Gravel-Touren auf Mallorca – Von Sand zu Staub In einem Nationalpark anzufangen deutet immer auf eine gute Tour. Der Parque Natural d’Albufera liegt südlich von Alcudia. Hierhin ziehen die Vögel genauso wie die Radsportler aus Nordeuropa. Wenn Sie den Park verlassen, gelangen Sie auf Landwirtschaftswege, diese können entweder gepflastert und eng sein, mit Steinmauern als äußere Begrenzung, oder ungepflastert mit Gras in der Mitte. Die Tour durchstreift das Städtchen Muro. Französische und italienische Radsportler erkennen die Bedeutung des Stadtnamens, der tatsächlich auch im Spanischen „Mauer“ bedeutet. Allerdings finden Sie auf dieser flachen Fahrt ins Landesinnere lediglich klassisch mallorquinische Sandsteinmauern. Zählen Sie die Windmühlen, die die traditionellere Lebensweise kennzeichnen, welche erst unlängst verloren gegangen ist. Ein Gerücht besagt, dass einer der besten Syrah-Weine der Insel hier in der Nähe gekeltert wird… key kitUnser Barbara Radsport-Jersey ist speziell für die Fahrten auf Schotter und losem Untergrund designet. Barbaras Ärmel sind dreiviertel lang, und sie besitzt eine etwas lockerere Passform für eine bessere Luftzirkulation, wenn es in den Ebenen heiß wird. JERSEY ZEIGEN FAHRTERKENNTNISSEDer Schotter ist relativ eben mit ein paar felsigen Stellen. Wenn es regnet, kann der Weg schlammig werden. Schwierigkeitsgrad 5/10 Bei Strava ansehen 1 - DIE ROUTE GPX HERUNTERLADEN Please login or create an account to download file. 2 – MIETEN UND FAHRENReisen Sie mit leichtem Gepäck und buchen Sie Ihr Bike! Über unsere Partner von Bikecamp können Sie, wie in Nizza, das Cervélo Aspéro mieten. Somit erhalten Sie das beste Equipment, um die Insel zu erforschen. Touren sind für diejenigen erhältlich, die es bevorzugen, sich darauf zu konzentrieren, stark in die Pedale zu treten und sich dabei die Landschaft anzusehen.ZUR SEITE VON BIKECAMP 3 – DAS GESCHÄFTUnser mallorquinisches Geschäft befindet sich an der Plaça del Rosarí in Palma und liegt damit lediglich 15 Autominuten vom Flughafen und 40 Fahrradminuten vom Coll de Sa Creu entfernt. Im Geschäft finden Sie das volle Sortiment von Café du Cycliste, Qualitätskaffee, einen großen Bildschirm, um Rennen anzusehen und außerdem freundliche Gesichter, die Touren sowie Restaurants empfehlen.Finden Sie uns an der: Plaça del Rosarí 5 07001 Palma Mallorca-Gravel Kleine Wege umgeben von Trocken-Steinmauern, Feldwege, antike Strecken und felsige Anstiege - Mallorcas Gravel-Seite ist genauso variantenreich, wie schön. Auf dem Inca Pfad Eine Rundtour, die über hügelige Landschaften ins Herz der Insel bis zu einem mittelalterlichen Dorf führt. TOUR ANSEHEN Von Sineu zu den Bergen Von der Abgeschiedenheit Sineus in das Tramuntana-Gebirge. TOUR ANSEHEN GRAVEL LOOKBOOK Lassen Sie sich von den Schnappschüssen und Aussichten von Mallorcas Gravel-Seite in unserem Lookbook inspirieren. Lookbook zeigen WAS IST GRAVEL? Die Frage zu beantworten, was der Gravel-Radsport eigentlich ist, kann auch erklären warum er existiert und warum Sie ihn ausprobieren sollten. LOCKERE ANTWORTEN MEHR GRAVEL, MEHR MALLORCA? Wenn die raue Seite Mallorcas Sie fasziniert, dann planen Sie doch Ihre nächste Reise mit Hilfe von Riviera Gravel, und entdecken Sie die weniger befahrenen Strecken der Seealpen. RIVIERA GRAVEL Ist es Zeit für die sanftere Seite? Finden Sie die besten Routen des Straßenradsports und einige versteckte Glanzstücke mit Hilfe unseres Insel-Guides. Mallorca-Radsport-Guide Irgendwo zwischen dem Himmel, der frischen Luft und der tiefen, blauen See. Das Flying Fish Abzeichen markiert alle unsere Kleidungsstücke, die für Fahrten abseits der befahrenen Strecken konzipiert wurden.Kaufen Sie die Kollektion!

Col de Braus By All Roads One mountain, multiple choices. Riding the Col de Braus in December. Sometimes when faced with a black and white choice between two options, the best solution is to ignore the binary restraints of the question and take both.Spring or Autumn? Both. Single ring or double-crankset? Both. Day ride or night ride? Both.Col de Braus by gravel or road? Both.This is perhaps the mindset of the evergreen cyclist. There are 365 days in the year so things would quickly become monotonous if the same roads were ridden on the same bike day in day out. Variation and all that...As deep autumn becomes early winter, the weather changes its opinion every hour (at least in the back-country) and the days get shorter, having a certain adaptability plays to your advantage. Keeping your options open means you can keep riding and keep fit and keep on keeping on.Gravel is good when conditions are wet and / or windy. Routes forestières offer their canopies for shelter. And of course, in autumn those canopies are looking their multi-coloured best. The mountains are seemingly even more peaceful, with the crunch of knobbly tyres rolling over the stones below being the only audible noise.This is when the summer exploration and route finding pays off - you already know the loop from Sospel, up the Chemin de Paraïs to the Col de Braus and can focus on the job at hand rather than worrying about getting lost or being late for that daube de sanglier that's waiting on the stove.The loose switchbacks offer a fresh perspective, a sense of mini-adventure and at this time of year it's as if the only other life here is whatever wildlife is seeking heat and shelter in the undergrowth. The chemins also require not insignificant effort - just ask anyone who has climbed a col on the rough stuff. It has been argued that one hour on gravel equals three on the road.That is not to say the road is the easy option, of course. It's a question of how much coal you put on the fire. In late November that may depend on personal objectives. Are you thinking of L’Étape du Tour 2020? Intervals on the 10km climb of Braus from L’Escarène will form a good base.What is for sure is that, at this time of year, there is solitude to be found on the surfaced roads. The groups of touring motos, classic car rallies, and camping cars are gone, leaving the year-round cyclist almost completely alone. The 1,002m summit of the Col de Braus is the unofficial ceiling of cold season riding on the Côte d'Azur, but you can go higher if mother nature is on your side on the day you choose to take the smoother option.If legs and skies allow, the local secret is to take a left before the summit of Col de Braus. It's a 'link road' to the western side of the Col de Turini that ticks off another two cols - Ablé and Orme - for those who are counting the notches on their seatposts...The question when you get to the other side is whether a full Turini is possible. At 1,607m things can get icy up top at this time of year.Whatever your choice, what is sure is that the current season tends to be a time when most cyclists mix up their routine and their cycling disciplines, especially those who cannot or will not stay indoors on a home trainer.Despite its sunny reputation, autumn and winter riding in the Alpes-Maritimes is some of the most rewarding me-time you can get, on smooth roads or loose tracks. There is a reason it's referred to as a playground.Pick your option for some winter Riviera riding from the surfaced cols of Nos Montagnes à la Carte or the double tracks of Riviera Gravel.Or, of course, both.

Born To Ride – Les Citadelles Born To Ride is Chilkoot’s gold standard annual ‘big one’. Like a mini-TCR that traverses a smaller part of western Europe, the name tag speaks about its participants almost as much as their riding does. PCR Gravier members Simon and Arthur decided it was time to commit and test their ability to keep on keeping on. Last October Arthur and I we decided to join the famous Chilkoot Born To Ride Adventure. Entries sold like hot cakes and we didn't really take the time to consider if it was a good idea or collective suicide. We only knew that it was a solid but not insurmountable challenge, that the road would be beautiful, the views breathtaking and the sun would shine. Oh wait! 'Knock Knock Knock -Who’s there? -Me llamo Miguel, the storm! -Oh sh*t...” 1- THE NIGHT Everything starts at night time in the citadel of Montmedy. It's almost 10pm. Men, women and bikes are sharpened like never before and after several hours waiting in a cold wind, the start of this BTR is like a deliverance. We will finally be able put an end to this (too) long period of preparation and jusg ride - 1200 kilometres further south towards Ramatuelle, in 120 hours maximum. You do the math. The benefit of a group start is that there are a lot of wheels to help hide from the wind and also a lot of friends to chat with. So they told us. Kilometre 1 of 1327 'Flap Flap Flap Flap... - Simon, flat tire!” The adventure has begun. Our duo registration makes sense at this very moment. The different groups pass us and here we are, the two red lanterns of this BTR. Good thing we didn't plan to sleep tonight!We chase the entire field of other riders and find it intense and a little dreamlike as we ride through the night. Sunrise and the first bakery open in Chateauneuf. It looks like a war hospital full of broken riders who are already talking about quitting, sick of cycling after a 160km nightshift. At that point Arthur and I make a promise to each other : to keep the fun going whatever it takes. Like beavers, we will create a small dam against bad vibes and we will follow the fun flow until Ramatuelle! We stretch our legs and smile. A new day can begin.2- THE GREAT OUTDOORS According to Météo France, the event’s first twelve hours of daylight may be our only sunny day, so we're going to make the most of it. We ride long straight lines to make progress, despite the head wind and find ourselves in a pizza party with a group that includes the famous long distance fixie rider, Thierry Saint Léger. Post-pizza, the party splits into groups, maybe rated by speed of digestion. In the afternoon we are caught up by Elisabeth and some good riders for a prestigious ride to CP1 in Besançon via a fountain which helps wake up our legs. The riding is good. Kilometre 300 of 1327 “This croque-monsieur combo won't be refused!” Another party, this time a bar, this croque-monsieurs. Even if we love it, Arthur and I think this is not the time to chill. It’s 6pm and we depart towards Pontarlier through the best of what the Haut Doubs has to offer : liquid sunshine with some gravel tracks as a bonus. The concentration of fun begins to dilute as the fatigue builds, but as the gps announces 360km, we find ourselves quite happy with what is our longest stretch in the saddle ever. We made the most of the good weather and reward ourselves with a hotel room.3- THE RAIN Fresh as unwashed bibshorts after only 5 hours of sleep, we started the next stage with a daybreak bakery robbery. It’s a storm of croissants and pains au chocolat After leaving Pontarlier, we arrive in Switzerland via an amazing descent to discover that this country – at least at this time - is wet. So we equip ourselves: hood under the helmet, overshoes, leg warmers. It’s ‘no swag’ mode for the rain.... In fact, these outfits will be our party suits for the next 3 days. Wet is wet, you might as well just pedal. We make it to castle of Gruyère, aka the second checkpoint of this BTR. There are cars and tourist everywhere and it rains to death, so we mark our arrival as best we can with soaked selfies. Time to escape for peace and some warmth during the ascent of the Grand Saint Bernard pass……FALSE! Our friend Julien, who has just arrived at CP2, announces that the pass is closed and we’ll have to go around. Race organisers send an official message to confirm the situation.Kilometre 460 out of 1327 'Riding here without taking the col is like having a Playstation but without the games, it's useless...” An 8-metre-long kebab not far from the castle will clear our minds. We take the opportunity to dry a little and make an express map on Komoot towards Albertville along Lake Geneva. It’s the only logical option to bypass the big mountain passes but our adventure has just been extended by 150 km. It raises doubts about following ‘official advice’. We stay behind the bars until 3am. The last 20km of a 300km day are the longest, but with a lot of patience we finally reach Albertville. Happy but relatively toasted, we have to sleep a minimum to avoid exploding the next day. The alarm will ring at 7 o'clock, then we will go break into another bakery, before the mountain. We're also going to recruit a new riding partner.4- THE MEETING One of the well-known beauties of long-distance cycling are the random encounters with unknown riders. We’d exchanged some messages then some face to face chat with Julien between the start and CPs 1 and 2. It was clear we shared the same outlook on this crazy adventure so when we learned he’d been abandoned by his fellow traveller it was obvious what to do. We stopped, ordered our 32nd BTR coffee and all of a sudden two became three. Strength in numbers is good to get through the Maurienne Valley – it’s the gateway to a luxury playground for cyclists but the valley itself is so boring it would be boring to describe it….but at least we got to know Julien and set the goal for the day the CP3 aka La Sacra Di San Michele. This objective was confused by a new message from the race organization, with the same theme as before – bad weather means we should avoid CP3, group together as a peloton and keep to the valleys for warmer conditions. Arthur: 'Wait, didn't we come to do the BTR?” Julien: 'What does it say in front of us? Is the weather that bad?' Simon: 'Wait chief, I'm taking out my joker call to a friend!' I speak with Matthieu who is ahead on the road, “do as you wish... but if you come, be prepared because it's real sh*t up on Mont Cenis!”5- MIGUEL (the storm not Indurain…) 'F*ck it, let's go!” Our decision to go against the race organiser’s advice is almost immediately validated as crazy. A 5-star rain shower leads to a rock fall just outside Fourneaux. After that I started counting the seconds between the lightning flashes in the sky and the heavy rumble of thunder. Kilometre 800 out of 1327 The storm: 'Lightning, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6... Grumble!” Me: 'It's all right, guys, it’s far away, we’re at least 6 kilometers ahead!” The storm: 'Lightning, 1,... GRUUUUUMBLE! : Me: 'Ok then! Maybe we're a bit closer after all!” . We decide to take a shelter for 10 minutes, to eat an energy bar and give this storm the time to get a few lengths ahead. It seems our plan has worked as we hit the ascent of Mont-Cenis. Nothing really insurmountable after all! The climb is hard, yes, but with a lot of music and peanuts, I tell you that you can climb anything. As we approach the summit, we felt like we have won a small battle against Mother Nature.Wrong. The storm was waiting for us quietly on the other side of the mountain. Wind from hell, fog reducing visibility to 2 metres, below freezing temperatures and as a bonus, a very solid hail. What followed were the worst 30km of our cycling lives. We shiver and tense as we have to brake continuously for almost the entire descent down the road that resembles a river. Finally we start to regain 1°C here and then another one there as the elevation drops. We're warming up physically but mentally that was a tough one. One thing is sure, in the first town, we're going to take a hotel. Susa, Italy. First street on the right, there is a 3-star hotel. Perfect. We hug each other, happy to be alive, as François Paoletti and Sylvain Renouf arrive behind us. Almost identical experiences led to almost identical planning between the five of us. In the end, it leads to a perfect evening: a life-saving shower and a big beer-pizza combo whilst recounting to each other all our misadventures of the day. We've rarely felt so alive! The next morning, everything is softer. We will ride dry and at a good pace (thanks to the 'Paolletti express') to the most beautiful of abbeys: La Sacra Si San Michele to check CP3. We take a souvenir photo and a 5-star Italian breakfast next to the Abbey! But let’s not lie to each other; after 860 km by bike, most food is delicious.6- THE MUD The last checkpoint is located at Château Queyras, in the Guil valley which is located on the other side of the Col d’Izoard. The day before, during the storm, we receive another official message from the race organizer to say the Valley is blocked by five mudslides and therefore CP4 is closed, with its four volunteers stranded until authorities clear the road. However, from our view the sky is clear and we’re told that the locals are working hard to shift the mud. It would be a shame to pass so close to the last checkpoint without checking it. Time to call Matthieu again…. 'It's ok! Get over here and stamp this last f*cking checkpoint! There won't be many to check this one...' It was the motivation we needed to go where others wouldn’t. We finish the climb to Montgenèvre with the famous tunnel, bomb down to Briançon before turning left to Guillestre towards our mud bath. Despite being painted brown from head to toe we make it to CP4. Heavy rain combined with mudslides = a complete mudbath. We are three shades of brown but we still managed to laugh about it as the joke per kilometre ratio was maintained. Because there was only one other option : crying. Kilometre 1000 out of 1327 Arriving at CP4, we saw a competitor arriving in the opposite direction. He looks all clean, so we ask him where he's coming from. He turns around and points behind him to the col Agnel and says: 'I went through the col da-da-gnélo I don't know what’s the name! I got cold up there!” We laugh and admire him in equal measure – long distance audaciousness is all relative. We check in at Chateau Queyras, then finish the armagnac flask to warm up the bodies before a muddy descent to the Serre-Ponçon lake for a last short recovery position around midnight. One day to go.7- FINISHING Four hours of sleep. It's raining outside. We’re trying to finish within the 120hr race time. We’re daunted and excited at the prospect of the final day. Matthieu, François and Sylvain were waiting for us in Sisteron so we can ride to the finish together in style, but we will be too late for that. All the efforts of the past days and kilometres begin to take their toll. I am running on empty just two kilometers after breakfast: no more juice, nothing left and creeping doubts. Fortunately Julien ushers me with finesse to the café: Kilometre 1132 out of 1327 'Ahaha, you look like sh*t dude! Come on, let’s kill some croissants and coffees!” 30 minutes later, with the bags full of food we left, and rode into a full summer afternoon. Short sleeves, blue sky. Everything is great. Except maybe for Arthur. His knee hurts like hell but with 100km to go, there's no way he’ll quit. He grits his teeth all the way to Vidauban for BTR coffee #126 before the final push, on the most beautiful roads of the Haut-Var, towards the sunset. As all roads lead to the Ramatuelle for the last stamp to finish this BTR 2019 with a full Brevet card – we are three of only 35 riders to tick off every CP. Now for beers and a beach bivouac with our fellow riders in the pleasurable climate of the south coast. Kilometre 1327 out of 1327 'The ultimate finish. Cheers!” Distance : 1327 km Elevation : 13276 D+ Elapsed Time : 4 days, 22 hours, 7 minutes

WAS IST GRAVEL-RADSPORT? Bei unserer wachsenden Gravel-Kollektion ist das wirklich eine gut gestellte Frage und gleichzeitig ist sie kompliziert zu beantworten. Oder sollten wir sagen: Die Definition des Gravel-Radsports ist umfangreich. Gravel ist alles für alle Fahrer. Der Gravel-Radsport kann das sein, was Sie daraus machen wollen. Gravel-Riding ist wie der fliegende Fisch selbst: Er überspannt Welten.Gravel ist auf und abseits der Straße zu Hause; abseits der Straße wegen des Abenteuers und um in abgelegenere Teile der Welt zu entfliehen, auf der Straße um von zu Hause aus anfangen zu können, um zur Off-Road-Strecke zu gelangen, um Sektoren zu verbinden, um bei kurzen Fahrten Entfernungen zurückzulegen oder damit man Mehrtagestouren unternehmen kann. Das Prinzip dahinter ist, dass Gravel-Radsport auf allen Arten von Wegen zu Hause ist. Sehen Sie hier die Torino-Nizza Ralley als Beleg.Zum Gravel gehören ein- sowie zweispurige Strecken oder, in anderen Worten, alles, was Ihre Reifen, Ihr Bike, Ihre Fähigkeiten auf dem Rad zulassen werden. Das Prinzip ist von einer neuen Oberflächenbeschaffenheit herausgefordert zu werden, so dass man von der sportlichen Anstrengung abgelenkt werden kann. Schauen Sie sich das Grinduro als Beispiel an.Gravel ist Radfahren, aber auch nicht Radfahren. „Hike-a-Bike” nennen sie es, wenn das Radfahren aufhört und das Wandern mit geschultertem Rad beginnt. Das Prinzip dahinter ist, dass Gravel Sie weiterbringt, also „further”. Damit ist selbstverständlich Further unser heiliger Beleg. Der Gravel-Radsport ist ein Rennen und gleichzeitig kein Rennen. Abhängig davon wie geübt Sie im Radsport sind, was Ihre Zielsetzung ist, Ihr Bedürfnis, gibt es Rennwettbewerbe, freie Waldstrecken, alte Wege, die versteckt in den Bergen liegen, Ein-Tags-Rundum-Hammertouren und Abenteuer-Rallyes von einem Punkt zum anderen. Das Prinzip dahinter ist, dass Sie selbst entscheiden können. Sehen Sie Dirty Kanza and the Torino-Nizza Rallye als Beispiel.Gravel ist ein altes Rad oder ein neues Bike. Ein Cyclocrossrad, ein stabiles Mountainbike, oder eine neuzeitliche leichte, völlig anpassbare 5000€ Karbon-Maschine für alles. Legen Sie Ihr Budget fest und wählen Sie nach Ihrem Verlangen. Das Prinzip dahinter: Gravel ist eine Entschuldigung für ein neues Fahrrad. Sehen Sie sich Rémis maßgefertigte Victoire Fahrräder als Beispiel an.Gravel bedeutet dicke und noch dickere Bereifung. Die Standardbreite der Straßenreifen ist breiter geworden. Die Standardbreite der Gravel-Reifen muss noch definiert werden. Das wird vielleicht niemals geschehen. Ein Radsportler sagte einst: „Dicke Reifen machen mich glücklich.“ Hier gilt das Prinzip, dass die Gravel-Bereifung dicker ist als die für die Straße, und das wird in der Tat Ihre Erfahrung verbessern. Schauen Sie sich Benedict Campbell als Beleg an.Gravel-Radsport bringt einfach puren, direkten Spaß (Type 1 Fun) beim Fahren aber auch Spaß hinterher (Type 2 Fun). Es ist diese schnelle, fließende, einspurige Strecke neben der Bahn, die überraschender Weise nach der Bücke sehr steil abfällt. Es ist auch dieses Festival der Leiden auf dem Weg zum Berggipfel mit einem beladenen Bike auf den Schultern und die anschließende Talfahrt über die Brocken einer alten, römischen Straße, die die Zähne herausschüttelt und die Unterarme hart arbeiten lässt. Das Prinzip dahinter ist, dass Endorphine und Adrenalin ausgestoßen werden. Über die Dosis entscheiden Sie selbst. Als Referenz sehen Sie sich das Urban Dictionary an.Gravel ist überall und nirgendwo. Es ist der Schlepppfad auf dem Weg zur Arbeit , es ist eine normale Straße in Island, ein Wald in Schottland, ein Militärweg in den maritimen Alpen oder ein alter Schmuggelpfad durch die Pyrenäen. Das Prinzip dahinter ist, dass Sie es selbst finden und sich gleichzeitig selbst verlieren im Augenblick, in den Bergen, in Ihrem Kopf. Sehen Sie sich selbst als Referenz.Zusammengefasst bedeutet Gravel Freiheit, Abenteuer und Abwechslung, egal auf welche Weise man ihn angeht. Gravel-Riding ist ein bewegliches Objekt und vielleicht eine Einstellungssache. Wie auch immer Ihre Gravel Entscheidungen seien mögen, hoffentlich gibt es etwas für jeden in unserer Gravel-Kollektion.

Sainte Victoire Super Camper Manivelle.cc & @sims_teuteul arrive home after a season of traversing Europe, fixing cameras on Tour de France bikes and general cycling flânerie and do what comes naturally : find another form of adventureSummer was rich. Crossing Europe twice on the Born to Ride and the Transcontinental Race, after all the necessary training, the kilometers have marched as fast as the forests, the mountains, the borders and all the those in-the-saddle moments that flash by to become core memories after the fact.A welcoming bar, a bakery, a village square, a ridge in the middle of the mountains. All these pleasures present themselves during a long distance race, but the constant need to keep on keeping on means you can’t hang around.With the end of the season, and the return a la maison, it was time to revert to a shorter form of adventure. Eyes off the clock, watch the sun go down and be still for long enough to see it rise again in the same spot.Midday, Blancarde station, Marseille. Three of us converge. Lucie, Simon and Matthieu.The route is already defined: 50% back roads, 50% forest roads. The ultimate destination is the beginning of the ridgeline of the Montagne Sainte Victoire – the massive rocky outcrop that dominates the view north as you approach Aix-en-Provence. The hope is to find a camp spot with a 360° panorama from the Luberon ridge to the Garlaban ridge.A climb, a break. Round a few more corners, a cereal bar. Three rocks, a debriefing. A village, a bar. This is our rhythm, accompanied by giant views, sun, a reservoir, then two donkeys who will follow us to the bivouac area and become our over-night neighbours.Once camp is set it’s time to be still and listen to what surrounds us. A full moon rises and the story-telling begins, each of us sharing anecdotes from the summer's adventures between two mouthfuls of beer. Or freshly picked herbal tea.The donkeys are still there and I wonder if it is to watch us or if they plot revenge after understanding that we were eating Corsican sausage that Lucie had just brought back from the island.The next day? Just like the day before, start with a smooth return on small back roads before cutting through the mountains on the gravel chemins. It's cafés and coasting with the wind the whole way home.We take a quick beer before the return to daily life but not before making a pact with each other to plan the next escape, a short micro-adventure designed solely to better enjoy what surrounds us. Photography: Manivelle.cc

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!!