“You coming Gab,” Sal queried as I joined the others at our dinner table.
“Coming? Where to?” I asked in turn as I slid my food onto the table.
“Town,” Lor advised, ”your Dad said we could go in if we want to.”
“What for? I mean I know its hardly entertainment central here but like the shops’ll all be shut.”
“You don’t have to shop you know Gab,” Tal opined.
“Yeah, I know.”
“We can get ice cream or coffee or something,” Claire suggested.
I looked at the paltry single scoop of vanilla that I just picked up, hmm, I could fancy more dessert. “count me in.”
“So,” Mand poked at her food, “any idea what this green thing is?”

“This it?” Gret queried.
“’s got the right number,” I noted.
“Bit of a clue,” Mand added flatly.

Yup, no chauffeur driven transport into Pamplona, apparently all our drivers had stuff to do for tomorrow so our options were left at walk or use public transport. It might not be a huge distance to walk but its still walking so bus it is. The bus pulled into the stop, a small board in the window said ‘Playa de Pompeyo’ which is what the woman in reception said should be our destination.

We weren’t the only ones waiting at the stop, we waited whilst several others boarded then brandishing the ‘visitor passes’ we’d been given at the hostel, boarded ourselves. It was hardly overloaded, our little group easily found seats at the back by which time we were moving. I’d imagined we’d be going the same way that we’d used earlier in the day but we turned into an industrial park and I was completely lost – good job we didn’t walk then!

It wasn’t a long journey, when the bus pulled into the tiny terminus at the Playa de Pompeyo we’d not been on it fifteen minutes.

“Isn’t this where we came back in the race?” Gret posed.
“Wasn’t paying much attention,” I admitted.
“Pretty sure it is,” Sal put in.
“Yhere’s a map over there,” Mand indicated towards the park on the other side of the road.

It took us a couple of minutes to cross the busy junction, I thought the traffic was surprisingly heavy for nearly half seven in the evening. According to the map, the Old Town across the river was where we wanted to be so we headed across the park in that direction. There were more people once we’d crossed the bridge, tourists for the most part, but a fair number of ‘obvious’ locals, well tourists dress like, well tourists right?

Anyhow we were soon in the main square now devoid of most of the race infrastructure – we’ll be back Saturday for the finale of course. The place looked completely different empty of bikes and barriers, I recognised the place that the reception was in at one corner.

“Where now?” Lor queried.
“How about down there?” Mand suggested.
“Calle del Torro,” Sal read from the wall.
“Street of Bulls,” I loosely translated.
“Must be where they do the bull run thing,” Gret opined.

Yeah, in the end it was just the five of us who’ve come, Claire had in the end opted to rejoin the gaming club and Tali, well she disappeared with Josh straight after dinner.

“As long as there’s no moving beef tonight.” I muttered.
“Gab!” Mad groaned.
“Just saying.”
“Come on you two,” Lor chivvied.

Well I wasn’t that impressed, the narrow lanes were not exactly spectacular, I guess when they are full of beef and crowds its different but on a late summer evening they’re just old streets with overpriced cafes and restaurants. I’m not really a Philistine, honest but I like to see something more tangible than dusty old streets. We wandered along amongst the other visitors, posing for cheesy pictures and the like, as predicted all the shops were long shut.

“Hey Eis!” Gret announced.

Now we’re talking!

It wasn’t a gelaterie but a pseudo handcart thing, so no fancy sundaes, not that that's important, they were selling ice cream. We were soon equipped with cornets, I got my favourite pistachio and coconut duo and my mood was suddenly improved. We found seats on the wall of a fountain thing and descended into ‘eistrance’.

“Anyone would think you’d come last rather than first today,” Gret noted.
“Yeah, you’ve been right mardy this evening,” Sal agreed.
“Guess the excitements worn off,” I admitted, “I’ve made life difficult for everyone for tomorrow by winning.”
“We’ll live,” Mand stated.
“Yeah, its not like we’ve not been here before is it,” Lor added.
“I know but its just like last year, everyone attacking us.”
“But Gab,” Mand came back, “you just said it, they’ve got to attack, we’ve only got to defend and if today is anything to go by, there’s not many of them up to the job.”
“I should’ve sat up on that last climb.”
“Whatever for, if there's one thing I know about you Bond,” Gret ploughed in, “its that you’ll always go for the win, hang the consequences, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”
“She’s right,” Mand confirmed.
“But still.”
“You see anyone complaining?” Sal queried.
“No, but….”
“But nothing girl,” Gret returned, “we came here to show the selectors what we’re made of, I’d say we’ve been pretty solid so far.”

“Come on, its still there!” Lor panted.

Yeah, we’re running for our bus, why, erm we decided to get pizza and like the time just disappeared.

“Slow down, I’ve got cramp.”
“You know the way back?” Gret asked grabbing my elbow.
“Erm,” I admitted.
“Best run then,” she advised propelling me forward through the now dark parkland.

Not sure if the driver saw us, our watches were wrong or what but we scrambled onto the ‘14’ moments before it departed. Of course we then nearly missed our stop, everything looks different going the other direction – and in the dark. Sal spotted the camper otherwise who knows where we would’ve ended up, Madrid or something no doubt.

The following morning Dad had us out on the bus before eight, todays stage starts at some place about an hour south of Pamplona, Tudela or some such. Its also supposed to be the quote easy unquote day, no mountains, Dad says we go down one valley, up the next then over a bit of a lump to the finish in Zaragoza. With the travelling its gonna be a long day.

Today of course the MC had a lot more to tell the small crowd waiting for the start, there was no escaping the introduction business today – and make my bright green jersey a clear target for the rest of the field. How the hell the Spanish can understand half of what he’s saying, its like listening to music at double speed but they clapped and cheered at what I’m guessing were appropriate times.

“Right,” Dad started after collecting us into a bit of a huddle, “everyone okay with the plan?”
“You think they’ll fall for it again?” I opined.
“They’re gonna be watching the race leader, not someone who finished in the main bunch five minutes down,” he pointed out.

Its an audacious plan, we’ve all got a rôle to play and if its successful, we’ll still be in charge tomorrow. A whistle sounded, a minute until the off.

“Okay, good ride everyone,” Dad told us.

We’re gonna need it.

I pulled up next to Curly, “morgen!”
“Er morgen,” he almost stuttered, my cheery greeting clearly having caught him off guard.
“You like?” I waggled my fingers at him, my nails having been painted to match my leaders jersey – who knows why Tal had green nail varnish in her bag?
“Er very nice.”
I adjusted my jerseys zip a tad, “I always like to do them to match my jersey, I think green is lucky.”
“Er right,” his eyes were not looking at my hands now.
“Oops, time to go,” I’d deliberately ignored the countdown and now the rest of the field were already pressing past us.

We’d lost a good twenty places before we left Tudela’s main square.

“So you have lucky gloves or anything?”
“Um no.”
“I bet you do, go on what is it, no don’t tell me, socks?”
“No, nothing really.”

He seemed fascinated by something, he kept looking at me as we wound out of the town and across the Rio Ebro where the neutralised zone ended.

“Oo, is that a stork?” I pointed out at the river.
“No idea, I don’t know birds.”
“Neither do I,” I admitted.

It was a bit of a one sided conversation to be honest but he made no attempt to escape my rather ditzy questions as the bunch repeated yesterdays lazy start to the day’s proceedings. I guess he thought he was covering me – and getting a free view of my chest at the same time, sneaky tactics I know but sometimes you have to use what you have and lets face it, all boys are the same where boobs are concerned. As is only right for the race leader, my team mates were sat just ahead of us, Josh conveniently blocking the view forward as he chatted with Jamie.
And so it was that the escape was made with less than five kilometres on the meter, my friendly neighbourhood Toon signalled me.

“Looks like the help wants a word, catch ya later.”
“Er sure,” Curly agreed.

I moved up alongside Josh.

“Thank heavens for that, he was creeping me out,” I told him whilst readjusting my zip to expose a bit less me.
“Youse make ah reet good Mat-a-haree hen.”
“Whatever, so Geth’s gone?”
“Aye, got some company like, one of the Frenchies an’ ah think four Spanish.”
“Cool, we just need to keep a lid on this lot now.”

“Part two?” Daz asked warily.
We’d not got twenty pretty flat kilometres on the clock yet, Josh stood on his pedals to look up the road, “aye, there’s a tree on the left, five hundred, okay G?”

G? where’d that come from?

“Sure J,” I pointedly replied.

I drifted towards the right hand edge of the road as those heading the peloton were favouring the white line and looked for the tree. Daz signalled he was ready from several wheels ahead of me, operation diversion part two is ready to roll. Two hundred, one hundred, fifty, go!

Well we’d been pottering along at something like twenty five so by the time I’d hit the blue touch paper and given it a bit of effort I was doing forty plus and was clear of the dawdlers on the front. I was vaguely aware of Daz pulling out to follow me but I kept at full gas for a good thirty seconds before easy off enough for my lieutenant to come through to assist. Okay, another Josh he isn’t but he is bigger than me so I get some shelter and he’s willing to commit which is just as important.

Not that we were really trying to escape of course. I glanced under my arm to see the reaction behind, we had maybe a hundred metres of clear road back to where Curly’s Spanish national team were organising the chase, well trying to as somehow there were several sky blue and the red and white Schauff jerseys doing a fair job of getting in the way, it looked quite authentic!

The road bobbled about a bit and we kept riding at about ninety P, just enough to seem to be trying without killing ourselves. We dangled between a hundred and two for a couple of kilometres before the chase started eating into the gap.

“Enough,” I gasped out before sitting up and taking a pull out of a bidon.
“Thank the f!” Daz allowed in turn joining me in a refreshment moment.

Maddy Bell © 13.04.2018