I’m writing this sat on a ‘Nothing beats a Jet2 holiday’ plane – try saying that not to the tune of the viral advert! I’m en route to Calpe, or Altea specifically, a coastal town on Spain’s Mediterranean coast, for XDS Astana‘s January training camp.

I’ve been told to have a great holiday on multiple occasions by their friendly staff. I laughed internally at the reality; a holiday it is not, but it doesn’t quite feel like work either. I’ll land at a similar time to some riders, such is the logistical masterpiece put together by my colleague Francesca and the rest of the team’s staff who organise the camp.

This time last year, I found myself hesitating when I realised it was now me who should be taking Harold Tejada’s case for him. I’m pretty sure I did, and that was a real line in the sand at the start of this chapter with XDS Astana. Winter training camps can vary across different teams, and, surprisingly, Calpe is not a destination I ever found myself training as a pro.

And then there was Movistar. Zero winter team training camps during the five years I was there – not a single one. Movistar would have a four-day get-together in October or November to rattle through bikes and kit, team meetings and photos and then say, ‘see you at the races’.

This is laughed at by many until I remind people of Movistar’s brilliant successes over those years and explain the logic I thought was behind it.

Firstly, the December camp is the single most expensive team endeavour of the year. Depending on a team’s size, between 60 and 150 employees require flights, food and accommodation, so the costs are eye-watering. Movistar did away with that, so that’s either less funding required from sponsors, or it can be invested into gains elsewhere, such as riders, research and development, extra races, or altitude camps in the season.

‘But what about the riders and team bonding, the training they’ll do?’

PUERTO ALCUDIA, SPAIN - JANUARY 19: Thomas Lovkvist of Sweden and Alex Dowsett of Great Britain lead up a mountain at a SKY Procycling team training camp in Puerto Alcudia, on January 19, 2011 in Mallorca, Spain. (Photo by Bryn Lennon/Getty Images)

Back in 2011, at Team Sky’s January training camp in Alcudia, Mallorca (Image credit: Bryn Lennon/Getty Images)

Well, I think the logic was that no WorldTour pro made it into the ranks by chance; there’s a certain work ethic that exists across the board, that’s how and why they turned pro, and they don’t need a camp to get the work done. They’re coached by the team, but ultimately they and they alone have to ride the bike and do the hours, so they are trusted to turn up fit and ready, and they usually deliver. If they don’t, then contracts don’t get renewed; it’s as simple as that.

Thirdly, a lot of pros already live somewhere suitable to train, and if they don’t, then they’ll likely get themselves there. I was the latter and spent weeks in Lanzarote and even spent Christmas in Mallorca once. Heck, in the Zwift era, modern-day cyclists are perfectly happy indoors as well.

My fourth and final point is around team bonding and rider happiness. Movistar had a very high retention rate in riders, so there was always a familiar face, but here’s where the non-camp magic occurred. Movistar usually shone between August and October, and OK, they would naturally be expected to perform well at their home Grand Tour of La Vuelta, but the Tour of Guangxi or Tour of Beijing were also often a success too.

It comes down to rider happiness. It’s a long season with a lot of time sacrificed being away from home and family. I think Movistar valued that highly and felt that the riders spent so much time away once the season was underway that more wasn’t perhaps beneficial. Happy riders win bike races, and I think that was Movistar’s logic, or at least part of it.