Riding Further

A 4am start followed by 16 hours sat in the back of a van is a less than ideal precursor to your first ever endurance bike race but the Hunt Wheels boys delivered us and our bikes safely to Zero Neuf, the start point for Further.

I’ve previously blogged about my trepidation about the race. Although some of this fear had subsided , replaced by excitement as the event drew closer, there was still that tingle and nervous energy inside me. I always have trouble differentiating between these two emotions, in fact I think they are completely intertwined in most things I do.

The event was fairly small, racers were by invitation only this year but a number of people had come along to help, hang out and enjoy a weekend of riding, river-swimming, beers and dot watching. It was all based around Zero Neuf, a beautiful house and B&B in Gaudiès lying in the flatlands overlooking the Pyrenees.

On arrival Camille, the organiser greeted us and pointed out Mont Fourcat in the distance, our first major hike-a-bike sector, the summit our only Checkpoint of the race. People were already in the pool and Cal and Chloe, chefs for the night were firing up two huge barrel Barbecues to feed us all up before the big day.

The morning of the race arrived, packing, faffing and aimless wandering ensued. Bike checks, portrait photos and sign on was next. Trackers were allocated and bikes taken across to the other side of the field, ready for the Le Mans style start. Just the first element of the race that was to favour the runners amongst us.

The first day turned out to be brutal, a few of the expected front runners suffering horribly with heat stroke meant some early scratchers. Various route choices were taken, in the middle in terms of distance, but over a large climb 30 degrees plus, I doubt mine was the correct one.

Angus Young had battled on despite vomiting and managed to get to the checkpoint at the top of Mont Fourcat, along with Emma Pooley, Tim O'Rouke and a few other riders. The arrival of even these frontrunners was nearly 3 hours behind Camilles expectations. After a few Kilometres of steep hiking a number of us were left on the slopes of Fourcat as the 'no movement above the treeline after dark' curfew kicked in. I met with friend from home Jo Burt, along with one of the few pairs riding the race.. Dave Smith and Therese Sundstrom. Dave and Therese cooked hot food on their stove before retiring to their tent. Jo and I ate handfuls of nuts, M&Ms and dried fruit in our Bivi bags while the sun set over the Ariege, thankfully we were next to a small stream so at least had water, a luxury those a little further down the mountain went without.

Sunrise bought with it a view of the remainder of the climb to the summit of Fourcat, something we had missed during the last 2 hours of hike-a-bike the previous evening. We had chosen the longer, less steep, but by no means ridable route up the mountain, bikes were dragged, wrestled and carried over another hour or so of rocks and bushes before the checkpoint, which was no longer manned. More handfuls of peanuts and chocolate at the top, taking in the views, mountain top views always validate the struggle, although by this point I was seriously doubting my ability, or even will to finish this race within the timeframe. Time lost stuck on the mountain during the nighttime curfew meant those that had got over were already way ahead, steady road and gravel miles taking them well towards the next long hike over to Andorra.

The day was hot already, riding through a town at the bottom of Fourcat I refilled my water bottles but in a rush to push forwards didn't search long enough for food. The Devils Bridge signalled the start of the next sector, a long winding gravel climb, in hindsight one of my favourite of my ride, but with the lack of real food and feeling low about the prospect of scratching I struggled with the first half of it. I found blackberries half way up, after picking handfuls, refilling my water in a stream and putting some music on my headphones I felt reenergised, enjoying the second half of the climb, even when the heat hit as I left the trees, the views to the valley below were worth it. Jo and I met again at the summit, he was struggling with the heat and lack of food so we decided to take a slight detour off route to Saurat for refuelling before either of us fancied the next climb up to Col de Port.

On reaching the village we found everything closed, the heat on the valley was oppressive so the church beckoned. Sat debating my options I think this was the point I knew id be adding to the ever growing list of DNFs. After cooling off for a while we did one last swing by the bar found it to be open. A cold coke was downed, one espresso, along with half a packet of sponge fingers that was offered by the barman, who obviously took pity on these tired and grubby cyclists. 3pm, A few miles up the valley road and after the cool of the church the heat really hit me, as the next hike-a-bike loomed I dropped my bike down onto a verge, helmet off, Jersey fully unzipped, sipping water from my bottle. A few minutes later Camille arrived, I don't know the look I gave him but Id apparently shot him one hell of a glare as he strolled casually across the road towards me. We hugged, I laughed, I called him a madman, but assured him I didn't hate him.

Onwards and upwards, more sitting in the shade, more water from streams, more handfuls of dry nuts. Eventually a restaurant appeared, the smell was amazing, the views were stunning, bikes were parked and a table in the shade was picked... No proper food served until 7. Crepes and Fanta would have to do.

Swoopy sweeping tarmac led down to the town of Massat, where an ever growing group of Further scratchers were gathering. This was it, the obvious place to throw in the towel. With a lift home to England leaving Tuesday morning and no public transport options from either Andorra or Spain there was no way I could get over those mountain passes and back again within the time. That loop rejoined the course near Massat so at this point Jo and I agreed to scratch from the race and ride the last few sectors back to Zero Neuf in the morning.

A four course meal was demolished before rolling along to the municipal campsite in town, I showered and slept well. We awoke hungry again, ready for breakfast in the supermarket carpark. Fuelled for the day and carrying supplies we set off up Col de Peguere. More beautiful riding, happy to no longer be racing, but still hot and tired.

We bumped into the Breakaway Digital boys for the first of three times that day as they waited to intercept race leader Emma Pooley, she came past us still looking so strong, and would go on to beat us back to Zero Neuf, despite the fact she had also completed the loop into Andorra and back.

Photos by Breakaway Digital

Coffee and iced water in Foix should have helped matters but by the time sector 12 arrived I just wanted to be in the pool at Zero Neuf, the stifling heat had got to me again and after having a "moment" I decided to cut off the first unnecessary hike a bike section that took you off of a delightful quiet lane and up onto a rocky walking trail before dropping back down into a village a little up the road.

A little way along I found a water tap, I downed a whole bottle and poured another over myself, after a few moments in the shade I felt a lot better, onto the village for another water stop and a snack before completing the last section of Sector 12, a little hiking before a steep technical descent through woodlands before joining the road back to base.

The light was starting to fade as Jo and I rolled back into Zero Neuf, Josh handed us both a cold beer, sweaty grubby hugs were given out to friends before trudging up the driveway, hoping for as little fuss as possible. Augustus Farmer was waiting for returning riders, his camera ready to capture our faces, tired and a little bit broken from the experience that was Further.

I washed in the river, ate good food, shared stories with old friends and new while Mayflies gathered around the lights. Tired, physically and emotionally but feeling absolutely privileged to have been invited to race this event. It was brutal, wild, beautiful, the toughest thing I've ever done. Only 8 of the 28 starters finished the course but I think this was the point, Camille created this beast with the intention of breaking us, he wanted it to cross boundaries, push limits, take us Further. Mission accomplished Camille.

Portrait by Augustus Farmer