"The best time to start thinking about your retirement is just before your boss does."

It’s that time of year once again when an old man’s mind turns to cycling or more specifically to this year’s cycle tour. As I sit here looking out across the Blue Nile from my home in Khartoum, I feel somewhat thankful that several thousand miles of desert and sea separate me from the heated discussions that have been taking place in the UK between Chris, Harley and Graham, as they hammer out the details of this year’s route.

This year something significant has changed; Graham and Harley have recently retired. Those of us still in gainful employment are beginning to appreciate, retirement seems to bring with it an altered state of consciousness.

Cheers to a healthy retirement, Harley

How to describe this? It seems that before retirement we take satisfaction from meeting challenges and solving problems. After retirement, satisfaction appears to come mostly from cheese. The quest for a new cheese that is, or perhaps the discovery of an unusual wine or if our WhatsApp group is anything to go by, Wednesday afternoons spent foraging for exotic mushrooms in the Berkshire countryside.

Clearly retirement changes you. Gone are the days of wanting to cycle across a country or over an Alpine pass, now it’s all about “Discovering the best local, gastronomic specialities of the Périgord” or finding a small ferry across the Gironde that will take us to “an area renowned for sea food and clean, fresh, highly acceptable white wines”.

And there’s the rub. The retirees want cheese, the workers want mountains. Remarkably Chris, our master route planner, through a delicate blend of SHOUTY EMAILS IN RED INK and polished diplomatic skills that would put even Ban Ki-Moon to shame, seems to have produced our very own Tour-de-France in a way that satisfies everyone. Thank you Chris, I feel it’s probably safe to return to the UK now!

So the plan is after a 62 mile warm up from home in Berkshire to Portsmouth, we catch the overnight ferry to Caen and then pedal the 670 miles (1,040 Km) from there to Bilbao in Spain. Day 1 is a crisp 95-mile ride to an hotel near Le Mans which we understand, has an acceptable cheese board. Day 2 - a mellow 85 miles to Saumur with a plan to arrive in time for a visit to the renowned Musée du Champignon. Day 3 - a robust 123 miles, south west to Mansel where the "Chef de Cuisine" at the hotel Beau Rivage, promises to create “fine, flavoursome dishes prepared with the best seasonal produces”. Day 4, a rich and fruity 90 miles to St. Emilion, Day 5, an effervescent 100 miler to Mont-de-Marsan where The Auberge du Grand Mégnos awaits, apparently they cater for pilgrims making their way to Santiago de Compostela with Foie Gras and regional products, made in a traditional way. Day 6, a full-bodied 92 miles, over the Pyrenees to Hondarribia in the Basque country and finally Day 7, a smooth 85 miles to Bilbao, the home of “Bacalao pil-pil” an iconic Basque dish of cod fried with garlic and olive oil until the fish oils and the olive oil form an emulsion-like sauce and the skin is crispy and begins to pop – can’t wait…

Streatley to Bilbao

So the question becomes are both workers and retirees ready for the challenge? Well the retirees actually seem to be taking it all pretty seriously. Chris and I (the workers) are rather ungraciously bombarded with images of Graham and Harley’s mid-week rides, although returning to our theme, most seem rather more focused on the calories consumed than on the calories burned, so there is some hope of keeping up.

Carefully balanced training diet

Actually to ensure their sedentary existence doesn't get the better of them, Harley has only decided to cycle from Land’s End to John O’Groats to ensure he gets the training miles in! As you'll see from his blog, it looks like a fabulous trip (apart from when his bike almost got nicked in Edinburgh!). Graham on the other hand feels that the only way he's going to perform properly is to balance his pork pie training diet with a shiny new bike. At time of writing, it's a toss up between a Wilier or a Trek Madone; either way, he's decided not to tell his wife how much it's going to cost. Still, look on the bright side Sue, at least it gets him out of the house...

The Gentlemen of the Sudanese Amateur Cycling Club

When it comes to training, for my part I must extend my thanks and appreciation to the excellent gentlemen of the Sudanese Amateur Cyclists Club. These dedicated roadies are to be found weaving through the streets of Khartoum and off into the desert every weekend, often in 40+ degrees of heat. Some of these guys aspire to the Sudanese national team, others turn out for fun and fitness as many do, around the world. These lycra-clad warriors of the road have made this old Kawaja feel welcome, as only the Sudanese can.

Chris, Harley and Graham have patiently listened to me banging on about the high-points and the low-points of cycling in Sudan for some years; being forcibly detained at gun point by National Intelligence and State Security for example, was an interesting moment. Anyway, eventually their curiosity gave way to action and in February they came out to Khartoum on a visit, complete with wives and bikes. Such fun! It really was the best thing looking after these great friends in this broken yet wonderful city.

Bicycles exchanged for camels (briefly)

We took some days venturing out into the Nubian desert on camels and spent our nights experiencing the hush of this empty, forgotten landscape under the crystal canopy of stars.  The whirling Dervishes at a Sufi dancing ritual and the frenetic trading of the Omdurman souk are experiences I suspect might stay with them for some time.

A couple of hours in a 'Haboob'
cheaper than exfoliant

Foul - the perfect cyclists
breakfast

Of course, for us no trip would be complete without the bike ride and on the last Friday of their visit we set off for the 70-mile round trip through the desert to the dam at Jebel Aulia. On this clear, North African morning with a gentle wind at our backs, we were soon caught by my friends from the Sudanese Amateur Cyclists who seemed mildly amused by this bunch of Brits struggling through the desert heat. Mind you, as it turned out the heat was to be the last of our problems. After a good rest by the water’s edge at Jebel Aulia and an excellent breakfast of traditional Sudanese foul, we were heading back towards the city when an unexpected Haboob (dust storm) struck. The guys got the full Sudanese cycling experience that day and discovered that if you want to remove a layer of skin, an Haboob is more effective and very much cheaper than any amount of their wives’ Exfoliant.

So, there it is, Streatley to Bilbao in seven (and a bit) days. I wonder what adventures this year’s ride will have in store.