Northcape 4000 Earlier this year Sophie Gateau joined the DUE SOUTH adventure from Nice to Mallorca as the ‘stagiaire’ of a long distance trio. Two months later, as if to prove her qualification as a fully accomplished Audax rider, she decided to take on one of the longest events in Europe – the Northcape 4000. It all started with a story of mutts. A fear of the stray dogs of the Balkans, those same ones who bite the calves of cyclists who dare pass in front of their muzzle, made my decision to register for the Northcape 4000 and not the TCR. A self-sufficient adventure of 4500 kilometers connecting Torino in Italy to North Cape in Norway following a fixed route. By choosing this event, my ferocious beasts will be reindeers not wild canines.July 27, 08.00, Torino. We are 141 cyclists ready to rumble, a motley mix of long distance experts and newbies like me and my friend Myriam. An untimely puncture 100 meters after the start and we will hardly see anyone again. The leaders of the race will ride nearly 400 kilometers per day. We on the other hand will stick to a more modest 200. Our humble goal is merely to reach the end.The first 2000 kilometers are quietly conquered, spread out between Italy and Denmark with two mandatory checkpoints : Strasbourg in France and Bastogne in Belgium. The highlight of these festivities : an epic arrival at the top of the Great St. Bernard Pass by having to walk the last 20 meters because the wind is too strong to stay on the bike; the subsequent descent into the clouds; the crossing of the Jura mountains by a pass so busy that it deserves to be forgotten ; and the rugged and beautiful course of the classic Ardennes Liège-Bastogne-Liège, also known as 'The Green Hell'. Adding a Classic as a short interlude in the whole parcours helps give a sense of perspective of this challenge. It’s longer than most.Landscapes change quickly. The hills disappear, leaving the flat fields open to the advances of the West wind. Dutch brick houses, their flower gardens, their lawns mowed with precision, then to the endless German and Danish agricultural plains where wild animals frolic. In Denmark, villages stuck between fields of Christmas trees and low lands of cereal crops, are fewer and fewer and smaller and smaller, with a constant: there is often nowhere to get food, but always a hairdresser. It’s all about priorities.The routine of the ride is now firmly installed. To ride, to find a coffee, to ride, to find something to eat, to ride, to look for a place to sleep. Simple. The big winner for a night’s sleep is the sandbox under the pirate ship in a children's playground: a four star ranking in the guide to the best roadside bivouac locations. This routine is set to repeat. 10 days in a row. August 7, 18:30, Oslo. Crossing the Skagerrak Strait allows us to rest for 9 hours. Myriam decided to stop there, whilstI continue solo. More than half of the participants have already scratched. Buck up old chum! I hit the road right away becauseI know that if I spend the night in the city, the departure will be harder. Here is my adventure! I do not know what to expect except the certainty that the weather will deteriorate and the distances between the villages will drastically lengthen. To ride alone does not frighten me, rather the opposite. The time, distance and fatigue will be now be managed in my own way.The unknown. Scandinavia is a new playground whose rules I do not yet know. Having not taken a tent, but only a bivvy bag, places to camp become difficult to find. With the cold and humidity that has settled, this is another strategy to set. An attempt to sleep on the side of a Swedish lake infested with mosquitos proves quite catastrophic. On the positive side, it provided the nicest and improbable meeting with Marine, a Parisian hiker on vacation who took pity on my forlorn soaked state and fed me a warm meal. And she promised to follow my journey to the end by dot-watching on the tracking site. Motivation levels were reset to 1000!After a quick traverse across Norway(such is the length of this event), I enter Sweden, which is a different story entirely. The crossing of the country is nearly 900 kilometres long. Wild nature, fir and birch forests, colourful wooden houses and pink, mauve, white and yellow flowers that grow randomly along the road ... I got the impression I was riding through the set of a film by Ingmar Bergman. I meet my first reindeer. They don’t bite.Villages are a scarce commodity. No more on-the-road improvisation. I must now plan from one day to another where to find food and sleep because the food supplies are sometimes spaced more than 100 km from each other (options vary from gas stations, coffee shops, a hot dog stand and liquorice candy supplier, a fishing tackle merchant). The region is full of campsites, most often cute little wooden cabins with all the modern comforts, that is to say, a heater which is immediately transformed into a dryer for rain soaked kit, and a kettle. They will be my godsend. It takes little to be happy.Back in Norway, the beauty of the landscape, the respect of the drivers towards the cyclists and the many messages of encouragement that my buddies send me re-motivate me. Too much euphoria, and my first mistake of the day. I aim for a long day and a sleepless night to catch the first ferry 300 kilometres away, in the early morning. But it's been 17 days on the road. At 23:00, exhausted, I stopped and settle in a bus shelter. To avoid getting out all the bivouac equipment, I give it a try with only my bivvy bag and a survival blanket despite the cold night. Spoiler alert: it does not work at all. I leave at 3 o'clock in the morning, it is already daylight. I have hardly slept, but I tell myself that the boat will give me the opportunity.Second mistake, I failed to study the map properly. Yes, there are only a hundred kilometres left, but with a mountain in the middle. An icy rain comes in a deluge during the ascent, there is no shelter. In the middle of this misery, a magic moment, an elk emerges from the fog in front of me. Even so, I start falling asleep on my bike. Although I wear all the clothes I have, I'm frozen and my feet and hands are soaked. Desperate times call for desperate measures, I take a nap of 10 minutes in the rain that turned into Norwegian drizzle and then wrap my survival blanket under my waterproof jacket for the remaining kilometres. A silver, gold and yellow armour that will get me to Bodø harbour. I arrive at my destination around 13:00, book a hotel and go directly to bed. The boat can wait half a day.The next morning I land on the Lofoten Islands, just before the start of the Artic Race of Norway, the UCI Continental race for pros. Roads are blocked, except for bikes, and roadside supporters are wondering what I'm doing there, two hours before the peloton. The landscapes are breathtaking, the vegetation is luxuriant, the fishing villages are traditional, the sun is back and all seems promising for the last 1000 kilometres that lay ahead. I pass through the Troms area, even more majestic than the Lofoten, with its spectacular fjords surrounded by snow-capped peaks. Reindeers are more and more numerous, gray wagtails swirl in front of my wheel, the roads are empty, the pleasure of riding a bike is concentrated in these few moments.The end of the adventure approaches, I enter the austere region of Finnmark and its arid tundra of stones, moss and small crooked trees. The only people I meet are the employees of the few gas stations and some cyclo-tourists: our roads all converge on the North Cape, a symbolic magnet. The last of the countless tunnels crossed is in front of me, this one is out of the ordinary : 7 kilometres dug under the sea, in the obscurity, with a descent followed by a 9% climb out to reach the island of Magerøya. I feel as if I am entering the darkness. The temperature dropped by 15 degrees Celsius in 5 minutes and the water flowing on the interior walls is frozen. Let's get out of there as soon as possible. After a short night in Honningsvåg, the northernmost city in the world, I leave at dawn to enjoy the last 30 kilometres alone. The journey is crazy, the harsh landscape is hilly, the wind is icy and clouds rise along the cliffs. Emotion grips me as I see the North Cape building in the distance. It's August 21st, the sun is rising, and I just reached the end of Europe. Torino - North Cape : 4631 km / 40754 D+ / D24 H22 M42

THIS IS FURTHER It’s 6pm on Mont Fourcat, some 2,001m above sea level. (That 1m counts just as much, if not more than the 2,000 before it.) Camille McMillan is clad in white linen, as if to stand out like a beacon against the hues of green, brown and grey that make up the surrounding Pyrenean landscape. Founder and race director, Camille, is literally standing out on the edge of the mountain, looking for the first riders to approach the only checkpoint of the race, where they must meet and greet him in order to advance to the next obligatory sector. They are some three hours behind the anticipated schedule.The first rider, illustrator Tim O’Rourke, is spotted as the bike on his back catches the sun that has been burning bright all day. He moves for another ten seconds then sits down exhausted. He’s been hiking that bike for an hour already and although he’s within sight and only a mere kilometre and a half away from the summit, it will take him another hour to actually get there. This…. is Further.Seven months ago Camille started the process of building a new race. The parcours, its shape, its diversity of surfaces and routes, the twelve obligatory sectors to be completed, all became an obsession. Seven hours ago, the carefully selected group of riders competing in the race’s first edition ran across a field in the plains below the mountains in a Le Mans style start : tipping the hat to the petrolhead endurance events that take place further north. Those riders did not know the parcours like Camille, but that was part of the appeal. A race to take you to places, physically and mentally, that you had never been before, beyond what is available in the ultra-endurance calendar but in a localized loop rather than the more popular point to point format. Comparisons to the infamous Berkley marathons were made in jest, fear or maybe knowledge. No-one was quite sure.Back on Mont Fourcat, having spotted three dots below (both with eyes and the race GPS trackers) Camille took his place beside the IGN stone and traditional cairn that marked the highest point. For such a slow-moving part of the race it was providing incredible tension, culminating with two riders appearing over the horizon from different directions. Lissen Hockings, competing in her first bike-packing race, came from the west, whilst Tim had continued his battle up a section of the north face which Camille had declared impossible just one hour previously. Already, riders were pushing Further….. And arriving together created a mise-en-scène in a race where both sexes were competing against each other on equal footing. Because, well, this is Further.Emma Pooley, former Olympian and multi-discipline World Champion, and Angus Young were third and fourth to arrive at the checkpoint. Emma, also in her first mixed surface bike event, was comparatively fresh whilst Angus was sick and suffering badly. He and Josh Ibbett had been simultaneously vomiting due to heat stroke earlier in the afternoon. Josh had scratched whilst Angus forged on, dropping his saddle bag off his bike in order to make it to the top. This forced him to retrace his steps down the north side of Mont Fourcat and take a different route around to the next sector which started after traversing the Pont du Diable – the Devil’s Bridge.With riders stretched out all over the course, before and after the checkpoint, Camille stayed alone on the summit until dusk. It was forbidden to ride above the tree line after night fall on this particular part of the parcours. On the descent from the summit, he passed Ingeborg Dybdal Øie as she made her way into the rocky mountain refuge beside the shepherd’s hut. Having realized she wasn’t going much further on day one, she’d left her bike a few hundred metres down the mountain slopes to search a place to sleep. Camille nervously asked her if she hated him. The response was luke warm. She has a high-powered job in Cambridge, but no matter how eloquently she might recount this experience in the board room or next to the coffee machine, not many would understand. She’d made it further than the second half of the field and could make the Checkpoint at sunrise the next day to keep the chase on.Whilst Ingeborg and the others were sleeping in their various shelters and bivvy bags, the race for the win was forming. Emma and Angus were the two riders who pushed through the night through the next part of the parcours. Sector 4 was a gravel climb through forests leading to the next sector, a classic road climb up the Col du Port. It is testament to the brutality of the race that a 17km climb that has featured ten times in the Tour de France is almost regarded as a liaison between the real tests of the race. And the next pinnacle (pun intended) of the Further parcours lay just due south of the Col du Port – the Port du Rat and into Andorra. It was ‘only’ the sixth sector out of twelve but it turned into the critical point of the race for most riders.There are only two paved roads in and out of Andorra. Needless to say, the race went the other way. The Port du Rat is 2,540m high, and according to the race director the top section of the sector, “maybe more brutal than Fourcat”…. The French and Andorran governments had agreed to bore a tunnel through the mountain here, but the mountains obviously kicked back because there is no tunnel. There is just a rocky trail through the scree slope and over the top (after you’ve ridden the 20km climb of tarmac and gravel up the valley). Taking the race where other vehicles can’t go, this was the second punch-in-the-face reminder that this is not just a bike race. It’s hike-a-bike ultra-endurance. And once you reach the other side the only way out is more of the same or a very long ride around the mountains back home. Many riders realized this and the prospect was too daunting. They scratched and made the long ride back to base at Zero Neuf where individual racers melted back into the community of supporters and friends. Camping out beside the farmhouse, telling tales, watching the remaining dots and speculating about who would win.Meanwhile, Emma chased Angus up the valley and passed him near the top, with both of them making it into Andorra by early afternoon. This was important strategically as it enabled them to traverse the principality and get into Spain before nightfall, when border crossing was banned by the rules of the race. And for good reason. On the Spanish side the dirt track that was sector 7 lead to the village of Tor, famous for having 13 houses and 3 murders in recent years due to tobacco smuggling. But Emma and Angus were pushing on and crossed the border well before the police and customs officers would be investigating anyone moving on the mountain. Which meant the next move was to be the first to make it over the Port d’Aula back into France.That would be no easy task. Sector 8 was a luxury, in relative terms, being a surfaced road. However, it took the riders as deep as it is possible to go into the Pyrenees. The sector ended at the bottom of an almost vertical kilometer of mountain leading up to the Port d’Aula. It wasn’t an obligatory sector however the next one, Sector 9, started at the top. So the only other option was to take the 160km of paved roads around the mountain and climb up to come down. Which doesn’t really seem like a viable option given what has already passed before. In the early evening, Emma messaged Camille via WhatsApp to ask if there was an option to sleep at the top. This is self-supported racing. Camille refused to answer feeling that any advice he gave would influence her decision and effect the outcome of the race.Two riders, two days deep into one of the toughest races of their lives, playing cat and mouse up a wall of mountain in the middle of the night. Angus didn’t stop. To watch the replay of his tracker is to see a 5 hour slog up the steep slopes towards the summit. Emma made a different choice. She bedded down around 10:30pm then woke at 3am and zipped up like a mountain goat, passing Angus to reach the top by sunrise. It’s an extreme way to get a great Instagram photo. She was in her element, her next message to Camille declaring the Port d’Aula to be one of the most beautiful places she’s ever been on a bike. Camille got out of bed at 3am to drive down and greet the leaders on their return to civilization in Pont de la Taule. Emma was seemingly on a high of endorphins and in the zone. Angus, who followed a few hours after was running on empty. The sickness of the first day and all-night hike had taken their toll.To say Emma's ride to the finish was easy would be a sweeping understatement. But she made it look that way. There was more tarmac on the run for home but there was also sector 11's ascension of the 'Wall of Peguère', then a mix of gravel and tarmac through the forests to the Prat d'Albi and a final gravel section that went, ahem, Further that it maybe needed to. 'Damn you Camille', were Emma's exact words. In her wake were six other riders. Racers, yes, but more in a personal battle against the mountains, the map, the mental questions of why they should push on any more. Angus had gone so deep it was a crawl to second place. Behind him Mathieu Davy had silently gone about conquering the course, Philppa Battaye rode the whole thing with a smile, whilst the the only pairing to finish - Daniel Peat / Maurice van Roosmalenmet - were still encountering actual smugglers on the Port du Rat, proving that this race was traversing the most remote places of the Pyrenees, on foot. The podium presentation, prize giving, and television interviews didn’t take very long. Probably because they didn’t exist. Instead there were the hugs and the smiles and the almost-tangible respect from the riders who scratched, the beers from friends. There was the BBQ and the late night party, illuminated by the mayflies putting on a performance beside the light. Mayflies have a short life, but the seemingly live it intensely. Which seems to be a fitting comparison for those that went Further. For those who weren't 'dot-watching' during the event, you can click on the 'Replay' button on the map below and see how the each of the protagonists went Further and how Emma and Angus exchanged the lead many times.

Arigatou In September 2018, four friends decided to ride their bikes across Japan without a clue of what to expect. Arigatou is the product of this adventure, a short film that takes you from Osaka to Tokyo via the infamous Mount Norikura, the highest paved road in Japan.As far as bikepacking goes, we aren’t inexperienced with facing difficult challenges on the bike in places unknown to ourselves and Japan was nothing less than incredible on every level you can imagine.Some words to describe this trip would be: Hot. Wet. Friendly. Steep. Convenient. Delicious. Calm. Until the Typhoon turned up anyway.We decided to film our trip mainly because when we came to researching the landscape, we couldn’t find much about what it is like to ride across Japan’s less travelled roads between Osaka and Tokyo, particularly Mount Norikura, our feature detour between the two large cities.We thought it would be a good way to document our trip, but also to show people how a few friends can travel to and across a country without knowing the native language, flora, fauna or landscape and have a great time doing it. Ideally, we’d like to inspire people to step out of their comfort zones and discover some beautiful parts of the world.For shooting I used a Sony RX100 MK3, a Mavic Air Drone and a Gopro. A golden triangle of portable cameras that deliver amazing results for their designated uses. The Sony was kept in a 100% waterproof Tech Bag, the drone in a dry-bag in a Large Rando Bag and the Gopro was attached to either Joseph or Jon’s handlebars at all times.Our full kit-list was tried and tested across four 200 mile weekends to make sure that we were happy with our equipment choices and had the opportunity to make tweaks. We were all riding in Cafe du Cycliste’s Mathilde Bib Shorts due to their comfort over long days in the saddle, quite a pricey investment but none of us had ever known comfort quite like it day-after-day. I chose to wear a Marina merino wool jersey because of its quick drying properties after rain, sweaty climbs and river-washes, Joe chose the Monique, Jon the Mathilde Bib Shorts to match his bibs and Nathan chose Fleurette. We were also really impressed with the cycling caps, Nathan and myself don’t often wear them but Jon and Joe couldn’t speak more highly of the Sardine Caps.In regards to bags, we all steered towards the Carry Everything range from Restrap for waterproofness and low weight for the more unforgiving climbing days, however Nathan wanted to test out the Large Rando Bag and Pelago Front Rack before it went into production.There isn't much else to say about the trip otherwise there will be no point of watching the film but what we can say is that we'll definitely be going back to explore more of the beautiful country. I hope you enjoy what we have created and it inspires you to plan some adventures in places you never imagined you’d end up.Words: Alex DysonImages: Alex Dyson and Jon HickenAnd massive thanks to Restrap for sharing this story

MORVAN – Ein kleines Fleckchen Paradies Als zweite Möglichkeit, etwas weiter von Paris entfernt als seine Heimatstadt Gravier, stellt Julien Sommier von PCR Gravier und dem Steel Cycle Coffee Shop uns den Morvan vor: Ein kleines Fleckchen Paradies an dem die Zeit stillgestanden zu seien scheint.Der Morvan, ein regionaler Naturpark im mittleren Westen Frankreichs, ist wohl am bekanntesten für das Mountain-Biking. In den 90igern wurde die Grande Traversée du Morvan (kurz GTM) zu einer Route ausgebaut, die aus mehr als 400 Kilometern doppelter und einfacher Fahrspuren besteht, die durch große Tannenwälder führen und an vielen Seen entlang verlaufen. Die GTM ist so gut, dass sie von der Föderation des französischen Radsports ausgezeichnet wurde.Die Strecken mögen zwar für Mountain-Biker konzipiert sein, jedoch ist das Streckennetz der GTM, mit größerem Radspielraum und größeren Reifen, die ideale Spielwiese für die neue Welle der Gravel-Biker. Ziehen Sie Ihre Geländereifen auf (Crampons, wie sie in Frankreich genannt werden), laden Sie die entsprechende Karte auf Ihr GPS und genießen Sie! Von Paris aus ist es eine dreistündige Fahrt in Richtung Dijon. Also fahren wir los und campen, um früh am nächsten Morgen die GTM zu befahren. „Early to bed, early to shred” (früh im Bett, früh in der Spur), wie man sagt.Der Kurs ist eher hügelig und ohne Schiebepassage. Dafür gibt es jede Menge verspielter, technischer Abschnitte. Es ist wichtig Wasser mitzunehmen. Es gibt zwar Friedhöfe, an denen man Wasser nachfüllen kann, allerdings gibt es kaum Dörfer auf der Route. Das ist tatsächlich etwas Gutes.Am Lac des Settons findet man alle Annehmlichkeiten eines Freizeitzentrums mit Paddelbooten, Kanoes und Mieträdern. Es gibt sogar eine Fahrradwaschanlage. Andere Seen sind mehr naturbelassen. Verlassen Sie die Strecke und versuchen Sie auf den Mont Beuvray, den höchsten Punkt des Parks, zu gelangen. Die Aussicht von der Bergspitze ist atemberaubend. Wenn die Grande Traversée geschafft ist und man zum Camp zurückkehrt, gibt es nichts Besseres, als während des Sonnenuntergangs schwimmen zu gehen, falls das Wetter mitspielt.

HOMETOWN GRAVIER home town/ˈhəʊm taʊn/ noun: the town of one's birth or early life or of one's present fixed residence. Despite the adventure stories and other twists and turns on the other side of the French borders, PCR Gravier was indeed born in Paris, on the asphalt and without the shadow of a mountain on the horizon. So how can you escape on fat tyres and experience adventure when you live in the capital of the road bike aka the home of the Tour de France? We click West ! Local exploration. With the arrival of summer, a ride close to home sounds like the ideal opportunity to fine-tune the organization of our next trip to Slovenia in August. The only problem is that our « happiness on the bike factor » is inversely proportional to the number of cars and industrial areas we encounter on our way. To remedy this, we choose the to go West. We often think that the western part of Paris is preserved from industry by its proximity to Versailles or the beautiful houses that run through the area. Actually, it's because of the wind. In Paris, the breeze blows mainly from the West to the East. As a result, the west, over the years, has become the least exposed spot from industrial fumes and other cloud factories, making it the default leisure destination for our local escapades.'Getting out of Paris yes, but not just anyhow! ' Rendez-vous on rue Crozatier at 9am for a crossing of Paris via rue de Rivoli and the 'So French' Arc de Triomphe. After a brief passage through the longchamps racecourse aka 'the hamster club' where the locals look at us like aliens on big tires, we cross the Seine by the beautifull Passerelle de l'Avre before heading towards Versailles, Tout shuss !Here, we are finally leaving civilization behind us. Between the gravel tracks and the small forest roads, the kilometres are leading us to l’Aqueduc de Buc, famous for being the gateway to the Chevreuse Valley.These are the bikes that we will take to Slovenia but for now, everyone is amazed how fast they feel without 10kg luggage strapped to the frame. In Bièvres, caffeinated ravito is a must before leaving to the dust of the Saclay plains and the Verrière forest, the last green spot before our way back to Paris.The Eiffel Tower serves as a navigational marker before ending up in the sun, cold beer in hand on the Quai de Seine, after 100 kilometers of fun on the bike practice.Don't worry, the organization of our Slovenia trip hasn't advanced a bit, but once again, our photo/kilometre ratio is close to all-time records. It's all right, Summer is coming.

The Transcontinental Race No7 The Transcontinental Race is a magical mountain. A mountain littered with traps which require riders to combine their physical prowess with a sense of cunning; of strategy, and calculated actions to avoid the pitfalls laid down by the organisers all along the route. This year, the traps were numerous.No5, No6 and now No7. This time around it was longer than ever before; my final distance covered would reach 4158 km. The metres climbed figure was eyewatering, especially along the pieces of compulsory route. Longer, harder and more perilous than ever. Something notable from this year’s route was the amount of “Hike a bike” sections. It provoked much debate during and after the race and whilst there are arguments for and against it, the one thing that is undeniable is that it adds yet another mental hurdle to overcome – riders pushing their bikes up interminable walls; it’s a stark reminder of nature’s power.You can’t pre-order weather. I can’t remember a single day without a headwind, without storms, without rain or intense heat. Sometimes, we’d have all the elements at once. Just one more thing the riders had to overcome.Everything changes In the previous editions we’ve always started in Belgium and headed into the unknown. The multitude of routes available and the night “départ” meant each rider quickly found themselves alone facing their destiny. This year was very different.Starting from the unknown, heading towards Brest, in France. A giant “diagonale” joining the Black Sea to the Atlantic Ocean. The daytime start was new, as were the long sections of compulsory routing which reduced every rider's options considerably. This meant that up until about CP3 in Austria we formed a sort of giant peloton, spread across the Balkans then into Tyrol where it became very common to bump into other competitors. Bulgaria, Serbia, Croatia, Slovenia, Austria, Italy and back into Austria. The summits and the borders passed by like episodes in a good TV series. This left only Switzerland before we made our final border crossing into France, where, according to the frequent radio bulletins, a big storm awaited us…Riding these events, my default setting from the first few kilometres is one of solitude and introspection – I ride fully aware that a couple of weeks of soul searching lay ahead. This year, the fact that we had to follow a more set route, meant that there were more opportunities to meet fellow riders and forge new friendships, as well sharing in some unforgettable experiences. Whether it was stopping on a Bulgarian summit; bivouacking in Serbia; an Italian pizzeria; a French service station; a terrifying storm in the middle of a Slovenian forest; or the climb up the Col du Galibier in the middle of the night; each experience was made all the more poignant knowing that I was sharing it with my fellow riders.Everything went well, except… All four check points complete within the time limits, I embarked upon the final section. A long diagonal stretch from the Alps all the way to Brest. If I’d managed to defeat the weather in the Balkans and in the high mountains, it was a very strong headwind, sprinkled with rain, that would wear me down over the next four days. I’d only planned for three. When coming up against the wind there are two options. Either you have the required athletic ability to overcome it, or you grit your teeth and grind it out. I grit my teeth, and lost time.Riding into the wind for days on end felt like coming up against a ghost who’s trying to rugby tackle me, hour after hour, day after day. It wore me down. Physically, mentally, emotionally…Seeing my goal slip away by only a few hours, defeated by some invisible opponent. It hurt a lot, and it somehow felt like I’d been there before. But ultimately, it didn’t beat me: 16 days, 14 hours and 10 minutes. Brest. Friends, a shower of beers, hugs, cries of joy. A joyous finish. I wanted to finish twenty-four hours earlier, but who cares? The Transcontinental is a magical mountain, full of happiness and misfortune in equal measure. But like nature, the TCR always has the last word. I owe it to myself to do my best, but beyond that it’s important to accept the outcome and take from it all the memories and moments it has given me.I’ve always liked this word, “trilogie”. It has an air of fantasy. An epic journey. With all its twists and turns, and heroic protagonists, there is a side to the TCR which is more Star Wars than bike race. But there it is – the trilogy is complete.From the heartbreak of 2017 in the High Tatras, Slovakia, to the tears on Mangart Sedlo, Slovenia, in 2018, all the way onto this year’s wind on the flat plains of central France, each edition will remain etched into my memory forever. Without doubt TCR has given me some of the most thrilling memories in my cycling life.

ABOVE THE CLOUDS – Fuji’s B-Side When the idea of riding Mount Fuji came up, despite having been done countless times before, our group began to grow excited about climbing the tallest mountain in Japan. Although the highest paved road in the country is the Norikura Skyline in the Northern Japan Alps, Mount Fuji is still regarded as the most iconic climb in Japan, and cyclists from all around the world flock to Japan for the famous Fuji Hill Climb Race every year—at least those who enjoy a full day of climbing.The main route of the Fuji Hill Climb Race is on the Fuji Subaru Line, the road that takes you from the foot of the mountain to the 5th Station. This station boasts a grand view of Minami-Alps that sit on the northeastern side of Mount Fuji, making it the most popular photo point for tourists visiting the area.Feeling that the Fuji Subaru Line might not be the best way to showcase the majestic and mystical characteristics of Mont Fuji, I reached out to a few Tokyo-based cyclists who climb the mountain on a regular basis. They told me about several different route variations that include lesser known parts of the mountain, even adding a few gravel sections to spice up the ride a bit.Mount Fuji is quite accessible from Tokyo. Depending on where you are in the city, the Fuji train station is only about 100 kilometers away. Many Tokyo Cyclists will treat this as a one-day ride.We decided to rent a van to make things easier and drive to a convenience store near the starting point of our ride. It is typical in Japan to meet up at a convenience store since they are nearly everywhere, even in the most rural areas, and the quality of the food you get from these stores will exceed any foreigner’s expectation.Our route was designed so as to climb from the northwestern side of Mount Fuji up to the 5th station, followed by a descent down the Fuji-Subaru Line. It took us through the forests, far away from the city, people and traffic, which made us feel like we were truly lost in the mountains.Once we hit the gravel bits and the peak of Fuji was revealed to us, it became the highlight of our day. As we reached 5th station and followed the ridgeline, we were riding through clouds so thick that our visibility was reduced to a few feet, but as we started descending, most of the clouds lifted. The only thing left to do was to bomb it all the way down.Footnotes: Photos & Text By Sogon Yoon

Mount Fuji: Montagnes du Monde #12 Mount Fuji has its own distinctive characteristics which set it apart from other mountains in Japan. It’s not just because it is the tallest mountain in Japan, with an elevation of 3776 meters, but also because of its geographical position and its connection to local history and culture.About 73% of Japanese land is mountainous with multiple mountain ranges running through most of the main islands. In the Chūbu region, where Mount Fuji is located, you’ll also find the impressive highlands of Nagano, famous for hosting the 1998 Winter Olympics. To the southeast of Nagano and about 130 kilometers west of the capital city Tokyo, you will find Fuji, standing on its own surrounded by flatlands and lakes.It is majestic to see the mountain from afar and witness the snow-covered peak unveiled in glimpses through the thick morning clouds. The Japanese people have embraced Fuji since old times and have developed rural traditions and religions revolving around the mountain which can still be found today. Due to booming tourism, though, the mystery and sacredness of Mount Fuji is fading. However, when you take the time to look for the areas less exploited and the paths less traveled, you can still feel the mountain’s magical presence.Accessing Mount Fuji is quite simple for Tokyo cyclists. Regular trains from Tokyo to Fuji are quite cheap, with express trains that will get you to the nearest station in an hour and a half. Although, bicycles must be covered fully in most trains in Japan, Rinko bags (a nylon bag that covers the entire bicycle) are quite cheap and easy to find.As for a normal day on Mount Fuji, climbing to the end of the road at the 5th Station will earn you between 2,500 to 3,000 meters of elevation gain, depending on where you start from.The 5th Station can be accessed via the Subaru Line which is the official route for the most famous Fuji Hill Climbing Race (www.fujihc.jp). The Subaru line averages a 5% gradient, but since it’s a very long climb, you can always take advantage of the four mountain stations along the way to catch a breather.Aside from the popular Subaru Line, there are other ways to access the 5th station. Some paths, however, might involve hopping fences and riding gravel, which isn’t normally shown on the map. If you know locals who can reveal these hidden routes, ask them to show you the way—that’s when the magic of Mount Fuji truly reveals itself.Read more about iconic climbs around the world in our Montagnes du Monde series. CLAIM THE BADGE

POINT IT TO THE BREAK – Two-Wheeled Wave Hunting A wise man once observed that other people's obsessions are fascinating. Surfing and its disciples are a prime example. To the non-surfer the behaviour of those chasing waves is intriguing. It seems that the hunt for the best break and the details of said hunt is as much as an obsession as the catch itself.That said, one obsession is not exclusive to all others. How many cyclists are also surfers? Two sports, two lifestyles and one love of the outdoors means these worlds overlap for certain people. 'Outside is free' might be a slightly over-used viral hashtag but the essence remains and it’s often this very reason that sparks new adventures.Surfing and cycling offers a fine combination to channel the outdoor spirit and Sami, Ollie, Amy and Rémi all decided it should be the basis of a long weekend. Ride the back-country, set up a seaside camp, surf until sunset and then do it all again at the break of dawn. Location? Asturias, Northern Spain.The Asturias coastline is well known as an area with multiple great breaks and stunning scenery, making it the perfect option for the surfing cyclist. Compared to the Côte d'Azur, the vibrant greens of the Costa Verde are a refreshing change yet like the Riviera it has mountain backdrops beside the sea, albeit in a more open, wider format.The Picos d'Europa are not far away and Ollie has just come from a week-long gravel adventure riding slopes that go up above 2,000m. That's why he's first nomination to tow the trailer. Sami is the other volunteer, quite possibly due to a desire to protect the new board she made with her own hands in a surf shop owned by friends in Barcelona.Why tow a trailer full of surf boards? With bicycles, the hunt for the best waves is simply enhanced. Surfers meticulously study coastal maps and detailed shipping forecasts to try and find blue gold. The more remote the location, the better. It is, of course, practically identical for the adventure cyclist – planning routes, checking for rain storms and headwinds and finding the next new destination are part of the process. On this trip the magic mix is to find the best roads and tracks that lead to the best bay with the best waves. Subject, of course, to what Mother Nature might serve up along the way.In Asturias, it is not plain sailing to the beach. Following Komoot's route to Playa Balotta takes us onto backroads and double tracks and the ups and downs are sharp. The 20kgs of trailer, two surfboards and a dry bag full of wetsuits and fins seem manageable until the road becomes corrugated cement and serves up a 20% gradient. It raises questions on the logic of the bike-surf set-up which firstly go unspoken and secondly are erased when the summit is reached to reveal a view of mountain peaks curving towards dramatic coastline.They say that adding luggage to a bike changes a cyclist’s state of mind; it slows things down, makes you enjoy the surroundings, extends the possibilities and heightens the sense adventure. A trailer full of surf boards at the top of a climb like that only adds more purpose.Descending from the foothills of those mountains, the waterways become more abundant. Small towns are formed around steel bridges crossing river tributaries filled with fishing boats and pleasure craft. The closer the coast becomes the smaller the roads get. They turn to gravel and rise upwards with the cliffs that front on to the sea.Arriving at Playa Ballota for a balcony view down to the bay is stunning. The surfers of the group do their thing; it’s a long silent stare at the sea below, that to a non-surfer, would appear to simply be a moment of quiet contemplation. But there is a lot being observed – is it a left, a right, an A-frame, a close out? Where is the lip, the peak, the pocket, the impact zone and the shoulder? What’s the breaking speed? Unfortunately though, the waves are simply not there.So it’s another 10km down the road to find a spot for the night. Down a track, across a field and planted at the edge of a cliff which overlooks a bay with it’s own mini-island, camp is established in a five-star location. We can cope with no waves. Just as when a cyclist stops in the mountains for whatever reason, being here is enough.Round the stove, Amy turns the tables. She is 85% surfer, 15% cyclist and has many, many questions. Is bike-touring now the trendy thing, why are clipped in pedals called clipless, what’s the easiest way to go to the toilet when wearing bib shorts, which gear and cadence is right for the hills and, of course, the leg-shaving question…The break of dawn and clamber from the tents to do one thing; watch the sea. And again, no waves. And again, the soft light of sunrise and beauty of the surroundings placates most of the surfing stress.But there is a sense the growing anxiety amongst the group. The hunt will continue and there is increased questioning about wind direction and swell predictions. The outcome of some research points the crew back towards the original starting point of San Vincente de la Barquera, more specifically to Playa de Gerra on its eastern side.It’s not that long in distance but map reading reveals a lot of it can be done on gravel that tracks the land side of the coastal ridge. It’s a no-brainer decision and one that rewards with a rolling parcours across the country side. Ollie leads the way popping jumps and skidding tyres on what is relatively easy riding compared to his previous week’s mountainous tour. Arriving in San Vincente de la Barquera Amy and Sami decide on coffee. Then immediately change their minds to martinis because it’s only 10km to the beach. No-one argues with them.The wind makes that final stretch a bit more difficult than anticipated on the bike but aids with the surfing conditions. Finally it’s time to unpack wetsuits and hit the water. The locals arrive and the bike-surf set up immediately provokes conversation and jokes. Noticeably, they are on long boards, whereas the bike trailers are full of much shorter equipment. What the outsider sees is the immediate connection between the surfers, the flow of conversation based on the essiential questions about the whys, the hows and the wherefores that led to this meeting. A bit like cyclists really.Playa de Gerra faces north west and whilst the swell is not big the break is consistent. As the most conditioned surfing cyclists of the group, Sami and Ollie paddle and battle the waves on boards that are slightly too short for the conditions. The locals glide frustratingly by on their long boards but Sami persists and bonds with the new board.Whilst the surf might not be the best anyone has ever experienced that somehow emphasises the point of this trip. The group stays in the water for two hours, long enough to see the sun set from the comfort of their boards. Literally immersed in nature it’s worth the cold and dark change into dry clothes before another session exploring each others obsessions around the stove. As a surfer would say, there were some seriously good vibes on this trip. Photography : Chris McClean

ZUR PERFEKTEN WELLE FAHREN Es geht nichts über ein perfektes Wochenende, in dem man sich der Natur aussetzt. Radfahren, um zu surfen und zu campen, ergibt eine Trilogie der Outdoor-Tugenden, die noch lange in Erinnerung bleiben.

The Origins of Audaciousness Audax (adjectif latin): audacieux, qui a de l'audace. Voir aussi: hardi, intrépide, aventureux, déterminé, courageux.Randonneuring, endurance cycling, long distance, ultra-cycling, brevet…there are so many variations. We prefer Audax. Some definitions may have subtle differences, but they all have one thing in common. They’re long. We like long, we don’t know when we started liking long, but it’s grown to be part of our DNA. Whether it’s riding from point to point or spending all day scaling our beloved Turini we don’t tend to apply too many rules, we just ride until the body says “no more”. But scratch beneath the surface though and you’ll find a community going back over a century. You’ll find a catalogue of rides, some designed for the lone rangers, who like to spend days alone in the saddle; and others that put camaraderie first, made to make and break the bonds between riders, and that offer an opportunity to share in something truly beautiful.The original Audax dates back to 1897, across the border in Italy. As bike racing was becoming more popular, people started to look for alternatives from the classic format. Something that could push the boundaries of what was possible, and that pitted riders against the elements, rather than against each other. A purer form of cycling, no pacers, no support; just riders at one with the road. Led by a man called Vito Pardo, the rules were set. The aim was to cycle from Rome to Naples as a group, within a time limit of 18 hours. Entry was 5 lire, and finishers would be awarded with a badge. The distance was 230km, which compared to modern distances may not seem like that far but take into account the quality of the roads and the equipment available to them, and it’s easy to see why they were regarded as “zinzins” for embarking on such an endeavour.Nevertheless 18 hours later, nine riders rolled into Naples. The newspapers caught wind of what they’d achieved and the next day labelled them “Audace” - Audacious – and so Audax was born. It didn’t take long for their Neapolitan counterparts to decide they needed to prove they were also up to the challenge. A few weeks later twenty riders would roll into Rome, and as both groups of riders congregated in the capital it was decided that the definition of Audax would be 200km ridden within daylight hours as a group. This was the birth of Audax Italiano and soon there were Audax groups appearing all over Italy.News of Audax soon spread across the border into France. Henri Desgrange, a former world record holder for the hour and the first organiser of the Tour de France, lamented the fact that there were no such groups in France. As a former racer himself, he saw it as an opportunity for those whose racing days were behind them to take on a new challenge. In the summer of 1903, the Audax Italiano group decided to ride to Paris. Desgrange proposed to put together his own group of select riders, capable of completing such a ride, and arranged for them to ride ahead of the Italians with the support of l’Auto newspaper. In January 1904, Desgrange announced his intention to form his own French Audax organisation, and by that spring the first French Audax ride was hosted and the Audax Club Parisien (ACP) was formed. Riding from Paris to Gaillon, there were 37 entrants of which 29 went the distance. They were each awarded a medal, and labelled Audaxers. From then on Audax rides became a feature of the cycling calendar in France, featured in newspapers alongside races like the Tour de France and Paris Roubaix.As the popularity of Audax grew, as did the distances, and by 1908 events were touching over 400km. However, it wasn’t plain sailing. In 1921 the ACP assisted in an event sponsored by rival newspaper, l’Echo des Sports. When Desgrange caught wind of this he rescinded the ACP’s authority to homologate Audax rides. Up until that point Audax had always been ridden as groups, at a set pace. No longer allowed to use the rules created by Desgrange, ACP decided to create their own – the Brevet des Randonneurs Francais. This introduced the idea of “allure libre”, meaning riders were free to ride at whatever pace they wanted – so long as they completed the ride within the time limit. The split meant that events such as Paris-Brest-Paris would often have two versions, one for the Randonneurs and one under Audax rules with a predefined pace of 20 km/h. Ever since, there have been two main forms of Audax – Randonneuring and the traditional form where riders ride in groups, now often known as Euraudax.Over time Audax has become very much a global discipline. Each country with its own Audax association, each with its own quirks, but always sticking to the philosophy of that first ride from Rome to Naples. Whether you’re riding a Diagonale across France, London-Edingburgh-London, Paris-Brest-Paris, TransOz, TransAm, or the TCR itself, they all require riders to be “audace”. They all require participants to enter with the correct spirit, and riders can be sure to be supplied with a trusty brevet card waiting to be stamped.Audax riding requires a certain state of mind, it’s not about racing to win, but instead riding to discover something new. It’s about riding to find out more about yourself, what you’re capable of and finding your limits. It’s about riding to find new roads and meet new people. For some, it’s an escape from reality. There’s more to Audax than just pure competition, above all else it’s about participation and a shared destination.

Italy Divide: Napoli – Lago di Garda, April 2019 It was a cold December Sunday afternoon in the UK. Post-training, I was surfing for a new adventure to banish the gloom of the boring winter day and suddenly there it was. I’d heard of Italy Divide. I knew that Transcontinental racer and 2nd place finisher in 2018, Matt Falconer had ridden it last year, and loved it. I was looking at the 2019 edition, laid out in front of me: 1200km, 15,000m elevation, 85% off road. Starting in Napoli, heading north through the Appenines, the mountainous backbone of Italy, to finish at Lago di Garda having climbed the edge of the Dolomites. I had no idea what I had let myself in for. For the first time ever, I would have to pick my bike up, put it on my back, and walk up steep goat tracks.Day One: Where did I put those leg warmers?Have you ever been to Napoli? If you haven’t, go! Incredible food and kind people. Located 230km south of Rome, the bay is one of the most beautiful in the world.Upon exiting the city I had to chase on to the front group and avoid some un-welcome drafting. The pace began to take its toll so I strategically stopped to load up on food and water as I was planning to ride most of the night. As the event entered the first off-road sections and the groups finally split.As dusk was setting in, tearing down a rocky descent I punctured. Having not learnt my lesson and slowed down, a mere 200m later I punctured again. On the plus side, it’s an opportunity to stop and layer up. Searching in my packs, no sign of the leg warmers. There I was, two-time Transcontinental Race winner and I’d forgotten to pack leg warmers. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d feel like a schoolboy on this event.As dusk turned to dark, I reached the first really tough sections. 30% ramps forced me off my bike and to hike all 18kg of it up the hill on my back. Italy Divide had properly introduced itself. I was set for a baptism of fire, for which I’ve found an apt definition: “A first experience of something, usually something difficult or unpleasant.”Day Two: One road actually leads to Rome The day began at night, as I hadn’t stopped. Very early on a Friday morning, I found myself bouncing down the 2,300 year old Via Appia into Rome. This is where the Roman general Crassus crucified 6,000 slaves along this road having crushed Spartacus and his rebellion. The cobbles were worse than Flanders. I was heading into Lazio and then for Tuscany and the start of the famous ‘Strada Bianche’ white gravel roads. Here is a confession: I thought that the whole of Italy Divide would be more or less a mixture of idyllic white gravel roads and bike paths. How naive! While passing through Viterbo, I diverted to buy some leg warmers. As I was pulling into the carpark, I rode though a deep puddle and right into a hidden low kerb. Face over handlebars and smack into a bollard. Thankfully I suffered only a bruised ego and a broken time trial shifter. Day turned to night and I was on the lookout for a hotel to stop for three hours sleep. After a few hours searching, turning down each vague possibility in hope of something better, at 04:00 I settled on an abandoned house. Here’s the silver lining: to my very pleasant surprise, when I entered the house there was a sofa, and nothing else. A gift. A quiet day of good progress : the calm before the storm.Day Three: Vicious Italian sheepdogs and a drunken Jimi Hendrix tribute. I woke up shivering and cold. I had slept for just one hour after 36 hours cycling 583 km. I decided the best way to get warm was to get back on the bike.The stretch of road ahead of me, through Tuscany, was a worry. This was where Josh Ibbett had been bitten by a dog last year.In the dark of the night, I heard barking. My bright light caught a hundred pairs of sheep’s eyes. Their enraged dog guardians were standing on small hills in the field. When they saw the light, the dogs went into an absolute frenzy. I retreated a little. They calmed down slightly. I started pushing the bike. They ran towards me. I got on the bike and now, they were running alongside me, though on the other side of a barbed wire fence. I would be okay, wouldn’t I?All of a sudden, one of the dogs leapt over the fence just in front of me. I went into full sprint mode. Another dog jumped the fence and joined the first one and then a third. It seemed to go on and on but eventually, they started to drop back as I left their territory. I have been chased plenty of times by dogs but this was easily the worst. Absolutely terrified, I was on edge for the rest of that night.As dawn broke, the incredible beauty of the area became apparent. A wonderful sunrise with an extraordinary inversion cloud layer. I was now riding into Sienna, the route was really grippy, these were those white roads in the Strade Bianchi. I got into Siena at about 08:00 and found a cafe to start to sort myself out. I had some digestive problems during the night and the results weren’t pretty. So, I found myself in a supermarket toilet having to clean myself and my kit. Very glamorous!I hit Florence in the early evening tourist rush. What a city. Then, the route became really difficult. It was dark and I had all my lights on. Due to the low speeds, my dynamo was not charging my battery pack for my lights and the world around me was becoming darker. The climb I was about to tackle would take me up to 1,000 m. Decision time : stopping was the sensible and best option.I rolled into the town. Every hotel was full. Turned out there was a big motorbike race the day after at the nearby Mugello circuit. Plan B: I found a pizzeria. Ordered two pizzas and two desserts. Then Gino, drinking at the bar, got friendly. Hey! Come and stay at my place!An hour and a half later I wake up. It’s not because of my alarm. It’s because Gino has come home and is now playing Hendrix on a guitar and didn’t want to stop. All my batteries are fully charged, I leave him to it and head out into the night.Day Four: Mountains and Mirages I resumed the race at 0130 on Sunday morning from Piero a Sieve, nearly 60 hours since my departure from Naples Thursday afternoon. I’d covered 760 km, climbed 10000 m and burnt 25,000 calories. My immediate challenge was a very tough climb into the Apennines and soon into it, I went past one of my rivals. Five minutes later, he came alongside me. It was Sofiane Sehili, a well-known off-road specialist from France. We rode together for a while before the climb really started. It was another ascent that required some hike-a-bike. As we got to the top, I had pulled out a bit of a lead on him.I started off down a rough descent on my own. In the first town I found a cafe with self-service croissants and doughnuts. Sofiane joined me soon after and we rode off together for a bit. He went ahead. He’d been telling me about problems with his Garmin. I then saw this problem in real life for him as he went the wrong way.Late in the afternoon, I arrived at the race checkpoint at Governolo. My idea of getting a good feed was quickly shattered. The race organiser told me that 30 km back I had missed a section of the road. I turned around and rode back. I was back within 90 minutes and I had lost my race lead. I sat down to a huge plate of pasta. I knew it was going to be a long ride into the night and perhaps I wouldn’t even stop again. There was 300 km to go, in my mind I was racing for the finish.Unsupported racing requires rest and food. I couldn’t possibly tackle the final climbs without food but I had none. I spot a vending machine. It’s not a mirage. Incredibly it’s full of calorie rich yoghurt drinks – 600kcal in 500mls! I bought 12 and drank six immediately.After a visit from two visibly confused Carabinieri, I sat alone thinking about what I had ahead of me. Two climbs: almost 3,000m elevation. Then downhill to the finish. My last sleep had been 90 minutes on Gino’s sofa 24 hours earlier. In fact, I had under three hours sleep in the last 90 hours.What would actually happen on the final day is an experience I will never forget.Day Five: Mud, rain, snow – the race to the finish I’ve been chasing Sofiane since my routing mistake. It’s 2am, I’m full of yoghurt and very short of sleep. The first big climb began almost straightaway. I started falling asleep, my mind started playing tricks on me. I know this feeling and knew it wouldn’t last.At night, off road, it is pretty hard to see where to go and I found myself going along the bottom of an embankment. My wheels were rim deep in mud. I knew if I stopped, I would be stuck. Soon my bike had become completely clogged in the mud. I found a stick and scraped away enough to get going again.The track led me to a desolate and closed petrol station. Then I saw a cyclist already there. Of course, it is Sofiane, slumped half asleep, sitting on a step, looking absolutely shattered. As I arrive, he wakes up.I find a tin bath, a watering can and a brush and start scrubbing away. It works, sort of. I jump back on my bike and head off into the night. Sofiane jumps on too and catches up with me quickly.I’m not really sure if Sofiane is ahead or behind me. I get to 1,000m and the rain begins. I have been pushing my bike up a horrible single-track and then start heading across a field. I’m now at 1,200m, it’s six in the morning and my heart sinks as the rain turns to snow.Visibility drops down to 10m. I’ve only got cycling gear on and I know that I must climb to 2000m. I make a big decision. I must stop and find somewhere warm to shelter.I look up local hotels. I call both of them. No answer. I leave the race route and head for the closest one. It’s absolutely dead. I try one final call. There is an answer. Although he doesn’t understand English, in 10 minutes he arrives at the hotel. I take a shower, no rush, I sleep for three hours. For me, at this point, the race was gone. I was going to wait out the storm and then complete the course, safety first.I woke up to my alarm and opened the curtains. Clear blue sky! Soon I’m on my way. It’s just 90 km to the finish and I will not be stopping. I knew that Sofiane had made terrible progress and was only 15 km ahead of me. However, given the terrain, that’s maybe two and a half hours. I get back on the race route and I get climbing on the difficult single tracks. After not too long the snow is knee deep. I get off the bike and start pushing.This went on for a long time. As I struggled along, I can see where Sofiane had ridden. I could even see where he had fallen off. The same happened to me. I must’ve fallen off 15 times. Most of the time, I just jumped up and got back on the bike.Eventually I found myself riding downhill on tarmac. By now I was just 30 minutes behind him. This was an incredible amount to make up over such a short distance, but he must have been very tired. I stopped and pumped up my tyres for the tarmac.Race organiser Giacomo had come out in his car and he told me ‘Take it easy, this descent is like the Stelvio’. I tore off and it was amazing. Switchback after switchback. I was really excited because I knew that I couldn’t be far behind. Also, the final climb was all on tarmac.I started that climb at a ferocious pace. It was 18 km to the top and I thought that I could catch Sofiane. After 16 km at the highest effort I could sustain after all that had gone on before, there he was. I buried myself to get behind him. Then, I just attacked him, with absolutely everything. He finds the pace and comes back to me. I attack again. He comes back to me a second time. I attack once more and open up a 10m gap. I can see the top; the road is covered in snow.I stopped and so did he. I said, ‘How do you feel about riding in together?’ He says ‘Yeah’ and that was it. The race was over. I knew what he’d been through and I had endless respect and admiration for my fellow racer.We headed off together, walking through the snow. We arrived at Torbole, on the North end of Lago di Garda in the dark, together. A fitting end to an incredible race with an immense bike rider.Writing this, it’s a week since I finished, and life is slowly returning to normal. I have been sleeping a lot! My legs are working again. The nerves in my left hand are settling down and the use of it is returning.Being able to finish at all is testament to the equipment I ride, my bike and clothing. Dom Thomas at Fairlight has designed one hell of a bike.I was racing in Cafe du Cycliste kit for the first time, it stood up to some terrible conditions. All day rain, snow, heat, we had it all. I was comfortable at all times.Full ride on: STRAVA

PUSHING LIMITS James Hayden’s rise to the top of the world of endurance and adventure cycling world started with the famous picture of his Shermer’s neck on the TCR and, like his cycling, hasn’t stopped since then. Café du Cycliste is proud to partner with James for the Summer of 2019 and share his distance adventures.As the winner of the past two Transcontinental Races, you are ‘Mr Ultra’ - how did that happen? I just like riding my bike. It might be a cliché but it is the simplest and most honest answer I can give. The path has been from falling in love with the bike whilst commuting, winning the first club TT I ever entered, getting recruited to the club’s U23 racing team and setting a goal of becoming a pro by 2012. That didn’t happen, but before the self-imposed deadline I had already started to become attracted by other challenges. I’d known about TCR for a year or so. It was in my brain and I was intrigued. It was the natural next step for me.How do you go faster than others? I believe it’s because of focus. Racing unsupported is for people who are masters of all – fitness, route planning, equipment preparation are all important but, come the event, focus is key. Time management is really important during events, especially your stops, which comes with experience. My first TCR I tried to have almost no sleep, just catching 20 minute increments when I could. For my first TCR win I was sleeping for 3hrs every night. It took discipline to make myself stick to the plan. What attracts you to long distance? The challenge of it, the scale of it. Pushing your limits and seeing new things. Yes, you have to focus the whole time, but there is a lot to enjoy at the same time. The most enjoyable thing for me is the sense of fulfilment at the end.Route planning is fundamental, right? Yes. Before my first win on TCR I did nearly 100 hours of route planning. It needs a good understanding of maps and to not have tunnel vision towards one route. You have to look at the bigger picture and different options, but also be aware of your strengths and weaknesses – how well you climb being an obvious factor in deciding on the shorter more mountainous route or taking the flatter longer option. It’s also about attention to detail. I’m an engineer so that definitely helps. But you don’t have to be perfect because on the day, things never go perfectly.And what’s your secret to kit preparation? You prepare for everything. I take less than I used to, but more than others. It’s a personal thing. I don’t weigh everything – obviously I don’t take the heaviest option, but I take what I need and what I know works. It is what it is – I ride with what I decide I need. Experience refines your requirements. I’ve thought about it and tested so much in training and on events enough that I don’t even make lists anymore. How do you deal with the weather? I plan to ride 24h a day. The only way to do that is to carry every piece of clothing that you need. I can’t control the weather. I’ve seen it all – day-long rain, freezing cold, extreme heat. The 2017 Lucifer heat wave is a standout memory - 55 degrees in Serbia and I remember descending from 1,000m at 3am in the morning in shorts and short sleeves. But those are the kind of moments that make this discipline so great.You’re not riding TCR this year? No. It’s time for a new challenge and to up the ante… Quickfire questions : What is long? Long is when you see both the sunrise and the sunset Why is long? To see new things; to adventure and to challenge yourself How is long? Experience and respect for the distance, the time it takes and the conditions you encounter.Follow James on Instagram @jamesmarkhayden or via his website - http://jamesmarkhayden.uk/

TIZI N’TICHKA – Via The Caravan Tracks To drive North Africa’s highest road is to realise that Morocco is changing. The Tizi n’Tichka is the main obstacle on one of the main arterial routes that runs from Marrakech to Ouarzazarte. Arterial routes in Morocco are mostly single carriage, usually with a covered surface, sometimes they are still in gravel format. But that, need we say it, is part of its attraction. It’s ironic then that when approaching the summit of Tichka you find four freshly laid lanes of tarmac carving their way to the 2,260m summit. You might guess that it’s a working example of the trickle down effect. Get the hardest, highest bits done and the rest will follow suit. These new dual carriageway lanes almost feel more like a city ring-road than an idyllic mountain pass. But simply the other side of the armco is the majesty of the Atlas mountains. At 2,000m there are no trees. There are, remarkably, no animals to be seen by the naked eye. There is lots of wind. And traffic. Construction lorries meet transport lorries meet tourist vans meet local buses, official or otherwise. All life is here at the Col.As with all trips, it’s the white lines on the map that hold the secret to success. These are the minor roads that take you through real country, back country, beautiful country. Ironically for the Tichka, the alternative route starts in a tourist trap at the bottom of the Ounila valley. Some 30km outside of Ouarzazarte, the Aït Benhaddou kasbah is a maintained Moroccan example of how things were when this road was the caravan route between the Sahara and Marrkaech. It's a touristic pilgrimage for many.This is the modern day trade for many parts of Morocco. Before that, money was made here in a different way. Just as the river Ounila itself gives rise to the green oases found throughout the valley, this road and the taxes imposed for passing give rise to many kasbahs and one very rich family.The small commune that sits on the other side of the river from the kasbah is split by the white line we saw on the map - the P1506 - filled on each side with hotels and restaurants ready to accept the incoming revenue. But travel five – no – one kilometer up the road and immediately all that is left behind. Because 99.9% of the tourists seemingly go no further. Suddenly rural Morocco and its ambience takes over.That ambience is to feel alone in another world, whilst simultaneously (if you have previous experience of this amazing country) knowing that there are always eyes watching and that around the next corner, there is a village in crevices of the Atlas where you thought modern life was not sustainable. That's because this is not modern life as we know it. And that is refreshing.After Aït Benhaddou there are eight listed civilisations on the Google map before you arrive at Tiz n'Tichka. Viewed correctly and positively, that’s eight opportunities to turn another ride through the mountains into a memory for a lifetime.Approaching each village you will cross locals on foot, on donkeys, or on mopeds. Said mopeds are frankensteins of the highest order. A black market melange of Yamaha, Kawasaki and Suzuki becomes a 'Yamkawazuki'. And they appear entirely natural in the context in which they are encountered. Even when they are transporting anywhere between two and five people – men, women, children. Sometimes goats. There’s a nice set of switchbacks 35km up the road and we meet a gaggle of three Yamkawazuki’s, which turns into a race when it becomes apparent that the power-to-weight ratio of a tired 125cc engine carrying two humans versus Côte d’Azur trained legs on a carbon bike are, roughly, equal.The outcome of this race is not win or lose. It’s smiles all round and an invite for tea. Literally, everyone is a winner. Tea is backwards, down again to the last village below the switchbacks. Illogical but perfectly acceptable in the circumstances. And the reward is the best mint tea in the world, accompanied by the best bread and olive oil in the world. Double win. Served by the most gentile people in the world, who don’t mind having cameras poked in their faces to make photo memories. Triple win. And the blue tiles on the wall reflect the cycling jersey on our backs. All is so well-aligned in this moment it’s tempting to stay. But North Africa’s highest col awaits. The Altas mountains on this road unfold gently. They are more like the Alps mostly with gradual gradients. After remounting the switchbacks, a rise and fall run around the mountainside and through the gorge beside the river, the road turns 90 left with intent. There is what seems like a trading post on this corner. A stopping point for essentials to feed the settlements that hide between and behind the surrounding peaks. It’s a small distraction before what lies around the corner - the valley of a thousand shades of reds and browns, dappled with greens, dissected by a perfectly-laid snake of bitumen. If you’ve travelled by bike you might recognize this feeling. It happened to us on Little Peru during the Torino-Nice Rally. You do not know where exactly to focus your eyes because nature is putting on such a show.The slope is kind and progress is effortless. The road tops out before falling onto the flats of the high mountain plateau where Telouet sits. The big school with kids pouring out of it suggests we’re in an Atlas heartland, the main street says otherwise.This place was once the seat of the ‘Lord Of The Atlas’ – where the family of most powerful Pasha to serve the Sultan outside of Marrakech made its fortune. The El Glaoui family dominated the olive, saffron, and salt trades due to Telouet’s optimal placement on the caravan trail. Thami El Glaoui ruled as the ‘Pasha of Marrakech’ until he helped staged a coup to dethrone the ruling Sultan, only for the nastiness to bounce back on him when he fell foul of the Moroccan Independence movement in 1953. Since then Telouet has not been able to reinvent itself and the dilapidated Kasbah stands as a symbol of the town’s fall from grace. Watching the locals in djelebas, the laden trucks, the stray dogs and the loaded Mercedes vans pass along the main street is to see a raw Morocco that is seemingly standing still in time. Maybe that’s what makes a tagine in Telouet so memorable.Going from Telouet to the top is to make the transfer to the high Altas. As the road snakes, the view back towards the plateau and the mountains on the other side give a sense of scale. Big, colourful and unique. Twenty kilometres of mountain riding perfection under the spring sun. Tarmac, gravel, tarmac, river crossing, small hamlets. Then bam! Road works. The reconstruction of a washed-out bridge, but more than that. Re-working of the road's foundations tells us we are close to re-joining the main Tichka road. One last gravel secteur and then corrugated concrete (which always seems to mean steep gradients) leading to the freshly laid tarmac that takes you to the top.The Col sign is no ordinary marking of the pass. It's symbolic of all of Morocco's grandeur and history and deserving of the highest road in the country. We suggest you take the alternative route to get there and experience the best this land has to offer.Footnotes: Photography : Matt Wragg

PCR Gravier – Paris Chill Racing PCR Gravier is a cycling collective born out of a shared passion for adventure on two wheels and a taste for tracks and trails off the beaten path. Created on the streets of Paris, they've spread across the globe, from Copenhagen all the way to Belo Horizonte.PCR Gravier was born out of Paris Chill Racing’s urban beginnings. Tell us about PCR's beginnings and its evolution.The letters PCR stand for Paris Chill Racing. It all began with the fixed gear movement. As fixed gear bikes grew in popularity in Paris in 2010, we decided to start social rides on Wednesday nights.Chill was in opposition to pro cycling, riding for fun rather than racing. At first it was a good excuse to drink beers, chat about bikes and cruise through the city. It's evolved a lot since, got bigger and bigger, but the core is still the same : having fun on a bike, whatever the bicycle, the journey and who you are riding with. PCR has been organising events for nine years now. Alleycat races, ultra alleycat race, cyclocross, social rides, bingo... yes bingo.PCR gathers together the French urban cycling community, passionate people and friends, using public space to create a collective of free spirited people. What was the journey from fixie, traffic-carving craziness to mountain wilderness, gravel adventures? We still enjoy riding the streets of Paris or other big cities. But as soon as we can escape town for a day, a weekend or even a week, we try to discover new horizons, which can only be reached by taking small tracks, gravel roads or sometimes even dirt roads. There are so many directions that you can choose once you are off-road. The world becomes an even bigger playground. What does ‘gravel’ riding mean to you?Gravel for us means escape, wilderness, the unknown and freedom.Riding off-road is nothing like riding on the road. The sensations are different. It's another world. We now prefer riding far from the main roads, the cars and being closer to nature. Listening to the birds. It's good for the soul.What is the closest off-road adventure to the centre of Paris?The closest off-road adventure to the centre of Paris would be the Morvan. A national park similar to Canada, with lakes, forests and great off-road tracks.The GTMC MTB trail which stands for 'Grande Traversée du Massif Central' is not too far either and is a continuation of Morvan’s track. It’s a 800km off-road map which takes you from Clermont Ferrand to the beach in Sète.You were there for the first Torino-Nice Rally – how was it?It was our first real gravel adventure. We had discovered gravel when we climbed the Col du Parpaillon the previous year, but the Torino-Nice Rally really made us discover the joys of an itinerant journey, and taste a new dimension of cyclingBreathtaking landscapes, the unique feeling of being alone in the world, far from people, cars and noise. The route allowed us to discover some of the most underrated passes in the Alps, and some of the most incredible roads we have ever ridden. In retrospect, it was quite a challenge for a first outing of this kind, but we were very lucky with the weather, and to have no major mechanical problems. The only frustration was that we only properly bivouacked once during this trip, the rest of the time we used campsites (we were still a little nervous at the thought of not being to take a shower in the evening). We've stopped caring so much about showers now... If you have the opportunity to ride the TNR, or its route, don't hesitate. Just do it!Luggage solutions go from mini-bar bags to huge pannier set-ups. Where do you find your sweet spot for your journeys?Show me how you load your bike and I'll tell you the kind of person you are…In reality it depends on a lot of things: travel time, weather, relief, whether you want to cook your own haute cuisine each night etc.As a group, I would say that we all apply the same principles to how we load our bicycles. We have this basic setup which includes a handlebar bag, frame bag and saddle bag. For the rest, it's a matter of taste. Some load the forks while others prefer 'food pouches' hanging everywhere on the bike.The real difficulty is finding ultra-light and compact equipment to be autonomous in all conditions.To sum up, I would say that the sweet spot is the one that allows you to enjoy both the moments on the bike, but also the moments off it!The phrase ‘More photos than kilometres’…. We’ve noticed there are some serious photo geeks in the group – so it’s not just about Instagram likes, right????We give a lot of importance to the photos taken during our travels. To tell the truth, several of us in the group work in a profession related to photography: directors, cameramen, graphic designers... it was therefore natural that our imagery should be taken seriously.We actually love to use film, (so much to say that Instagram is not the priority during our trips). This ranges from using disposable cameras to Mamiya 7 medium format cameras. Each year we compile these images into a printed micro-publication and share the best shots on social media.That said, on our last trip we carried a 5D canon digital SLR to be able to publish an Instagram story of the trip in real time with something other than photos taken on the iPhone. So we do mix it up.What are your views on the great 650b v 700c debate?You don't need a doctorate degree to understand that if you multiply the volume of a tire, you also multiply the fun factor.... So I would say that we simply favour fun!We actually think it depends a lot on where you ride, but also on the way you ride. In our group we ride on both 650b and 700c but we have one thing in common: we favour testing the off-road capabilities of our bikes rather than winning medals on the road with them...However, to give you a straight answer, for two of us in particular, using 650b has been a game-changer. You get so much more comfort and grip and at the same time, we can still keep up with the boys riding 700c on the tarmac so I think it's a win-win situation.It's an endless debate...we'd just recommend trying both and seeing which you prefer! Finally...do fat tyres make you happy???Hell yeah they do!!

Namsan – Seoul: Montagnes du monde #11 Before the modern-day cityscape took its form, when it was still the imperial capital of the Chosun Dynasty, the city of Seoul was guarded on all sides by walls and gates. Back then, Seoul’s boundaries extended to Namsan (South Mountain) in the south and to Bugak Mountain in the north. Naturally, these two mountains acted as fortresses for guarding the city against foreign attacks.Much of the original architecture was destroyed during the Korean War, but the remnants of some of these walls survived. Since then, the city has spent considerable efforts to restore and rebuild these ancient fortifications, developing the surrounding area and turning these mountains into historical and natural parks situated right in the center of this bustling metropolis.Korea is a country of mountains. These landforms offer a variety of challenging cycling routes throughout Korea. But for the people who live in the city of Seoul, escaping to explore these areas isn’t always an option.That is where Namsan and Bugak come in. Although these mountains stand at a mere 300 metres tall, if you connect the two, and all the small hilly paths along the way, you get a decent 1,000 metres of elevation gain without having to travel outside of the city. Convenience is probably the reason why the Namsan and Bugak Mountain paths have the most popular Strava segments in Korea.Most cyclists start this ride from the south bank of the Han River near Banpo Bridge. This is one of the most famous meeting points for the cyclists who are looking to ride Namsan and Bugak Mountains. Banpo Bridge has two levels; the lower level has a bike path which takes you across to the north side of the river and directly onto the riverside bike paths.After crossing the Han River and riding along the bike paths, you will turn onto the busy streets of old Seoul. Taxis and buses fight to get ahead, leaving cyclists feeling a bit intimidated. If you manage to survive the traffic and ride north, you will find the entrance to Namsan Park. On top of Namsan is where the North Seoul Tower is located.The road you climb up to the North Seoul Tower only allows bikes and natural gas-powered tour buses. At steady 4 to 5 percent grade, you can keep the ride fairly conversational. On the way to the top, there are a few spots where you can take in the view of the city and catch a breather.Now, descend and ride your way back into the heart of Seoul and to Gwanghwamun Square. Here you will find the gate to Gyeongbok-Gung, the former royal palace of the Josun Dynasty—the last Korean imperial dynasty to rule the nation before it became a republic. Ride around the palace and pass by the Blue House, where the current Korean president resides, to get to the start of the second climb: Bugak Mountain.The road to the peak is called Bugak Skyway and it is open to public traffic, meaning you will be climbing with all kinds of motor vehicles. The climb is slightly longer, and it is where Seoul cyclists do repeats to rack up their climbing mileage without traveling to other mountainous regions in Korea. Once reaching the summit, simply retrace your path back to the starting point, and that’s the route most favored by Seoul cyclists.While these mountains aren’t the grandest, highest or most scenic in South Korea, they are certainly the most popular—and the most convenient for busy cyclists living in the country’s capital. Cyclists residing in Seoul, much like other global city dwellers, live busy and hectic lives around the clock. This is the quickest way for them to fit 1000-meters of climbing into their busy schedules. Some even mix this climb into their daily commute. Read more about iconic climbs around the world in our Montagnes du Monde series. CLAIM THE BADGE VIA STRAVA Footnotes: Photography & Text : Soon Yoon

Week-end prolongé: LA Add an extra day (or two), breathing room to find riding space somewhere special. Or simply somewhere simple. Get up, kit on, ride out kind of trips. Cycling for the soul. Wikipedia says a donut contains 452 calories and 38% of your recommended daily fat intake. In 16 fluid ounces of beer on average you get 204 calories. But that's ok if you're about to ride the Figueroa Mountain Loop.A long weekend in Los Angeles. So much to do, but so little time to do it; we have two days to ride. Meeting up with friends who call this place home, and explaining our predicament, they take about five seconds to decide where we'll be going. 'Baldy and Figueroa.' Sold. Who are we to question the experts?Mount Baldy is the biggest cycling celebrity in the county, due to it's annual time to shine during the Tour of California. At just over 20km and with over 1,300 metres of climbing at an average gradient of 7%, it's quite a daunting prospect, and here's the kicker (literally) : some of that average is made up of 22% gradients. Regular, it ain't. Fortunately we're not here to set KOMs, it's simply about sharing the road amongst friends. The ride out from town is not entirely straightforward. LA certainly lives up to its reputation in terms of traffic and why some may be fooled into thinking the city sucks for cycling. However once you hit Glendora, the traffic, the noise and underlying stress fade away. Motivation for the task ahead seems to come largely from chat about where we'll find the best beer and tacos. Then, the climb to Mount Baldy Village reminds everyone that it's work first, reward second and suddenly everyone quietens down a touch.Sometimes it's easy to think you've seen it all, or at least ridden it all. You could be trapped into thinking that the world's roads are ultimately the same, it's only the scenery which changes, but somehow they always conspire to surprise you. From the Col de Braus to the High Atlas, you'd think we know how to read the contours of the road as it traverses the slopes towards the summit. Maybe it's the jetlag or the surprisingly high temperatures or the excitement of a new world; but we are less aware of what's around the next corner.And so the final part of Mount Baldy smacks us in the face like the heavyweight hitter it is. Whether you're trying to set a PB or just there to spin your pedals, unless you are at WorldTour level the steep gradients demand effort. Remember that feeling that you're in the wrong gear only to look down and discover there are no sprockets left? A series of 10 switchbacks, which somehow crescendo with gradients from 13% to 22%, lead to the ski lift at the top. Should have taken the lift.The descent back down from Mount Baldy is perhaps one of the best in the world. Glendora Mountain Road offers views for miles, and somehow has an air of Provence about it - aside from the 'bears crossing' sign of course. It's a landscape that appears dry and rocky, but when you actually look around it's covered in trees and fauna and we're told that in summer you can even hear the sound of cicadas singing.And so to the aforementioned rewards. On this occasion the eating took on a whole new dimension. Wikipedia says a donut contains 452 calories and 38% of your recommended daily fat intake. In 16 fluid ounces of beer on average you get 204 calories. Needless to say at The Donut Man's beautifully American street-side kiosk, there are no calorie listing. We suspect it's maybe above the global average, and all the better for it.Once the dust (or icing sugar) has settled, we head back into town to rehydrate, debrief and plan day two. The word 'beast' gets used a lot when describing Figueroa Mountain, but it's decided that one more beer can't do any harm. We'll burnt it off tomorrow right?Situated in Santa Barbara county to the north of LA, the Figueroa Mountain loop consists of almost 1,500 metres of climbing. That should put the Donut Man in his place and it's also enough to know that it won't be a simple amble through rolling Californian back country.A striking feature of riding Figueroa Mountain is how quickly you feel isolated. There is almost no traffic to speak of, and as you climb and look out over the endless landscapes, civilisation feels like a very long way away. Empty roads and endorphins sometimes result in sprints. LA lesson number two - never take on a state champ. America is big and the pool of talent is deep.As we approach the summit the views begin to disappear behind trees, and by the time we're at the top there is nothing to see other than the trees in front of us - shades of our own Turini. And just like Turini, within minutes of descending the views return, stretching out for miles.Once we reach the bottom The Donut Man is a long way from Figueroa Mountain, but it turns out the local brewery is an award-winning beer craft beer heaven. Like the gear-choice on Mount Baldy, it's obligatory.Sixteen fluid ounzes isn't enough. The debrief continues. Who did actually win that sprint? Can a bear really run at 35mph? Were those the best donuts in the world? Is riding in LA as good as the Côte d'Azur? Well, we can't be expected to disloyal, but for sure we can confirm that it doesn't suck.Footnotes: Photography : Christophe Rousseau

Mount Baldy: Montagnes du monde #10 Despite its reputation as an automotive town, L.A. is home to a robust and diverse cycling culture that rivals the most bike-centric of cities. The seemingly-never-ending urban sprawl combined with a desperately-lacking public transportation system has long since spurred a community of self-powered commuters. This, in turn, has given rise to an entire subculture of unsanctioned midnight riders, marathon crashers and fixed gear racers.</p> But carbon conscience commuters and fast flying fixie racers only tell half the story. Escape the maze of one-way streets that make up DTLA (that's Downtown LA to us Euros....), and you’ll find out just how much this town doesn’t suck for cycling at all. Even for those born and raised here, if you haven’t spent much time on two wheels, you might find it hard to believe that the town we call La La Land could be home to some of the best road cycling climbs in the country but the fact remains — it is.Mere miles north of the smog and insomnia that defines the Los Angeles basin sits perhaps the most prime example — Mt. San Antonio, or as it is colloquially and more commonly referred to, Mt. Badly. Nicknamed for the absence of trees near its summit, the majestic mountain rises above the Angeles National Forest to a peak of 10,046 feet, which marks the highest point in both the San Gabriel Mountains and Los Angeles County. On clear days its oft-snow-capped peak dominates the skyline to the north, rendering the city’s man-made monuments diminutive by contrast. Two paved arteries approach the peak before eventually converging. One stout and unforgiving, one scenic and unforgettable. Both iconic in their own right.     Serious riders on the hunt for a pure and potent climb aim for Mt. Baldy Road, while Glendora Ridge Road by way of Glendora Mountain Road provides a meandering route for the endurance inclined. Both have played host to some of the biggest names in cycling with repeat appearances in the multi-stage Tour of California. The Mt. Baldy Road climb is among the most difficult in the region. Ascending first gradually and then almost vertically, with an elevation change of 4,600 feet over 12.7 miles, it contains segments that have drawn comparisons to the famed Alpe d’Huez. Choose the picturesque Glendora Mountain Road route (better known to locals as GMR) to dilute your rate of ascension but, elevation evasion being a zero-sum game, you’ll pay it all back in distance. Following the GMR route all the way to top you’ll cover approximately 27 miles and undergo an elevation change of over 5,000 feet. After 10 miles of twisting upward on perfectly manicured bitumen, take the right side of the fork in the road to transition to Glendora Ridge Road. It’s here that the hum of motorsport hobbyists becomes a distant drone soon replaced by breathtaking panoramic views that will crane the necks of even the most pious watt watchers. After a 12-mile traverse over the undulating ridge, just when you’ve consigned the City of Angels to oblivion, you’ll breathe in one last heavenly view of the now-distant metropolis before gliding into the town of Mt. Baldy and onto its eponymous road.Baldy Village, as some call it, is a prohibition-era watering hole turned ski resort town. With its four 1952-installed lifts still operating, the vintage winter town comes alive in the snowy season. Come warmer days it feels more like the scene of a zombie apocalypse, only the army of undead are fully equipped with Garmins and Bonk Bars. Should you find yourself low on rations, Mt. Baldy Lodge is the place to carb up. The perfectly preserved 1970’s alpine relic is frequented by cycling transients for its solid if straightforward breakfast fare but, if you plan to make it to the top, don’t weigh yourself down just yet. Instead, top off your bidons at the filling station out front and keep going. For those who came to earn their stripes, the famed Baldy ski lifts, just under 5 miles up the road, mark the final destination but don’t be fooled by proximity. This last stretch of road will no doubt be the toughest part of your day. Take into account that you’re starting from an elevation of 4,200 feet and what energy you’ve already expended to get to this point and the matter is only compounded. Ascending over 2100 feet in approximately 4.6 miles with an average grade of 8.6%, this final segment has served as the mountaintop finish for the Tour of California’s queen stage where it was officially dubbed a Hors Catégorie climb. Between Icehouse Canyon and Manker Flats, you’ll find the infamous Baldy Switchbacks, whereupon the surrounding vegetation distinctly morphs, but most find it hard to notice or care as they rise over 1,000 feet in under 2 miles. Then, as if the thinning air weren’t punishment enough, the final approach ramps to an average pitch of 15% in what almost seems like a last-ditch effort to deter you from the prize at hand. Your angle will level off markedly upon reaching the parking lot but continue on to the lifts to truly and fully culminate the climb. Once there, stop to catch your breath and appreciate what you have just accomplished. Snap a few well-earned shots to begin your own career as an L.A. cycling evangelist and if you’re up for even more elevation gain, take the lifts to the Top of the Notch Restaurant. If you’re not in a rush to get back to the big city grind, choose GMR for your descent. With its broad sweeping curves, epic scenery and a perfectly cambered blacktop that lets you carve into each inside turn with confidence, it’s one you won’t soon forget. That this precious terrain is a product of the geological fault lines running beneath it is incidental, but it bears mentioning if only to point out the irony —the very reason so many would never dream of putting down roots in this city is deeply intertwined with the very reason some would never dream of leaving. An idyllic blend of mountainous topography, urban energy, and sun-soaked coastline make it an unlikely playground for weekend warriors and other split-personality types. Is it perfect? Far from it. In fact, it sucks for a lot of things, but cycling just doesn’t happen to be one of them.Read more about iconic climbs around the world in our Montagnes du Monde series. CLAIM THE BADGE VIA STRAVA Footnotes: Photography by Tyler Isaccson // Video by Unbundled Underground

A short form of adventure It’s 0715 and we’re packing up camp when the dogs arrive. Their owners do not. Instead the whine of a whistle from behind the trees summons the dogs back. Suddenly, just as seat-packs and frame bags are closed, a rifle shot pierces the silence to the west. Before we know what’s happening three more crack on the other side of the valley to the east, filling our camp spot with reverberations of gun shots. We are IN THE MIDDLE of a sanglier hunt being conducted by men clad in bright orange camouflage clothing. And we are all in black and navy kit and carrying tan coloured luggage, Simon is even on a camo green bike with matching camo green shoes. Time to ride, fast. Adventure. In the days of navigation computers full of carefully plotted GPS files, border crossing ultra events and customized guided tours, it’s easy to feel the need to go long and far to find adventure. More can be more but that requires time commitment, that is not always possible. Sometimes adventure needs a rethink. And so it is that we found ourselves riding a gravel double track through a mountainside peppered with men pointing rifles through the bushes at every moving object that might be turned into stew. It makes the climb back up the DFCI (remember them from Ventoux’s G-Side) to the Col de l’Espigoulier more focussed.Credit and inspiration for this micro adventure from Marseille to its mountains behind goes to James Olsen and Andy Cox. James is the founder of the Torino-Nice Rally and Andy Cox aka @doubletrackfanatic is a nomad adventurer of Europe and, currently, America. Both suggested the ‘over-nighter’ during discussions last summer. ‘You can leave your desk at the end of the working day and be setting up camp for sunset in a matter of hours’. Escape civilisation, dine on a grassy terrace at sunset, marvel at clear star-lit skies, wake up with the birds, brew some coffee on the stove and then ride back to be at your desk before you can say ‘Trans Continental’. Currently in France, adventure can start as soon as you get out the door. The Gilet Jaunes’ campaign of disruption is in full swing and in a town with a history like Marseille who knows when things might boil over. But Simon and Matthieu are residents and they are not perturbed. Simon is a Parisien who, since his arrival in the South has fallen in love with the adventure side of cycling. Matthieu did so some time ago and is a two-times TCR veteran. Both of them are designers and both of them love drawing traces far and wide from Marseille’s centre. Arriving in Gémenos after the suicide run out of Marseille through industrial estates and commercial centres is like crossing a great divide from city to rural Provence in an instant. It brings that feeling of leaving all the clutter of work and city life behind. Gémenos has only one open boulangerie, a central fountain and low winter sun casting light and shadows on pastel coloured walls that are peppered with classic coloured wooden shutters. It’s too tempting not to take a coffee and watch local life sleepily canter by. Don’t get comfortable. Not only does that ethos apply to the café stop, but it touches on the ethos of the trip. To never stop adventuring in whatever form that might be. It’s that constant state of wonder mentality, which is assisted by the slower pace of a loaded bike. Added to which is the practicality of testing equipment for the longer haul.The Col de l’Espigoulier is only 40km north of Marseille and is the peak of Massif de la Sainte-Baume. Having featured in the Tour de France, Paris-Nice and the Tour de la Provence, it’s as fine an example of French road building that you will find this side of Mont Ventoux. A perfectly smooth surface with curves that gently wind their way up the hill, punctuated by a set of switchbacks lying like a dormant snake in the middle of the mountain. It’s known to every self-respecting cyclist in the South’s infamous town as the get out of dodge climbing option that offers panoramic views of the bay below. With a gravel chemin laid on the south face, it’s a fitting destination for the compact camping escape. As with every all-road adventure, the ride doesn’t stop at the tarmac summit. Because there is a D.F.C.I. - les voies de défense des forêts contre l’incendie - you might remember the D.F.C.I. from our Ventoux G-side adventure. They are the double-track solution to finding space and quiet. And in this case, a great camping spot tucked in the wrinkles of the south face of the mountain. This particular piste serves up a set of switchbacks that offer a picturesque panorama of the bay of Marseille as they traverse a ridge. The sun is on its descent and it’s one of those evenings when the sky is sandwiched between the sea and a blanket of cloud, creating contrasting layers of soft light refracted into a spectrum of grey, blue and orange tones. Exactly what the mini-adventurer ordered. Camp is to be made. And it is found beside the Refuge de Tuny, a typical French communal shelter in which there is a fireplace, a wooden table and an old cupboard dresser with assorted left-behinds of condiments, dried meats and half-packets of pasta. It smells of smoke and dirt but in the mid-winter we imagine that there are more animals than people through the door each day. Tents are raised, lightweight mattresses inflated and sacks of smart synthetic fabrics are put inside one another to ward off the cold. And the fire. Camping man must make fire… Not in December. Wood, unless prepared in a shelter for many weeks, is fundamentally and permanently damp. After many attempts, no spark will catch and a rechaud (camping stove) replaces the real thing as dark becomes darker.Turning in, the wind begins to howl. Not constantly, but in waves that seem to trace the contours of the mountain. It catches the tips of the trees first, then begins to shake them to the trunk before seemingly attempting a twister on the empty ground between the tents. This is Marseille, and this is the mistral. It’s only at 2am that thoughts begin to wonder towards the dry stone walls of the refuge just metres away. But that would mean de-camping everything and letting the cold in. Better to snooze it out as best as possible. Waking, sleeping, waking, sleeping, snoozing, waking, sleeping, waking, snoozing. And then first light. If anything is worth sacrificing your double mattress and duvet for, surely it is first light. Just make sure there is coffee. Out here it doesn’t need to be the finest crema-laiden espresso. As long it’s hot and with a hint of caffine, it is good. And then came the dogs, and the guns and the fear of imminent death. Arriving back at the Col and the mistral is blowing from west to east so strong that it’s hard to ride. Time to get down to the flat. Descending the Espigoulier is to understand why the moto-riders also flock to this road. Fast and flowing down the mountain means operating systems are now fully awake at the bottom. There is work to be done back home, but not quite yet. Let’s take the long way back to town, via Cassis and the Col de la Gineste. The Gineste gets the day’s effort on the bike done and then serves up views of Marseille as the road swoops down towards the city. At the bottom of Avenue du Prado we pass a replica statue of Michaelangelo’s David, made by local sculptor and Marseillais philanthropist Jules Cantini. It’s one of many copies of the famous man; a likeness of the original. For visitors to the city it’s a noteworthy surprise in an odd location. Back at their desks, bright eyed and heads showered, Simon and Matthieu begin to draw the forms of all their 2019 Adventures. Each has his idea of the perfect form but there will be many different likenesses created, including more ‘compact camper’ mini-adventures like this one. Footnotes: Photography by Benedict Campbell

Toros de Gravel Sa Calobra, Puig Major, Formentor, Soller. These are what Mallorca is known for. Until, that is, the first edition of Toros de Gravel which promised to open up the looser side of The Island. With a new base in Palma and a penchant for the rough stuff it was an event we could not miss.A festival style camp had been erected in Sineu for the long weekend which centered around the 140km main event. Maybe only the organisers truly knew what lay in store as a mixture of industry influencers, gravel connoisseurs and local ‘newbies’ crossed the start line. The Mallorquin countryside revealed itself gradually as the early morning mist lifted. As always, initial excitement and adrenalin meant the first sector to checkpoint one passed quickly. A “trozo” of ensaïmada, a traditional Mallorquin brioche-kind of pastry, served as brunch but it wasn’t enough for one Catalan who decided it was beer time. With another 110km on the clock, it was a brave choice. From Campos to the coast was the first introduction of steep climbing and white-knuckle descending. It’s savagely beautiful landscape and the riding reflects it. This gravel is rough and technical and things begin to get really difficult. Enjoyment has to be merited to a certain degree by a mixture of fitness and bike-handling abilities. Eventually the topography softened, terracotta fields are outlined by the white dusty tracks upon which we glide. Sheep were strewn among the olive trees, their wool tainted rust by the dust. The gravel has taken us away from the main arteries of the island into a landscape where time has evidently stood still for many years. The mid way food station came as a relief and a necessity. It is, in keeping with the event, not your ordinary sportive offering. Bread with olive paste, sweets, vermouth and red wine made for an eclectic lunch. You could be excused for kicking back and relaxing, if it were not for extremity of the first gravel section.The beauty however, and the reason for gravel bikes instead of MTBs, is the ability to enjoy rolling on the tarmac whilst getting a substantial block of kilometres under the tyres. We ride on the coast, almost blinded by the reflection of the sun on the Balearic Sea. As enjoyable as it is, it was time to re-engage gravel mode. We headed for the hills…What is for sure is that 10kms of off-road sans suspendu is worth at least 20kms on surfaced roads. For the uninitiated gravel in the mountains takes its toll and some begin to abandon. But the fun is in the mix of the technical and the physical challenge found on the tracks.In between the trees we not only find respite from the onmnipresnt wind but also the endorphin highs of adventuring into somewhere completely unknown. It’s a special feeling, made possible by this event and the bikes we are riding which are built for the job out of more forgiving titanium. We find a placebo effect in their aesthetic allure. Anything to get us to the finish line. Eight hours in and we reach the final checkpoint which offers wine, vermouth or water to wash down the salt and olive oil bread. Sense prevails, thankfully, before the final off-road test. Maybe to inject adrenalin into tired bodies, the organisers have included a rocky single-track descent. It works, for a while, until a ground tree causes an unplanned somersault. It's the highlight of an incident-packed day. Despite the dusk, the silhouettes of the Sineu rooftops were perceptible beyond the fields. Mounting lights at the start of the day was a good idea, as we ride into town and begin to hear the sounds of festivities of those who finished ahead of us. After a neo-trademark victory lap around the Sineu Velodrome, encouraged by earlier arrivals, we finally unclipped. Queue inner relief and a budding sense of pride. The only things still to be ridden: the mechanic bull and the train home. Photography : Arrière du Peloton