I've always had a special passion for inaugural editions of races. The first one, numero uno, primero. I mean, it's super cool to do something that no one has done before. There is no info, no reports of what worked and what didn't work, nor is there any guidance on what to expect.
Riding the inaugural SNEAK PEAKS Adventure through Italy and Slovenia would not be my first first. My first inaugural ultra-distance bike race was the Atlas Mountain race in Morocco in 2020. I remember how nervous I was, how unsure of what to pack or even if I was ready to do the thing I was about to do. I spent weeks in front of my laptop trying to understand what the Atlas Mountains would be like–how cold would it get, what sleeping setup was needed, what gear, how wide should my tires be–and on and on and on...
The Bike Setup
In the intervening years my approach has changed. From super-conservative early on to more progressive and sometimes maybe a little bit risky, especially because I like my setups to be light and for them to feel as close as possible to an unloaded bike. In practice this means: all the heavy items in the frame, no weight on the handle bars and as steep as is possible an approach for the rear end.
That said, I love a bit of comfort and some peace of mind. It is only very rarely that I go without a nice-enough sleep setup and there is always some margin planned; always some insurance built into the setup. I want to make sure I'm not underprepared, especially when (not if) things go wrong. Knowing there’s a warm jacket, or even just some spare, dry socks waiting in your bag will make all the difference when you're pushing yourself to the edge of your capability.
After I published my setup for SNEAK PEAKS, I got a lot of comments. Most of them expressing a degree of incredulity. The setup in question: a Cervélo Àspero-5 with Reserve 40|44 GR and a full SRAM Red XPLR with 40 x 10-44t. Looking at the route, seeing all of the deep-red climbs and technical, single track sections, this setup may seem crazy. How often does one ride 20%-plus gradients? And how often do you ride them downhill on a technical single trail? Exactly.
I figured it would be better to be fast in between those technical segments and make sure I could hop off and walk quickly when I needed to with a lightweight setup. Also, I am a pretty good descender, so I was sure of my capabilities riding this on a gravel bike.
At the same time, who can be sure what to bring for a race through the Alps in September? Well…the answer is that no one can be completely sure. Honestly, the Alps are a wild place and you should always be prepared for the worst (although this time even I was surprised-keep reading). In my attempt to prepare for all possible outcomes, I even took an emergency bivvy with a summer sleeping bag and an ultralight half-size sleeping pad. If worse came to worse and and I had to spend a night outside in the weather, it wouldn’t be a comfortable night out, but I’d survive.
For clothing, it was all about the essentials: arm warmers, leg warmers, insulated jacket, rain jacket & pants, an extra pair of Merino socks–the only item I didn’t use (!)–and gloves. I also brought an Airmap material vest in high-vis, which I actually never took off. My riding kit itself was just a set of ultralight cargo bibs and aero jersey, as well as normal riding socks. Why the normal riding socks versus insulated socks? Because they are super thin, thus will dry quickly.
Enough gear nerdery, let’s get to the point that we are all interested in; the route.
The Route
Who doesn’t dream of cycling the legendary passes of the Italian Dolomites? Who doesn’t have riding along the gorges of the azure blue Soča river in Slovenia on their bucket list? Well, I sure did, but as grand as they were, my expectations were surpassed. In between these famously breathtaking locations there were so many other gems.
Friuli, for example, is an area not a lot of people think of when they think of Italy. But it’s way less crowded than the Dolomites, offers incredible rough mountain landscapes, cozy mountain huts and of course the cheap but amazing espresso we know and love Italy for.
It would have been a mistake to have been lulled too much by the image of riding the passes of the Giro d’Italia in perfect sunshine, drinking amazing espresso and enjoying the famous Italian cuisine. The route is still in a very high alpine landscape with highly variable seasonal weather and the course has a lot of spicy climbs whose gradients could be reasonably described as inhumane. As an added bonus, a bit over 40% of the route was also off-road.
If you’ve seen the film Slowvenia, you've learned that the ratio between the time needed to ride gravel vs. tarmac is 4:1. Sounds funny, but a lot of times that’s the actual truth. Many of the passes on the route are at elevations in excess of 2000 meters. It gets cold up there and the weather varies, sometimes drastically, in neighboring valleys.
The Numbers
You might have realized I haven't yet mentioned the numbers of the route, but it's a brute. 1086 kilometers in distance and just under 37000 meters of climbing. But you know what? Scratch those. You can’t judge an event by the numbers. It sounds insane to do something like that looking at the numbers on paper. What makes an event hard is not the numbers on the page, it's the terrain, the competition, the weather, how lucky–or unlucky–you are. Maybe you struggle because you're unfit or tired, maybe you're in better shape than you thought and have endless wells of energy. Elevation and distance are only a single factor that will influence the time you’ll spend outside. To be successful there are three things you need to worry about.
First, your body needs to be in good working condition. Don’t smash yourself, ride your own race within your own limits. Second, your equipment needs to be in good working condition. Take care of your bike and equipment. Don’t beat it up until it breaks. Treat it well and it will return the favor. Third, and maybe most importantly, your mind needs to be happy. You are doing this because you love cycling right? Get some good rest when you need it, ride strong and fast and enjoy yourself! Treat yourself to some ice cream or pastries. Marvel at the landscapes and be happy you can be there! If you don't remind yourself of these things along the way, it's way harder to stay motivated and positive when things inevitably take a wrong turn. Body and equipment are more easy to please.
The Setting
Europe is quite a special for riding a bike. The history is dense and has a lot of twists and turns. You'll often find yourself on old military roads or on paths that tell stories of long-forgotten wars. The buildings sometimes tell the story of moving borders. Frequently, you'll find yourself in a completely different environment from where you started within just a few hours. Even just within Italy you will see some villages that look like they belong in Austria rather than Italy–because they once were!
In Friuli in the east of Italy you will find signs that have Italian and Slovenian names on them. It's as astonishing as it is frightening. Crossing borders without any controls, hearing three or more different languages within a day is an incredible achievement and an exhilarating freedom. Looking at the numerous war memorials and traces of former battlefields shows how fragile this freedom is.
Why am I telling you about all this in my race report? Europe is unique on the planet for riding bikes. I am proud to be European and high on the list of my motivations to ride this route was to more deeply grasp the history of the regions the route passes through.
The Race
Day one we were riding 10km neutralized out of Bolzano/Bozen, Italy.
As soon as we hit the first climb the race was off. I rode at my own pace, with a few people around me. Cars overtook us with opposite traffic. I snapped. Attacked and off at the front I was. Riding alone up the climb, searching for peace and settling into my race. A race against myself.
Towards the end of the day a massive storm rolled in. Heavy rain, fog and wind bursts on the higher passes. One of the passes was a scruff field for kilometers. I nearly lost the path, having to climb back onto the path over some slippery boulders. At CP2 I warmed up, had some pasta and evaluated my situation. It was supposed to rain all night. No point in being tough and fighting for the lead on the first day.
I descended down to the next town and took a hotel off-track. I slept for about 5 hours before I went to chase those who rode through the night. By CP3, Rifugio Scarpa, I caught all of them and never saw anyone again.
On the way to CP4, Rifugio Antelao, one of my spokes broke. My wheel was stable and rode quite well still, but I didn’t want to rely on a destabilized wheel for another 700km. The path to a workshop to repair my wheel was rocky. One shop didn’t want to bother with tubeless. Another was having their lunch break for 2 hours and gave me a 5 hour estimate, after they finished their lunch. The best option was another 120 kilometers of riding and some 17km off track. They fixed my wheel within an hour and off I went.
In Slovenia I received multiple weather warnings. In some areas more than 30 litres of rain per hour. I had until 9pm before conditions would be literally unrideable. I wanted to reach Rifugio Marinelli for the day but settled for Rifugio Cason di Lanza way before instead. I had to wait out the worst of the storm for 12 hours before continuing.
It killed me mentally. Thinking I’d lose my advantage. I took off too early going into a massive hail storm on Monte Pauro. I got through, but it was not a situation I ever want to repeat. My closest competitor was over 200 kilometers behind at that point.
I pushed through the night to Rifugio Fanes, the last CP on the route. I arrived at 1 AM. Everything appeared to be locked so I decided to bivvy out front for a few hours at -2 degrees Celsius. Later I learned that the backdoor had been open and I could’ve entered. I struggled for half a day to warm up and for my body to recover from that cold night.
Why am I telling you those stories of struggle? I couldn’t have planned for all the circumstances I found myself in, and there were moments wherein I was close to just quitting and going to the next train station to get to the comfort of my home a few times. But you know what? Every time you have a real low point, think about it in a clear, objective way. What are your options? Have you been in such a situation before? Are you doing any worse than the others?
In all cases I had the ability to continue. I could rely on (somewhat) funny memories of worse situations I’d been through and yes, in every single situation where I doubted myself I knew the others weren't having an easy time either. Next time you think about quitting, think about why you signed up for your mission, why you love doing this. Are there any valid reasons that would force your hand? If it is a race situation think about the others: are they suffering less? They're very likely suffering to the same degree as you.
The Beautiful Moments
All of those negative moments will eventually evaporate from your memory. What remains after some time are the beautiful moments; the moments of epic sunrises, fast descents and mind blowing single trails. I guess this is the perfect explanation of type 2 fun. Right in the moment you truly begin to struggle, at that moment your brain will try to fabricate an excuse to quit. It’s too hard, things are not going as planned, something broke. But after those storms (literally or metaphorically) there will always be light!
Riding through a cold night into the sunrise, seeing the mountains tinted in perfect purple and orange light. A trail angel handing you an apple, it could even just be something that brings up a beautiful memory that makes you smile.
Suddenly it’s all sooo worth it!
After your big ride the beautiful memories will prevail while the storms will slowly fade. Our brain is an interesting organ isn’t it? Why do it at all?
The Motivation
You may have realized by this point that this is not your average heroic race report. I don’t like those. You are not a hero for riding your bike. You're doing a very simple movement again and again. If you seek fame you are probably in the wrong sport. There is no prize money and no attention like in other competitions. There’s no huge crowd waiting at the finish line. You will arrive, get a pat on the back and in some cases you’ll be offered a beer.
That’s why we do it. Because of the love of cycling, the love of being outside. The stories and memories we write while being on the trail and that small community we see at the start line over and over again.
The characters are as random as the sport. Not all are pure athletes striving for the win and peak performance. Some are just looking for thrill and adventure, some just seek a challenge. Something seemingly impossible to accomplish.
Some are just built different. The wildest stories and the most exciting CVs? You will find them at the start and finish line of an ultra. Friends for life? A lot of them were made during ultras. The experience of going through extremes together, the shared passion for a sport. Being as vulnerable and emotionally exposed as you can only be out in the wild, days on end without a shower or proper sleep, that is a glue that will bond you for a lifetime.
Be warned: You can’t force these experiences. They will not come because you want to have an adventure race. You will ride your bike for years and see beautiful places. Those epic stories and moments will come in the process and can not be scripted. This is the beauty of bikepacking. You can prepare, but you can’t plan for everything, and likely, your preparations will not prepare you for the experiences you'll have; it will be harder than you thought it would be and, with some luck, more rewarding as well.
Thanks
There are so many people to be thankful for and the most important ones are in the community.
Raphael put his whole life on hold during the COVID pandemic and started something called Orbit360. The first gravel series in Germany.
I've known him from our first Silkroad Mountainrace in 2019. The first ultra he ever finished. It was the first for me, too! Since then we've both invested all of our energy, money and time into getting more. More of this bikepacking and ultra experience. Being more involved in the community, evolving the community and giving back. Getting more out of our lives than a 9 to 5 job could give us.
Raphael invested over 2 years in getting Sneak Peaks off the ground and while it was not perfect, it was beautiful. Unique like all those community-driven events out there. Thank you for your work, dedication and for giving back to the community the same passion that ensnared you!
Thank you to the people dotwatching. To the people at the start and finish line.
Thank you to those that rode “against” me and pushed me to my limits.
Thank you to those brands that actually care about what I do and make it possible!
I know I said there is nothing to gain. That might not be completely true, but you will not get rich and I am very certain that you will not be successful in this sport if you’re seeking money and fame.
Thank you to you for reading this text! Honestly I am happy for everyone I can share this experience with and I hope my recollections can inspire you to go on your own adventure, whatever that means for you. Your first overnighter on the bike, a tour over multiple days or even crossing a continent.
Honestly if what I've done inspires you to commute to work by bike a few times a week I’d probably be most happy.