La Diagonale Brest to Menton - a cut across France, opening up a wound of bleu, blanc et rouge. Point to point has purpose. A start and a destination, leaving what's behind for another day, looking forward and working constantly on an objective. Gloomy north west to sunny south east, literally going from darkness to light. Diagonal is straight with a sideways slant. Eventually your head turns the same way. Instead of the vanishing point you see the fields, the flowers and the voyage. It is a concrete fact that an autoroute is the worst way to see a country. Side bankings, high speeds and paying for the privilege. Irony upon iron bridges then as an Audax rider crosses nonchalantly above the speeding dots in the middle of a 1,500km quest. Long distance truckers are maybe the only propelled voyagers who share something of the mindset of the audax rider or the randonneur. Daily distance targets, average speed calculations, scheduled stops. Long runs the fox. Night and day. The darkness comes faster and faster as the journey continues and a long time in the saddle turns hours into seconds, and days into hours. Suddenly out of the tunnel, the finish line is within smelling distance. I see the sea, and the sea sees me. And I'm going to get in it as soon as this thing is done. The amphitheatre of Menton bay is a fitting finish. Sit at the end of the strand and look back on everything in one view - the sea, the roads, the contours of the hills and the mountains. And consider if you should get the train, or just ride back...

Global locale: Winter workhorses We love where we ride but we appreciate that cycling isn't about one col, one climb or even one country. Over the coming months we will be adding our support to rides organised by some of our excellent retail partners across the globe. If any of them are where you ride, we - and they - would love to see you. The Schicke Mütze business in Düsseldorf was built on group rides. Led by Carsten, a man with a punk rock history, they shake up the established winter chain-gang format and take participants on a magical mystery tour of the left banks of the Rhine. Global Locale goes to Germany for the “Winterschlampenparade”. THE RDV : SCHICKE MÜTZE There is a very common theme to be found in the best bricks and mortar cycling emporiums around the world. They are a place of enthusiasm for the bicycle. Authentic and passionate. Schicke Mütze joined the growing trend but from a different doorway - from a love of vintage bikes and classic events like L’Eroica. That approach allowed them to come to modern cycling with fresh eyes, that were looking for timeless design. And so it is that you find a bike shop, workshop and café offering curated selection of products, services and coffee under one roof, built by cyclists who are keen to find their own road. THE PELOTON : WINTER WARRIORS If you enter “Winterschlampenparade” into Google translate the result might be slightly surprising. It’s not a reference to the riders, but to their machines. “Winterschlampe” is the pet name for the trusty winter bike, equipped with slightly wider tires and mudguards. The name is a tribute to the workhorses – from the trusty steel road bike, cross bike, singlespeed, and nowadays the modern version - the gravel bike. The only rule is that it must have drop bars – no MTB, touring or pretzel handlebars allowed. Numbers vary from a peloton of 50 people when the winter sun pokes its nose out to a core of ten hardy riders when there’s a constant drizzle and the temperature doesn’t get above three degrees. The overall demographic? Weather-resistant girls and guys of all ages who want to take on the 'Rheinischer Winter' and have two-wheeled fun on Sunday. Like any successful bunch ride it is about people on the same wavelength, in this case those who believe fun does not begin in April and end in September. THE PARCOURS : NOT THE MAIN ROAD Often the Schicke Mütze Winter Parade concentrates on the area between Duisburg, Willich and Rommerskirchen. The route changes every week, but it is always around 75 km long, making a three hour social ride with a strict non-drop policy. The small roads and tracks between the fields are ideal for group rides. Contacts with motorists are rare, encounters with farmers and tractors are more likely. It’s mostly friendly waves and/or bewildered looks from any other hardy souls braving the weather. But that remoteness and slightly rougher surface also means being prepared. When a group of twenty-three people wait for half an hour in continuous rain at five degrees, because someone with a fourteen-year-old cheap tyre has three flats in a row, then looks can kill. So far, there have only been fisticuffs once. THE PRIZES: A Belgian tan, a hot shower, the rest of the day spent on the couch. Enjoying the civilised comforts after experiencing the elements in a different way. Because outside is free and afterwards inside is comfy. LA PROCHAINE Upcoming rides are happening at Cyclingworld, a stylish German Consumer Fair for cyclists. Otherwise there is a road ride on Saturdays and a gravel ride on Sundays almost every weekend from the Schicke Mütze 'clubhouse'. RIDERS' NOTES: Strava File for the Winterschlampenparade - HERE More info on Schicke Mütze HERE, and details of the rides can be found via their Strava Club HERE

La Mercan'Tour The Mercan'Tour National Park is one of France's most untouched and most highly protected nature reserves. The Gran Fondos that share its name have exclusive access each summer to traverse this alpine architecture that lies just a beach pebble's throw from the Riviera. The mountains are calling. Pick your parcours for a summer of curated col collecting. TWIST & TURN ON TURINI, 3rd June 2018 The collection of roads that climb to Col de Turini are a living museum that displays the art of route laying. The fabled switchbacks stack themselves in engineered beauty so cyclists can scale all 1,607m of the col any direction. La Mercan'Tour Turini is based in the mountain village of Saint-Martin Vesubie - 'la Suisse niçois' - and follows a parcours that wraps itself up and around every side of the mountain. Climb the north side, descend the south side and remount from the west in a col-collecting ascent that takes in the Braus, L'Orme and L'Ablé passes, before the second arrival at Turini. Finish with a 12kms drag up the valley before deciding whether or not to make the climb to La Boréon where the wolves of the Alpha Parc des Loups lie in waiting. RIDERS' NOTES: Date - 3rd June 2018 Distance - 85kms / 115kms / 125 kms Elevation - 2,200m / 2,900m / 3,400m TAKE ON TURINI EUROPE'S HIGHEST SPORTIVE17th June 2018 The Col de la Bonette is the silent giant at the centre of the Mercan'Tour series. With the additional height of the Cime (the bitumen lassoo that reaches 2,802m) it's the highest paved pass in Europe. Ride to the roof of the Alps. Starting from the mountain resort of Valberg, traverse to the Tinée valley via the Col de la Couillole before making your way up the valley to the base of the 24kms ascension of Bonette. And if the Cime is cleared of snow, be ready to reach for the sky. Col de la Cayolle is the definition of untouched beauty. Totalling 28kms from Barcelonette, with the third hors catégorie climb done, savour the source of the Var and descend with the river to Guillaumes to face to the final 15kms climb of the Col de Valberg, if you dare. As tough as La Marmotte, possibly more beautiful than any other mountain granfondo in the world. RIDERS' NOTES: Date - 17th June 2018 Distance - 99kms / 175kms / 190 kms Elevation - 1,800m / 3,700m / 4,600m LADIES' GRAN FONDO, 8th May 2018 Following a path north from l'arrière-pays Niçois, from the rolling hills to the mountains in Valberg, the Ladies' Granfondo is a celebration of female cycling. Take in the perched villages of the collines before descending to the upper Var river valley. Enjoy the wide open landscapes before turning right up the Gorge du Daluis. Ride through the dramatic red rock of the Gorges on a balcony road that clings to the cliff edge with views of the perilous drops to happily distract you from the final kilometers to Guillaumes. The strong and the brave will continue up the 15kms alpine climb to Valberg. A stunning point to point ride tracing the path of the Var river to a mountain resort finish offering alpine culture and post-ride tranquility. RIDERS' NOTES: Date - 8th May 2018 Distance - 102kms / 116kms Elevation - 1,500m / 2,400m GO AGAINST THE FLOW LOGISTICS Nice Côte d'Azur airport is the third largest in France with great international links provided daily by large and low-cost airlines alike. Travel to each of the towns hosting the Gran Fondo series in the Alpes-Maritimes mountains is best by car or van rental from Nice. There are plenty of accommodation options in each of the host towns, which are mountain resorts with tourist services provided readily. Bike rental, workshop and advice on each of the events and cycling in the region generally is all available at our headquarters located on the Old Port in Nice. Please feel free to email booking@cafeducycliste.com if you have any questions and we will be happy to help.

Winter cycling: More conversation, same action? I’ll be honest. I don’t like winter training. Getting out of bed in the dark and cold. Looking at the lightening sky to divine what the weather will later throw at you from above. Putting the porridge and coffee on and then, while they bubble and brew, layer after layer of clothing on your body, which still wants to be in that lovely, warm bed. And the thoughts that go through my mind: what if I don’t do it, I won’t be putting the kilometres in and I won’t be building my base and I won’t hit my goals for next summer. That bed though… Let’s be totally honest. Nobody likes winter training. But what about winter cycling? What about getting out on your bike to catch up with your friends, riding at a pace at which you can all chat. Conversations. Plans and hopes and dreams. Riding holidays, touring, long rides, adventures to come. Sagan and Froome and Barguil and Dumoulin, Paris-Nice and the Giro and Roubaix. Pro gossip, the good the bad and the ugly. The low sun through the trees. Passing into a hollow where the sun hasn’t been, swimming through waves of cool and cold air. Soup and sausage rolls and stew in a casserole on the stove top when you return home. Pastries and coffee, and more coffee and hot chocolate and coffee. And suddenly that’s four hours flown past, 100km in the bank. And maybe you put in a bit of effort just to see what’s there.Turns out the worst bit is crossing the threshold from indoors to outside. When the alarm goes in the dark and the bed seems so inviting it is difficult to believe that spring is just around the corner. But take heart. The year has turned and the darkest days have passed. Those good long days are on their way back. Let’s ride out to meet them.

Global locale: The core of South Korea The Watts Cycling KCR 530 is a unique event created to push the limits and expectations of local riders. THE RDV : BUSAN The country's second biggest city in the deep south of South Korea, home to the 'Busan Cydrome', a velodrome that hosts racing every weekend. For the riders signed up to the charity ride, the objective was to get off-track away from the sprawling metropolis and into the quiet of the countryside. Six in the morning and 265kms on the menu, means each day started and ended in darkness. Sometimes the best weekends away are when you literally fill your days with cycling. THE PELOTON : WIDE EYES & NO EXPECTATIONS A mötely crue included team Café du Cycliste, decked out in Daphne and Adèle and made visible in the dark hours with Jacqueline Audax gilets. Some are more experienced than others, like Hakju Lee who started cycling three years ago, just so he could ride beside his son as he turned his first revolutions on the pedals. For many it was a first foray into long distance cycling and what was evident was the inter-dependancy on each other to make it through 17 hours in the saddle each day. THE PARCOURS : KOREA'S CORE Joining the two biggest cities in the country by riding through the nation's heartlands. Good news: this is a nation now traversed by specifically built bike paths. In the modern age when long distance cycling has suffered some high profile fatalities, we'll take the extra safety of designated byways. Bad news: it's still 530kms. But they say you should follow water for the path of least resistance. The network of bike paths in South Korea follows its four main rivers - Han River, Nakdong River, Geum River and Yeongsan River. That is not to say this is a flat ride. With 3,698m of climbing along the way riders had to find their own flow to ensure they made it to Seoul. THE PRIZES: BEER & GLORY What to do after your longest ever ride across your mother land? Beer, of course. Longer lasting, however, is the intimate knowledge of the country's contours and curves having rolled wheels over almost all of it. And to do that with new friends made via cycling should make a permanent entry in the cycling memoirs of all those who rode. LA PROCHAINE :The next Watt's KCR 530 will be held in October 2018.And starting this March Watts Cycling will be running weekly rides for local and visiting cyclists from their shop in Seoul. Details can be found on their Facebook page.RIDERS' NOTES: Strava File - here More info on Watts Cycling - here

Heat traces on the Côte d'Azur The temperature may be at its lowest point of the year, but the heat traces remain. We're not talking about the ever-present palm trees or even more permanent tans of some local residents, but rather the dramatic lines of the Strava Heatmap. Playing with the zoom button is a fun way to find our favourite Cols, but without labels or other cartographic features, can you guess which is which? 1. SWITCHBACK OVERDOSE An easy one to begin with. A coiled spring of 65 switchbacks in total if you ride it using the old road. This one is perhaps lesser known because it's a bit of hike from Nice and fronts up to Italy, but it is an in-house favourite with an unpaved summit. 2. A MOUNTAIN LASSO What is interesting about this Col is that the trace is really hot on the south eastern side before fading out 10kms before the summit. Maybe that's because the road is only open for approximately six months of the year or maybe it's because each side is more than 24kms long. What the lines also show is that those that do ride to the top, usually do the extra loop... 3. THE KINGDOM OF LE ROI More hot switchbacks but surprisingly the east side scorches a bit more brightly. On the west, look for the #everytimeipass photo point. The keen-eyed will see the north road leading to a col-bagging transition towards this climb's bigger brother. 4. THE NIGHT OF THE LONG KNIVES Zoom in and you see this Col is on fire, especially on the southern side. Maybe the petrolheads who make the pilgrimage to it each summer have Strava turned on too? The map shows the three major ascents, and if you climb all of them in one day you become certified.... 5. THE BALD MANTwo sets of seven neatly-stacked switchbacks in less than five kms and only 30 minutes ride from central Nice means this one gives a good exchange rate between distance and elevation. Go past the barrier to summit the bald head. 6. FERRARI RAMPS Almost equally balanced, but once again the lesser known side of this col burns slightly brighter. This testing ground has probably seen more pro wheels than many other cols yet has never featured on the Tour. If you're lucky, you'll get a live drums performance at the top. How many can you identify? Submit your answers via our Facebook page HERE for a chance to win the Café du Cycliste cap filled with the badge for all six of the climbs.

Pax Avant Peace and cold in the Pyrenees. The snow falls and the noise stills. Almost to nothing. The western Pyrenees are like our own Alpes-Maritimes. They deceive by their proximity to the coast line and lower peak altitudes, which hide hors catégorie climbs of over 20kms in length. If you manage to pass through the window from the sea to the slopes, on the other side, around now, lies the sweetspot of cold, dry and high. Alone on a mountain. Deserted by cyclists and yet to succumb to other winter alpinists. All is quiet, all is peace. The Col de la Pierre Saint-Martin is a border pass that divides France and Spain. And is historic for peace of another kind. At 11am on 13 July 1375, communities from both sides of the mountain gathered on the Col to declare peace after two years of brutal, bloody, tit-for-tat fighting and murder. The pact is known as the Pax Avant : so let there be peace. We all have our own ways of finding peace. For many of us it involves going longer. Or faster. Or higher. 'I am learning nothing in this trivial world of men. I must break away and get out into the mountains to learn the news' John Muir Perhaps the destination we seek is amplified by the effort of reaching it. Because riding solo in the mountains is always comfortably uncomfortable. Doubts are born on the way, problems confronted, issues resolved. And battles fought. All to find that peace. That moment of reflection. That pure joy of being. That right place, right time. That sense of perspective it allows, that sense of achievement it brings. The Pax Avant still lives on these slopes. It stands to this day. Six hundred and forty two years after it was first proclaimed. And just for a precious few hours, we who after all are but strangers in this house, shared in its bounty. Will you go in search ? Will you dance upon the snow?

ARL - MRS The concept was cooked up by Arles Gravel group and their Marseillais counterparts, Boomerang. Looking for a pure product they created something powerful; something that would make you addicted to gravel. The goods: a Vitamin G route between Arles and Marseille combining secret chemins, quiet back roads, sweet singletrack and beautiful vistas. Time limits? RDV at Arles gare at 0800, last return train from the coast for the Arles contingent at 2000. This was not a race, a sportive or a randonee. It was a trip. STARTERS They crawl from the shadows around the station. Thirty-odd scrawny cyclists come together shivering around the ring leaders, searching for their dose of gravel, like flies to the light. They all know why they are there, determined to have it at whatever cost. GETTING HIGH The light is brighter and brighter. The addicts roll east, hiding bleary eyes behind sunglasses and tipping the visors of their caps as they face up to the rising sun. Ever­­­ so slightly the tempo rises after the warm up in the streets of vieux Arles and the smooth roads of the suburbs. The first songs of the birds ring out, changing reflections blur on the marsh waters and the light strobes through the roadside trees. TRANSE It’s easy to spot the first of the group to go into the trance – racing like galloping horses, straight-lining through puddles of water, laughing and screaming in English or Italian. Follow the wheel, take the draft, breathing amplifies and pupils dilate as a drop of sweat pearls on the edge of your helmet. OVERDOSE & HALLUCINATIONS Rolling across the desert plain, slapped by the wind, battered by relentless rocks that strain men and machines. The Coussouls of Crau is too much. There are not good vibrations. Speeds drop, legs and bodies become heavy. These flat lands have become a downer. Post-gravel spinning on paved roads after Entressens and the hallucinations arrive. Some punk in low-rise jeans, an 80s Adidas jacket, sneakers and flat pedals casually rolling along at 35km/h? Further up the road, some goblin on a mountain bike with a laser attached to his helmet and a bell rattling under his saddle, also somehow riding at the same speed. This is crazy, so time out is called at Miramar. SUBSTANCE Consciousness regained, other riders come into clear view, in the same state, having the same journey with their bodies, and their own personal voyage in their heads. Whether you’re crossing the bottom of the sun-soaked valley or in the queue of the boulangerie, you eventually become the journey. Finding strength in a morceau, or the warmth of the mid-day winter sun, the experience becomes more intense, more enjoyable, seemingly eternal… THE LINE ON THE BOARD At the edge of the cliff, on the plateau of Vitrolles, a pause. De-mount and just stare at the skyline. The bright, cold sunlight of reveals the landscape in seemingly artificially saturated colours. From a distance, you do not understand what the riders on the cliff edge are shouting because the wind is too strong. The narrowed eyes, the grin on the lips, facing the landscape they indulge in the mistral, arms outstretched, half-birds half-human. ANGEL DUST From the sublime, to the industrial. Commercial zones and their abandoned remains bring you back to reality. The red mud of Septèmes-les-Vallons remind you of the wizards of chemical transformation who in past lawless times have forever impacted this hilltop. The ashes of a recent fire form a red trail snaking like a vein into the desolate landscape. But your gravel bike, like an angel, sublimates the nightmare and turns it into a dream. The bright red iron ore dust is but dried angel blood. STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN The pain of the addiction comes, in the Vallon de la Barre de Fer. At the end of the trip, your mind has forgotten how brutal these rough and rocky climbs can be. The rear wheel loses traction, the front wheel smacks and bounces on bigger rocks. But then the long descent into town - to the Vallon Dol basin, the sea view, La Batarelle, Saint miter, Saint Jerome, Malpasse, the Carthusians, then the landing in the heart of the city, boulevard Longchamp. RELAPSE You are wrung out, in front of a beer at Longchamp Palace. With a silly smile on your face, there are not yet any withdrawal symptoms because today, you have had your dose. It’s saved in your body, the physical and emotional experience. Some are buzzing, others are silently stunned. Two or three days later, you’re looking out the train window, planning your next shot of gravel.

Micro-Adventure Adventure - its an age-old game between us humans and the great outdoors; setting us loose from the chains of our daily lives to test our primal instincts. It wasn’t that long ago that ‘adventure’ was a daily occurrence in our dance for survival on a more hostile planet. Nowadays some would argue that our ‘adventure scale’ has become risk-averse. Technology, specifically mobile connectivity, provides us with a great sense of security and a ‘never get lost’ feeling. But what if we flip it and argue that technology actually lets us be even more adventurous - giving us the freedom to un-plan and be spontaneous, to go where the wind takes us, and surprise us with what we find along the way. On a recent bikepacking trip in the Yorkshire Dales I put this to the test, by letting our navigation be driven by technology, specifically, the route planning app, Komoot. We had some key destinations: the Dales Trail centre, Tann Hill Inn, the beautiful village of Hawes, and some tree houses on a 200,000 acre estate. But in between there was no fixed plan, just a few digital devices to help us escape the masses whilst also pointing us in the right direction. DAY 1: PHEASANTS, CAKES, A 24% BUMP, AND AN EERIE INN Departing Harrogate later than planned didn’t stress us as with only 70km to do on the first day, we’d be well on time for dinner….depending on the level of adventure. After one hour of riding and a gate crash into the beautiful country estate, we were already taking a quick coffee and adjusting the path ahead towards Dales MTB Centre. We shied away from the MTB trails and chose instead to pop into the bike shop on site where we received some advice from the owner that would change the course of our remaining kilometres. Apparently the southern ascent of Tan Hill would avoid the predominant north westerly wind on the other side of the dale. Local knowledge is valuable, but there was a price to be paid. Mist bubbles: a Dales Phenomenon Dusk set in, and it seemed like we were making slow progress on windy, lumpy roads. By the time we hit the bottom of the Tan Hill climb, it was dark, we were weary, my bum hurt, and we still had a haul ahead of us. Then we saw the sign for a 24% incline, Josh let out some murmurs punctuated by expletives, and we began to crawl up the steep incline. Our little group spread out pretty quickly as each of us dug into our personal pain caves to get on with the job at hand. Climbing is like that. All of a sudden, everyone goes quiet. I was surrounded by a bubble of mist, my absence of bike lights sharpening my other senses. If a pin had dropped, I would have heard it a mile away. But there were no pins, no wind, it was just incredibly quiet and still. The landscape (what I could make out of it) reminded me of an old Irish legend of a chieftain who used to set his fork into a spin in the mist so no one could find it. Once over the top and through the last kilometres, the reception I received on walking into the Tan Hill Inn is like what I imagined an old Western saloon to be like. No one even really looked up from their food or drink, least of all the barman, who ignored me for about five minutes. There I was, exhausted yet full of happiness to have landed...and no one seemed to care. AT. ALL...except for an Australian man in lycra nursing a pint in the corner. He asked me if I had come far, and I said Harrogate...he said “oh that's a decent ride”...I subsequently found out he had ridden 150 km that day and was expecting to reach the Scottish border the next day to visit his sister! DAY 2: BUTTERTUBS, CHEESE AND SWINTON ESTATE After a big breakfast we prepared our bikes and considered our route with Komoot. Meanwhile the Australian was ready before us - he knew where he was going already. We, on the other hand, were all about discovery and the road untravelled (and taking SO MUCH time to get ready). Ok. Perhaps Buttertubs, the mountain pass we would need to climb over to get to Hawes, our first stop, is more travelled than untravelled. This windy climb was the 2nd mountain classification in the 2014 Tour de France, its name hailing from the time farmers would lower their butter into potholes on hot days when taking breaks from the arduous ascent over the pass. On an unloaded bike, Buttertubs would be a good climb, not too long, a bit steep at the beginning but...fine. On loaded bikes, it is a completely different story. Conclusion – you can never have too many gears when in touring mode. With a ‘mountain’ climbed, the culinary crusade continued. At Hawes we feasted on homemade soup and giant sized Wensleydale cheese sandwiches. This perhaps influenced the decision to take the flatter route to Castle Bolton, which also allowed us to make a coffee stop in the woods at the side of the road. Making quality coffee in random places is hugely underrated. That stop turned out to be our saviour as the backroads took more turns than expected and once again we were riding through the dark towards our tree house accommodation on Swinton estate. Riding on narrow, windy backroads in the dark has the effect of slowing everything down a notch – and with friends it was surprisingly relaxing rather than haunting. On arrival it turned out our tree houses were actually ground-bound rustic cabins. But hot showers washed away the disappoint on missing out on a bed between the branches. DAY 3: HARROGATE-BOUND THROUGH BLUSTERY WIND AND RAIN As expected, we woke to high winds and pelting rain. There was nothing else for it - we reverted to stuffing ourselves with tasty food to prolong the moment we would have to get on our bikes and make our way back to Harrogate. I was beginning to detect some behavioural patterns in our group... Our trip coming to an end prematurely, I felt like the best part was yet to come and I wished we could have carried on. There was so much to see and explore in the Dales we had barely scratched the surface.

Globale locale: Danish delights We love where we ride but we appreciate that cycling isn't about one col, one climb or even one country. Over the coming months we will be adding our support to rides organised by some of our excellent retail partners across the globe. If any of them are where you ride, we - and they - would love to see you. First on the list: Farum just outside Copenhagen - the city known as a cycling mecca for those on the northern part of the continent. THE RDV : VELO PAVÉ The go-to meeting point for Copenhagen riders wanting to ride into space….Our long-term retail partners with an eye for style, a love of fine bikes and the odd gravel path. They also have a thriving community of female riders and so this particular ride was the second edition of the Velo Pave & Café du Cycliste 100 Women's Ride. A race which isn’t a race, but more a celebration of women and cycling squeezed into 50 kilometers of glorious terrain. THE PELOTON : 100 WOMEN The Womens 100 ride does what it says on the tin. One of the largest groups of female riders you’ll find this side of the atlantic. From new riders on new bikes to club racers and everything in between. Many have found a new passion via Velo Pavé, helped in no small part by clothing that fits the bill. It's social at the back, anti-social at the front and each rider picks her place accordingly. And we guess in these colder climes, there is heat in numbers. THE PARCOURS : ROLLERS & DUTCH HILLS Northern Sealand sounds like you’re bound to meet polar bears along the road, but it is in fact only 25 kilometers North of Copenhagen. The Women's Ride takes in a curated lap of the countryside through picturesque farmland and rolling hills. Add to this some 'dutch hills' and pan-flat elevation profiles can be deceiving. Hills and headwinds split the female peloton into smaller groups but there is a constant stream of riders on this network of rural roads, with friendly waves exchanged by everyone. It's seemingly a collective enjoyment of the open space away from the city. Past the lake of Buresoe, through the leafy woods and onto the main hilly roads towards the small towns of Slagslunde and Ganloese it's easy to undersand why. THE PRIZES: CHAMPAGNE & CUPCAKES Chilled champagne savoured, not sprayed. A classy reward at the end of a 'race that's not a race'. And the other rewards: the kilometres banked in the legs and the jokes from the road. Live music in the shop means the endorphin kick is preserved for as long as possible. LA PROCHAINE : The next Women’s 100 will be held on 29th September 2018. In the meantime, Velo-Pavé's club of 200 members has weekly rides both on and off-road for groups of different abilities throughout the year. RIDERS' NOTES: Strava File - here More info on Velo Pavé - here

Torino-Nice Rally FLYING TO NICE ON A CLEAR DAY, SOARING OVER THE PEAKS OF THE SOUTHERN ALPS IT'S IMPOSSIBLE NOT TO LOOK OUT THE AIRPLANE WINDOW AND THINK "I’D LIKE TO GO AND GET LOST IN THOSE MOUNTAINS" From Ponte Marmosa in the Maria Valley the Col de Preit climbs the vicious north side and where the steep slopes of the tarmac eventually reach the saddle between the peaks, it turns to gravel. Gravel in front, gravel to the right. Torino-Nice Rally (TNR) riders take the right and leave the Col behind. They climb and they descend and they roll on rare flat sections, some smooth, some more rocky. On day four they are used to taking the rough with the smooth. This section - 'Little Peru' - serves up 35kms of high mountain, gravel riding wilderness. Pre-event packing worries have disappeared, first day nerves are gone and mechanical paranoia is forgotten. Riders flow with the rises and falls of this double-track paradise, which skirts around the inside of a bowl of jagged granite peaks before its helter-skelter form rejoins the tarmac just below the Colle Fauniera. Popular opinion surmises that this is the sweet spot of the whole event. It’s possibly the most mesmerising gravel ride in the whole world. FROM THE PLANE YOU WONDER 'IS THAT LINE CUT ACROSS THE SIDE OF THE MOUNTAIN RIDEABLE' What is rideable and not rideable is never a serious­­ question on TNR. It’s all doable if you have the right bike and luggage set-up. The group that assembled in Torino shows a huge selection of bikes, from enduro MTBs to adapted cyclo-cross and even road set-ups. We made the flippant statement in pre-event email exchanges with organiser James, 'they are only mountains.' He probably sat back and thought of the Colle del Colombo and laughed at our naivety. 25% gradients, football size rocks poking out of the ground, 25-30 degree heat. Oh, and your 9kg luggage. This is Torino-Nice Rally. Like it and lump it. OUT OF THE WINDOW, BESIDE THE TIP OF THE WING, YOU SEE A SNOW-CAPPED PEAK AND YOU THINK 'HOW HIGH IS THAT ?' Riding the TNR leads to the conclusion that the sweet-spot of riding bikes in the mountains exists somewhere between two and three thousand meters above sea level. It’s here where the peaks escape the trees, the rocks reveal themselves in all their geological beauty and the sky definitely becomes more blue. Blue-er. A new, high kind of blue. And at the other end of the journey, the Via del Sale walks the ridge line and the border at 2,000m. The unpaved paths that lead off (and usually continue upwards) from the regular road cols, deliver free-riding paradise. No-one said getting up there would be easy. BETWEEN THE FOLDS OF THE MOUNTAINS, SOME VALLEYS ARE HIDDEN IN THE SHADOWS, IMPOSSIBLE TO VIEW FROM THE WINDOW SEAT. 'WHAT IS DOWN THERE ?' In the valleys are a mixture of surprises. Take the duo of 500m climbs between Pourrieres and Briançon, before the return to altitude via Col d’Izoard. Not the warm-up tired legs needed. Doubts are found down here. Unexpected tiredness, re-grouping and resurrections over Izoard, but maybe Agnel is possible before sunset? There is a hotel at the bottom of the climb and the only other confirmed accommodation is 18kms up the road and it's 1800h. Sleep outside in true TNR fashion? They do beer and a menu à la carte in there and some washed bibs would be nice… These are the temptations of the valleys. Did we mention the trattoria on the Italian side, delivering perfect doppios and foccia with smoked ham, tomatoes and mozzarella? WHAT IS UP THERE ON THOSE SUMMITS ? On the ascent of Colle delle Finestre we pass a herd of at least 50 cows being individually milked by a team of two. At seven o’clock in the evening and at 1,800m. On the other side, we hear soaring birds of prey through the darkness and have a close encounter with some roadside deer. But it’s mostly the cows. Why are they up there in Little Peru ? To keep the grass short ? And as a consequence to produce the best mozzarella in the world ? In the late summer sun it seems like the good life, but we guess like us, this mountain paradise is only open for business for another month at most. RIDING PLANS ARE IMAGINED FROM THE AEROPLANE SEAT. BUT SEEING THE GRANDEUR OF THE MOUNTAINS BEFORE DESCENDING INTO NICE DOUBTS ARE ALSO PRESENT 'COULD I ACTUALLY DO THAT ?' The answer to this for Torino-Nice is that you can do it, and you can do it however the hell you like. The route card and gpx files are there if you want them. If you don’t, find your own way to Café du Cycliste in Nice. Like Benedict Campbell who decided to take in Col de la Bonette and explore some bunkers in the process. Truth is, our effort is what happens when ‘roadies’ do TNR – zero outside bivvying (even though we carried the gear), big breakfasts and late starts, surges in pace when we decided to get a valley transition done in team time trial mode, double doppio stops in the middle of the afternoon. THE PLANE LANDS IN NICE, YOU FEEL THE WARM BLAST OF AIR DESCENDING THE MOBILE STAIR-CASE AND GET EXCITED ABOUT ROSÉ AND/OR BEER ON THE BEACH DURING WHICH THAT MOUNTAIN ADVENTURE WILL BE LAID IN CONCRETE. Pre-event info mentioned the re-group in Café du Cycliste and the ensuing beers at the Irish pub, Ma Nolans, just up the Port. The window for this appointment – anytime between 5 and 12 days after the start. That’s how TNR rolls. Torrential rain put paid to those dreams for us. Stranded in a train station with no trains in La Brigue we took option C – phone a friend. But by then the deed was done. The mountain tracks had made their mark. And we will return. RIDERS' NOTES Torino - Nice Rally: Komoot Collection TNR website for the 3rd Edition - here

Encore trois zinzins Three slices of pizza. Not perfectly symmetrical. Not equally loaded with toppings. But from the same base, with the same taste, part of a whole... Our ambassador Matthieu, aka Manivelle.cc, our friend and top mannequin, Fred, and original Niçois rouleur Denis Morino decided the Brevet des Zinzins de Turini had been over-looked so far* this summer so they used it to fill a gap in their late season calendar. (*actually, Fred is already a certified Zinzin having completed it solo earlier this year). We asked each of them individually to sum up the ride. The rule of the triology continued… LIBERTÉ FRED: Freedom on the road has to be shared with friends, passing time on the road with stories from the road, like Matthieu’s tales from this year's TCR. DENIS: It was more than just a big day out on the bike. It was an impromptu assault on the three sides of Turini. These unplanned adventures often turn out to be the best. MATTHIEU: It’s a tough brevet, climbing sharp gradients under the sun, stretching your limits in the heat corner after corner. Thankfully the water comes for free at the fountains in the mountain villages and it gave us an excuse to stop and have a joke. The only restriction on time was sunset. EGALITÉ FRED: You must balance the effort you put out, with the food you put in. On the menu: homemade farcis, pasta with chicken and spinach, beer and Italian wine. And at the end pizza, tourte de blettes and caramel and hazelnut tart. DENIS: Almost every side is equally as hard as the other, with two of the ascents being more than 20kms in length. As a Niçois now living in Toulon I had forgotten the severity of some of the slopes and the magic of the landscapes and the small villages nestled in the mountains, yet so close to the city. MATTHIEU: Each stop to stamp our brevet cards at the bottom and top of each climb was equally amusing. We joked and compared notes on the last climb and descent. And we ate. A lot. But not all road snacks are equal and the Holy Grail was the blueberry tart at the end of the final climb. FRATERNITÉ FRED: We reached the col by the three different sides, we are three cyclists who come from different places, but we all point in the same direction. We have the same passion for the effort and the pleasure of sharing the experience with each other. DENIS: I am proud to be a Zinzin. MATTHIEU: Nothing is more important than having a great team, one that keeps you going, that serves as a point of focus, that makes you never give in, in order to share in a special moment. Unforgettable.

Tour du Lozère, an autumn classic "For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move; to feel the needs and hitches of our life more clearly; to come down off this feather-bed of civilisation, and find the globe granite underfoot and strewn with cutting flints." - Robert Louis Stevenson, 'Travels With A Donkey In Cévennes' Robert Louis Stevenson (RLS) was looking for inspiration for a new book. He also needed to escape from a real world story of unrequited love. He chose the Cévennes mountain range and a donkey as a travelling partner. The Cévennes covers four departments and includes the famous Mont Aigoual, which is also the scene for Tim Krabbe's cult classic and much replicated story of The Rider. These mountains, it would appear, would move a man to words...and wheels. RLS hiked 200kms in 12 days, slowed significantly by his mule companion. The subsequent report is one of the leading authorities on travel writing and the Chilkoot Pioneers (whom we've previously joined at Ventoux, the Massif des Maures and across all of Europe already), thrive on such tales of adventure. And so, they created their autumn classic. The Cévennes offer empty roads, open vistas and, at this time of year, voluminous colours. Escapism during a period of transition, just like RLS sought. There is a trail that follows the path forged by RLS and his donkey around and over Mont Lozère. The locals of the Cévennes reportedly stated that, 'he showed us the landscape that makes us who we are.' It's a maxim that applies to locals and cyclists alike. Where we ride moulds not only our bodies but our minds too. The Causses of this region - the open limestone plateaus - might not have the peaked profiles to illustrate the challenge. But these wide open hills sculpt legs and free minds. From the source of the Tarn river on Mont Lozère to the Gorges du Tarn down below, it's not as regular as the Alpes-Maritimes, but it's just as hard. So hard, in fact, that like our own Col de Vence, vultures circle here. And they probably did so in 1960 when Roger Rivière crashed on the descent off Mont Aigoual whilst chasing the yellow jersey. Rivière had been stuck to the wheel of the Gastone Nencini, who was known for his incredible descending skills. They summited the Col de Perjuret together and Riviére followed Nencini as the road plummeted. He didn't make it far. Antoin Blodin reported , 'he was lying 20 or so metres below with a broken spine that forbade him the slightest gesture, the least call. His head was resting on a bed of rocks, his eyes open to the mountainous (rugueuse) countryside that surrounded him.' Poor Rivière's body was changed for life by Mont Aigoual. The neighbouring Mont Lozère, still moulds the lives of those who seek to make a living off it. It's one of the last places in the world where the traditional transhumance - the move to lower lands for the winter - is practised. The Tour de Lozère is one of the last cycling dalliances with the mountains before winter comes. Thoughts might start to turn already to the darkness and cold, but for one last weekend, as RLS said himself: '...when the present is so exacting who can annoy himself about the future?”

Doubletrack diaries: Unexpected light, what adventures are made of There's a book I once enjoyed about a guy traveling in Afghanistan at the end of the Soviet era called An Unexpected Light. He's a journalist who goes to meet the Mujahedeen before the Taliban took over, whilst they were still fighting the Russians. The unexpected nature of the light he encounters is in the oppressed people; the openness of them, their welcoming attitude towards some Englishman in their midst, and of course the actual light itself. It really opened my mind to travel in far off destinations, and particularly in the middle East. Now my 'Unexpected Light' is partly the light itself in Provence and the Cote d'Azur. I know that it's a place of painters and artists, with the classic views of azure sea, fields of lavender, mountains and valleys, but the light is just fantastic. Soft and golden, stark and glaring, with subtle nuances and garish colours, it really is an artist’s palette in the sky. Add to this the other sensory abstractions; the sounds of the wind and the crickets, the babbling brooks, and tinkle of goat bells. The smells of wild herbs crushed under foot, hot pine sap in the middday sun, a nose full of a flower's perfume as you turn a corner, and the sharp tang of dust in an unmade road. And the light. The brutal glare of the midday sun. The wash of moon and starlight. Dusk and dawn with the most stunning shades of pink, orange, ochre and purple. Then there's the views that catch the eye: the hilltop village, the church on a ridge, the mile upon mile of vineyards. The wooded hills and arid pains. The coloured earth of the brightest of reds, turning to yellows and ochre as you descend through the ages of the rock strata. Towering above it all is the giant of Provence, Mont Ventoux, that's actually in the Vaucluse... I rode on a few roads today, but they're so busy I can't say they were much fun. The constant worry of the bad, careless or just distracted drivers puts me off spending much time on them. I think that my love of cycling is a lot about movement, but also about the meditation of it. The movement is easy to come by, you just choose a nice place to ride and enjoy the changing view. The rise and fall of the trail, the twists and turns in the landscape. The meditation is a little harder to achieve as it comes from the mindless act of pedalling, the effort you have to put in, and the place you do it in. It focusses the mind and has a way of shutting up the jabbering monkey brain stuck inside. Riding in traffic switches that focus to negative outside influences. Traveling off road you do have to think about the changing surface, choosing a good line, listening out for other vehicles around blind corners, but all that soon becomes second nature with repeated exposure to it, and it's then easy to find the sweet spot in your mind: focus without focus. Thinking without thinking. The meditation of the ride. The crunch of gravel takes over. The whirring of gears is almost drowned out. That click or creak from your bike is forgotten, and you can lose yourself in the moments of calm, find solace in the effort of cresting a rise. Embrace your inner five year old when railing a corner, whooping for joy that you made it around unscathed again, kicking up plumes of dust, drifting the bike over the camber of the track to kiss the apex of the next corner and slingshot out the other side. Touring off road has many benefits for the traveller who's not in a rush. You don't need to pick your place to stop so diligently as you do on the road. Shade, view, comfortable seating, Nothing more is needed. Drinking water is good, but if you're touring off road then you should always have more than you think you might need. Picking your accommodation for the night is also more care-free. If you've got a tent and a sense of adventure then there's so many great places along the 'trail less travelled' to pitch up for the night. The edge of a field is good. Away from any houses is vital. Views are nice but not essential. A river or lake to wash in is great but you might well be fighting off insects if you insist on those places for the night. The middle of a forest is the most tranquil if you remember that you're the scariest thing in those woods. Mountain tops are great as long as the weather is benign, the views can spectacular but if you get the weather and aspect of your chosen spot wrong then I can guarantee you a bad night’s sleep. The key thing is keeping an open mind and being away from civilisation, and then you can sleep soundly. The sleep of a wild camp well chosen Being different isn't easy as you have to forge your own path. You also have to deal with the strange looks that you get and the series of questions that inevitably get asked: What? When? How? And the biggest, and unasked one, 'Why?' But following what others do isn't for me. I like to try and be original. It doesn't always work but it makes life a lot more interesting. By deliberately going out of my way to find the tracks only used by locals, or the campsites that you'll never find from the comfort of a car or in a guide book, has brought me the greatest experiences of this trip, and long may that continue. That is of course, what adventures are made of.

Born to Ride with Team Détente Ultra distance events. How do you approach them? Option 1 - Head down and hammer. Option 2 - Ride solo and feed your motivation with the landscapes, the introspection, the escape and the chance interactions you find along the way. Option 3 - Relax with friends for maximum enjoyment on the road. And concentrate on calorie consumption. Patisseries, café, ice-cream, pizza, chocolate.... This is a Matthieu riding by himself. Class and style are evident, but something's missing. Team Détente (that's Team Relax in english). Partners on the road for Matthieu. They joined him for Chilkoot's signature long distance event, Born To Ride - a mountainous journey that started on Mont Sainte-Odile in the Vosges and finished in Mont Aigoual in the Massif Central and zigged and zagged its way via Germany, Switzerland and Italy. In case it isn't obvious, Team Détente chose option 3. Who are Team Détente? Answer: they are the beating heart of the Chilkoot Pioneers Christopher: a TCR finisher and known affectionately as the Crazy Ninja. He snores very loudly. Denis: so strong he could paralyse you with his little finger. And he likes to sing songs from the musical Starmania, sometimes while bathing fulling clothed in fountains. François: last year he rode the parcours of every single one-day classic in one season, in hommage to the great Eddy Merckx. And whilst on the road he likes to eat his own body weight in food each day. Matthieu: Mr Relax himself. A metronome on the pedals. Long Distance is his drug but he is an expert at knowing when to stop for a photo or eat a tropézienne cream cake. Whilst the name suggests a more laissez faire approach, Team Détente are experienced enough to be players in this long distance game. They cross the checkpoints in time (not a simple task in itself), But they add their own checkpoints as well. What are those additional checkpoints? Bakeries, bars, pizzerias, restaurants, sandwich shops, convenience stores and gas stations. Gas stations? And in between they engage their own entertainment system : joke competitions, best interpretations of Eddy Mitchell or Starmania, photo competitions, everything is allowed. It's all casually deliberate as they cross four of the highest the summits of the Alps, including Mont Ventoux as the penultimate climb. That is not to say their journey is without pain, like their fellow rouleurs. But, there is real pain and suffering everywhere in the world - Team Détente seeks to keep everything in perspective. The balance between making progress and taking time to enjoy the journey in the context of an ultra distance race is a delicate one. Do you want to make the best possible time or do you want to have the best possible time? Team Détente did not and does not judge. It's recognised and respected that there is huge personal achievement in racing the clock. But there is also another way, if you want to take it. The Team Détente way? Friendship and mountains, sprinkled with a good dose of bivouac, the zest of some high mountain refuge and maybe a hint of hotel in Briançon. The first finishers arrived with a little more than a day ahead of our band of merry men and earned the admiration of organisers and fellow riders alike. But if they had to do it again (and they probably will do voluntarily), Team Détente would not change a line of the story that they lived on BTR 2017. Footnotes: Words : Matthieu Lifschitz // Photos : Matthieu Lifschitz & Mickael Gagne

Double track diaries Andy Cox caught our attention on Instagram with photos of remote gravel roads that lived up to his @doubletrackfanatic name tag. As we followed with interest, added to the double-tracks were the high mountain vistas from across the Vosges, the Jura mountains and eventually the Alps. Following his nose led Andy inevitably to Café du Cycliste where we wanted to interview him. But with all that thinking time whilst living and riding solo, he'd done our job already. These are the Doubletrack Diaries. So, I thought I'd catch up with the intrepid traveller after yesterday's travails. Ask him (me) some burning questions I'm sure you're all dying to know. (AC is you, I mean me, asking the questions. DTF: is Doubletrackfanatic, the rugged traveller and lover of the outdoors) AC: GIVE US A SMALL BIOGRAPHY DTF: Andy Cox, 39 and a half, born in Oxford, lived in south Wales for the last 8 years. AC: SO, THIS IS A MIDLIFE CRISIS JOURNEY THEN? DTF: Hardly... I've been having midweek, existential, crises for the last two decades, so no not midlife, more the need to do something other than the same thing every day. My life felt like it was getting stale, so I thought I'd go exploring the world for a while. AC: SO, YOU'VE GOT NO FAMILY THEN? JOB, CAR, MORTGAGE? DTF: No dependents, no. Parents and siblings sure, and I own my own house, so the rent I'm getting from it is paying for my trip. Jobs come and go, cars, well I can't drive so no. AC: YOUR ROUTE ISN'T A NORMAL ONE IT SEEMS. LOOPING ABOUT AND RETURNING TO PLACES AGAIN. EXPAND A LITTLE ON THIS PLEASE. DTF: I think the phrase 'Making it up as I go along' explains it well. I've tried a few of the mapped bikepacking routes, off road touring really, and they're not really for me. I can carry 3 days of food and I like the solitary existence in the hills and mountains, so I'm using the routes as a guide. I'm not a fan of cities, or campsites, so I try to stick to dirt roads and easy trails if I can, camping in the woods or on mountain tops. AC: YOU MUST BE PRETTY SELF-CONFIDENT THEN? DTF: Well there's self-confidence, which is something you show to others, and there's confidence in yourself, which is knowing your limits, your skill and your fears, and knowing how far you can push them. Two very different things. I'm not especially self-confident, but I'm very confident in myself. I know I can push my limits pretty far out of my comfort zone, and still keep my head while others around me are losing theirs. Years of solo riding and adventures have taught me a lot about myself and I now trust my instincts implicitly. Self-confidence is linked to self-esteem and self-image, of which I'm lacking a bit in. AC: DON'T YOU GET LONELY? DTF: Much less so than I did when I lived in the UK. Sure, I miss people and the ability to just strike up a conversation with someone, my French isn't very good, but I meet more interesting and interested people while day to day traveling then I ever would at home. AC: BACK TO YOUR ROUTE FOR A MINUTE, HOW DO YOU FIND WHERE TO GO? JUST BY CHANCE? LUCK? DTF: I follow my nose. I look at a map, find something that looks cool, a trail, a doubletrack, a view point or place, and find an interesting way to get there. Sometimes it goes wrong but often I find some unexpected gems and they're what makes my adventure an adventure rather than just a bike tour. The unexpected is often the most enjoyable as you have no preconceptions so are just open to experience the moment for what it is. AC: SO WHERE NEXT THEN? DTF: Mont Ventoux I think, off road of course, then back here to Nice to ride the Torino Nice Rally at the beginning of September. Then south towards Spain and follow the warmth into the autumn and winter. Maybe Morocco for Xmas, but I'm easy. How does not the UK sound? AC: Sounds good to me AC: GIVE US A FEW HIGHLIGHTS OF YOUR TRIP; DTF: To list a few… Riding away from my front door was great. Seeing the Alps for the first time entirely self-propelled. Crossing the petite saint Bernard pass while it was still covered in snow. Via del Sale and the Atla Via high altitude double tracks. AC: LOW POINTS? DTF: They generally involved a big city, a long day of headwinds, or the Simplon pass with its traffic and tunnels. Not many considering where I've been and what I've lived through. AC: THANKS FOR YOUR TIME.

La via del sale These days we take salt for granted, but centuries ago it was a matter of life or death, and where salt flowed in one direction, gold flowed in the other. There were hundreds of salt roads in Europe, leading from the marine flats of the Mediterranean, or from major ports like Nice, to wherever the salt was needed. And since it was vital for preserving food, salt was needed everywhere. Salt roads crossed Poland and Czechoslovakia, traversed Tuscany, the Po valley, all of Switzerland. In the Maritime Alps behind Nice, the different ruling dynasties of the region – the Counts of Provence, the Dukes of Savoy, the Lascaris di Tenda – sought to control and profit from the salt trade. Salt roads carved their way up gorges and over mountains, and villages became towns, became powerful cities, thanks to the tolls they imposed on the traffic. Today, the salt roads have mostly disappeared without a trace. If they still exist at all they are deserted and crumbling, in some of the remotest mountains we know. Ideal, therefore, for an adventure ride. We rode up the road from Tende, a road which follows the course of the old Route du Sel. Tende stands guard below the Col de Tende, which is still a key border crossing. However, it also used to be the most direct route from the salt marshes of the Camargue and Hyères to the noblemen of the House of Savoy, who ruled the Alps from Turin. This narrow path, used since time immemorial by tribes and marauding Saracen invaders, was widened and improved by the Savoy and, at the height of the trade in the 18th century, 45,000 mules a year worked the road over the col, the majority of them transporting sacks of salt. We rode past the town, vaulted the modern road tunnel and took the famous old road with its 48 switchbacks above it. Halfway up, just past the ruin of a monastic refuge, the tarmac disappeared. It would not reappear for 80 kilometres or more, and there we were on the gravel. Tende is a hard and hot and breathless climb, through pines and under towering cliffs of rock. At the top, a confluence of roads, leading to ski lifts, a chalet restaurant, and the huge abandoned barracks that used to defend this strategic strongpoint. Behind us was France; in front of us, Italy, falling away into the valley; and along the top of the ridge, suspended between the two, another Savoyard salt road. This Via del Sale stretched out into the high wilderness, a wilderness that used to be populated by brigands and bandits eager to relieve travellers of their precious cargo. But we were on our own. Up there, on top of those mountains, there was nothing, except for a painstakingly constructed rocky road swinging from col to col, descending and rising and then descending again, but rarely dipping below 2,000m. Occasionally, a 4x4 expedition vehicle passed, with its supplies and spare tyres piled upon the roof, but that was it. It was difficult to remember, as the light faded over that desolate high landscape and a chill wind whisked clouds around the darkening peaks, that paths generally follow the easiest possible route. A track is a friendly thing, showing you where people have been before, and promising that you will reach a destination. A path is a story with a beginning, middle and end. But this one seemed so hard. So obscure and hard won, and so difficult to construct, and to travel along: what unimaginable riches the salt must have brought, to make the journey worthwhile. We had climbed and climbed all day, into a world of scorched brown grass and grey rock, and it was easy to feel the lengthening shadows populated by smugglers and thieves. But then, as the sun set, we reached the rifugio, where climbers and drivers, riders and woodsmen were gathering for the night. Prosciutto, risotto, carne, a little human warmth, and then a dormitory bed, more food and the second day descending the Via del Sale to the sea. This stretch was easier, and we descended through woodlands that once belonged to modern Italy’s first king, Vittorio Emanuele II. It was his family who had built this track, and his descendants who had maintained it, in part for the troops manning the high fortresses on these ridges overlooking the border. And, for us, it was time to pick our side. Reverting to type, we chose France, and so ascended the Passo di Tanarello and started the long descent back to the valley we started in. Sometimes, we ride simply for sensation, sometimes for training, or to find time to think (or not to think). And, often, to explore what’s around the corner, over this hill, or that one. But sometimes a bicycle is a time machine, one that lets us peel back the surface of the modern and sink through the layers of the past into landscapes that are not our own. Because if we don’t, at least sometimes, wonder why the path is there – who beat this track, and for what reason? – then we may as well be on an exercise bike in a gym. And where is the fun in that? RIDERS' NOTES Our Via del Sale route For this section of the Salt Road, take a car or train to Tende village where you can either ride the route clockwise by starting with the Col de Tende or anti-clockwise by climbing up from La Brigue Photography: Matt Wragg // Words: Max Leonard Rifugio Don Barbera 2079m, Briga Alta, Province of Cuneo, Italy

The Transam Bike Race: Across the great divide Last year, during the Transcontinental Bike Race, Rebecca Harrison became known to us as 'The Girl In The Georgette' when we noticed her sleeping on the floor in one of our signature merino jerseys. This year Rebecca has been ultra-adventuring under her own steam once again, traversing the land of the free during the TransAM Bike Race. Discover her whys and wherefores of life on the long-distance road. I’m in my cycling bubble – that layer of insulation from the real world where all that matters is pedaling, eating and sleeping. Post-TransAm I decided to ride 120 miles out to Ocean City for recovery – because I’m also in my cycling groove after just under 29 days of non-stop cycling. 

Because riding is my happy place. And it seemed like the easiest way to get two people plus two bikes to the beach and reflect on what we'd just achieved… It’s called the TransAm Bike Race. But I was only ever racing myself hoping to get to the finish and maybe even improve on my performance from last year’s TCR. There are no prizes in this race. Everyone is 'racing' for their own sense of achievement. Preparation? We paid our money and then life got in the way of serious training. But with ultra-distance I guess this is an important point – the training required is less than you would expect. Luck and stubbornness are as important as saddle time. However…. It turns out the Transam is 4,300 miles- almost double the length of the TCR! I consoled myself with the thought that at 51,000m there was only marginally more climbing. It was basically TCR plus 1,900 flat miles…. I also discovered you could choose to ride either west to east or east to west. There was a whisper that the prevailing winds blew towards the east and I would take any chance of a tail wind across the flat plains! Plus, early morning is my favourite time of day so it made sense to ride into the sunrise. Going to America was not as plain sailing as the TCR (where I finished a night shift, got the train to London and then the Eurostar to Belguim) Extra stress of packing lists and baggage handlers taking care of my bike was dissolved by the time we were using the fantastic bike assembly area at Portland airport, complete with tools, track pump and bike stand. It truly is a bike-friendly city. The ‘race’ started at 6am and I was surprised who my nerves kicked in. Ignorance is bliss and with the experience from the TCR I was more aware of what lay ahead on the road. I knew there would be times when I would go hungry and thirsty, times when I wouldn't be able to find anywhere to sleep and times when I didn't think I could continue. You start to wonder “why am I doing this again?”. A reiminder of why came on the first major climb we encountered. McKenzie pass in Central Oregon had only just been snow ploughed a couple of days before which meant it was still closed to cars - a cyclist's playground. It’s an annual occurrence and the lack of cars meant we could savour the scenery. It was a real privilege. Crossing state lines became our new country days from TCR. They were something to look forward to and really made it feel like we were making progress, and sometimes also marked a significant change in the terrain to be tackled. Wyoming state line was situated inside Yellow Stone National Park and that really set the tone for the whole state. Yellow stone was a shock to our British systems - the vastness of it all and supersize everything, from the skyscraping tree line to that constant ‘threat’ of grizzly bears. And of course weather. As we passed from Yellow Stone into Grand Teton National Park we heard a tour guide tell his captive audience that there would only be indoor activities that day. There would be no indoor activities for us as we had the Togwatee Pass penciled in for the afternoon. About seven miles from the top, the weather really closed in. Snow, sleet and howling winds drove us into the the first lodge we found on the descet. It was so comfortable we ended up having mammoth 12 hours of sleep. Another rule of ultra cycling - take it while you can. The wind on the flats of Wyoming was punishing – head or cross wind only it seemed. But finally, as happens on these events, things eventually have a way of picking up and turning around. A strong tail wind blew us into an atmospheric arrival at Jeffrey City, an old-purpose mining town, now with around only 50 inhabitants. Our motel had a staff of one – owner, bar man, chef and waiter. Proper mid-American small town obscurity. I can only imagine the proprietor’s surprise when a couple of hours after our departure, one of our fellow riders arrived to refuel and started cursing us, “the Brits”. We eventually bumped into Mike a few days later. During dinner he explained that he'd been hunting us down for five days- not unusual in a race so long. Mike regaled us with stories of repeatedly arriving in towns a couple of hours behind us, looking in creepy churches because that's where the tracker had us staying and scrabbling about in the morning when he saw us leave. We leap frogged each other for the next few days. From talking to other riders it seems this is quite a common phenomenon – across the entire continent riders were either trying to shake off their chasers or reel in those ahead. It’s funny to think of it in isolation as the rest of the American population goes about it’s business. Janie Hayes, the eventual winner of the womens’ category was right when she told me on the start line that the TransAm saves the best till last. Crossing the state line into Missouri all of a sudden we had greenery and turns in the road. A welcome change after 500 miles of Kansas’s straight tarmac- great for getting big miles done but I felt every single mile. We were soon into the Ozark mountain range- a luscious humid place reminiscent of the rainforest. Humidity, rolling hills, sweat, and using every gear available. It was intense. Ice cream and cold drinks were our only saviours. The last mountain range we passed through were the Appalachians. At this stage you think the major climbing was left behind in Colorardo. The Appalachians stay below 400m in height so they don't appear too aggressive on the profile but you sure do bounce up and down inside that 400m! As well as strong gradients, we met dense fog. Out of that fog, came a ‘trail angel’ who asked us if we knew about the ‘cookie lady’s house’. Turns out the cookie lady had, since the 70s, noticed tired cyclists slogging up the steep hill outside her house and decided to feed them cookies. When she died in the 90s she left her house to the Transamerica bicycle trail and it has become a cyclist's haven- they even still have cookies!! It was a true American cycling dream and an example again of the human kindess that surprises you around every corneer – the unidentified client who paid our breakfast bill, the dot-watchers who guided us into the local fire station for shelter and plying us with British beers, the lady in Yorktown handing riders cold drinks as they passed, the cyclists who rode beside us for sections at a time. Arriving at the columns in Yorktown, the finish line of the Transam, I felt a mixture of emotions - happiness and relief but also an overwhelming sense of emptiness. This race was not about reaching the final destination but the journey I'd taken to get there, the amazing people I'd met along the way, the sights of “real” America and everything I'd learnt about myself. I guess that's the reason for the “post-race blues” and why so many people keep coming back for more… I thought back to the start line, where Nathan Jones the race organiser said that no one really understands what you're doing- not your family and not your friends. But I disagree. Anyone who has wanted to quit something, been so close to giving up but instead finished, not for prizes or medals but purely for their own personal satisfaction, then they will understand why we do what we do. I knew that if I had scratched from the race the short term discomfort I was in would be over but the long term pain of quitting wouldn't leave me until I had come back another time and finished this race. So chapeau to all my fellow racers who completed the Transam and to those who didn't finish good luck for future attempts. If you are considering an ultra-distance event but are yet to commit, I say this - entering is by far the hardest part.

Inca divide demands They have been named 'Chasquis' after the messengers that formed the running communication system of the Inca Empire. Ten days ago 13 riders, sporting our Audax Monique Jersey , set out from Quito in Ecuador with the objective of riding self-supported to Cuzco in Peru. The first edition of Inca Divide is a beta test of a different kind, so it's time to check in on those who checked out. Such a huge task has to be broken down into smaller parts. The first objective was Checkpoint 1 in Vilcabamba. It might be expected that with 3,500kms and 63,500m of climbing, the riders would ease into the flow of the race gently. But as all those who have done so will testify, put a number on and immediately logic is skewed. The pack split early as the all-important feature of self-supported ultra distance racing emerged – route planning. A front group comprised of Marcel Esser (Netherlands), Rodney Soncco (Peru) and Gustavo Breitenbucher (Argentina) took the main road over the mountains. Alex Wall (England) and Andreas Fabricius (Sweden) decided to take the ‘flatter’ gravel and mud roads of the Amazonian forest. A dangerous tactic given the unpredictable Ecuadoarian weather. The road choice won out with Marcel Esser, aka “The Pace Car”, the first to have his survival map stamped at CP1. Meanwhile Alex Wall admitted to crying at one point on a freezing descent with broken brakes and Jean-Luc Moncassin (France) had a bad fall caused by a collision with a stray dog. The distance covered by the leaders was between 700 and 800 km with more than 15,500m of elevation gain. Not your average cycling holiday. The key to ultra racing (so they say) is to just keep on keeping on, clocking the clicks like a metronome. Gustavo Breitenbucher had hit out early, surprising everyone by rising at 1am on the third day to streak into the lead. Unfortunately for him his knees were not as strong as his head or his heart and he had to ‘scratch’ from the race the following day as the relentless climbing became too much. And he was not alone - the weak point in Alex Wall's legs also gave way. The warning signs are there. With the group stretched between CP1 and CP2 the leaders crossed the border into Peru but cracks are beginning to appear. The stunning scenery helps as the riders battle the old unpaved Incan road network. But even as the comfort of civilisation warms hearts and heals doubting heads, this race punishes again with it's unrelenting requirement to climb. Even out of the city. With 2,000kms covered there are still 1,500kms remaining for the leaders (who are effectively 3 days and 300 to 500kms ahead of the other riders). This might be cycling voyeurism or inspiration. It depends entirely on your viewpoint. Either way, stay tuned to the dots as the make their way south. It's like the Running Man or the Hunger Games (depending on your age) on bikes.

Inca divide demands They have been named 'Chasquis' after the messengers that formed the running communication system of the Inca Empire. Ten days ago 13 riders, sporting our Audax Monique Jersey , set out from Quito in Ecuador with the objective of riding self-supported to Cuzco in Peru. The first edition of Inca Divide is a beta test of a different kind, so it's time to check in on those who checked out. Such a huge task has to be broken down into smaller parts. The first objective was Checkpoint 1 in Vilcabamba. It might be expected that with 3,500kms and 63,500m of climbing, the riders would ease into the flow of the race gently. But as all those who have done so will testify, put a number on and immediately logic is skewed. The pack split early as the all-important feature of self-supported ultra distance racing emerged – route planning. A front group comprised of Marcel Esser (Netherlands), Rodney Soncco (Peru) and Gustavo Breitenbucher (Argentina) took the main road over the mountains. Alex Wall (England) and Andreas Fabricius (Sweden) decided to take the ‘flatter’ gravel and mud roads of the Amazonian forest. A dangerous tactic given the unpredictable Ecuadoarian weather. The road choice won out with Marcel Esser, aka “The Pace Car”, the first to have his survival map stamped at CP1. Meanwhile Alex Wall admitted to crying at one point on a freezing descent with broken brakes and Jean-Luc Moncassin (France) had a bad fall caused by a collision with a stray dog. The distance covered by the leaders was between 700 and 800 km with more than 15,500m of elevation gain. Not your average cycling holiday. The key to ultra racing (so they say) is to just keep on keeping on, clocking the clicks like a metronome. Gustavo Breitenbucher had hit out early, surprising everyone by rising at 1am on the third day to streak into the lead. Unfortunately for him his knees were not as strong as his head or his heart and he had to ‘scratch’ from the race the following day as the relentless climbing became too much. And he was not alone - the weak point in Alex Wall's legs also gave way. The warning signs are there. With the group stretched between CP1 and CP2 the leaders crossed the border into Peru but cracks are beginning to appear. The stunning scenery helps as the riders battle the old unpaved Incan road network. But even as the comfort of civilisation warms hearts and heals doubting heads, this race punishes again with it's unrelenting requirement to climb. Even out of the city. With 2,000kms covered there are still 1,500kms remaining for the leaders (who are effectively 3 days and 300 to 500kms ahead of the other riders). This might be cycling voyeurism or inspiration. It depends entirely on your viewpoint. Either way, stay tuned to the dots as the make their way south. It's like the Running Man or the Hunger Games (depending on your age) on bikes.