Daily Highlights from My Tour Divide 2025 Adventure

The Tour Divide 2025 marked a significant milestone in my ultracycling journey, where I completed the 4,400 km route in 13.5 days, securing third place. Despite challenges like hydration and saddle sores, the adventure was unforgettable, featuring stunning landscapes and camaraderie with fellow racers.

Tour Divide 2025 was without a doubt one of the biggest highlights of my ultracycling journey so far. Not only a sporting peak in terms of distance and duration (4.400km / ~55.000 vertical meters), but also an adventure that will stay with me for a long time. And the fact that I was able to finish it with a third-place podium in just 13.5 days is the cherry on top!

During the race, I sent daily audio updates to Josh Ibbett (in English) and Daniel Lenz (in German). I have now turned these updates into videos, combined with photos, and published them on YouTube in the playlists below. If you’re looking for something to watch while riding the trainer this fall or winter, I highly recommend jumping straight in:

🎥 English Playlist

🎥 German Playlist

If you’d rather browse through the photos here on the blog, that’s perfectly fine too 😉 The texts for each day, however, aren’t written by me directly — they’re summaries generated with the help of Perplexity AI based on the video transcripts.

The photos mostly show the easier sections of the route (on the more technical singletracks, I usually kept my hands on the handlebars 😉).
If you’d like to get a good impression of the route — including the more challenging parts — I can highly recommend Josh Reid’s video.
The first 15 minutes alone give a great sense of how varied the course was (and you can even spot me briefly at the start):
👉 A Tour Divide Ultra Cycling Film – Life in the Mid Pack

Day 1: Rolling Past Fernie and Hitting the Trails

My first day on the Tour Divide 2025 took me just out of Fernie, the first major city on the route. Even though I originally planned to rest there, things were going better than expected, so I decided to keep pushing further and aimed for a shelter about 80 kilometers down the trail.

The weather was incredible—dry all day with plenty of sunshine, the perfect conditions to really enjoy both the scenery and the ride. However, the roads were still soaked and full of large puddles from heavy rain last night, turning the bikes into mud magnets and making drivetrains start creaking early in the race.

The second major challenge of the day was a relentless headwind, especially tough on wide gravel roads where it felt like there was never a break, even on the downhills. Right after the start, the course climbed up a short steep hill, circled a large lake, and then led onto a fantastic singletrack descent—just like a marble run and a real highlight so far.

There were some monotonous gravel sections along the way, but they faded into the background thanks to the beautiful landscapes and the thrill of the adventure. 

Day 2: Tough Day and Needed Rest

I spent the first night at Butts Cabin, arriving just behind Jens, so we were two together in this spot. More riders gradually showed up as the evening went on. I wasn’t very tired and struggled to sleep well—probably got about an hour and a half of real rest before packing up and heading out.

The day itself was mixed: started off fine, but by midday I hit a rough patch. I’m not sure if it was dehydration due to the heat or something I didn’t tolerate well, but the afternoon improved and my power numbers came back around.

After the poor sleep on night one, I was determined to rest properly on night two. So, despite it being only 6 p.m., I checked into a hotel in Columbia Falls to ensure good sleep before a long stretch with no accommodations ahead. I managed about four and a half hours of solid rest and now feel refreshed and ready for day three.

The weather stayed perfect and dry all day, and the forecast looks promising. Feeling positive and ready to push on!

Day 3: Battling Heat and Night Fatigue

I started Day 3 around midnight after checking into a hotel for proper rest the night before, hoping to ride comfortably through the night. However, the body’s natural rhythm kicked in, and around 4 to 5 a.m., I hit a wave of intense tiredness but managed to push through it.

The day took me through stunning mountain landscapes and included the best singletrack I’ve experienced so far—winding through forested areas with breathtaking views. I kept battling with a fellow rider, Xavier, which added some fun competition to the day.

The afternoon turned brutal with temperatures soaring above 30°C and no shade on the climbs, making the heat exhausting. My goal was to reach the famous and notorious Lama Ranch by nightfall, hoping to catch some sleep there before tackling the third night. Though really exhausted at the moment, I’m still optimistic and moving forward.

Day 4: Special Stays and Tough Climbs

I spent the night at Lama Ranch, a truly special place—a renovated old ranch with several small cabins and a big garden, where some friendly llamas roam around. What makes this place unique is that it exclusively hosts cyclists traveling the Tour Divide, offering free accommodation, sandwiches, drinks, and even electricity from a battery storage system. In return, the only request is that guests do good in the world—such generosity and kindness are rare and deeply appreciated.

After about three hours of sleep there, I tackled a big climb toward Helena. Despite the rest, my body’s rhythm caught up with me, and I got so tired that I had to take a 20-minute power nap by the roadside, wrapped in my down jacket and pants. When I woke, the sunrise had started, and I felt ready to continue, as before that, I couldn’t even hold my handlebars straight or keep my eyes open. Surprisingly, four caffeine tablets had no effect on my exhaustion.

In Helena, I stopped at a local station for breakfast and stocked up on some snacks and energy drinks. A lovely older lady who’s been a passionate Tour Divide watcher for years took photos and welcomed the riders warmly—heartfelt moments like these make a big difference on such a tough journey.

The route for the day was challenging, with constant up and downs, often feeling like there was a headwind. The weather was mixed, with light showers at times but nothing heavy. The highlight was Lava Mountain Pass, featuring some almost singletrack technical sections that required some pushing, but the downhill was a blast.

I’m now heading to White River, where I’ve reserved a cozy cabin to get some much-needed rest and showers before the next day. So far, the conditions have been manageable and I’m hopeful to keep this pace going.

Day 5: Long Stretch and Food Challenges

I started early from White River Lodge just before dawn, heading through a beautiful scenic road inside the national park. The only real problem was that everything was still closed early morning—no place to get food anywhere on the route. I even made a short detour to a point of interest hoping for something, but no luck there either.

So, I spent almost the entire day relying on gummy bears and whatever water I could find from roadside sources. The landscape was pleasant—riding between meadows—but the road was mostly flat gravel for long stretches with little variation, making the day feel a bit monotonous despite decent mileage.

In the afternoon, I managed to phone-call the lodge and sorted out my room even though the station was closed. Thankfully, they packed a bag of groceries for me using my credit card details provided on the phone and left it in my room. This meant I wasn’t going to bed hungry; I enjoyed some Pringles, chocolate, and sandwiches to refuel.

My only real issue right now is some serious saddle soreness that gets particularly bad in the evenings, though it eases overnight. To cope, I will continue to stop at lodges to shower and wash my cycling shorts overnight whenever possible. Other than that, everything is going smoothly. Fingers crossed the soreness improves and I keep moving forward

Day 6: Stunning Scenery and a Close Encounter

On Day 6, I climbed up Togwotee pass  in the breathtaking Grand Teton national park at around 3,000 meters elevation. I had planned to stay at Lava Mountain Lodge after the descent, but unfortunately, it’s currently closed due to construction going on, so I likely had to camp outside. I stocked up on supplies at a local gas station before the pass to prepare for a long stretch without accommodations.

The scenery today was truly stunning—amazing views of snow-capped peaks, beautiful lakes, and quiet valleys, with impressive flora including vibrant flowers amidst lush greenery. One unforgettable highlight was spotting a mountain lion right on the trail in front of me when I was close to Yellow Stone national park. Initially, I thought it was a deer grazing, but when it ran, I realized it was a big cat. Luckily, it was just as startled by me as I was by it, and it ran off safely.

On the downside, my saddle sores worsened today, with two main contact points becoming quite raw and painful, especially on rough trails. I cleaned the wounds at a visitor center and applied blister plasters, which helped somewhat, but I’m not optimistic about a quick recovery since the pressure persists. Despite this, the day’s experience and the natural beauty made it unforgettable.

Day 7: Dehydration and Heat in the Great Basin

Last evening I descended from Union Pass, which sits close to 3,000 meters elevation, and found a shelter to sleep in for the night. However, the real challenge was a severe lack of water—there was none to be found nearby except stagnant puddles, so I opted to stop rather than risk riding in the dark without reliable water sources.

The following day brought me through the brutal heat of the Great Basin, with temperatures soaring to 34°C and no shade to offer relief. The gravel roads continued their gentle ups and downs under relentless sun and scorching conditions.

Water resupply points were rare but vital. I stocked up heavily whenever possible, filling every bottle and pocket to prepare for the next dry stretch. A strong wind occasionally helped cool me down, blowing from the side, but the forecast warned of a headwind for the final 30 kilometers—a daunting prospect after already battling the unrelenting heat.

With lots of kilometers still to cover through the blazing basin, I booked a hotel room in Wamsutter as a definite goal to aim for, knowing that pushing on without shelter or water in such open heat would be dangerous. Staying hydrated and finding shade became the focus as I pushed through one of the toughest days yet.

Day 8: Battling Winds and Podium Motivation

Yesterday I pushed through most of the Great Basin, covering about 2,000 meters of elevation gain despite the mostly gentle rolling terrain. The endless straight roads stretch to the horizon, framed by beautiful landscapes but accompanied by challenging side winds, headwinds, and occasional tailwinds.

I arrived in a desert town in the evening (Wamsutter), where I had booked a room next to a gas station to rest and resupply. I stocked up heavily—chocolate milk, burritos, yogurts with muesli, gummy bears, and plenty of electrolyte drinks. Carrying it all was almost a challenge in itself, but part went into my bottles and the rest fueled me.

I coincidentally arrived at the accommodation around the same time as Max Riese, another rider. I had previously thought about trying the „sleep game“—cutting my night sleep to three hours instead of the usual four and a half to gain an advantage. I set my alarm for three hours but ended up sleeping through it, realizing that the race, which easily lasts two weeks or more, isn’t the time to start playing games with rest yet.

Despite strong, sometimes dangerous side winds that forced me to stop twice to avoid being blown off the road, I managed to catch Max on the next day and arrive at Brush Mountain Lodge just a few minutes ahead of him. The third-place rider, Svein Tuft – a former world-tour pro – was also there but struggling, visibly slowed since morning.

Max and I now find ourselves battling for third and fourth place, separated by just a few miles, with the race still long and uncertain. Motivation is high, knowing a podium spot is within reach, but the race remains brutally tough, especially as the night sets in. Hotel rooms were prohibitively expensive, so I chose to push onward into the mountains to find shelter for the night, whether in a hut or out in the wild.

Day 9: Pain Management and Perseverance

Let me share some thoughts about managing saddle sores. I’ve been using a combination of zinc ointment at night, sore cream during rides, and blister plasters on the worst spots to get through each day. Some suggest painkillers, and while I keep a small emergency kit for actual injuries, I avoid regular use. Painkillers can mask the body’s signals and risk long-term damage, which I want to avoid. They can also irritate the stomach, which is a concern during ultra cycling when calorie intake is crucial. I trust my body’s natural pain management and push through, stopping only if pain signals a need to rest or quit.

The previous night, I opted against expensive hotel rooms and rode on despite fatigue. When I reached the Lynx Pass, around 10 kilometers past, exhaustion hit so hard I couldn’t ride straight. A concrete toilet shelter nearby became my unexpected refuge for sleep, wrapped up in my down gear. Though 2,700–2,800 altitude meters isn’t ideal for rest, it was better than struggling downhill half-asleep.

The day has been very hot again, mostly above 2,000 meters, climbing toward a peak around 3,500 meters. I aimed to reach a hotel by late night to shower and recover properly. The friendly race battle with Max continues; we share a good rapport, sometimes eating together but racing separately, both eyeing the podium. This friendly rivalry is a great motivator.

Day 10: Mountain Climbs and a Midnight Hotel Mishap

Yesterday I arrived in Salidas in the middle of the night after a tough finish. A long 10 km downhill meant my heart rate dropped, making fatigue hit even harder. On the descent, I purposely kept myself a little cold to stay alert.

Arriving at the hotel, I faced a big scare—the night porter I had spoken to earlier forgot to leave my key as promised, leaving me locked out in the middle of the night. After some searching, I found a doorbell next to the office and rang. Thankfully, he appeared quickly, apologized for the mix-up, and got me checked in.

After a refreshing shower and washing my cycling gear, I was ready for bed. Unfortunately, nearby stores were closed, so my only option for a late snack was a pack of gummy bears to help with recovery.

The next morning started fresh with a massive climb up to around 3,500 meters, reaching the Continental Divide. Fortunately, gas stations were open, and I enjoyed a hot burrito right off the microwave on the road—a true highlight.

Despite the beautiful weather, the day was grueling due to intense heat and relentless headwinds that forced me to push hard even downhill and spend long stretches in aerodynamic bars battling the wind. After tackling a larger mountain followed by a smaller one, I aimed to reach Del Norte as my daily goal, knowing there would be long stretches with no services afterward. Time to recover and prepare for the next leg of the race.

Day 11: Recovery and Positive Progress

Yesterday afternoon I hit a rough patch with stomach issues that caused some dehydration and made it hard to keep power on the pedals. Luckily, I made it to Del Norte before dark where I had a hotel reservation. Despite some complications, I got checked in and then stocked up again at an open gas station.

I ate a lot to regain energy—drinking an entire liter of chocolate milk, eating two tuna sandwiches, multiple muffins and cupcakes, and chocolate. I slept well for about four and a half hours, though the whole process felt slow and inefficient since exhaustion had taken its toll on my concentration.

I started early the next morning while it was still dark and began a long climb up to the highest pass of the Tour Divide. I quickly felt my strength returning and my stomach settling. The rest of the day went well with good power and positive vibes.

My lead over Max seems to have grown a bit, and the gap to Jens may be closing. Data reception is spotty, so it’s tough to say for sure. The day’s route included fun but technical sections with loose rock on the Continental Divide Trail, so I decided to push the bike through where needed to avoid aggravating my recovering saddle sores.

The good news is this is the first day I’ve felt improvement in my saddle condition despite the daily load. It’s a promising sign, and I’m hopeful this positive trend continues. Let’s keep our fingers crossed!

Day 12: A Night of Struggle and Recovery

Yesterday afternoon I had some great fun with some of the best mountain biking on the Continental Divide Trail. The terrain was mostly rideable with short hike-a-bike sections, providing a lot of fun and beautiful views. When I arrived in the town Abiquiú where I planned to rest, I found that Jens, in second place, was also there, and I maintained a slight lead over Max.

However, a major challenge arose as almost all stores and gas stations had already closed—arriving around 11 p.m. meant no easy access to food. I checked into a lodge, expecting to buy something there, but it turned out to be completely self-catered, with no food available except for a small stash of leftovers like expired bread, milk, a tin of tuna, and a frozen spinach pie that I heated in the microwave. Not ideal, but I made do, taking some toasties along for the road.

The night was a nightmare: my cabin had many insects inside—mosquitoes, moths, and bugs all over the bed and mattress. It was impossible to get comfortable or sleep properly, as countless critters crawled over me, leaving me itchy and restless. There was no shower available because it was solar-powered and only worked during the day.

After a few hours of broken, unrefreshing sleep, I decided to get an early start. Unfortunately, the questionable leftovers affected my stomach badly in the morning, causing weakness and frequent stops. Luckily, by afternoon, I reached Cuba, New Mexico, where I had a proper meal—fresh burrito and fries—and stocked my bottles. Now, I’m on a 180-kilometer stretch to the next larger town for a real hotel stay to recover fully.

Though Jens is still ahead and Max is following close, my spot in third feels secure for now. The final days promise to be tough, but after this ordeal, I’m feeling more positive about finishing strong.

Day 13: Tough Roads and Equipment Setbacks

My ride from Cuba to Grants last afternoon, covering about 180 kilometers of rolling terrain, started quite well. But the second half of the stint turned tough with fierce headwinds and thunderstorms, making the approach to Grants feel much longer.

Arriving at my hotel, I found that all gas stations and shops had closed, despite checking opening hours on Google Maps—which proved unreliable yet again. The motel staff confirmed that store hours in New Mexico can’t be trusted online. I made do with some gummy bears and invented a sugary dinner using coffee creamers and sugar from the hotel coffee machine.

Earlier, a major mishap struck when a water-filled milk jug in my gear bag burst, soaking all my equipment—down jacket, pants, hat, gloves, and ID—forcing me to wring out and attempt to dry everything overnight with the hotel’s air conditioning. At least it was just water, not a sticky sports drink.

The day’s ride moved from asphalt back to gravel roads, passing the famous Toaster House in Pie Town, although the owner wasn’t around so I grabbed a snack at a nearby cafe. The ride continued over endless, washboarded gravel roads—a real test of patience and endurance, with power-sapping headwinds persisting through the morning.

As the race draws to a close, keeping focus and minimizing breaks becomes even tougher after two weeks of pushing hard. Every kilometer now feels like a real step toward the finish. The landscape, though challenging, held its own charm. Placements remained steady, with Jens about three hours ahead and Max two hours behind—each giving their all in these final days. The finish line is within sight, and the anticipation for the end builds with every pedal stroke.

Day 14: The Final Push and Podium Finish

On the last stretch towards the finish line, the race intensity went through the roof. Jens, Max, and I all pushed hard to see how the final standings would shake out. I decided to try staying awake through the last night, hoping to gain an edge. Jens seemed to have the same idea, and we battled through the night with only short power naps. Max eventually pulled out, taking a longer break.

By morning, the gaps were clear: Jens secured second, I held third, and Max was fourth. With little chance of changes barring serious mishaps, the motivation to ride flat out faded. I took time in Silver City to enjoy a proper breakfast of tacos and fruit, something I wouldn’t have done if still racing full sprint.

The remaining route took me through hot, sandy steppe landscapes with no shade under a fierce sun. In one descent, I caught my front wheel in deep sand, catapulting me off and scraping my arm, knee, and leg. With no water nearby, I rinsed wounds with a can of Monster energy drink, which surprisingly soothed the stinging nicely thanks to the carbonation. I rode on to a gas station for proper rinsing.

Though painful, the injuries didn’t stop me from finishing the last 70 kilometers. Crossing the finish line on the podium was overwhelming—a mix of relief, pride, and gratitude. I’m deeply thankful to my family for their support and to everyone who sent motivating messages throughout the race.

I never imagined as a rookie that I’d finish in under 14 days or that I’d make the podium in such a competitive field. The fierce battle with Jens and Max kept me focused and motivated over the long haul. This experience has been unforgettable, now looking forward to some serious rest and nice talks with my contenders. Over and out!

Chasing a Dream: My Journey to the Tour Divide 2025

The Tour Divide begins June 13th in Banff, Canada, covering 4,400 km and 60,000 meters of elevation gain through the Rocky Mountains to the Mexican border. The race, an ultimate test of unsupported ultracycling, fulfills a lifelong dream. I’m looking forward to the challenge, community, and breathtaking landscapes.

When

The Tour Divide kicks off on Friday, June 13th in Banff, Canada, and will take me roughly 4,400 km (2,700 miles) by mountain bike with 60,000 meters of elevation gain. The route follows the spine of the Rocky Mountains, heading south all the way through the U.S. to the Mexican border.

For anyone interested in following along and watching some sleep-deprived ultra-cyclists battle joy and suffering alike, here are the key links:

📍 Route & Live Tracking: Trackleaders – Tour Divide 2025
📣 Race Commentary: Dotwatcher – Tour Divide 2025
📜 The Rules: TourDivide.org – Rules
📸 Instagram: @jochenboehringer
📘 Facebook: jochen.bohringer.3

Why

When I first discovered ultracycling, the Race Across America was a huge inspiration—an ambitious dream that felt unreachable, yet deeply fascinating. Over time, however, the appeal of supported road races faded for me. I found myself drawn more and more to the adventure of unsupported racing in rugged terrain.

That shift in mindset eventually replaced the Race Across America on my bucket list with the Tour Divide—a race that’s fully unsupported, starts with several hundred kilometers through Canada, and then traverses the U.S. from north to south.

I’ve built quite a list of dream events by now, but the Tour Divide has always remained at the top. And this year, I finally get to tick it off the list. I’m beyond excited for the challenge—and equally for the incredibly diverse and beautiful landscapes along the way.

How

My journey begins on Tuesday, June 10th with a flight to Calgary, giving me two days to prep my gear and try (at least a little) to adjust to the time zone. Though let’s be honest—during the race, normal sleep patterns get tossed out the window anyway.

As a family, we had already planned a long road trip across the U.S. during the school summer holidays. After a few key conversations with my wife and my manager at work, I made the decision to extend my sabbatical by a few weeks to squeeze in the Tour Divide beforehand.

A huge thank you to my employer Bosch for making the sabbatical possible—and of course, most of all, to my wife and teenage sons for giving me the freedom to chase this dream. You guys are amazing!


Aspiration

The Tour Divide means two things to me. First and foremost, it’s the realization of a lifelong dream to ride this legendary route. That means finishing is my top priority—like in most races I do.
But everyone who knows me also knows: I wouldn’t sign up for a race without trying to go as fast as I can. 😉

My longest race so far was the Silk Road Mountain Race in Kyrgyzstan, which took just under 8 days. The Tour Divide will likely take me twice as long, and I’m really curious to see how this extended duration affects me—especially mentally.

In shorter events, I’ve managed to stay focused despite exhaustion and lack of sleep. But over two or more weeks? That’s uncharted territory.
Don’t worry—bike happy. 🙂

For now, I’m just incredibly excited to finally arrive in Banff, to get to the start line, and to immerse myself in the special community of riders. These events always bring unforgettable encounters with like-minded adventurers from around the world.

Wish me luck—for my mind, my gear, and the weather!

Not my Tour Divide race bike, but it shows me with my family as I get the final touches for my legs at the Santana Tandem Convention 😉

Trans Balkan Race 2024 – bears, mines, and how to set an alarm clock

My participation in the Trans Balkan Race is coming up on its anniversary. Time to finally publish my report also on the blog. The experiences of each race day are paired with a few beautiful photos. Huge thanks to @transbalkanrace for letting me use them (photographers: @nils_laengner, @exploro.cc, @michelapedranti, @beatriceberla, @andreasecuro).

Day 1

Let’s start with Day 1: On the way from the hotel to the start in Sežana (Slovenia), it becomes clear that the first day is going to be very wet. It’s pouring down, and I quickly put on my full rain gear — rain jacket, long rain pants, and overshoes — at the start. After the starting gun, it’s a wild ride on gravel roads into the hinterland. For the first few meters, I’m still up front, but then a few riders pick up the pace to a level more suited for a short gravel race or MTB marathon, and I let the hotheads go. Experience shows that you either meet most of the fast starters later or they drop out within the first two days. At the beginning, I constantly experience navigation problems and almost miss every turn. I’m already doubting my navigation device when I finally realize that raindrops on the touchscreen have adjusted the map display resolution, so I’m navigating at a much too detailed zoom level, where turns only appear right at the moment of the turn. Once that’s corrected, navigation fortunately works fine. 

The second challenge is the Tailfin Aeropack bag. Relatively soon, we hit technical sections or descents with very rough surfaces in the corners. I hadn’t had time to ride with the packed setup off-road before the race, and now it’s coming back to bite me. The center of gravity is significantly further back/up because of the bag, and this changes the bike’s handling drastically. At first, I feel like I have no control over the bike and curse my decision to use the Tailfin. Fortunately, after a few hours, I get completely used to it and feel perfectly comfortable on my bike again. I can already say that after the adjustment period, the Tailfin bags were the perfect choice for the entire race. They were really 100% waterproof and kept all my gear easily accessible. And they played very well with my sull-suspension setup.

In the first few hours, we cross from Slovenia into Croatia, and the route mainly goes through forested areas. This makes it a bit monotonous in the constant rain, though technical trail sections occasionally add some excitement. On top of the first longer climb I’m back in top 10 and start to feel comfortable with my performance although my body seems to be dealing with something. My heart rate is about 15-20 beats higher per minute than usual for the given power output. This worries me a bit and continues into the second day, but it normalizes as the event progresses and never really becomes a problem. 

In the afternoon, after 123 km, I plan to restock supplies at the first mountain hut, but find out that the Croatian mountain hut listed as a supply point in the race manual only has drinks. No muesli or chocolate bars to be found. Luckily, I have plenty of gels with me, so it’s not a problem for now. Shortly after, I find myself in the small town of Lič with two other top-5 riders at a bakery.

Here, you can see that ultra cycling is mostly a food competition 😉 We commiserate with each other about our suffering due to the constant rain, thunderstorms, and hailstorms, sharing gallows humor as we take in calories.

In the evening, the weather improves a bit, and I can enjoy the view of the Croatian coastline in the beautiful sunset before night falls. The ride through the night is only interrupted by another attempt to get supplies at the mountain hut Dom Zavižan (at kilometer 241). Again, there’s only water and some coke. The organizing team members present explain the reason: the huts are not legally allowed to sell food in Croatia. Since there have been hefty fines in the past, they strictly adhere to this rule. With this new insight, I continue to ride through the adverse weather conditions of the first night (by now I’ve moved up to 3rd place). Given that camping out in these conditions is anything but appealing, the decision to ride through the first night is an easy one.

Day 2

After riding through the night, I arrive in the town of Gospić (at kilometer 326) just before 6 AM. In the meantime, the weather has improved significantly, and the rising sun warms my tired limbs. All the shops directly on the route are still closed, but I urgently need supplies. So, I decide to take a detour to a 24-hour gas station, about 2 km off the track.

While I’m freshening up (new chamois and sunscreen), @nils_laengner shows up with the Media Car and takes some pictures. It’s nice to see familiar faces after the long night and have some small talk. Additionally, the gas station restroom has the advantage of allowing me to remove the dirt before applying a new layer of sunscreen. Armed with freshly filled bottles (fruit juices and cola) and plenty of chocolate bars and pastries, I head back on the road. The weather is turning out beautifully and leads us through wonderfully blooming flower meadows. Only the muddy trails and deep puddles, which sometimes span the entire width of the road, remind us of the heavy rainfalls from the past 24 hours.

I manage to move further ahead and finally reach the first checkpoint in Mazin at kilometer 432 in the early afternoon. The leader, Manuel Truccolo, is also still at the checkpoint when I arrive, but he has already resupplied and is on his way again as I wash the mud off my bike with a garden hose and get served a portion of Pasta Napoli. I use the checkpoint’s Wi-Fi and my meal to book a hotel room in the next major city (Knin). This gives me a fixed goal for the rest of the day. As I get ready to continue, the third-placed Zbigniew Mossoczy arrives.

After the checkpoint, it’s back onto a jeep track with an extremely rocky surface after a short asphalt ride. I push hard but feel like I’m moving at a snail’s pace and get completely frustrated. I keep expecting Zbigniew to overtake me from behind at any moment. The midday heat during the climb adds to my demoralization.

But then, completely unexpectedly, I don’t see Zbigniew coming up from behind; instead, I catch up with Manuel ahead of me… and suddenly, I’m wide awake and fully in race mode. The climb gets increasingly challenging and eventually unrideable.

Newly motivated by taking the lead, I give it my all and soon create a significant gap from Manuel. The following descents and counter-climbs are really tough, with very rocky terrain alternating with deep muddy puddles and dirt paths. But the prospect of getting some sleep in Knin and gaining a bit more lead on my pursuers keeps me going. Just before 8 PM, I finally reach Knin (at kilometer 520), quickly check into the booked hotel right by the route, and get some extra calories from a bakery a few meters from the hotel. After a quick shower and some zinc ointment for the contact points with the saddle, I go to bed. Since I didn’t sleep at all the previous night, I generously set the alarm for 3 hours of sleep 😉 I assume that I won’t be in the lead anymore when I wake up, but I hope the recovery will pay off as the race progresses.

Day 3

The alarm rings, and just before 1 AM, I’m back on the bike, riding out of Knin. I’m somewhat surprised that, despite the early sleep break, I haven’t lost many places. Other riders have also stopped in Knin to spend the night. After Knin, the terrain is initially slightly uphill or undulating for a few kilometers out of town before a long, grueling climb begins. Even before the real mountain starts, I manage to overtake Mateusz Wiszniewski (sleeping by the roadside) and Manuel Truccolo (just getting up by the roadside) and find myself in second place behind Zbigniew Mossoczy. The upcoming mountain is no fun at night. The very rough surface with loose stones and occasional short pushing sections require full concentration in the dark. Again and again, in addition to the hub dynamo-powered lamp on my handlebars, I have to activate my helmet lamp to find a good track. At dawn, I reach the summit and can now also see the many warning signs along the way, which warn of life-threatening minefields off the paths. A sobering reminder of the Yugoslav Wars.

The descent goes well at first, but around 7 AM, I struggle so much with fatigue that I lie down on a rock slab by the roadside for a few minutes of power nap. Afterward, I feel really good and resume the chase after Zbigniew. The 700-meter climb to the border between Croatia and Bosnia-Herzegovina is paved, so I take the opportunity to call my wife at home, and the ascent passes quickly. That I am also maintaining a decent pace allows me to overtake Zbigniew shortly after the border crossing but before the summit. The chocolate the border guards give me as a welcome gift and moving back into first place puts me in high spirits, and I enjoy the long descent and the following flat section to Livno (at kilometer 646).

Upon arriving in Livno, I stop right at the entrance to a bakery, eat two pastries, replenish my food supply with more pastries, and, in addition to my filled bike bottles, pack an extra bottle of fruit juice, as the weather is great and the sun is blazing. While I am provisioning, Zbigniew also appears, makes a Formula 1-style pit stop, and rides off before me. However, I can overtake him on the next climb, as he seems to be having trouble with his feet and finds it difficult to pedal with higher intensity.

In the now following remote section in the mountains, I have a truly frightening encounter with a pack of shepherd dogs for the first time in the race. As I approach on the bike, I am quickly surrounded by at least eight impressively large dogs, barking and growling aggressively. Riding away on the bike is not an option, as the dogs are far too fast, and the terrain is relatively flat. I remember the recommended behavior (dismount and push the bike slowly). Although it’s a great effort, I get off the bike, and behold, I am still closely followed, but the aggression decreases, and I am no longer attacked. However, any attempt to get back on the bike and roll slowly changes the situation abruptly, so I push the bike a considerable distance until I apparently leave the herd’s territory, and the dogs lose interest in me.

The next opportunity for provisions is in Šuica (at kilometer 683). I use the bar directly on the route to replenish my drink supply with Coke. Unfortunately, there is nothing to eat, but since I still have some supplies, I ride on directly. All afternoon, I continue through remote mountain areas with beautiful views, glad that the weather remains consistently nice apart from a few isolated raindrops. The media car with @nils_laengner keeps popping by as a welcome distraction, taking photos. Everything is going well, and when I turn onto a paved road again shortly before the large Blidinjsko jezero mountain lake, I have managed to gain about 20 kilometers ahead of the second-placed Zbigniew. 

However, my drink supplies are completely exhausted, and I have been rationing my drinking for some time. So, a large hotel with a restaurant on the ground floor appearing by the roadside comes in handy. I stop and go straight to the bar in the restaurant to order a few bottles of Coke and a mineral water. The staff looks at me somewhat puzzled since I don’t fit into the upscale ambiance of the place in my filthy clothes, but they still start to serve me quickly. The staff’s astonishment grows when the media team enters the restaurant behind me and starts taking pictures wordlessly. I would love to know what goes through the minds of those uninvolved in the race at such moments 😉

Freshly supplied, I continue and use the asphalt section to the lake to book a hotel with a 24-hour reception in the next larger city along the route (Mostar at kilometer 798) via booking.com. Just after completing the booking, disaster strikes, and a terrible downpour starts. At first, I only put on my rain jacket, but a few kilometers later, I get so cold in the rain that I also put on my long rain pants, neckerchief, and hat. The further kilometers to Mostar are then marked by bad weather, and I am glad when I reach the hotel late in the evening. The receptionist is just great. When I explain my situation to him, he immediately understands that I won’t be having breakfast and allows me to grab some muesli/milk, a few fruit juices, and yogurt to take to my room.

And soon after, I am lying in bed with a full stomach and freshly showered. I set the alarm so that I have a full sleep cycle (1.5 hours) and fall asleep immediately.

Day 4

I wake up a minute before the alarm goes off, and although it’s only around 1 AM, I take the opportunity to freshen up and apply sunscreen and chamois cream for the coming day. Then I throw on my now dirt-encrusted cycling clothes and hop on the bike in high spirits. The good mood is partly because the tracker shows me still in the lead despite my break. But also because the first few kilometers are in the valley, and even the upcoming climb starts on smooth asphalt. The climb is very steep, but since I’m more of a climber type, I see this as an advantage despite the effort. So, I cheerfully climb meter by meter back into the mountains.

Unfortunately, my good mood takes a hit when it starts raining heavily again just before dawn. Gradually, I put on all my layers of clothing, but still can’t prevent getting colder. Sometime in the early morning, a heavy fatigue sets in. Unfortunately, I’m somewhere in the middle of nowhere and can’t find a suitable spot to lie down in the dry. To clear my head, I eventually lie down under a tree by the roadside in the wet grass. I can’t sleep well, but it helps my brain reset. After about 20 minutes, I’m shivering all over and reluctantly get back on the bike. Eventually, I come through a small village (probably Nevesinje), where there are no food options on the route, but at least a canopy. So, I take the opportunity to put on my last dry, warm clothing item – my down jacket – under my rain jacket. This makes me a bit warmer, and I continue riding in the persistent rain until I arrive in Ulog (at kilometer 884) at around 9 AM in the morning. Ulog is a small village, but it’s listed in the race manual as a supply point, and there’s actually a small bar right on the route that also offers warm food.

I enter the bar and am greeted sympathetically but warmly by the owner and four other guests, despite my completely filthy and soaking wet outfit. I quickly order a hot tea and ask if I can also get something warm to eat. One of the guests translates my English into the local language, and after a short preparation time, I am served a portion of scrambled eggs with sausages and bread.

Normally, I wouldn’t take a break for a meal during the race, but in this case, I’m just glad to be in the dry and warm up a bit while eating. Whenever I fill my mouth with the cutlery and chew, I warm my hands on the hot tea cup. After eating, it’s hard to get going again. But I have to continue, and the other guests assure me that the weather will improve as the day progresses.

And they’re right. It feels like an eternity, but eventually, the sun comes out, and it stops raining. Before that happens, I take another 20-minute power nap by the roadside. The bad weather and cold sap my energy immensely. After a very long climb, a thrilling descent follows, where I meet the media crew again, who want to take photos of the leading riders. By now, the front group has rearranged itself, and closely behind me, Zbigniew and my French friend @stevenlehyaric are giving chase.

I still have some food supplies, but my water bottles are completely empty by the time I reach the bottom of the valley. Eventually, I spot a house that looks like a restaurant on the lower level. There’s even some music playing on the terrace speakers, but the doors are locked, and no one responds to my knocking and shouting. While circling the house looking for signs of life, I find a water tap at the back. Although I let the water run for a while, it doesn’t get cool. A bad sign, as it’s likely not tap water but possibly rainwater, meant for gardening. However, since I urgently need a refill, I fill my bottles anyway, trusting my Micropur Forte tablets to at least eliminate the worst bacterial contamination. So, 30 minutes later (the tablet’s working time), I have the opportunity to drink again.

And so I continue with fresh supplies. The weather is strange: the sun is shining, but I keep running into rain showers. I’m glad when the route takes a long climb into the forest, where the canopy shields me a bit from the rain. As I ride on, my heart almost stops when I see two hairy backsides about 10-15 meters ahead on the path. The loud stream next to the path must have drowned out my riding noise, so the otherwise very shy bears didn’t hear me coming. I stop immediately, but the bears now notice me and turn around. It’s a large mother with her cub. The mother immediately stands up, showing her impressive size. I don’t know what to do and stand frozen. Before I can do anything right or wrong, the bear luckily decides to retreat and disappears into the forest with her cub. I stand still for a while, fearing the bears might be waiting near the path for their freshly discovered meal 😉

After recovering from the shock, I continue my way. This encounter will definitely be one of the lasting memories of the race, best described as a mix of surprised horror and majestic joy.

It’s early evening at this point, and there are still about 50 kilometers to the checkpoint. I want to ride these entirely to take a proper sleep break at the checkpoint. However, the 50 kilometers are challenging, and after nightfall, there are extended mud sections where I frequently have to dismount. So, it takes much longer than expected, and during a descent, I get so tired that I take another 20-minute power nap, lying in my bivy sack. Surprisingly, I can easily forget my recent encounter with the wild forest inhabitants and fall asleep immediately. It’s very cold again, and the humidity is extremely high, so my rain jacket is covered with water droplets despite no rain. Just before the checkpoint, there’s finally an asphalt section, so the remaining kilometers roll smoothly over one last hill. It’s now already after midnight, but the checkpoint crew and the media car await me at the second and last checkpoint of the race (at kilometer 1037) in Brod.

It’s nice to have some small talk with familiar faces, and the freshly prepared pasta with tomato sauce revives my spirits. The checkpoints at the @transbalkanrace are spartan, as you can only get drinks here for the rest of the race (e.g., no chocolate bars or other food to take with you). But you’re always greeted with a portion of pasta and much human friendliness, and if needed, you can also wash your bike.

I take the opportunity to shower quickly and lie down for 1.5 hours of sleep on the only mattress available for riders. I’m curious how this works later in the race when multiple riders occupy the checkpoint at the same time. To avoid wearing my dirty cycling clothes to sleep, I wrap myself in a piece of curtain fabric provided and fall asleep immediately after setting the phone alarm. When the alarm goes off, I quickly get dressed to hit the road again. The crew has kindly placed my wet cycling shoes near an outdoor fireplace, so they are not completely dry but at least warm when I slip into them.

Just before getting back on the bike, @stevenlehyaric arrives at the checkpoint, and we exchange a few lighthearted remarks before he lies down and I head off again.

Day 5

So, what happens after I leave Checkpoint 2, wrapped in fresh sun and butt cream, just before dawn?

I ride the last few meters down into the valley on the asphalt road to Brod. Luckily, there is a 24-hour gas station with a wide selection, so I can stock up on supplies with plenty of chocolate bars (Snickers, Mars, Kinder Bueno) and Haribo gummy bears (cola bottles). I feel great again, and the undulating section on the highway to the Montenegrin border passes quickly. On both sides of the border, there is a wide highway. Only for the bridge over the river, between the border stations in the demilitarized zone, does neither Bosnia nor Montenegro seem to take responsibility. It is in an adventurous condition, and the roadway (if I remember correctly) is only covered with wooden planks despite the car traffic. After properly checking out of Bosnia and checking into Montenegro, the route climbs steeply into Durmitor National Park. The weather is excellent, the sweat is pouring down, and I am pleased with the very good road conditions, especially since my butt is now making itself unpleasantly felt.

The bad weather of the past few days, with lots of dirt and rain, has made the long days in the saddle even harder on my seat. As I ride uphill, I suddenly notice a short piece of a branch stuck on the side of my front tire. I assume it is just stuck to the tire and try to brush it off with my glove while riding. But the small branch is stubborn. So, I stop to take a closer look. And lo and behold, the branch has pierced the sidewall of the tire and is stuck in the tire.

 Following an initial impulse, I want to pull it out immediately. But the thought of losing air, having to seal the hole with a tire plug, and pumping up the tire again stops me just in time. And since the tire has obviously been functioning in this state for hours, I decide to trust the sealant in the tire, trim the protruding end of the branch a bit, and just keep riding. And to give away the ending: the tire holds up flawlessly with this setup until the finish. I don’t have to pump up the tire at all during the entire race, neither front nor rear.

The next few hours, the route winds through the beautiful landscape of Durmitor Park. My butt, however, is increasingly making its discomfort known, and sitting is becoming increasingly difficult to endure as the path turns into a rocky track in places. So, I remember hearing on a podcast that long-distance cyclists have successfully alleviated their saddle sores with blister tape. And since I have a few of them in my luggage, I try my luck and apply them to the most affected areas. It works even better than expected, and while not pain-free, I am at least able to continue my ride with significantly reduced pain. The next few hours are scenically great, and the route winds up and down to the highest point of the entire route at over 1,900 meters.

I still have a good lead on my pursuers, but I feel increasingly lonely, as I haven’t had a single encounter with the media crew all day. They are a bit behind me with @stevenlehyaric and Zbigniew and miss me even at the highest point of the route as I plunge into the fast asphalt descent to Žabljak.

I reach Žabljak just before 3 PM, and according to the roadbook, it is “only” about 70 km to the next town, Kolašin. So, I decide I will definitely ride to Kolašin to take another sleep break there. But before continuing, I go shopping at the local supermarket and finally have the first ice cream of the race.

There have hardly been any opportunities to buy one so far, and when there are, it is either raining heavily, or it is too cold to enjoy ice cream. I also buy two packs of blister plasters at the pharmacy, as my saddle sores are increasing again, and I need more supplies. The problem is mainly that my first application has been somewhat amateurish, and the plasters are already coming loose at the edges, causing additional chafing. Since trying to remove them results in the realization that I am pulling off the affected skin along with them, I have to abandon the attempt and focus on spending the night in Kolašin, where I can remove and replace the plasters in the shower with warm water.

So, I set off again in the afternoon, feeling refreshed and with new supplies. The route leads back into the solitude of the hinterlands with constant ups and downs. The track becomes increasingly challenging, and the kilometers seem to drag on endlessly. The initial rough gravel road turns into a dual track and eventually into a dirt path, winding through the mountains with deep ruts and mud puddles. Eventually, night falls, and I become increasingly tired. But the fixed idea of riding to a hotel in Kolašin keeps driving me forward. I notice that I am becoming less efficient and slower, but my sleep-deprived brain is not clear enough to come up with alternative plans. And so, it comes to be that I am so tired at some point that I can’t keep my eyes open while riding and can’t continue on the technically demanding path. Unfortunately, there is no sheltered place to sleep nearby, so I have to lie down in the wet grass, protected only by my bivy bag from the cold wind, as continuing is out of the question. Just 20 minutes later, I wake up shivering and have to keep moving to avoid getting completely chilled.

The fixed idea of a hotel and a shower in Kolašin keeps driving me on, preventing me from considering the occasional good bivy spots along the way. The long descent into the town is another significant challenge, but my spirits lift as the town comes into sight. When I enter the hotel with a 24-hour reception that I have in mind into Google Maps at a junction off the track towards the town, it shows it is still over 6 km away. Although Kolašin is listed as “off route” in the race manual, the manual also states that “off route” options should be no more than 50 meters to 1 km from the track. So, I assume I am not at the correct turnoff to the town yet and continue following the race route. A few kilometers later, the route starts moving away from the town lights again and climbing back into the mountains. Another check at Google Maps shows the hotel is now about 10 km away. Despair sets in. But in my exhausted state, I still can’t think of alternatives. So, I turn around and head for the hotel.

Arriving there in the middle of the night, sometime between 1 and 2 AM, I have to ring the bell for a few minutes at the locked door until a friendly but visibly sleepy older lady opens it. I feel very sorry for disturbing her sleep and asking for a room, dirty and stinking at her counter. But she takes it in stride and even allows me to park my filthy bike at the reception. Our communication improves after we discover that we both speak German well after initial difficulties in English 😉

I am incredibly relieved when the battered blister plasters on my sore butt come off in the warm shower. A look at the tracker shows that the detour to the hotel adding around 20 additional kilometers and the slow ride before it has cost me quite a bit of my lead, but I figure that with 1.5 hours of sleep, I will be back on the route in time to start the last day most probably together with @stevenlehyaric. I set three alarms on my phone, lay my head on the soft pillow, and fall asleep immediately.

Day 6

I wake up without the alarm clock ringing. At first, I’m happy that I feel relatively good and didn’t even need 90 minutes of sleep. But the next moment, adrenaline rushes through every pore of my body… it’s bright in the room, and a glance at my phone tells me it’s already close to 6 AM. I’ve slept more than twice as long as I intended. How could this happen? I check the phone and see that I had set the times for the three alarms correctly, one minute apart. The only thing I can imagine in hindsight is that I forgot to activate them. Another glance at the tracking shows me that I have dropped from first to third place and also have to ride an additional 6 to 7 km to get back on route. What a disaster. On the other hand, getting more than 3 hours of sleep on the last night of a race is a real luxury, and the other two probably had much less rest. So, I don’t give up the race yet, quickly gather my things, and hop back on the bike with a whole collection of fresh blister plasters on my butt. Unfortunately, it’s still so early in the morning that there’s no food available at the hotel or any shops. No matter… I still have a few chocolate bars from the previous day and set off in pursuit of @stevenlehyaric and Zbigniew with those.

Luckily, I manage to turn my frustration over oversleeping into extra motivation, and I soon catch up to and overtake Zbigniew on the long climb back into the mountains. He’s in good spirits and even loudly cheers me on to catch @stevenlehyaric as well.

And so, I gradually reduce the 20 km lead of the first-place rider. But eventually, as it must, the higher intensity burns significantly more carbohydrates, and my food supply is running low. I already feel the first signs of a hunger bonk. The realization that I can no longer catch @stevenlehyaric like this brings me down quite a bit, as I have to slow down to make it through the long stretch to Nikšić (the next major town) by burning fat. Unlike yesterday, I’m not alone today because the media crew keeps appearing along the route to take photos.

As I half-starved, tingle through the endless grasslands around a huge wind farm, it becomes particularly tough again when I see the media crew sitting by the roadside with their stove, enjoying a delicious meal. The rules are merciless here (self-supported), and so I have to wish them a good appetite without being allowed to take anything myself. My drinks are also running out, but I manage to replenish my water supply from a stream, disinfecting it with Micropur. The bad mood only lasts for a short while as I remind myself how well my race has gone overall and that I can be more than satisfied with my performance and even a second place. So, I’m able to flip the switch in my head and enjoy the scenery and the prospect of finishing before nightfall.

Since the chase for first place has become obsolete and I also have a comfortable lead over third place again, a small lodge on the long descent to Nikšić comes just in time. I see two men eating in the garden, and a pictogram on a sign promises hospitality for guests. I hit the brakes and head into the garden to ask the two for food. I’m greeted with overwhelming hospitality and immediately invited to the table.

Only during the meal do I realize that the lodge is not even open yet, and I’m eating the two men’s afternoon snack, which they prepared while getting the lodge ready for the summer season. It’s very hard to say goodbye to this friendly setting, but I want to reach the finish line while the restaurants are still open, so I set off again, freshly strengthened.

Upon arriving in Nikšić, I make another stop at a shop where the media crew is also halting to stock up on chocolate bars, gummy bears, and drinks for the remaining nearly 70 km. And to eat my second and final ice cream during the race. Now, nothing can go wrong. The rest of the route is supposed to be mostly on asphalt and easy to ride, and so it is. Only the main road out of the city is mentally challenging because there’s a lot of traffic, and drivers here have no sense of cyclists‘ safety needs, overtaking incredibly closely.

But eventually, that is also done, and reaching the top of the last hill brings pure joy. The Bay of Rosin and the sea are bathed in the most beautiful evening sun, and I stop to take photos and fully enjoy the moment. I relish the remaining 800 meters of descent to the coast in a rush of speed and am happy at the finish to be warmly welcomed by the organizers, volunteers, media crew, and my friend @stevenlehyaric.

The missed chance of winning due to the involuntarily long sleep break has the undeniable advantage that I can truly enjoy the first moments at the finish without being completely exhausted and falling asleep immediately.

After the obligatory finisher photos, a small snack and a cool drink, I’m lucky enough to be able to check into my accommodation a day earlier than originally reserved. After a shower, I arm myself with a large pizza and head back to the finish area to give Zbigniew, the third-place finisher, a worthy reception along with @stevenlehyaric.

That’s it for the race itself. Many thanks to Bea, Luca, and the volunteers for this great event. An incredible challenge, but also a wonderful experience with memories that will last a lifetime. Respect to those who have made it through my lengthy report up to this point 🙂

Post Race Recovery

And what could be a better way to wrap up an ultra race than a few fond memories of days spent indulging without restraint in the best company at the finish?

Silk Road Mountain Race 2023

I took part in the Silk Road Mountain Race last summer already. But even though it was definitely the most impressive and memorable adventure I tackled on the bike so far I somehow was not motivated to write a report. But whenever I see pictures from other events organized by Nelson Trees (like right now the Atlas Mountain Race), I flash back to the Silk Road and scroll through my pictures of Kyrgyzstan and reminisce about those intense days. And before the memories of these days become blurred, I would like to burn at least a few highlights into the digital memory of my blog. So here it is… some pictures of the beautiful country mixed with my experiences.

The data guys can find the whole race replay on MAProgress SRMR 2023 and my specific ride in my Strava recording.

And for those who are not interested in pictures of sun-burned cyclists I want to start with some, taken from the race photographers, which show the enormous beauty of this rough and pristine landscape. 

In general, whenever the pictures in this report are not taken by other participants or by me they will be tagged with the artist behind the lens: Chris McClean (@chrismcclean), Daniel Usmanov (@danilusmanovphoto) and Nils Laengner (@nils_laengner).

After finishing the report I realized that it became quite lengthy. If you don’t want to spend your time reading everything, I can still recommend just swiping through the pictures. Kyrgyzstan is simply beautiful.

Preparation

Some facts first: the event is organized by Nelson Trees and takes participants for nearly 1.900km and 29.000m to climb through Kyrgyzstan. The majority of the race takes place in remote areas at high altitude between 2.000 and almost 4.000 meters and nutritional resupply, weather conditions and temperatures ranging from around -10 to +40 degrees Celsius bring additional complexity.

You can find a detailed description of the whole route at: Komoot Collection Silk Road Mountain Race 2023

So it was clear for me that some altitude acclimatization and proper equipment are crucial. Luckily, in order to make the most of our limited family vacation days, I was able to convince my wife and children that Kyrgyzstan would be the ideal destination for our summer vacation. This meant I was able to use our tour perfectly to get in the mood and prepare for the event! A few pictures of our trip might inspire one or two future participants to do the same 🙂

Two days before the race kicked-off I leave my family at the airport in Bishkek and travel to Karakol to show up for registration, get the bike and equipment finally prepared and most important…to get together with all the other crazy people that think such a race is the perfect way to spend your vacation. As I used the bike already during family vacation for training and do not want to take any risk I spend quite some time at the car wash and in the hotel to get it ready for the race in best condition possible (e.g. new Wolfpack tires, new chain, SON dynamo hub wheel + kLite light and charger, …).

Day 1 – Ghost Town Enilchek and Blizzard

Excitement is at its max when all riders meat at the start in Karakol. To get out of the town and away from the main road with heavy traffic safely, the local authorities accompany the riders in a neutralized start. But soon the track turns into a gravel road and everyone is on his or her own and the rules of the race become valid (e.g. no drafting). A flat but steady climb takes us from 1,600 to over 3,300 meters in altitude over more than 100km before we go back down to 2,500m to the ghost town Enilchek – where the workers of the now abandoned gold mine used to live. It’s located at the very east of Kyrgyzstan in the Chinese border zone. I arrive at the checkpoint at 5th position late afternoon. As the organizers didn’t expect such a fast first segment the checkpoint is not really ready yet.

No food is prepared and also the stamp to document completion of the first checkpoint is not there yet. Fortunately at least a small shop sells some soft drinks and we head into the dawn to climb an old soviet road leading up to a pass above 3.800m. Weather conditions change quickly and besides getting freezing cold it first starts to rain before a blizzard covers the road with snow in the upper part of the mountain. I have to put on all my rain gear and my down jacket to even make the descent. And I still feal miserably cold. Some riders had to take shelter from the weather and by the time I reach the bottom of the mountain again I have moved up to 3rd place behind Justinas Leveika and Artis Žugs. But that is just temporary as I am taken over by Adrien Liechti and Sofiane Sehili again while taking a sleeping break in the early morning hours.

Day 2 – Beautiful views au gratin with hike-a-bike

After about an hour of sleep, the first rays of sunshine create a beautiful atmosphere and I crawl out of my bivvy bag again to start the second day. 

 

After a few kilometers I spot Adrien Liechti at a small shop and we have some small talk over breakfast. A bit later the gorgeous Jukuu Valley starts and it’s going up again for some hours. The last part up to the Arabel Plateau is a real highlight in terms of landscape, but hard earned with a long, brutal hike-a-bike section.

A strong headwind brings cold air and temperatures drop to 1°C while riding up to ~3.800m on the Arabel Plateau. The altitude already takes its toll but the headwind makes it really hard to stay motivated and push through.

But finally a long descent starts and I assume that I can push through until Naryn to get some proper sleep in a hotel. How wrong can you be. Instead, an endless series of river crossings begins, during which I not only get my feet and legs wet, but also gradually become more and more tired. And so I finally decide to sleep in the bivvy bag for another night. I’m just starting to set up my place to sleep next to the track when one of the media cars comes by and films me preparing my dinner and retreating to my accommodation. After two hours I have to continue my journey because I can no longer sleep shivering from the cold as the temperature has meanwhile dropped to -6°C.

Day 3 – From Naryn to CP2 at Kel Suu

Since the last two nights weren’t really relaxing, I’m very tired and it’s hard to really enjoy the track that winds up and down the valley to Naryn.

When I finally arrive in that medium-sized city around midday, I get a simple hotel room to catch up on some sleep and take this opportunity to take a shower. Before that, I treat myself to a real meal in a small restaurant while I congratulate my son Leo in detail on his birthday over the phone.

The stop in Naryn including lunch, search for hotel, shower and sleep takes nearly four hours and it’s already afternoon when I leave the city to go up into the high mountains again. My good mental state after a proper rest is further boosted by a strong tail wind that literally makes me sail.

Only the washboard road and the cold of the night bring me back to the here and now as I work my way up serpentine after serpentine to the border station that controls the entrance to the Chinese border zone. From there we continue through the night and I meet Seb Breuer, Justinas Leveika and Lukáš Klement as we continue up to Kel Suu. Justinas is currently leading the race and we only meet because there is a loop in the route that he just finishes while I start it. At Kel Suu the second checkpoint awaits us and Seb, Lukáš and I enjoy the prepared food, some hot tea and a proper nap in one of the heated Yurts.

Day 4 – Old Soviet Road and how to die of thirst at the Chinese border fence

I share a Yurt with Seb and we leave the camp just a few minutes apart from each other in the early morning close to dawn. He is faster than me going up the insane steep Old Soviet Road. The only things that remind us of the road on this section are the occasional jeep track traces and pieces of barbed wire lying around. So you have to be extremely careful not to miss one of them in the tall grass and get a flat tire or worse. I don’t want to know what happens if the barbed wire gets tangled somewhere between the front wheel and fork at full speed.

I can still enjoy the high-speed descent after the exertion of pushing up and can catch up with Seb once I’m back on the flat. We cover a few kilometers together and wander around aimlessly in the loose gravel and the river that runs through it.

I expect the route to continue like this, but in fact it is the last source of water for the next few hours and I neglect to refill my bottles. From now on it goes endlessly along the Chinese border fence in strong headwinds, very dry air and deep, fine gravel. This „flat“ section is approx. 80km long and rises imperceptibly from 3,200m to almost 3,600m. I’m becoming more and more dehydrated and at times I’m no longer sure whether I can still reach the next water source without outside help.

But finally I reach Torugart, a small collection of houses at a border crossing into China that is used by many trucks to transport goods. I find a trailer with food and something to drink. First, I’m the only guest. But as I gradually refill my empty energy stores with one plate after another and lots of Coke, more and more workers arrive to celebrate their end of work with a small meal and a round or two of vodka.

They are very interested in Germany and the event and with the help of translation apps we have a lively conversation and it becomes increasingly difficult to miss the next round of vodka. So with a heavy heart I leave the cheerful group and continue my journey – now on a wide tarmac road.

What a mistake. I should have found a bed and gotten some sleep instead of starting off tired into the sunset. But before I realize that, the media car driving past creates a bit of a distraction and takes a few pictures.

As soon as the sun goes down it gets miserably cold again. The temperature drops to -6°C and my eyes are slowly closing on the bike. The following hours are some of the most draining experiences of the entire race. I lie down in my bivvy to sleep, but my equipment is simply not suitable for a restful sleep in these temperatures.

My sleeping mat now has a hole and is always empty within minutes. And the strategy of choosing down pants instead of a sleeping bag clearly shows its downside. The cold inevitably creeps into the body through the feet. So after a short while I wake up shivering again and have to ride further to get warm again. The game repeats itself two more times during the night and when the sun rises I’ve lost a lot of time making stops and getting everything prepared for sleep, but I’m not at all feeling recovered.

Day 5 – Baetov to Kazarman

Fortunately the sun brings back some motivation and also temperatures rise stepwise again. I ride up to Mels Pass and take a few photos at an old Soviet monument.

Some riders passed me during the night when I tried to find sleep and I’m meanwhile riding at 6th position when Seb closes the gap to me again (he found a good place in a house for a longer rest) and we jointly approach the last downhill to Baetov. In the city I first replenish my supplies at the supermarket before taking a shower, lunch and a nap in a hotel during the afternoon. Well rested, I start my ride to Kazarman. It starts with never ending washboard sections before getting into the mountains again. 

The road becomes increasingly adventurous and during the night a deep crater suddenly cuts through the road in a quick descent. Unfortunately I’m on the wrong side and the crater cuts me off. I try to brake hard and reduce speed, but in the end I slide into the crater pretty quickly and roll over. 

Luckily I can escape with minor bruises and a bloody nose. And the bike doesn’t suffer anything worse either. It just takes a while until I find my Wahoo navigation device again, which came loose from the handlebars when I fell. When I arrive in Kazarman it’s long after midnight and the doors to the small guest houses are all closed. 

As if by a miracle I still find an ajar door to a property and can get a room for the next two hours. The young man who lets me in even speaks a few words of German because he works in Germany and is currently on home leave. Before I fall tired into bed, I even get some flatbread with jam and honey from the kitchen. Hospitality is really important here and I take the opportunity to inspect my nose and clean the wound.

Day 6 – reaching CP3 at Son Kul via Modlo Ashuu

I have now fallen back to 10th position. But the approaching dawn bathes the valley in a beautiful light and I’m in a really good mood again. I put the chain under tension and in the following hours I can pass four riders again (Lukáš Klement, Josh Ibbett, James Mark Hayden and Sebastian Breuer). The nights are freezing cold but during the day it can get brutally hot as well. And this is one of the sections…

When I start into the day it’s around 0°C but temperature goes up to 37°C in the course of the day. The views are beautiful and I really enjoy them but at the same time it is impossible to hide from the sun in this barren landscape and I feel like a well-done steak on the grill.

Before the long climb up to Son Kul starts (from 1,400m up to >3,300m) I resupply in a small shop that’s also the last commercial opportunity before checkpoint 3. While finishing my late lunch with the 3rd or 4th ice cream from the freezer also Seb and James arrive and do not miss that opportunity of a healthy snack as well 😉 

The diversity of the landscape is impressive and as you climb the vegetation suddenly changes again. Large trees and many bushes line the gravel road along a river. But it is still hot and in order to really enjoy the chocolate I have bought, it is quickly returned from liquid to solid state in the cold stream while stopping to fill my bottles. As I work my way up the climb, bend by bend, I have the feeling that I have found the Stelvio Pass of Kyrgyzstan.

When I arrive at the summit of the Modlo Ashuu Pass, I quickly take a photo in the evening sun and then roll a few meters down to checkpoint 3, which is located in a yurt camp at the beautiful Son Kul Lake at an altitude of around 3,000m. While eating some fish with potatoes also James and Seb arrive. We share a yurt that is heated to sauna temperature with an oven and before I fall asleep I enjoy the last shower of the race. 

Day 7 – Son Kul, Kegeti pass, hospital and mosque

I make another mistake in my sleep tactics and get up after less than two hours of sleep. Together with Seb and James we go up and down on trails and grass paths around the lake. I suddenly become extremely tired again and have to take a sleep break in my bivvy before daybreak. If only I had stayed longer in the comfortably warm yurt camp. Instead, I’m now lying in hoarfrost at minus 5 degrees on a meadow full of cow dung. When the sun rises, I continue my journey, but I’m still not really fit again. A short time later, Lukáš and Josh catch up with me. The route stretches for several kilometers along narrow donkey paths until it ends on a wide mining road. 

The next few kilometers are unspectacular. Lukáš and Josh are always somewhere nearby and we meet one last time while shopping at the entrance to the valley that will take us up to the Kegeti Pass.

The Kegeti Pass is already notorious from previous Silk Road Mountain Races. Not only because of its height of over 3,700m, but also because of the last few hundred meters of altitude, which can only be overcome by pushing and carrying since landslides completely buried the path. But before this section I first go gently up the mountain in the rain. In the pictures you can also see me before I enter the last hike-a-bike part of the climb.

In the upper section it gets really uncomfortable as hail sets in and an ice-cold wind blows over the summit. I put on everything I have and make sure I lose altitude again as quickly as possible. 

The path is initially very rocky and technical, but then becomes noticeably easier and finally becomes a comfortable gravel path. I’m enjoying the flow of the descent and the rising temperatures to the fullest when the fun comes to an abrupt end in an outwardly sloping curve. I lose traction, slip over both wheels to the left and slide at high speed on the right side of my body over the stony ground. The sliding never ends and even as I’m doing it I realize that it’s going to really hurt. When I picked myself up again, I am happy that I didn’t break anything and that the bike is still ready for use. But the feeling of pain and the warm blood running over my skin on my shoulder, hip and elbow quickly make it clear to me that I can’t just keep riding. First I take off the shredded jacket and arm warmers and clean the dirt from the wounds on the nearby stream. In contrast to the abrasions on the hip and shoulder, the injury at the ellbow is not large, but it is uncomfortably deep. And despite the cold water, fresh blood constantly comes out of the wound. So I decide that the wound should be properly cleaned (maybe stiched) and cared for by a doctor. 

So I drive the next 600 meters of altitude further down the mountain until I see men on the side of the road in a small village and ask them for a doctor. As expected, there is no doctor here and the nearest professional care is in the hospital in the town of Tokmok, about 40-50km away. I ask the men to call me a taxi, but that would probably have to come from the city first. And so two of them offer to drive me straight into town in exchange for gas money. I gratefully accept. When they want to load my bike into the car, I make it clear to them that I will come back here later to continue the race and that the bike can stay here. And so it finds a place in the building next door to a mosque.

When I arrive at the hospital, a procedure begins that makes me sweat more than the entire route of the day. The wounds are cleaned intensively and thoroughly mechanically and with disinfectant. And I’m released with a bandage on my arm and a prescription for an antibiotic.

Since I’ve already mentally checked off the classification of the race at this point, I invite my rescuers to dinner in the city before they drive me back to the mosque.

When we arrive back at the mosque, they explain to me that they don’t live here in the village, but that they live and pray in the mosque for a few days with other believers. And that I am cordially invited to spend the night in the mosque with them. And so it happens that around midnight I spread out my bivvy in the prayer room of the mosque to sleep here with 10 to 15 other men.

Day 8 – The race is on (again) – the final boss is calling

Even before sunrise, the place comes to life because the believers wash themselves for the morning prayer. I also freshen up and since I’m no longer in a hurry, I sit down for the morning prayer, which also earns me an invitation to have breakfast together. 

What a perfect start to the day. Refreshed, I set off and when, after a few kilometers, I stop at a small shop to stock up on drinks and food, I am surprised to see on the tracker that the break didn’t cost me that many places and I’m now on 9th position. Firstly because James Mark Hayden unfortunately had to give up the race due to an asthma attack on the Kegeti Pass, but also because I had a comfortable lead over the riders behind me. Aside from the pain of the fall, I don’t feel too bad. With Max Riese and Vlad Podofedov breathing down my neck in the meantime, my fighting spirit is awakening again and I’m back in full racing mode.

What Nelson affectionately calls the bonus climbs in the Race Manual doesn’t look that big in the rest of the elevation profile. But that’s only because they’re a little lower in relation to the final boss (Kok-Ayrik), which is over 3,800m high. And so the bonus climbs last the whole morning and I don’t start the final climb until late in the afternoon. Before that, I fill up my supplies again and enjoy two more ice creams.

This is also the last option, as the valley that follows no longer offers any supply infrastructure, and it is clear to me that I will be on my own the next night. I’m only tackling this final test because the weather forecast is good. If it rained or blizzarded, I would otherwise be in big trouble with my rain gear shredded from the fall.

The Kok-Ayrik is truly a beast. From just under 1,300m it goes up again to over 3,800m. The first part slowly but steadily up a valley on a rough gravel road. But the last 1,200 meters of altitude have to be pushed almost entirely in an infernal hike-a-bike. The rocky path is either too steep or covered in landslides and so I spend the entire night, without a single break for sleep, working my way to the summit, little by little. I can’t check my lead over the riders behind me because there is no cell phone reception throughout the climb. And so I am overjoyed when I can see the summit at dawn and successfully complete this final test just in time for sunrise.

I enjoy the summit to the fullest and look forward to the long descent down to Lake Issyk-Kul. The atmosphere at sunrise and the view are gigantic. But the joy of the bumpy descent is unfortunately marred by severe pain in the elbow. 

And so the relaxed finish really begins when I turn onto the flat tarmac road on the shore of Lake Issyk-Kul for the last 20 kilometers.

The finish is in a hotel complex in Cholpon-Ata, a seaside resort with a sandy beach. I’m incredibly exhausted after the sleepless night, but the rush of happiness, that I made it to the finish despite all the odds, is indescribable.

And what’s even better: I beat my dream time of 8 days by 30 minutes and can take home a strong top 10 placement.

After all the exertion and 8 days in cycling clothes around the clock, I can hardly wait to change into civilian clothes after having a fresh shower. Luckily the podium finishers are there to cut me out of my bandage 😉

Post Race Life

After taking a shower I go for breakfast with Nelson and some other riders. But as soon as the adrenaline of the finish wears off, leaden fatigue sets in. I find it difficult to even carry my luggage into my room. And as soon as I reach the bed, I immediately fall asleep. After a few hours of sleep, hunger drives me out of my room again. Now another highlight of these events begins. Everywhere on the site you will meet other participants or the event crew. It’s so great to talk to people who share common experiences. And so for the next few days I let myself drift from one shared meal to the next.

The holiday resort is the perfect place for this.

The only thing that worries me is my arm injury and so I take the opportunity to have the wound cleaned again in a hospital in the capital when a few participants go to the airport in Bishkek. 

Luckily, halfway through the procedure, the doctor decides that it would probably be better to use local anesthesia…

Actually the beautiful encounters and experiences at the finish far outweigh the negatives. But every trip comes to an end at some point, so I put my bike back in my bag and head home after 4 weeks in Kyrgyzstan.

I take with me endless new impressions, beautiful encounters and new friends from a country that I would have had difficulty finding on the globe before planning the trip. Can I recommend the Silk Road Mountain Race? Absolutely – the location and the adventurous event are unique. Would I take part again myself? Perhaps. The demands on driving technique are not that high and the endless washboard sections got on my nerves at some point. However, I have learned quite some lessons on the topic of sleep strategy and sleeping equipment for such a long and remote race and it would be interesting to optimize it again in this regard to achieve a faster time. Never say never… maybe we’ll meet again in Kyrgyzstan sometime 😉

Atlas Mountain Race 2022 – a journey in beautiful pictures

You can read some background about the race in my previous blog post. In particular why it was so special for me to be at the starting line after my recent neck surgery: Atlas Mountain Race – grateful for an unexpected season closing

In this post I want to take you with me on the 1.173km long journey through the Atlas and Anti Atlas in Morocco based on the great photos taken by professional photographers Ariel Wojciechowski and Nils Laengner who accompanied the race. Thanks a lot Ariel and Nils for sharing the pictures with us! If you are more interested into the detailed route, altitude profile and cycling parameters you can have a look at my strava recording: https://www.strava.com/activities/7917523383

Before I give you a more detailed report about how the race went just enjoy the wonderful views of the unique landscape of the Moroccan rocky desert.

If you don’t like long text, then just skip my writings and watch the pictures. They are worth it 😉

Registration and Briefing

The day prior to the start was filled with final preparation of bike and luggage, meeting a lot of old and new friends from the ultra-cycling scene and filling the carb stores of my body to the max. With all those crazy guys around me I always feel like a badass even though I’m the serious business guy with the side parting 😉

Last instructions were given from Nelson Trees (Race Director) in the afternoon during the rider briefing before everyone tries to get as much sleep as possible in the night prior to the start.

Start

During the final minutes prior to the start, you can really feel how nervous everyone is but happy at the same time, that they made it to the starting line and the long-awaited race finally kicks off.

The first few kilometers are on flat tarmac road to get out of Marrakesh. And most of the participants ride in a big group following the local police car in this neutralized phase. That’s also the only part of the race where drafting is tolerated. Drafting is actually not allowed during the whole race as every rider should complete the route completely self-supported. Only outside help, that is available commercially to everyone, is allowed by the rules of the race. As soon as the flat part ends and the route winds up into the Atlas Mountains the field splits up and every rider fights on their own.

First Day

The fast guys hit the pedals very hard. Based on my body feeling, the watts on the display of my wahoo and the knowledge about my limited training in the last months, I try to ignore them and settle into my own pace. And so I finally arrive on the highest point of the race (Telouet pass) at over 2.500m of altitude in the late afternoon and can ride the very technical mule track that is following during day light that also contains some hike-a-bike sections. It’s the first time after my serious accident that I ride on a technical MTB downhill again and I’m more than relieved that I’m able to ride most of it without fear. It’s hot and the sun is very intense, so my skin and clothes get covered with a salty crust of sweat.

When I reach the first checkpoint after around 125km I’m somewhere around 10th position what makes me quite happy as I didn’t expect to be able to race that fast. Somewhere around the checkpoint first raindrops touch my body before the sunset. That’s not surprising as also the weather forecast showed a little bit of rain during the first night. But during the night the weather changes dramatically. It starts with stiff wind, then heavy rain adds and finally the temperatures drop to 5°C while thunderbolts lighten the dark. I continue my ride because I want to drive straight through the first night as I usually do during ultra-cycling races. At km 260 I enter a gas station already at 4th position to fill-up my bottles again and to buy some food. I’m astonished to see the first 3 riders sitting together eating bread and omelet not being in a hurry at all. After a brief chat with them I finally understand that the race is over for the moment because the heavy rain dramatically increased the water level of a close-by river to a level that we cannot cross it with our bikes anymore.

So, we make the best out of the situation by filling up our energy stores with some additional food, service our bikes and try to get some sleep on the floor of the shop while waiting for news that we can cross the river again.

Second Day

In the early morning hours Nelson (race director) gives green light to cross the river after sunrise again due to a decrease in water level. And after he crossed the river himself as well by feet. And so the race is back on again with 10-15 riders close to each other who meanwhile reached the gas station.

I have wet feet for the whole rest of the day as I cross the river in my water-proof shoes. And as you can imagine… if there is water in them once, it won’t go out anymore 😉

The rest of the day has it’s ups and downs. Some of the other riders overtake me after the river again and I find myself somewhere around 7th to 8th position. I continue with my even pace and in the course of the day I can overtake one by one again and even end up fighting for 3rd place with Philippe Vullioud after Justinas Leveika (1st) and Marin de Saint-Exupéry (2nd).

I can’t believe that I’m able to compete for podium again and I push really hard into the second night. Justinas has a solid lead but Marin, Philippe and I are quite close to each other. And so, our different sleep strategies lead to some back forth in overall ranking during the night.

Third Day

I’m even on 2nd position when I decide to stop for breakfast because I only stopped for two short naps in the night sleeping on the dusty ground right beside the racetrack.

After an omelet, some bread and a lot of coke for breakfast I start into the third day meanwhile back on 3rd position heading towards the second checkpoint of the race.

The sun is back again at full strength and a long stretch without any shadow is quite demanding but the beautiful views are more than compensating. Philippe comes from behind like a rocket and it’s clear for me that I would never be able to hold his speed when he passes me. I finally arrive at the 3rd checkpoint in a village at around 650km grouping together again with Marin and Philippe for lunch while Justinas has already left defending his lead after taking a short nap and cleaning his wounds caused by some crashes. Some of us opt for a quick shower and I also do so to improve hygienic situation especially at my butt again. Considering that the high temperatures with lots of sweat and dust start to take its toll and I feel some saddle sores already.

Leaving check point 2 again with full water bottles and replenished food stocks a long stretch without resupply is in front of us that we must tackle in the burning heat of the day without any shadow. It’s quite demanding and I even have to start rationing my water to be able to reach the next resupply.

In the late evening I reach a small town that comes just before the infamous old colonial road. I’m meanwhile back on second position directly in front of Marin chasing Philippe who meanwhile took the lead. Justinas unfortunately had a bad crash in one of the downhill sections and had to scratch from the race. I’m quite motivated on the one side but meanwhile also struggling severe saddle sores on the other side. So, I decide to take a shower again and therefore check-in to a small hotel, which is around 2km off the route, to be able to clean the wounds and apply fresh chamois crème. As I’m already there I also opt for a solid 2hours sleep in a comfortable bed before I start chasing my competitors again. As my French skills are quite limited and my Arabic is non-existent it’s quite hard to explain to the hotel owner that I want to leave at 1am in the morning again. But after some help of google translate he finally understands that he will have to get up again that time to let me and my bike out of the locked building. I would really like to listen to the thoughts of people in such situations when a dirty, bad smelling stranger on a bicycle enters their facilities in the mid of the night for a very short sleep and insists on continuing the ride only two to three hours later again paying the bill in advance😊

Fourth Day

After a refreshing sleep I feel much better on my bike again and start into the old colonial road chasing the guys in front of me in the dark. As some of them didn’t stop that night yet I was overtaken by some riders and can see myself on 5th or 6th position on the GPS tracking website. But some of the other guys are quite close and not moving anymore because they had to lay down for some sleep beside the route as well. They lay in their sleeping bags directly next to the track and I try not to turn my head into their direction to avoid waking them up with my headlamp 😉 I pass them one by one in the next hours and get back on 2nd position chasing Marin who is leading the race.

The old colonial “road” is in fact a really rough track with a lot of loose stones. In addition, some parts of the road have completely vanished due to erosion or landslides. At some places you even need to climb up and down steep walls. The pictures show the “road” at daylight. But I sometimes really struggle to find a good way to tackle these obstacles as I must do it in the dark night.

After the old colonial road, a relaxing section of tarmac follows, and the sunset wraps the surrounding mountain scenery in beautiful light. Perfect conditions for the last long day of the race 😊

And the day really feels long as a lot of climbing is in front of us, and the sun is back to full force. I try to reduce the gap to Marin in front, but he also does not seem to have any issues and can defend his lead sustainably. I’m worried for some time because Philippe’s dot left the track and is not moving forward anymore. But it later turns out that he is okay and had to scratch from the race because of technical issues with his tires he couldn’t fix. I’m really happy that my material endured the whole race without any issues. Only some punctures that were automatically closed by the tubeless sealant. Others had much more issues as you can see in these pictures. One rider even lost his bike during a flood tide caused by the heavy rain in the first night:

In the early evening we reach the last checkpoint at around km 1.000 of the route and fill up our stock again.

I feel very good and strong and in my mind the idea materializes that I still might be able to take the overall win 😉 The rest of the route looks not that demanding anymore on the altitude profile as it goes more down than up. And as per the route description, I assume that a lot of easy tarmac will be involved as well. I have aerobars attached to my bike and Marin doesn’t, so this should give me an advantage as well. With all this in mind I put everything I still have in the tank in the following hours to reduce the gap. But every time I check the tracker, I can see that Marin does the same as well…

And so the gap persists as we ride through the night and the last climbs of the race.

Everyone who knows Nelson also knows that there are always some final challenges in his track designs and that’s just how it is in Morocco as well. When I’m on an old mule track which also involves some hike-a-bike sections crossing dry river valleys, sleep deprivation hits me quite hard. I have the perception that I turn in circles and crossing the same dry river valley again and again. In addition, some persecution mania adds as well, and I have the fixed idea of being caught up by the riders behind me even though I always have a solid lead when checking the tracker. In a moment of clear thoughts, I decide to take a last power nap of 10 minutes to give my brain the chance for a proper reset. I’m close to some building when laying on the ground and as soon as I try to fall asleep a dog starts barking… but I’m too tired to get to another place and somehow still manage to sleep for a few minutes before jumping back on my bike for the last long decent towards the finish in Agadir.

There is only the fixed idea in my head anymore to finish this and get to the hotel in Agadir soon… and based on the altitude profile this should be very easy within the next two to three hours. But as said… who knows Nelson knows how these assumptions can be misleading 😉

I don’t have pictures of the last section showing the track by night, but these nice daylight pictures give at least an idea of what was still in front of me.

We have to cross a dirty agricultural area with a lot of sandy tracks that force me off the bike from time to time. I even crash, slipping away in the sand, and find myself laying on the ground like a bug on my bag still having my feet attached to the pedals. In these moments I feel a strong helplessness and a few tears of frustration and the one or the other loudly spoken swearword leave my mouth. The only things that still motivate me are the close finish and the feeling that everyone needs to undergo this and staying strong will help me to succeed.

When I finally arrive at Agadir, I am not 100% sure if I’m dreaming. After quite a long time in rural areas in the Mountains, riding into the city (which seems to be the Las Vegas of Morocco) is a surreal experience. A lot of blinking lights everywhere and multi-lane roads with quite some traffic have to be managed. But when one of the control cars appears with Chris, and Ariel starts to take photos of me tackling the last kilometers, I am reassured that reality still has me 😊

I arrive in the hotel, tired like hell but extremely satisfied and happy of my achievement at the same time.

In these last pictures you can see Marin (who finished first), myself (second) and Rodney (third) arriving at the finish.

Wrap-up

The next days are filled with sleeping, eating, chatting about the race with other participants, and finally the finisher party including the award ceremony.

Having a look at the pictures I think you can all imagine that it feels great to finish an Ultra-Cycling race.

Thanks a lot to Nelson, his family and all the volunteers for making such an event possible at such an exciting location. Everyone should go to Morocco once for cycling – just for touring or for a race. It’s really a fantastic landscape with a lot of friendly people. It’s demanding but fulfilling at the same time. And I think no picture shows this better than the one of female rider Nienke Oostra who suffered a Shermer’s neck but was still able to smile, enjoying the beauty of the country and continued the race by connecting her helmet with her bag pack – chapeau!

Podcasts (in German) about my AMR experiences

Outside is free #46 Nach dem Genickbruch aufs Siegerpodest beim Atlas Mountain Race: die unerhörte Geschichte von Jochen Böhringer

AVOID SCRATCHING Tipp 4: Check den Nachschub! mit Jochen Böhringer

Bike Tour Global Podcast S2/#74: AMR 2022 – Mit Jochen in Marokko

Last Man Riding or how to find new friends in the dark

When I was laying in bedside this summer it was not clear yet that my health recovery would allow me to tackle the Atlas Mountain Race (AMR). So I kept my eyes open for alternatives as motivation to get me back on the bike as soon as possible. And by accident I stumbled across a post shared by Roman Baltes on Facebook about the Last Man Riding in Nancy (France). It was scheduled a little later than the AMR, the race mode sounded like fun and the starting fee was cheap. So why not throwing my name onto the list of 100 contenders for the LMR?

The rules of the race are quite simple. Every hour all riders are obliged to wait at the starting line to tackle the course of ~23km involving 260 altitude meters to climb. If you are not able to be back on time for the next start due to lack of speed, technical issues, tiredness, everything around nutrition or for any other reason, you are out. After several hours the field gets smaller and smaller and at the end only one rider should appear at the starting line anymore. That’s the „Last Man Riding“ and the winner of the event.

But why did I show up at all even though I was able to travel to Morocco and just finished the AMR there on Wednesday November 5th? I don’t really know. But in fact, I had a few short recovery rides on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday that felt quite okay and also the skin touching the saddle felt promising to sustain a longer ride again. On private side of things, we didn’t have any plans for the weekend. So my wife and kids sent crazy dad for a last season closing to France only five days after I returned from Morocco (or at least gave their favorable travel approval 😉).

Thursday evening was really packed with all the preparations so I could start towards France after work on Friday afternoon. Thanks to my teammate Thomas Georg I even had a spare bike with me in case my ORBEA ORCA would show any mechanicals during the race (fortunately that was not the case, otherwise I would have had to clean-up two bikes afterwards).

Bikes and water

I arrived on Friday evening, picked up my starting documents, did the AMR podcast with Martin from bike tour global and felt asleep in my camper. Every time I woke up during the night, I heard rain popping on the roof of the camper… best conditions for a long day in the saddle…

Poleposition

After breakfast I did a last bike check and prepared replacement clothes, nutrition and spare parts in an easily accessible way to be ready for short pit stops during the race.

Liquid breakfast – chocolate and apricot/peach

Just in time for the start of the race on Saturday 10am the rain paused, and I was quite optimistic and started without rain jacket which turned out to be a mistake already after a few kilometers when heavy rain started again. For the next rounds I corrected it, but I didn’t feel like a real racer anymore when wearing even rain shorts…

In the first rounds the fast guys at the front pushed up the hill (that came at km 7 and accumulated around 140meters to climb) quite hard. I could have followed but decided to go for a more even pace that I could sustain for the whole race. That was mentally quite hard because I had to ride long parts of the course alone due to that decision. Fortunately I had my aerobars attached so I could hide from the stiff winds even without a lot of drafting opportunities.

At 6pm the field of riders was already visibly reduced when everyone had to attach lights to the bike. The speed in the uphill sections also became less and I was able to start riding most of the course in company with other riders.

Between midnight and the early hours of Sunday morning the pack got reduced step by step.

When the sun rose, and we were allowed to switch off the lights again at 8am, only three of us were still riding: Dam Vuillier, Alix Masson and I. We had formed a community of destiny during the night already and rode most of the course together to also share the burden working against the strong wind. But while riding together we also realized we were all still feeling strong, and the durations of the laps stabilized between 45 to 48 minutes. So no end in sight and the light of the day even brought new energy into our sleepy minds… so this could have continued “forever” …

We finally agreed to call it a day and to stop together as “Three last men riding”. As a racer who is used to fight to the end this felt little strange for me at first. But while we finished the last two laps rounding up the event to 24h my mixed feelings turned into real pleasure. It was great to finally share the success after so many common laps.

After taking a shower at the finish I was more than happy to get back to real food after more than 24 hours of solely liquid nutrition. After that my way back home in the camper was only suspended by some short sleeps and an additional stop for food.

Even though the weather was far from good I really enjoyed the event. An extraordinary race mode combined with a great team from the organizer made it very special. I can only recommend the “Last Man Riding” and it was a perfect match for my season closing 🙂

For all statistic nerds: duration 23:44h, moving time 19:08h, 555km, 6.500m to climb, avg. 29,1km/h, temperature range 9-12°Celsius. Full Strava recording: https://www.strava.com/activities/7970005610

Now ready for offseason with my teammates and enjoying the pleasures being dad of a newly minted teenager who just turned 13 this week 😉 Let’s see what surprises will be unveiled by the next season …

Atlas Mountain Race – grateful for an unexpected season closing

For all those who are only interested in hard facts (moving dots) – first things first. You will be able to follow my cap at the Atlas Mountain Race starting on Saturday Morning 9am (German time 10am) on maprogress: https://amr2022.maprogress.com/?bib=59

I will tackle the route of 1.173km with 23.174m of climbing with cap number 59.

Source: amr2022.maprogress.com

Usually, the daily race reports on https://www.dotwatcher.cc/race/amr-2022 are also worth a read.

The race website https://www.atlasmountainrace.cc/ states:

The Atlas Mountain Race is a fixed route, unsupported, single-stage cycling race that starts in Marrakesh, crosses the Moroccan Atlas before taking riders through the Anti-Atlas and on to Agadir. The clock does not stop and there are no prizes. It follows gravel, single and double track and old colonial pistes that have long been forgotten and fallen into disrepair. There is very little tarmac. There is some walking, and at times there is great distances between resupply points.

The race is very special for me as my sportive year didn’t go as expected… I had a severe bicycle accident mid of June breaking my neck (actually 4 thoracic and 1 cervical vertebrae were broken) and had to undergo surgery to remove one spinal disc and to stiffen the cervical vertebra with a titanium plate and a few screws.

Modern medicine is an incredible blessing

Fortunately, the doctors did an amazing job and after 12 weeks of recovery I got green light from them that I can put normal strain on my neck again. I still had a starting place for AMR in my COVID-19 backlog of postponed events and didn’t have to think long about and booked the flights. I’m this time not at competitive fitness to fight for the podium but I didn’t want to miss the adventure, the great landscape and meeting the community of crazy folks 😊 Don’t get me wrong… I will still try to finish the course as fast as I can – but I will respect the current limits of my body and it would be a great achievement already to reach the finish line. During health recovery and ultra-cycling I definitely learned what Mike Hall meant when he said “nothing that’s worth anything is ever easy”.

Trying to slow down the physical decline as soon as I could sit up straight again

The time in Morocco before the start can be perfectly filled-up eating local specialties, enjoying the comfort of a hotel bed and acclimatizing to the dry heat of the climate before I will switch to a more essential lifestyle in the Moroccan mountains.

Thanks a lot, Nelson Trees (Race Director), for taking the effort to organize an event like this at such a great spot.

I will try to give some updates during the race on my social media channels depending on my current mood but even more important… Internet connection 😉

Italy Divide – Erinnerungen an ein Highlight 2022

Viele von euch haben mitbekommen, dass die vergangenen Wochen bei mir nicht wie geplant verlaufen sind und mein Berufs- und Privatleben, aber auch meine weiteren sportlichen Ambitionen und Pläne für dieses Jahr, ziemlich durcheinandergewirbelt wurden. Im Familienurlaub in den Pfingstferien bin ich im Bikepark in Tschechien so unglücklich gestürzt, dass ich mir Frakturen an einem Halswirbel und vier Brustwirbeln zugezogen habe. Eine Operation und mehrere Wochen in hauptsächlich liegender Position später, kann ich rückblickend sagen, dass ich ganz schön Glück im Unglück hatte. Denn es hätte noch viel schlimmer kommen können und ich bin dankbar, dass die weitere Heilungsprognose positiv ist und es zu keinen Lähmungserscheinungen kam.

Lowlight 2022 – OP wegen Frakturen an 5 Wirbeln

Trotzdem zieht einen die Situation immer wieder ganz schön runter. Und so habe ich auch in alten Fotos geblättert, um positive Gedanken zu aktivieren. Und was soll ich sagen…es funktioniert 🙂

Dabei bin ich auch immer wieder beim Italy Divide kurz nach Ostern hängen geblieben und habe auch einige Fotos mit kurzen Untertiteln für meinen Blog versehen.

Ein paar Facts & Figures zum Rennen könnt ihr auch meinem Vorbericht entnehmen: Italy Divide – happy to race again

Bzw. meiner Aktivitätsaufzeichnung auf Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/7059218980

Kurz zusammengefasst handelt es sich dabei um ein self-supported Bikepacking Abenteuer, bei dem ca. 1.300km und 20.000 Höhenmeter auf einer Strecke von Pompeji (bei Neapel) bis nach Torbole (am nördlichen Gardasee) zu bewältigen sind. Die Strecke hält dabei von Asphaltabschnitten über Schotter- oder Kopfsteinpflasterpisten bis zu ausgewachsenen Mountainbiketrails alles bereit. Doch alles weitere in Bildern.

Vor dem Start

Tag 1 – heiß, heißer am heißesten

Tag 2 – I’m singing in the rain

Tag 3 – auf und nieder immer wieder

Tag 4- von himmelhoch jauchzend bis zu Tode betrübt

Tag 5 – Endspurt und Finish

Recovery – all you can eat

Danke auch an WitttrainingOrbeaSponserWolfpack TiresApiduraPower2MaxRoyal Bike Wear und Kask Helmets. Euer Equipment hat auch bei herausfordernden Bedingungen wieder einen top Job gemacht!

Italy Divide – happy to race again

Am Samstagfrüh ist es so weit. Ich stehe zum zweiten Mal mit dem MTB am Start des Italy Divide self-supported Bikepacking Rennens. Die Strecke führt mich dabei über 1.250km und 22.000Höhenmeter von Pompei bei Neapel nach Torbole an den nördlichen Gardasee.

Details zum Event und Streckenverlauf gibt es auf https://www.italydivide.it/

Obwohl eine Wiederholung, ist die Teilnahme dieses Jahr aus mehreren Gründen etwas ganz Besonderes für mich:

  1. Meine Familie begleitet mich dieses Jahr zum Start und wir verbringen die Tage zuvor mit kulinarischen Highlights und Sightseeing in Neapel und Pompei
  1. Das Rennen startet dieses Jahr wieder regulär Ende April, nachdem letztes Jahr pandemiebedingt der Start in den Juli verschoben werden musste. D.h. man erlebt die Landschaft (z.B. in der Toskana) in grüner Frühlingspracht und bei weitem nicht so heiß. Dafür kann es unterwegs auch Kälte- und sogar Schneeeinbrüche geben. Vor allem, wenn es gegen Ende nochmals hoch hinaus geht.
  2. Es ist das erste Rennen nach meinem schweren Bandscheibenvorfall (inkl. hochgradiger Spinalkanalstenose) im unteren Rücken im vergangenen Sommer. Dass ich ohne Operation überhaupt wieder so ein Event bestreiten kann, ist sicher zu nicht unerheblichem Teil den magischen Händen meines top Physio/Osteo Marco von Frankenberg zu verdanken (https://physio-moeglingen.de/). Danke!!
  3. Dieses Jahr sollen über 300 Starter gemeldet sein. Und so freue ich mich besonders auf ein Treffen mit vielen alten und neuen Bekannten aus der Ultra Cycling-Szene.

Gestartet wird am Samstag um 11:30Uhr auf Meereshöhe. Nach neutralisierter Phase aus der Stadt hinaus, gibt es gleich ein paar knackige Höhenmeter auf den über 1000m hohen Vesuv zu bewältigen. Hier wird sich das Feld erstmals auseinanderziehen und die Socken und Schuhe werden auf einer Laufpassage mit feinem Lavasand gefüllt. Zur Einstimmung sind wir als Familie schon einmal zum Krater gewandert 😉

Danach folgen mit Rom, Siena, Florenz, Bologna und Verona weitere touristische Highlights, um nur ein paar ausgewählte zu nennen.

Wenn ihr mich bei dieser Fahrt wieder im Livetracking verfolgen möchtet, so könnt ihr dies auf der Trackleaders Website tun:

http://trackleaders.com/italydivide22

Auch auf https://dotwatcher.cc/race/italy-divide-2022 wird es sicher wieder interessante Insights zum Renngeschehen geben.

Das ein oder andere Foto von der Strecke werde ich auch auf Instagram und Facebook posten und freue mich natürlich auch dort über motivierende Kommentare 😊

https://www.instagram.com/jochenboehringer/

https://www.facebook.com/jochen.bohringer.3

Und falls mir der Sinn danach steht, wird es evtl. auch wieder Kurzvideos auf meinem YouTube Channel geben: https://www.youtube.com/ultra-jo

Bevor es am Samstagfrüh losgeht, steht aber erst einmal Carboloading mit Familiensupport im Vordergrund – Dolce Vita at its best 😊