Transcontinental Race #TCRNo9

13 days, 3000km, 14 countries, one smashed iphone, one Albanian samsung and one wild adventure.

It's hard to know where to begin. The most wild two weeks that feel like a whole lifetime. The Transcontinental Race is a self-supported ultra-cycling race where you have to plan your own route across the continent, making checkpoints and mandatory sections called parcours. Spoiler: I didn't make it to the finish, but I did make it to Greece, riding across 14 countries and pushed myself to my limits. I write this for myself as I reflect on the race.

I arrived in Geraardsbergen after a pretty hectic few weeks, and as a good friend said, the best thing for me to do when life has been hectic is to ride my bike mega far, and that is what I was going to do. The start wasn't until 10 pm - yes, a night start. There was torrential rain, so the hours before were spent huddled in a pizza restaurant with my mother insistent that we "couldn't start in this weather." But just before 10, it cleared, and the iconic start to the Transcontinental race began with a fire torch parade.

40k in, I got a puncture. I could not believe it. It was a 3cm tear to the sidewall. Crazy. Anyway, I managed to put a tube in and was able to get moving, but due to it being so large, it was bulging and meant the wheel was no longer round. So I found the next bike shop, which was about 100k away - remember, here it's midnight and raining. So I arrive at a questionable looking bike shop at 8 am to be delighted it would be opening at 9. I set up my mat and slept right outside the door. Let's just say the dude was quite surprised to find me there. The puncture was fixed, and my carefully selected puncture-resistant tire replaced with some random Schwalbe he had in the back, and on I went in the continual rain.

As I had ridden through the night and spent all day soaking, I decided to book myself a hotel for the night, totaling 375k. A bed and a McDonald's were definitely appreciated.

The days that followed, to be honest, feel like a bit of a blur. Rain and remote French towns, maybe Luxembourg, maybe Germany... nothing much really happened, but I was just clocking off the miles. Although I had started to get ill and lose my voice. So by the time I had no idea what country I was in or what language they spoke, there was no way they would understand my mix of French and Spanish anyway.

I was so glad to see the mountains. My food strategy of always ordering two pizzas - one to eat for dinner and one to take away as a late-night snack/breakfast was working wonders in Basel. Continuing towards Lucerne, there was a dot watcher who had been riding up and down one stretch of road all day. I stayed at a B&B which I thought was a bit out of the way, only to see another racer's bike when I arrived. Little did I know then that this bike belonged to my new arch-nemesis/soon-to-be friend who I ended up seeing every other day, even though we were to take quite different routes.

Due to one of the race's banned roads for safety, my route took me along this gravel track with steps (a lot of people also took this way before you ask). A lot of steps, down, in the wet. Miracle I made it, really.

Next up, a climb I have already done. The Gotthard pass, the weather at the bottom was pretty grim but over to the top to the Italian-speaking side, the temperature rose and the sun was out. The first mandatory riding segment was the San Bernardino pass - on this segment, I saw a few other riders, and the 20k climb had a lot of switchbacks. I slept part way up and finished the climb in the morning, followed by a freezing descent and maybe my most favorite riding segment of the route, the Spluga pass. Now I don't know what came over me here, but I had the serious beans and seemed to overtake so many other riders. I think switchbacks are my favorite thing to ride, maybe because you can see where you're going and where you've come from in such a cool way, or maybe because it's easier mentally to just get to the next hairpin, either way, I loved it. It had so many switchbacks I thought on the way up, but was greeted by a sign that said 50 on the way down; here I thought no way are there 50 switchbacks and to my joy on the next bend 49, the next 48!! Segment done, next stop Livigno for the checkpoint. Had my sights set on the CP basically since the start, so when I got there, I felt this relief, but then suddenly it was like right, what's next, got to keep going. So I ate a pizza and continued on. The temperatures in the mountains were pretty cold, and as I had packed pretty light, mainly as the week leaving it was all about heatwaves and fires, I had to make some decisions about climbing and descending mountains at night vs in the morning when it might be slightly warmer. I climbed Stelvio as the sun was rising, a bucket list climb of mine for a while and it for sure didn't disappoint. After the descent, it was a long stint along the valley floor to Bolzano, and finally some of this hot summer weather I was expecting. Ordering gnocchi and a pizza to go, but it took quite a bit of convincing that there was not someone else coming and I was going to eat all of this food myself. I google translated that I was doing a race, and they sort of understood, but when asking me how I was doing, it was here I came up with my greatest story, that I was winning the race and that they'll be a load of other people coming through soon. As a woman alone in new territory, being asked if you are alone is a common question, and I know for the most part it's in an interested way, but there'll always be a part of you that gets your worry going. Armed with this solid story in my head, I was ready to go. My route followed a bike path, and so did most other riders, so the next 50k or so was a bit of leapfrogging, passing people while they were having a break, and then they'd pass you. It's here I should mention only 10% of the riders are female, and unsurprisingly most men ride faster than me, and the ones that were around me just faffed a bit more. So a regular occurrence of making ground and then being overtaken, quite a challenge mentally. Because of this, I decided to stop in what seemed to be a pretty nice place, Italy/Austria, and treat myself to a coffee (mainly because that lunch I had wasn't the risotto I'd been dreaming of). I did feel slightly out of place sat on this courtyard of this cafe while people were drinking wine and eating olives, but it was a coffee place; anyway, boujee af coffee drunk... 8 euros it cost me. Shocked but ready to keep going and continue through Austria. The route here was stunning, there's something gingerbread house-like about the places in Austria, and I felt like I'd finally got in the groove. I passed the iconic Dolomites rocks as the sun was setting and was just riding along quiet roads. I hadn't seen anyone for hours, just thinking about how happy and content, and thinking that this is what I am on this planet to do.

Riding until midnight with a descent in the dark, 5 hours sleep, a crazy thunderstorm, and 20k to a bakery where I met a fellow rider. It's interactions like this that are just always surprising. Especially on this race, as you have planned the route, there are times where you feel so alone, to suddenly see someone, always a surprise. We both ate our breakfast and shared a couple of stories, and as most interactions, I left only to be caught by him on the climb; this guy was German, maybe late 40s but had a sunshine kid's backpack on. Best overtake, I guess, as it really made me smile as the thunderstorm was still lingering.

Continuing on this valley floor, with mountains on either side and blue sky, felt like it was perfect until the route took me to what felt like private land with a barking dog, so I went back on myself, ended up on a gravel track to lead me back to my route which, and then the track went through a river... slightly confused but moving forward I rode through, managing to just get one foot wet and only to realize after all this, there was a road running parallel.

I made the Slovenian border while on a bike path that was pretty busy, and the sun was blaring, and I felt so slow; I think it was slightly uphill, but I just felt like I couldn't pedal any more. I think I had left it a little too long without eating so much as I was a bit slower than planned. I hadn't got to the town I had earmarked for lunch yet. I was close, but I couldn't physically ride any further; I had to have a lie down. I saw a bench and did the classic 10-minute nap - which when you are this fatigued is wild what it does to you. You somehow drift off into the deepest sleep so quickly that it does feel like you've been asleep a while. Slightly revitalized, I carried on, found a weird duty-free type place where I got a can of coke and then found what from the outside looked to be an average restaurant, one of those by the side of a main road as a stop-off for those on a long drive. To my surprise, it was exactly what I had been dreaming of for a few days. The staff were so friendly as I was greeted with a guy who seemed to be the owner who, when I asked for a menu, replied saying that he was the menu, started telling me about the meat options and when I said I was vegetarian, asked me what I wanted. I asked for that risotto I had been dreaming of, and he said sure, vegetable risotto I can do that. I then had the classic conversation as I was asking for two portions. But I had decided that risotto is not the best takeaway food, but given the bonk soon before, I wanted to eat two portions there. He was insistent that I wouldn't eat two, but I convinced him I would; we settled on 1.5 portions.

Next stop, checkpoint 2, and this one had more motivation than the others, as two Morzine pals, Abbie and Alan, would be there. By absolute amazing coincidence, they had planned to ride to Slovenia to support a friend, Alan, not knowing that I too would be doing the race. I hadn't seen Abbie for what felt like too long, and it was so nice to be able to share our journeys to the checkpoint together. So with that focus, I made it to the CP as the sun was setting; this CP location has to be my favorite. Maybe because I wasn't expecting it, but the mountain that was in view was spectacular. The view and seeing Abbie, I really didn't want to leave. But I did and onto the parcour in the night and a bivvy spent on the Slovenia-Austria border during a storm. The rain continued, and I descended into a town, freezing cold and soaking wet, sat in some cover, and for the first time wondering what on earth I was doing while I ate a sandwich. With only one thing to do, and that was to ride, I found a cafe, ordered an espresso to dry out and warm up, to my surprise, a guy ordered a beer and shot of vodka. It was 7 am!!

I carried on, ticking off the miles through Slovenia until I was riding past this picturesque river valley as the sun was sort of setting and passed a pizza place with benches outside and in the sun. It was a little early for me to usually stop for dinner, but this place was too perfect not to. I ordered my two pizzas, waiter confused as usual, and emptied my bags to fully dry them out in the last of the sun. It was early for dinner when I arrived, so I was the only one there, so I fully spread myself over this terrace. But slowly more people were joining, staring at me confused. When I told the waiter if I could take the second pizza away, they showed concern that it wouldn't be as good if they did so. To which I had to tell them that it was fine. They wrapped my whole pizza flat in foil, not entirely sure how they thought I would transport it, but I think they were worried about the toppings. Anyway, I folded it in half and straight into my musette. The river that I had been following was the border Slovenia Croatia, so a bridge across and another country unlocked.

Quick petrol station stop a few hours later to be served by a cashier called Tomislav. I don't know if it was the outfit, but he gave me hot fuzz vibes, but I had my first taste of a real culture shock language barrier when trying to work out the coffee machine. There was a weird vibe in this town. Maybe it was just the unknown for me, or maybe it was a bit of an odd place. That's the thing about planning your own route for these things; Google Earth can only get you so far.

I carried on in the dark to be greeted by numerous dogs. Most of the time in gates, or when they were loose, stayed relatively close to their houses. However, the later it got, the more dogs I was waking up, and at one point, it sounded like there were barks coming from 10 different dogs.

Slept in the arches by a church door, and to my delight in the morning, a bakery opened at 5.30 am just 10 meters away.

Croatia surprised me; the remnants of the Balkan War were very apparent. Other than a slight fear that had crept in the day before, I passed a very much locals' cafe and decided as it was 8 am, it's going to be safe. To my horror, the usual questions asking if I was alone came in full force, especially by one very intimidating man.

It was this encounter that made me decide I would take the coastal route. As to me at this point, Brits abroad seem to feel some sort of safety.

It was HOT, and although smooth tarmac, it was at times unbearable. But the roads were nice rolling, sort of hills, and at some times busy. I arrived in the next town after being on quite a busy road for a while only to encounter 4 other riders, including Jesper, Connie, and Brent. I could have stayed at that pizza place for a long time. A sure sign that I hadn't fueled enough during the day.

The morning came, and there I found Jesper again. Turns out he had stayed in the hotel next to me. We shared breakfast and chatted about how funny it was I had seen him so many times. Checkpoint 3 was in sight, and my plan was to not stop until I got there. It was 300 kilometers, but at least I knew I could sleep at the CP.

Across the border, which again nothing was checked, I rode straight through. There was a different vibe in Albania, almost like going back in time with the farmers and goats and the vehicles people were driving. It was mostly a descent and into the town of Shkoder. The main strip just cafes, restaurants full of groups of men with bike paths on either side of the main road, and Albanians going about their life on all manner of bikes. I ate dinner and psyched myself up for the 100 kilometers uphill to get to the CP. The golden hour here was honestly just amazing. The landscape, the rocks, the color of the sky with goats being moved all different directions. As it got really dark, I crossed paths with another rider who was happy to ride together for a bit, and oh my was I glad. Google Street View isn't really in most of Albania, so what looks to be a road on the map sure well could be gravel, and next thing you're feeling lost. A section that had to be ridden to avoid a busy road was a bit of a sketchy gravel section through a bit of a dump. High alert on dogs was needed here. Over a bridge which essentially had craters in. We found another rider also glad to have found us, and we rode up the road, the stars were bright, and I could just make out the silhouette of mountains, sure that this would be stunning in the light. It was a lot of climbing, but I made it to checkpoint 3. The guy who owned the hotel was unbelievably nice. It was 1 am, and he offered me food which I couldn't turn down, and then I slept on a sofa. Woken up by the most amazing view, which I knew was coming.

The next parcour looming over all of us, there was a weird air at the checkpoint. I managed to lose my phone charger, so with the 3% I had was able to google a shop, wait for it to open, and was able to get on my way, slightly later than I thought. The parcour was pretty epic, pretty intense gravel climb in the heat and a wildly long descent. With a tight time pressure until the next checkpoint, I was giving it the beans. Too many beans in fact, I managed to skid out, crash, big gash in my knee and somehow smash my phone on both sides. Adrenaline got me up but I went to check my phone and it was so broken it wouldn't turn out. My worst nightmare.

I had my Wahoo with the route, so I followed it and knew there was a town in about 15 kilometers. On my way down, one of the other riders was walking back up... turns out Brent had also crashed and lost his phone in the process. Passed a pair who were sitting beside the road as deflated as their tires after too many punctures.

I made it to the end of the gravel to be met with a "road" and a very strangely located mansion... with bright green grass in the desert landscape. And all I had in my head was the quote from Cinderella story. I was out of water, and it was hot, but I knew I just had to keep going to the town until I found a little cafe where Brent's pair was chilling. So I decided to get two cold drinks and commiserate with Connie about both of our phone disasters.

Brent returned and played doctor while cleaning my leg with iodine. I decided it was time I went and located a phone in the town so left them and bumped into Ali for the third time in the race. He needed food, and once we got into the town, he wished me good luck and there I circled the town trying to find a phone. I went into two shops where I nearly got sold a case and then a charger, and there was no English to be spoken. And I had no way of translating anything.

Finally found a phone shop with a sassy girl who spoke English. She told me not to worry about the Albanian men, which is easier said than done. I was in the phone shop for a couple of hours, turns out trying to set up a Samsung when you've only ever used Apple is especially hard under all that fatigue. But I managed and decided to go get some food, bumping into Connie and Brent who also looked a bit defeated. There was no way we were going to make the CP cutoff time. The fear still deep in me, they planned to ride to the next town and get a hotel and let me join them. I felt like I had been saved from this crazy nightmare. The town was in North Macedonia, and the hotel had a room for us, we sat and had a beer and ate dinner, while other people were entering the hotel in ball gowns, just a normal Tuesday evening in North Macedonia, it seems.

The morning saw us continue the route, and it really was stunning, crazy hot but the tarmac nice and the views even better. But this didn't last long, back across the Albanian border, and the road surface could have been anything. Into the sunset, and this road really was stunning; however, we were met with a pack of 10 very scary dogs barking at us. We got off our bikes, walked, tried to stay calm, and managed to survive. The road soon turned into gravel and became steep, and to our delight, we found a hotel that had rooms, and another rider was also staying there. We ate dinner, and I made a plan to get to Greece and get a SIM card. We agreed to go our separate ways in the morning. I left early to make it in time for the phone shop as it's 8 am, crossed the Greek border, didn't realize their time would change and, to my horror, the phone shop was shut. Biscuits escaping my bike and rolling down the road were picked up by a couple who pointed me in the direction of an open phone shop. Relief again. I treated myself to brunch and continued on the route. A storm was in the air, and about 30 kilometers out of the town, I sat under a tree in the pouring rain, just unable to continue. I've never felt like this before, but I wasn't having fun; I was inherently scared and felt a million miles away from anything. I knew physically I could have continued riding my bike, but I don't think I could have dealt with anything else going wrong, and knowing that the parcour section was trickier than the one in Albania, I decided to turn around, get a hotel, and scratch from the race.

I honestly didn't know what to feel. I was relieved it was all over but gutted not to have finished the race. It's easy now to think, 'Why didn't I continue?' But if I transport myself back to how I was feeling, I had truly reached my limits. This is what these races push you to do, and it's from these experiences that we become stronger.

When retelling the story, the first thing people have said is that they've never heard me say, 'I’m scared.' And it’s true. This really was an experience of many firsts. I usually have an air of invincibility when riding my bike. It's the reason I love it—the freedom and confidence it brings, making me feel unstoppable and like I can conquer anything. But once you've got the fear, it's really hard to get yourself out of it.

I learned so much, but my main takeaway on reflection is to trust people; they are nice, and most of the time, they are just interested and fascinated by what you’re up to, especially as a solo female in a purple jersey.

Despite everything, I really loved it and so many times I thought that this is what truly makes me content—riding my bike day after day.

So, until the next one :)