I like challenges because they motivate me to train. Without a proper challenge, I just eat a lot of food, drink a lot of wine and go to a lot of parties. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that, but my personality needs a little counterweight to the partying to keep everything in balance. So I sign up for a challenge every now and then.
With COVID wreaking havoc in the world, these challenges are tricky to find. Especially since moving to Portugal in the middle of the pandemic, without really knowing anyone crazy enough to go on adventures with. All races were cancelled, and I’ve been mostly just riding my bike solo or in virtual groups of little puppets on the indoor cycling app Zwift.
Thankfully, Camille McMillan, Further’s race director and mad professor, introduced me to Ryan le Garrec; one of his friends who coincidentally lives just a few kilometres down the road from me. Ryan is a fantastic videographer and ultra-distance cyclist. He sends me insane challenges pretty much every other day. If you’re craving a challenge, find yourself a Ryan.
Prepping the ride
Ryan introduced me to Orbit: a bunch of friends who want to make ultra-distance cycling more accessible. Their first event: ride a 360k or 180k loop as fast as you can possibly do.
What made this particular event stand out to me is that all participants leave a donation, which would go to two fantastic NGOs:
Bikeygees, who offers cycling training to women and girls, and Ghana Bamboo bikes who makes bamboo bikes and helps the Ghanese travel in an affordable and sustainable way. Ever since getting in touch with BYCS in Amsterdam, I’ve believed in the potential of cycling as a way to make this world heaps better. Bikes are affordable, accessible and sustainable means of transportation; they don’t cough toxic, climate-changing gasses with every single centimetre they drag your ass down the road.
360km or 180km?
I’ve been training through the winter (the perks of a COVID lockdown 🤷), so I signed up for a 360k loop. I knew I wasn’t fit enough to put a great time on the leaderboard with such a distance in my new home country. If I was going to do a 360k loop here, I wanted to enjoy what Portugal has to offer, so I decided to plan a slower ride on big tires over roads less travelled.
While building the route on Komoot I had three goals in mind. Firstly, I didn’t want to tackle too much elevation. Secondly, I wanted to ride some awesome trails. Lastly, I wanted to see the Setubal peninsula again with its majestic beaches.
Goal #1: elevation. Failed miserably.
I quickly realised there is no way to plan a ride without elevation out here. I’m born and bred in the Netherlands and I’ve always thought hills were fantastic to look at, from a distance. My first couple of rides in Portugal were a total kick in the butt— a 100 km ride here feels like 200km in the Netherlands. However, after spending five months in this country, I’m starting to appreciate them. They break up otherwise boring flat rides and change an otherwise monotonous loop into a ride with separate challenges— you simply need to tackle them one by one. My calves haven’t gotten used to the hills here though, so my plan for this ride was to try and avoid peaks over 300 metres.
The result:
The ride
6:30. Alarm. Eat a massive bowl of overnight oats with forest fruits. Fill a big mug with coffee. Drink it. Ride.
The morning was crisp, a bit humid, but with a clear blue sky. The warmth of the sun hadn’t reached me yet, but I could feel I had a day of absolutely fantastic weather ahead of me. My weather app told me it was going to be 21 degrees. There was quite a bit of wind though, coming from the east. That means 100k of brutal headwind. It also meant 120k of tailwind on the home stretch. Sounds good to me.
My 360km orbit would begin and end in the surfing town of Ericeira, 40k north of the Portuguese capital. My first mission was to cross the Sintra mountains and reach beautiful Lisbon.
20/360: SINTRA—
There is no way to enter or leave Ericeira without climbing. I’ve tried every possible route on Komoot, but there are basically two ways in and out of Ericeira: the hard way or the insanely hard way. I chose the hard way: which consists of gravel and tarmac roads through the Sintra mountains. The first 40k had about 1000m of elevation in store for me.
Sintra is fantastic though. The relatively low but steep mountains are covered with stunning tarmac roads which look like they’re made for cyclists; they’re a bit too narrow for cars who therefore prefer to take other roads. When I reached the final peak, beautiful Lisboa was in sight.
50/360: FERRY TO SETUBAL
I wanted to pass through Setubal because I really like the natural parks surrounding the city. That meant having to take a ferry from Lisbon to the other side of the bay. The moment I reached the port, I realised this definitely wasn’t going to be a race for the leaderboard: I had just missed the ferry and had to wait 30 minutes for the next ferry, which took 20 minutes to get me to the other side. That’s a 50-minute delay right there, which is quite a bit in a one-day long-distance race. I guess this was a good thing though because it allowed me to take the leaderboard off my mind, and just enjoy the adventure the day would bring.
87/360: PARQUE NATURAL DA ARRÁBIDA
One of the reasons I decided to plan a route with a ferry crossing, is because I wanted to ride through this beautiful protected park. It’s a little mountain range with peaks up to 500 metres, steep climbs, incredible powdery white gravel roads and once you cross it, you’ll find yourself on a tarmac descent towards the coast with bounty-like beaches and clear blue waters. I’m not exaggerating, it’s that beautiful.
Gravel roads leading into the park:
108/360: THE SETUBAL DISASTER
Setubal looks stunning from a distance: it’s a big city with high-rises surrounded by the stunning white beaches like in the video above. However, when you finally reach the city, Setubal itself is a little underwhelming. Turns out it’s just a city.
Big rides for me always mean that a few problems will arise, which I’ll need to solve with my limited technical skills. The first of these challenges happened in Setubal: I was forced off the road by a BMW (and I’m afraid that wasn’t by accident..). My reaction was to steer my bike into the side of the road. The curb came out of nowhere: frontal collision. I was fine, miraculously I even managed to stay on my bike, but my wheel took a serious hit. After inspecting I quickly saw a huge dent in my fancy front wheel with dynamo. That dynamo is a lifesaver when it starts to get dark because it powers my lights, but these dynamos are insanely expensive. So the dent was a bummer. At first sight, the wheel looked like it wouldn’t bring me across 300 more kilometres, but after inflating the tubeless tire again, it seemed to hold air. Onwards!
From Setubal, the route took me around 100k eastwards to Mora. Mora was a point I looked forward to because that’s where I’d turn back and finally get some tailwind. This part of the ride was through the Alentejo region; if you like wine, you might have seen that name before. Of the 100k there, around 80k was vineyards on both sides. The “gravel roads” though the vineyards turned out to be sort of desert-y, sometimes rideable and other times I would just come to a full stop in deep sand. Every now and then, the “gravel roads” were alternated with bumpy tarmac roads as far as the eye could see. I simple ducked into my aerobars and turned the cranks towards Mora.
210/360: MORA
Like many little towns in Portugal – especially during the pandemic – Mora turned out to be rather sleepy. Or maybe it was because I was a bit sleepy by then. I decided to push on and enjoy some of that tailwind. And it was marvellous until my route had different plans for me after about 5 kilometres. On a smooth tarmac road, my bike computer told me to turn right onto a meandering dirt road to nowhere. I wasn’t happy to leave the tarmac behind me so quickly, but I adhered to the plan of the almighty bike computer.
The road brought me to a seemingly ancient stone bridge— there couldn’t have been a better time to cross that bridge. The sun was on its way down in a raw and untamed landscape. On my right, I saw a still river, which turned into a powerful stream below me. Little did I know I’d shortly get a brutal face-off with that river.
After a few moments of watching the river flow, a car behind me started honking: I hadn’t noticed that a bunch of cars had been queuing up behind me while I was taking in the view. I rode to the end of the bridge which lead to a meandering farm road. I passed farms that looked like they had been there for as long as the bridge: nothing had changed around here in over fifty years. Everything was on the up at this point in the ride: the dogs didn’t even try to grab my heels with their jaws but excitedly wagged their tails at my arrival. I really enjoyed this (technically tricky!) road, but the sun was setting and the road was a bit too technical to do in the dark. The race was on.
232/360: Wait, there’s no bridge?
I made it to the end of the double track before it was completely dark. At the end of the farm road, a new problem presented itself: the road simply stopped. It looked like the last 20 metres of the road had sunk two metres as if an earthquake had hit. At the end of the sunken road, that river I saw before was waiting for me. According to my Komoot route, that river had a bridge, but it was nowhere to be found. The local authorities had placed concrete blocks in the river which people could use to walk to to the other side of the river. While writing this, I realise that these concrete blocks were probably the remains of the bridge. The gently flowing river I had crossed before, had transformed into a powerful little river.
I had two options: get in the water and hope for the best, or turn back and ride 20k of technical sandy farm roads in the dark. I chose to first option: I was going to cross the bridge-less river.
Man, did I underestimate the depth of that river. Where the crossing started with ten centimetres of water, just enough to make the cold water find its way into my shoes, I quickly found myself knee-deep in the water. I was desperately holding my bike— which was almost swept away by the river’s strong current— while trying to find some traction on the bottom of the river with the carbon soles of my shoes. I love my shoes, but Shimano clearly didn’t make them for river crossings. Step by step I made it closer to the other side, and after about 45 seconds of being scared shitless, me and my bike were on the other side of the river. I wished the river farewell with a loud curse and continued my journey full of adrenaline.
259/360: A lidl surprise
My legs were begging me to take it easy, but again, the holy bike computer had other plans. The nearest supermarket was 24 kilometres away, and it was 20:10. In fifty minutes, every single shop in Portugal would close its doors because of the lockdown rules. I had to be there on time, or there was no dinner for me until 7:30 the next morning. My tired legs and wet feet did not agree, but I rode as fast as I could until I saw the sharp, glowing light of the German budget supermarket approaching. I looked at my watch: 8:45. Booyah!
The Lidl employees weren’t too stoked with the smelly cyclist walking in the shop 15 minutes before closing time, leaving river water on the freshly cleaned white floor with every step. I hastily grabbed some food without thinking about it and walked to the cashier. She looked at the food, then at me, and didn’t even bother telling me the price. She simply pointed at the screen displaying the price while continuing her Whatsapp conversation.
When I walked out, I saw the dinner my tired brain had picked for me: two massive bottles of iced tea, two bananas, a bag of crisps, and two small cod pies which looked like they had been prepared a few too many hours ago. I ate most of it and was ready to push on a little bit more. Only 100k to go, right?
276/360: Game over
It took me 15 kilometres to realise my dinner didn’t have the effect I wished for. I was grumpy, tired, my feet were cold and my head was cloudy. My sleep-deprived eagle eyes found the perfect little sleeping spot: a little park in a small town behind a picnic table. I unpacked my inflatable mattress, sleeping bag and bivvy and made myself a cosy little nest.
When I got into the sleeping bag, I started listening to the orchestra of loud barking dogs. A lady walked by with her dog, with a bit too much enthusiasm I said “Boa noite!” I scared her to death and she scurried away.
I forced myself to sleep, but I couldn’t. The whole wild camping thing is something I clearly still need to get used to. Out of nowhere, I saw a stray dog run past me just inches from me. Hold up, these dogs aren’t all behind a fence? Realising I could be dog food soon, I knew sleep wasn’t going to happen. I packed my sleeping gear and dragged myself on the bike for the remaining 90k.
I don’t remember too much of that last part of the ride. It was sort of meditative; there was me, the tarmac below me and the glow of my dynamo-powered front light in front of me. As I said before, there’s no way in or out of my hometown without a serious climb. I found out that I saved the highest climb for the last 10 kilometres. It. was. hard.
I made it home at 4:00 in the morning, after riding 362 kilometres, with 3777 meters of elevation, in 21 hours, 13 minutes and 53 seconds. I ate all the cookies I could find, then fell asleep in the shower, woke up on the shower floor ten minutes later and finally crawled to bed.
What I look like after 21 hours on a bike 😅
I wasn’t fast, but I made it to the finisher list with a very adventurous route. These long-distance rides… I always forget how intense they are. But, after weeks of working from home day in, day out, I was craving for an intense, raw and real adventure. A bit of escapism. And that, I got.
Have you ever tried riding far?
Every time I find myself in the middle of one of these adventures, I wonder why I do them. I think I just find it fascinating to learn how much better you can get at something through just taking the plunge and seeing it through. Willpower can get you a long way.
These ultra-distance rides are like full-blown adventures, crammed into one day. You’ll get in trouble, have to figure a way to get out of it and learn something about yourself. Sometimes that’s something positive, sometimes it’s something that you might want to work on.
I’ve always thought of myself as someone who wasn’t fantastic at sports, and I wasn’t, because I never really tried. With these rides I tell myself giving up is not an option, I just have to finish them, and to my surprise I almost always do. If you think you can’t do something like this, try it. If your longest ride is 80 km, plan a 120k ride. I’m sure you’ll be surprised with how far you can ride if you really want it. Why not sign up for the next Orbit challenge and ride for a reason?
