ate lunch at a relatively new restaurant (one that had just opened 2 weeks earlier), which had good sandwiches and empanadas, and on the way back to the bus stop spotted a Japanese restaurant ran by Chinese people. It wasn’t very good though!

Back at the hotel, we said goodbye to Stephan and family. Arturo had texted us that the left luggage at the Palma airport was under construction so there was absolutely no point getting to the airport earlier—we wouldn’t be able to explore Palma unless we were willing to lug our bike boxes around!

Our bus arrived promptly at 5:00pm, and we loaded up the boxes in the rain. The drive to the airport went without a hitch, though we did get a text notification that our plane was 15 minutes delayed. At the airport, we easily got carts that could handle the bike boxes and wheeled them to the SAS counter. We were informed that our bikes would be checked all the way to San Francisco (awesome!) and we wouldn’t have to retrieve them for our overnight layover in Copenhagen.

Unlike in San Francisco, however, where the staff just took our bike boxes, we had to manually cart them over to the oversized luggage area, where we gave them over and then we could clear security and have dinner.

The flight went without a hitch and once in Copenhagen I was impressed by how we could get to the Comfort Hotel at the airport without stepping outside (a big feature because it was 11:00pm by the time we landed!)

The next morning, we woke up to a fantastic breakfast. The place was so good that it was quite clear that a business meeting was happening next to us. After that, we had time to visit downtown Copenhagen and visit the famous street where Hans Christian Anderson lived. What was annoying was that there was an app to automatically pay for public transit on my phone, but the settings on the app was not sticky, so even though I’d paid for Xiaoqin on the way downtown, on the way back to the airport that setting got unset so when the ticket inspector came he gave us a ticket.

Back at the Comfort Hotel I had time to file an electronic appeal, and then we checked out of the airport and went through the airport to find our gate. We had to clear the passport control. The Euro-wide EES was fully implemented as of April 10^th, but to my surprise at 10:30am there was no one at the passport control for our gates. The lines piled up but eventually people showed up and we gave our facial recognition biometrics at which point the passport officer told us they would no longer stamp our passport.

Unlike every other international airport, Copenhagen’s waiting area for international flights did not have duty free shops! So we could not even buy any treats for folks back home. The flight back home was relatively easy, with only a slight scare when an airline representative came to the baggage claim area to tell us that all our bikes were lost. There were quite a number of Europeans who’d travelled to the USA just for the Sea Otter Classic so this was a big disappointment but to our surprise the oversized conveyer belt fired up and all the boxes started showing up including our bikes!

Boen’s bike was in horrid shape with TSA obviously having opened the box and not bothered to try to tape it shut, but when we got home we discovered everything was undamaged and even the leftover roll of duct tape had made it back!

Steve Wang gave us a ride home and we were all done!

 

April 11: Cap Formentor and Cami de Boquer

We woke up at 6:30, ate some granola, and then rode out with lights on as it was still dark at 7:00am. The ride through town was beautiful in the early morning with no traffic and surprisingly few cyclists. By the time we got to the first pass, we had two groups of cyclists pass us. They were faster than Xiaoqin on the climb, but on the descent I caught and passed most of them—they were clearly English cyclists who were not used to the kinds of speeds you can regularly approach in the Bay Area or Mallorca.

Riding up past the tunnel, a pair of male goats started fighting each other in the middle of the road in front of me. I stopped to take a quick picture and then Xiaoqin caught up and we kept riding with vim up to the lighthouse. It was so nice at the light house with no cars, and just a few cyclists. We took selfies and admired the scenery and then descended.

At this point, I wanted to get back to the hotel to ensure the kids could eat—they had been denied entry to the dining room when not accompanied by an adult at one point during the stay. So I put in a burst of effort and set PRs all the way back to the hotel. I worked hard enough Garmin to re-assess my FTP at 187W, which was a downgrade but perhaps understandable given that I was coming down with a cold and of course was fatigue with a week of fairly hard riding.

The others had already started their ride by the time I got to the hotel, where I parked my bike and started gathering food at the breakfast room. Xiaoqin showed up after a bit and we ate a leisurely breakfast before going back to the room and changing. We packed some water into our backpacks, and then took the bus towards Port Pollenca downtown, where a 10 minute walk took us to the trail head for Cami de Boquer.

The trail took us up high and granted us views of the seaside town before weaving amongst the hills. The terrain was a lot like a desert, wind up and around the hills, but when you saw the mediterranean it was glorious, with cliffs falling straight down to the sea. Even though the forecast was for rain later that day, it was sunny and warm. The thing about hiking in Europe is that you can’t expect a wilderness experience except in a few select places, and Mallorca was not one of those select places. There were lots of people no matter where we went, and on the beach even though there were buoys marking off the swim areas it was quite clear that the water was not yet warm enough for anyone to want to jump in and swim.

We hiked back to the bus stop, and once there, rather than getting of at the hotel, we took the bus all the way to old town in Alcudia, and explored the old town, stopping at a tapa place for Bowen and Xiaoqin to sample their Tapa platter, buying ice cream and eating it before taking the bus back to Club del Sol.

We got back to the hotel early enough to start packing bikes. We started with Bowen, this time with myself being smart enough to not remove the stem but instead remove the removable front plate of the face plate of the stem. As I took  his seatpost off his bike I noted that he had an inch or so left before the minimum insertion line. We had raised both kids’ seats during this trip. We packed his bike, and then started work on mine, which was straightforward and easy --- not having paint on the titanium bike meant that I didn’t even bother wrapping the frame with pipe insulation, trusting the hard metal to resist any scratches from the softer aluminum and steel parts stored in the same box.

After that, we did Xiaoqin’s bike, which also took in the chain oil and liquid wax, as well as any tools not needed to pack Boen’s bike, which we would save for the next day. When we were done we had all the bike boxes back in the luggage storage and the balcony was free of bikes except for Boen’s.

It was Mark’s birthday, and we scrambled around trying to find a birthday present for him in vain, until Arturo had the smart idea that he could sweet talk a waitress into finding a candle and presenting him with a cake.

So it was that at dinner we sang Happy Birthday to Mark, along with the rest of the dining room as a cake got served! I gave Arturo the wine that was in our room that was untouched. It was going to rain the next day so we had no regrets about having the bikes packed so early that there was no chance to ride the next day.

April 10th: Lluc to Sa Calobra via Bike Shuttle

We ate breakfast early and started riding towards the pickup location at around 7:30, with pick up time at 7:45. We rolled into Port Blue exactly as the shuttle bus was rolling in. Stephan and Otto were getting into their “private shuttle” as we rolled out of Club Del Sol. He would later tell us that the “private shuttle” was actually a rescue van that was delivering repaired bikes all over the island. Nobody had told the driver that he was to carry a tandem, and the driver had to do some work to fit that long bike into the trailer.

Unlike the Andratx transfer where Port Blue was the last stop, Port Blue was actually the first stop and the shuttle pulled into Port Pollenca where there were more bikes waiting for pickup. I used the rest room and got a nice picture of the shuttle.

The shuttle ride was relatively short—it being early there wasn’t a lot of traffic to slow down the van with its trailer. We were dropped off at the Respol gas station where Otto and Stephan were already cooling their heels (they’d grabbed some food and popped back into the shuttle) waiting for us.

With that, we started riding towards Sa Calobra. Arturo would later explain to us that the name meant “The Snake” in Spanish, an apt metaphor for the twisty curves the road would take all the way down to the Mediterranean from 2400’ up.  The approach was not flat, but a series of easy rollers along baby-bottom smooth roads that characterize that part of the island.

At the high point, I kept going, only to receive a text message from Xiaoqin later saying that the kids had reached the high point and refused to keep going. Arturo said later, “It was clearly pre-planned. Boen even looked a bit disappointed.” I assumed the kids would ride home from there, since they knew the route, but they had misunderstood and would wait there the entire time. I was willing to let them do this—one of the reasons Boen brought the single was so that he had a modicum of independence, and if you don’t give your kids any rewards for independence then they would just learn to dependent the whole time.

We made it to the Sa Calobra intersection, waited for everyone to gather, and then I gave instructions: if you’re going to take pictures do it on the way down, because on the way up you might not feel like doing so. There’s a climb to the saddle, and there’s a café at the bottom so we’ll regroup there so those who want to ride the entire descent in a flow state won’t feel obliged to stop for regroups. Watch out for traffic because there are places where the road turns into a one lane road and the cars will go in both directions.

We then started the 200m climb to the summit. Once at the top, it was so warm that I decided to just start riding down without waiting for the others. I might have stopped a few times to take pictures, but by and large I just took advantage of the relative quiet to enjoy the flowy descent. At 7%, it was just gentle enough to enjoy the views while still gathering serious speed between corners.

At the bottom, I parked my bike unlocked, walked into the self-service café, bought a cup of coffee and some cake, and waited for the others. They arrived just as I’d taken the first sip. I waved the folks over and we all had a snack at the coffee shop to fuel up for the climb.

Before starting the climb, I mentioned the beach to the group, so we made the customary journey to the tunnel, passed through both tunnels, and reached the beach. It was already bustling with sunbathers, swimmers—most wearing wetsuits—and tourists.

We took photos and walked back, except for Joe, who’d realized that with his speedplays he was better off riding to the tunnel. Once we were back, I told everyone to do the climb at their individual pace, and that the regroup was at the intersection where there was a café. However, if you got there early and got bored, you could turn right onto the main road and ride 200’ up to the tunnel. Past the tunnel, you’d get a nice view of the lake/reservoir.

With that, we were off. Today was the day my training program called for a high intensity of effort, going for 180+ watts for the climb. This proved to be challenging—while 180W seems easy at the beginning, after a few minutes my heart rate started to rise, and it would keep going until it hit pretty high intensity. I tried sustaining this, but after 20 minutes I fatigued and had to back off a bit before resume that intensity. It turns out that learning to hold this power for longer is one of the differences between a structured training program and “riding any old how” the way I’d always done.

At the top, I paused and sat down for a bit. Mark caught up and we rode together to the tunnel and visited the lake. Mark was feeling frisky and rode all the way to the end of the lake and back while I turned around and went back down, parked my bike. Arturo and Joe showed up, as did Mark, and we grabbed a table in the shade. Joe was in a hurry to get back to the hotel, so he left pretty quick, but I bought a couple of cans of coke for Arturo and Mike and a glass of fresh squeeze orange juice for Xiaoqin.

When Xiaoqin came back we started riding back, because Joe texted us that our kids had been waiting for us the entire time and were hungry. Unfortunately, I’d bonked and wasn’t making good speed, though by the time I got to the kids they were already reassured by Joe that I was coming, so they weren’t antsy, though complained a bit about how long we took. “I thought you were going to go straight back to the hotel!” “Mom told us to wait!” “Really?” “Um.. maybe…”

I rode the kids to the Respol garage, where we parked our bikes, and bought a bunch of food to eat. I immediately started feeling better, and by the time Xiaoqin showed up and ate her fill we were raring to go again. The ride back down Col de Feminia was easy, despite the headwind, and when we got to Pollenca I turned on the GPS and routed ourselves back to the hotel along another of Mallorca’s narrow, beautiful backroads, dumping us within a block of the hotel at the main road.

Over dinner, we debated what to do. Everyone was so tired that Puig Major was out of the question. Mark had a proposal, which was to do parts of the roads he’d missed on the first day of riding. That didn’t appeal to me, so I decided that we would do Cap Formentor again, but early in the morning so we wouldn’t get any traffic. The kids didn’t want to ride at all, so we’d get back, eat breakfast, and then take them for a hike.

The others debated options back and forth. Stephan wanted to take both kids on the tandem (Benjamin would fit on a WeeRide, but the constraint then became to get him back to the hotel before he fell asleep). The rest eventually decided on doing the reverse of the short loop we had done 2 days before.

April 9th: Col Feminia

My jet lag was almost completely over, getting up at a normal time and eating breakfast. We hit a snag—Boen had lost the key to his bike at the bike shop! It was a 5 Euro penalty for the bike shop to break the lock, but they were pretty forgiving about it. (I”d tried to pick the lock with various tools, but the lock was clearly of better quality than the locks I had picked on Montebello road 30 years ago)

Leaving the hotel at 9:00am, we rode towards Pollenca and then headed on the gentle climb after drafting a couple of cyclists. Boen was flexing his muscles again, riding hard up the hill drawing thumbs up from the many cyclists who passed him and yet were impressed by a 10 year old riding these big mountains on his own single bike. Whatever else you can say about Mallorca, the feedback from other cyclists were making Boen quite enthusiastic. Boen finally mastered drinking from the water bottle while riding, and then placing the water bottle back onto the bottle cage.

At the top of Col Feminia, I doubled back down to pick up Bowen, who wasn’t actually very far back. From there, it was a couple of climbs before we saw the Respol gas station, which had more cyclists than a typical century lunch stop in the US. The place probably made far more money selling food to hungry cyclists than it made from selling gas!

After that, we descended down to Lluc and followed the limestone cliffs. The road here made Serpentine switchbacks along the cliffs. I had to keep reminding myself to slow down so as not to goad Boen into exceeding a safe speed, but Boen crowed with joy when he caught up t the tandem by finally shifting into his big chainring and pedaling hard.

We rode down to the valley and then back again via the bike route we were now all too familiar with. We dropped the kids off at the hotel but made sure that they didn’t keep their bike at the bike shop, but rather in the balcony of our apartment unit, since we had an early ride the next morning.

Xiaoqin had decided that her shorts were too small, and Mark was also interested in visiting the Assos Outlet so rather than just stop riding I picked up a backpack, stuck Xiaoqin’s shorts and receipts in there, and we rode to the Assos Outlet, only a half hour by bike rather than a 40 minute bus trip wich interminable waiting times at bus stop. Arturo took a look at the prices on Assos’s website and complained that a full kit from them cost more than his bike (which was an exaggeration). I was too tired to explain that only the shorts are worth it for me (though Xiaoqin loves their jerseys)  and they were 40% off at the Outlet rather than paying inflated US prices.

I’d been dreading riding the Playa du Mura strip, but to my delight our Garmins routed us onto beautiful backroads, including a gravel bypass which was a delight. Even the short section on the strip wasn’t oo bad as trains of cyclists dominating the road chased away annoying cars!

I was so impressed by the Assos half-shorts that I was determined to buy a second pair for touring use this summer. Xiaoqin exchanged her shorts for one sized bigger (despite the staff continually telling her that she really was in the right size), and found a nice pair of sunglasses as well as another item at a great price. We made it back to the hotel in time for dinner (and for Arturo to say that he would have come with us if we’d told him we were riding there instead of taking the bus) Mark didn’t find any tops his size but did buy shorts as well as the deals were really too good to pass up. We also bought cereal and lactose free milk for breakfast the next morning, as well as instant noodles and mortadella.

At dinner, we ate well. Stephan had managed to arrange for a private shuttle to take him to the Respol gas station the next day, since his tandem wouldn’t have fit in the regular shuttle and the regular shuttle was sold out anyway. He would report later that the “private shuttle” (which was not at a big premium to the regular shuttle) turned out to be a driver who was delivering repaired bikes all over the island.

The kids complained about riding the next day. I pointed out that the bike shuttle was basically giving us a free 1700’ of climbing!

That evening, Mark did extra homework and gave us a new route that started from the Respol gas station instead of Lluc proper. In addition, he noticed that there was the possibilities of using the backroads through Pollenca instead of the main road we had ridden the day before.