Photos: kuwa.swiss
August 1, 2024
About ten years ago, I got into ultracycling: stupidly long stuff that you finish in a pathetic state and that makes you look like an idiot when you talk about it at the family Christmas dinner.
It started with a bang, when I signed up for the Transcontinental Race on a whim in 2015. I still wonder how I managed to reach the finish in Istanbul, without any experience: I guess that’s what we call beginner’s luck.
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But it motivated me to take on other miserable things challenges: over the years, I’ve participated in Torino-Nice, the SUCH, Dead Ends & Cake and its Ticino variant, Dead Ends & Dolci. This year, I’ll be starting the Alps Divide in September, after the Gravel Trans Jura this spring. And last year, I took part in The Ultimates 1000, the second edition of which is currently underway.
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I’m not going to take you through my race, because you can find that out in the stories Lillie posted on my Instagram account from the photos and videos I sent her on the road. But I would like to focus for a moment on the “why”: what drives me to get myself into such states? And to do it again? Why don’t I just ride a granfondo over a bunch of cols before going home to sleep in my own bed?
On his excellent blog Semi-Rad, Brendan Leonard wrote: “I think we all need to spend more time doing things we love, going to places that make us feel small, remembering to laugh at ourselves, and getting a little cold, tired, and scared every once in a while.”
In one sentence, Brendan answered my question. I will, however, try to be personal and explain with far more words and far less talent how I live this mantra through bikepacking.
Without further ado, here are… (drum roll)…
The 6 reasons that motivate me to participate in bikepacking events
Disconnecting
When you take part in an event like The Ultimates 1000, life is simple: you ride, you eat and you sleep. Some people (not me) even try to avoid this last activity. During the 90 hours of my race, I didn’t look at a single reel on Insta, forgot about the emails piling up in my inbox and stopped thinking about my overdue tax return.
Instead, I pedaled in the sun and in the rain. I watched my elevation gain increase and my watts decrease with each climb. I ate Snickers and drank Coke. Most of all, I spent time with myself. Bikepacking events are an ideal, if somewhat painful, way of accessing this ultimate luxury for an introvert like me.
Putting myself (a little) at risk
I live a comfortable existence. No mammoths to hunt, no war to flee, no gangs in the streets of my village. At most, a pandemic to tell my grandchildren about. During The Ultimates 1000, I disrupted the quiet flow of my life with brief moment of fear.
Leaving Biasca, I realized that I’d be climbing the Gotthard at sunset and crossing the Furka at night. Nothing too frightening, until a thunderstorm caught me just before Airolo: a quick glance at the MeteoSuisse radar (oops, I got online) was enough for me to figure that going over these high Alpine passes could prove… uncomfortable.
Blue, green, yellow and violet blobs were waving on the map and I was preparing to face the elements, wishing I’d not kept my gear as light as possible. The 1700m downhill between the Furka summit and Brig could become a long descent into a cold, wet hell.
After climbing the Tremola against a gnarly wind, I headed down to Hospental with a knot in my stomach. Spending the night in Andermatt was not an option: the weather was only going to get worse the next day, with a falling snow line. So I turned left and headed for the Valais. But just like in Hollywood movies, everything turned out for the best: the heavens didn’t pour down on me. It was dark and foggy at the top of the Furka but I met up with Sébastien, with whom I descended into the valley dry and safe. Phew, back to comfort (even if there were still 250 km and 8500 meters of climbing to go to the finish).
Making memories
When I take part in bikepacking events, I experience unique moments. And The Ultimates 1000 lived up to the expectation. It was an odyssey through the Alps that took me to some extraordinary places.
One episode will remain engraved in my memory forever: on the evening of the second day, I arrived in Grindelwald. The village was in full party mode and I had a hard time making my way through the crowded streets. It smelled of grilled sausage and live music pounded in my eardrums.
As soon as I got away from the town center, the calm returned. As night fell, I set off along the abominably steep road to Grosse Scheidegg. Given the late hour, I was no longer in danger of coming face to face with the terrifying Postbuses that throw cyclists into the gutter as they pass.
I climbed alone. Slowly, one pedal stroke after another. In the twilight, I could spot the summit of the imposing Wetterhorn above my head, and the north face of the Eiger behind me.
Without an event like The Ultimates 1000, I wouldn’t have experienced this unique moment, captured by the talented Etienne Bornet and his Kuwa Swiss team waiting for me at the summit.
Meeting like-minded people
I’m an introvert, but I still enjoy the company of other humans. And while I was racing solo, I met other competitors along the way. Often the same ones, because after a day’s racing, the positions are well defined. We cross paths several times a day, as we all have breaks at some stage.
During The Ultimates 1000, two encounters stood out for me:
Sébastien, and not just because we were both in the night and fog of the Furka at 2400 meters (see above). A family man like me, he too does hard stuff while juggling daily life that doesn’t always allow him to train as much as he’d like. A great moment spent sharing experiences.
Cyril, who caught up with me 4 kilometers from the finish on the Croix de Coeur. I’d been fighting since Euseigne to stay ahead of his dot (oops, I got online) and I could have hated him for finishing just ahead of me. Instead, we rode together and became friends within minutes.
It’s good to meet people who share our passions. We understand each other, and it’s good to remember that when we’re having difficult conversations at the family Christmas dinner.
Learning about myself
Even after 40 years of competitive cycling, I still make mistakes and learn things about myself.
One of the worst moments of my race was in the Susten pass. The evening before, I’d had a meal before arriving in Grindelwald. I then rode on to the Grosse Scheidegg and the first few kilometers of the Susten. Around midnight, I checked into at a hotel in Gadmen to sleep for a few hours after snacking on a spongy sandwich bought at a gas station near Interlaken.
I had an energy bar as I jumped out of bed, before getting back in the saddle at around 6am. That would be enough to get me to the first bakery on the other side of the pass, I told myself.
At an average speed of 9 km/h, the climb up Susten was… hard. I felt exhausted and thought my race was over. I’d probably pushed myself too hard the day before: 300 kilometers and 7000m of climbing were no longer my age.
Arriving in Göschenen, I raided a breakfast buffet in a hotel and rode on to Andermatt. On the brand-new, mega-steep bike path up the Schöllenen Gorge, I had regained my watts and went on to climb Oberalp, Lukmanier, Gotthard and Furka before stopping off in Visp at the end of another giant day.
The lesson of the day: as I tell my son, eat a good breakfast. And I’m not too old (yet).
Crossing the finish line
When you finish an event like this, everything comes in XXL format: relief, a sore bottom, the joy of being reunited with my wife and son, pride. The taste of that first beer, which knocks me out after the third sip. And the urge to eat that won’t leave me for days, as long as it’s not Snickers and Coke.
I wish all this to the participants of The Ultimates, who are currently battling it out in the Alps. You can follow the race here (warning: dotwatching is highly addictive).
And if you want to come and congratulate the finishers in Aigle, a social ride on Saturday August 3 will take you through the last few kilometers of the course. All the details are here, I’ll be there and I hope to ride with you!
Alain
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