Rapport frå Atlas Mountain Race

[torhovland]

In the last chapter I mentioned a nice descent out of the desert before Taznakht. I was confused. The nice descent comes before Tagmout, in this chapter 🙂

Day 4 - The Old Colonial Road

Some of the riders who are really a few hours behind me have arrived at CP2 while I have been sleeping. The tandem is here. Amazing! They have really made it through all this challenging terrain. Unfortunately, they will later scratch, but only because some mischievous kid makes them fall over. They have previously completed the Silk Road Mountain Race on this bike.

I pay 300 dirhams for everything at CP2. 200 for the bed, and the rest for shower, tagine, breakfast, water, cakes, and candy.

As I set off from CP2 it is still dark. That's a shame, because now comes arguably the most scenic descent of the whole route.

(Photo by Gavin Kaps, @ospreyimagery)

Absolutely none of this scenery is sensed by me. To me it is just a steep gravel descent. But that's OK. Big chunks of this race is ridden in the night, so you are bound to miss some things.

It's not only this descent. 20 km after the checkpoint, I'm in a red desert that's also supposed to be a bit of a highlight, but to me it's just a section of night riding. And I can't really remember much of this stretch either. Before I know it, I'm down on a tarmac road.

At this point, it pays to have studied the route. The race manual mentions a resupply at Aka Ghuiren, but it doesn't say that it is 7,5 km off route, each way. Those who come here in the heat of the day with little water, not knowing where the resupply is, are in trouble. It happened to somebody I know 2 years ago. But to me this is no problem, as it is still night, and I'm still fully stocked up from CP2.

So this is the dreaded 45 km tarmac stretch. It's funny, because many road cyclists hate off-road stretches, and equally many off-road bikepackers hate long stretches of tarmac. This particular stretch often comes with headwind, which doesn't make it any more appealing. I only have a slight headwind here, and I sort of enjoy the flat road and the smooth surface. I pass a few riders here, on the road as well as on the side of the road, packing up their bivies.

The night ride from CP2 has been warm, so much that I'm already in my minimal riding gear, but as I reach the plains before Ibn Yacoub, the temperature drops to 6,5 degrees. Almost cold enough to put on more gear, but really, it just feels refreshing.

As I enter Ibn Yacoub, children are on their way to school. More Bonjours.

The village is just at the foot of the mountains that I need to climb over.

So this is another remote stretch, and this one I get to see in daylight.

After a while, I get to the splendid descent.

And at the bottom I hit a major traffic jam. It's a huge number of dromedaries. They're just getting fed, and they're all hastily making their way down to the feeding zone. See the YouTube video, it's quite amazing. Must be somebody wealthy owning these.

In the distance I can see what I mistake for Tagmout. Turns out it's Ait Kine, and Tagmout is another 9 km down a flat tarmac road.

At Tagmout I've now made it 114 km since CP2, and it's still early in the day. Not bad!

Just as I enter the village, I see a rider who appears to be on his way into a taxi. Strange. But looking at the tracker while writing this, I see someone that arrived shortly before me who seems to have scratched there.

I've become hungry, and the chicken I had yesterday in Taznakht has made me long for something better than an omelette. And I remember from a report that there's a big market here, and a decent chance for some grilled food. The only problem is, I don't know exactly where it is, and Google Maps isn't helping all that much. But clearly there is a fair amount of population to the west of the race course.

As I don't find anything other than an omelette cafe close to the course, I decide to look further into the oasis. I meet two kids on bikes, and I try to ask them about barbeque, but it's hard to tell if they understand me at all. After rolling with them for a while, I realise I am getting nowhere. But I stop a few times to ask locals, and they seem to point me in the direction I am going, so I look a little further. Eventually, I meet somebody who points me back to where I came from, and that's when I decide to turn around.

I stop at a small shop, where I buy some Coke, 4 small packets of chips, and some chocolate. All in all, it costs me 15 dirhams, or about €1,50.

I find the big market literally right next to the race course. Or, more correctly, I find the marketplace, but it is completely empty. I guess I'm here on the wrong day of the week.

As I reluctantly order an omelette, I get it served in warm, fresh baguette. It's very good! I order one more. I also get to charge my electronics.

This whole search for grilled food took me an extra half hour, plus a 15 minute break at the shop. But that's OK. I got to see a small part of Morocco that most of the others missed.

I am now more than ready to attack the Old Colonial Road.

As I start the climb, I confirm that the road is every bit as rocky as we've been told. In fact, I decide to let out some air from my tires. That helps a bit.

The road has two broken sections that have made it impassable for motorised vehicles. I thought they would come near the bottom, but I had to climb 300 meters of elevation first.

We had been told at the race meeting that it is possible to hike around, and that there is no reason to climb down and up these rocky cliffs. But for people who get here in the middle of the night, that's not so easy to see. Even knowing this, I failed to see that the trail around the first one went through the collapsed road and up on the other side, so I hauled myself and my super heavy bike up the rock wall.

Here's the second broken section, with a path on the right which is easier to see. But still very steep.

I know from the tracker that I have two people closely behind me. Eventually I can see them, although I don't think they are in my photos. This actually motivates me to keep up the pace. I don't want to get overtaken by more people, and I feel pretty good.

The climb really goes on for a while. After the broken sections there are another 15 km consisting of a gradual 300 meter climb, a short descent, and then another 100 meters. This takes 90 minutes.

After all of that is a 19 km long descent, known for being quite scary if you do it in the middle of the night. It has numerous small collapses, which makes it dangerous to ride close to the edge of the road. Luckily, I still have some daylight left, and can enjoy all of it.

Then there's a tarmac road leading into Issafn, the next resupply stop.

Issafn is supposed to have good omelettes, but I get one very quickly that seems rather dry. Then Harry Fletcher arrives, and I invite him to share my table. His omelette takes much longer, and when it's ready it's fresh and sizzling hot!

The other one that was behind me also appears.

Harry's tracker isn't working (so maybe I had three people closely behind me), and trying to turn it off and on isn't working. I suggest emailing the organisers, which he does, and they tell him to screw the tracker open and reset the batteries. That helps.

He also tells me about his derailleur clutch that's no longer working, but also about the crazy story of the other rider that's here. He had had his jacket on his saddle bag, but it had loosened and got sucked into the rear wheel, where it had completely ruined the brake rotor to the point that it needed to be removed!

The tracker shows that Quinda Verheul is also in Issafn. That's strange, because she's been a fair bit ahead of me all the time. Is she having a problem? Well, yes, but only a minor one. Apparently the same tracker problem that Harry had. So she was indeed several hours further into the course.

After more than one and a half hours in Issafn, including a visit to a nearby shop, it had become dark, but it was time to move on. I even had Kebab chips, so what could possibly go wrong?

Harry and I had discussed the next stage and agreed that it made sense to get started on the upcoming riverbed climb, then find a spot next to it and bivy when drowsiness set in. We didn't want to climb all the way up to 1800 meters and bivy there.

But first was a gentle tailwind descent on tarmac in the cool evening air. That was quite enjoyable.

The riverbed climb was supposed to be frustrating or pleasant, depending on who you trusted. But an earlier version of the race manual had this to say, which was not very encouraging:

"Probably one of the toughest sections of the race. The rocky track that follows the riverbed will likely have you cursing us, with reason. It will be a frustratingly slow section of the route. If there had been another viable option, we would have put it in the race!"

As I exit the tarmac road, the riverbed doesn't immediately start. Instead there is a rather steep gravel road for about 100 meters of elevation. Eventually I get to what looks like an exit onto a minor path on the GPS track. And sure enough, I turn into a very rocky riverbed. I don't even get 10 meters before I see that it will be tough going. I need to hike up some difficult terrain, and I see a concrete structure and some fencing in front of me. Keep in mind it is dark now, so my vision is limited. With much effort, I make it up onto the concrete structure, and I see that it is a road. Simply the same road that I just exited! Well, if that means I don't have to hike this riverbed, I'm happy.

As I continue up the road, I notice that the GPS track tends to go a little to the right of where I'm going. Even if it's dark, I can just about make out that the actual riverbed goes there, while I'm on a gravel road partly up the side of the valley. This is backed up by the Strava map, which uses OpenStreetMap:

I wonder if I'm off course, but I remember what Nelson said at the race meeting: "If there's a road 50 meters next to the track, by all means take the road."

So the riverbed track has indeed been replaced by a new road. And the section from the race manual has been removed.

Naturally, I'm not complaining about having this rather nice gravel road. I just continue on. After a while I spot something on the ground as I pass. "Surely that wasn't... it can't have been a... can it?" I need to stop and take a closer look. And sure enough, it is this little guy:

Among the two of us, it is the scared one. When I direct my helmet lamp on it, it freezes and becomes completely still. And it is really quite small, only a few cm long.

Of course I post this on Instagram. My family back home feels a need to Google where the most dangerous scorpions live. Surely, that must be Australia? Turns out it is North Africa 😅

Anyway, if I needed any motivation to move further before bivying, this is it.

A little later I notice that one of my bottle cages, which has been rattling for a while, has now completely disintegrated. Clearly, the vibration straight from the rear axle has been too much, and the weight of a 950 ml bottle hasn't helped. But the Tailfin itself never gave so much as a hint of distress. It just goes to show how incredibly well engineered it is. I am very impressed.

I just leave the bottle hanging like this for now, which is a mistake, because when I stop to bivy an hour later, the bottle is gone.

It is almost midnight, and it's been over 20 hours since I left CP2. I've covered 226 km and done two and a half major climbs. The gravel road has just ended, and I'm on the actual riverbed track now. It's been a productive day, and it's time for some sleep.

Just as I roll out my sleeping gear, a cat comes running. It takes a particular interest in the handlebar region of my bike. Very quickly, it decides it is one of the food pouches it desires. The one in which I put cheese triangles from the shop in Issafn. It tries its best to get into the bag, and even starts scratching it. At this point I try to chase it off, but it simply doesn't care. In the end, I realise I just have to eat that cheese right now. So I do, and I throw the wrapping paper down to the cat. It licks them long and vigorously.

Later, it continues being intensly interested in the food pouch, but at this point I have emptied it, so I don't care.

Finally, when it is time for me to sleep, I want the cat to go away. I throw a rock in its direction (not at it), and it scurries away and hides under my bike. I throw another rock at my bike (this is crazy), and the cat gives me a disappointed look before it runs off for good.

Then some dogs start barking from the nearby village, and some other dogs join in from the other side of the valley. The barking intensifies. Oh, great!

But in the end, they lose interest, things quiet down, and once again, I fall into deep sleep in my bivy.

[Sun Flyer]

@torhovland Nå har jeg sett den videoen du la ut i dag. Er veldig imponert over både syklingen og filmingen. Hvilket kamera bruker du? Det er vel neppe GoPro med den panoreringen?

[torhovland]

Takk, takk! Kameraet er Insta360 X3. Det betyr at filminga er så enkelt som å trykke på ein knapp, men redigeringa er det litt meir arbeid med.

[Gråstein]

Jeg håper @torhovland tar "kritikk" med det smilet det er ment å frembring 🙂

Kan admin legge inn en sperre sånn det ikke kommer opp at han har siste innlegg i denne tråden uten at det er siste reiserapport? Er jo pokker meg spent på om du kommer til mål nå, selv om resultatet er kjent 🙂

[torhovland]

Day 5 - Lush landscapes around CP3

I am woken up by my alarm after 4 hours of quality sleep, exactly as planned. This was my shortest bivy so far, but I felt that the 5 hours I had slept the previous two nights had been more than enough, or at least enough.

As I pack my stuff, somebody is passing me. I am quickly on my way, and I can sometimes see the light from the other rider in front of me.

My saddle sores are hurting quite a lot. This is how they are truly feeling when I don't have any pain killers in me to dull the pain. But I start taking 2 ibuprofen every 8 hours, and 2 paracetamol every 8 hours, so something every 4 hours. I count my pills and figure I have enough to keep doing this for the rest of the ride.

I am now making my way up the dreaded riverbed in the dark. It's not really particularly difficult or frustrating, but the gradient varies between steep and rideable and very steep and hikeable. I need to climb from 1400 meters to 1800. I soon find the other rider, Eric Devos from Belgium, sitting by the side of the path. He's trying to study the track and find out how much climbing we need to do before CP3. As usual I already know the upcoming route details and can offer some advice.

The 7 km to the top takes an hour and a half, so I guess the old section from the race manual was correct that it would be slow going, but it still felt OK to me.

As the trail flattens out it becomes very hard to follow in the dark unless you have your eyes glued to the GPS, as the narrow path crisscrosses other paths.

Whenever I miss a turn, Eric catches up to me. He seems to be better at navigating this. Eventually we ride together for a bit, chatting about the unbelievable performance from Justinas and the other finishers. We are both dumbfounded by how little sleep they need, and how efficient they are at stopping to restock food. This is of course amazing to everyone dotwatching as well, but there is something special about doing the exact same event as them. It puts their performance in a different perspective, and gives an even deeper sense of respect. 

Eric says he didn't want to bivy outside, as he found the night chilly. He also says that he's going to put on his jacket before the long descent. I feel differently. I didn't feel that the night was any cold (it was 11 degrees when I woke up), and I don't feel a need for a jacket.

Before long I reach the road that is trafficked by trucks 24/7. It's a mystery what they are up to, but a quick search uncovers that it might be copper mining. A nice byproduct of this industry is the wide and smooth gravel road. The trucks are kicking up a lot of dust, though. This is the only time during the race that I consider putting on my dust mask, but I decide it isn't necessary. I got one specifically because I had been reading reports about how the dust has affected participants in earlier editions. Some have developed bad coughing, and some have even had to scratch because of it. I never had any problems with the dust, but I learn after the race that several people did. It turns out this is one of those things that some people are more sensitive to than others, just like saddle sores, or Shermer's neck.

Just before I start the long descent, I am rewarded with a stunning sunrise in a misty landscape.

Further down, I get to see the actual sun, and the view is so amazing/strange/alien that I have to stop and ask myself what I'm actually looking at. I have never seen the sun like this. I can look directly at it without hurting my eyes, and it looks so round and perfect. For a few seconds I wonder if I'm looking at a bright full moon instead. But it must be the mist that is causing this phenomenon.

Unfortunately, my video camera was unable to capture this magical view properly, but my phone camera did a better job.

Just a minute later (in the turn you can see on the upper right in the picture above), I have to take another photo.

Even further down, I see a road coming up on my left. It climbs up a steep ridge, and at the bottom is a gigantic plains, as can be seen in the background below. Checking the map back home, I see there is a village called Imlioua down there. And right next to it, there is a giant gold mine! Interesting!

As I wrote in yesterday's chapter, I lost a bottle and its cage. This is all that is left of it:

Now I can hear that the bottle cage on the other side is rattling in the same way that the first one did before it fell off. I can't afford to lose another bottle, so I stop and wrap Gorilla tape around it. That fixes the problem for the rest of the ride.

Finally, I am at the bottom of the descent, ready to start the climb up a long oasis valley. CP3 is on the other side of that climb, in Tafraoute. The road sign here is confirming that we are on the right track:

The oasis valley is important, because it will be my chance for a breakfast this morning. I just don't know how far up I have to go before I find a shop. The ones I know about are about halfway up.

As it happens, I don't have to go far at all. Before I even enter the valley, a village shop appears. I stop, of course, and buy some bread, cakes, and something to drink. I pay 16 dirhams (€1,50). 

I have company from a couple of cats.

And a few dogs. Heaven knows why I'm so popular!

By the way, some racers reported being chased by dogs, and at least one got bitten. For some reason, I never had an issue, aside for the inevitable barking as I was trying to sleep.

Going into the oasis is a welcome change of scenery, and at first it is flat and cool, with noticeable more humid air. There are some European tourists here, which feels like an unusual sight after half a week off the beaten track.

Pretty soon, the road slopes upwards and out of the palm tree forest.

I was happy to experience this valley, as I had ridden the oasis valley after CP2 in darkness.

It goes on and on for a long time, as a preview of the "Stelvio" climb we would be doing tomorrow. But I feel very good here. My legs are relatively fine, and the pain killers are doing their job.

The climb is 22 km, takes us up from 1100 to 1700 meters, and it takes me a little less than 2 hours. At the top I am rewarded with a magnificent view and a spectacular tarmac descent with loads of switchbacks.

Half an hour of happiness, until I reach Tafraoute and CP3, at pretty much exactly 1000 meters of elevation.

This is the biggest town on the route, and your best bet if you need anything in particular during the ride. Within reason, of course. I mean, there are pharmacies here, but don't expect any well stocked bike shops.

The checkpoint is great. It's at a very nice hotel with a good restaurant. For the first (and only) time during the race, there is a menu with options that are more familiar from a western perspective. There's also fresh pressed juice and coffee. I get some mixed grilled meat. George Everiss is here, and he orders a big pizza. The Belgian pair, Kasper & Bart, are here as well. I will see more of these as we make our way to the finish.

I also get to charge my electronics here. And I snap a photo of Petr Petrilak as he is about to leave.

Like I said, the hotel is nice, and there's even a swimming pool. And there are sinks by the pool with hand soap dispensers. This makes me so happy that the Belgians laugh at my enthusiasm.

I go to check out the toilets. If the hotel is so nice, surely it must have toilet paper? Alas, it doesn't. It's the same bucket and water tap system that seems to be everywhere.

Eric Devos from this morning has also made it to the checkpoint, and is sitting down for food. We chat a little about making it to the finish in time. I'm feeling quite optimistic about all that by now. I say we can make it to Ait Baha today, cross the High Atlas tomorrow, and coast into Essaouira by noon on Saturday. Eric doesn't seem convinced.

Before I leave the checkpoint, I look around to see if they have a room for taking a nap. They don't really, but there is a quiet seating area behind the reception, and I lie down on a sofa there, as Kasper & Bart are preparing to leave. I rest for a few minutes in a state halfway between awake and sleeping.

Then it's time to look for that supermarket. I ask the volunteers, and they point me just around the corner. George also needs to restock and comes with me. It isn't a big supermarket, just a relatively small shop, but it's better equipped than the ones we've become used to in the mountains. They even have ice cream! It's the first time we've seen that. George later tells me he bought three. Even more astonishing, they have toilet paper! I have to buy a pack of 4, and leave 3 rolls behind. Well, actually, I gift one to George. I still don't find any Haribos, but they have Mentos, a welcome substitute.

The shopkeeper asks me if I'm Tor. Turns out he's dotwatching the race 🙂

After filling my bags to the brim, I am ready to set off. There is a gentle descent for 11 km. I notice my pain relief needs topping up. I apply some gel and take a couple pills. Then I reach a big climb that will take us from 850 meters to 1300. It is a nice tarmac road, but quite steep at times. I have to get off and walk some of it. That's a nice relief for my saddle sores as well as for my lower back.

As soon as I reach the top, I descend right down to 875 meters again, through excellent switchbacks. There will be much more of these ups and downs, as we have entered another mountainous region as we make our way towards the coast.

Suddenly, I see a shop, although I still have a few km left to the next resupply village. With only three bottles, I need to make sure I'm filled up for the rest of the day. Another nice surprise is that this small shop has "smågodt", the kind of self-service candy that you typically won't find outside of Scandinavia. But here it's not self-service. I have to point at the things I want, and the shopkeeper puts them into a paper bag with his bare hands. Oh well. It seems like he doesn't have great turnover on this product, because the candy is much harder than it's probably supposed to be. But it's still good, so I'm happy.

Just a little later, I get a great view of Tanalt, the expected resupply village. On the photo below, you can sense a valley behind the village, and then another hill. That's where I'm heading. 

Ever since we reached that oasis valley earlier today, the landscape has been quite different from before. As the race manual says, "you would be forgiven for thinking you were in the Mediterranean."

Like I said, this mountainous region is just up and down all the time. After I climb up that next hill, the road turns into a narrow path made out of concrete slabs. The descents are super flowy, and the climbs are steep. When studying the route profile back home, you get to know where the climbs are, of course, but not what they look and feel like. And I hadn't researched the part after CP3 as well as the earlier parts. So this terrain was a bit of a surprise for me. But a very nice surprise.

Eventually, the sun sets and it starts to get dark. I am on this spectacular mountain path up the side of a valley, and in the distance below me I can see some lights and hear some chanting, probably from a mosque. This feels like a proper adventure.

Then I get to the longest descent of the race. Actually, that's not true, but it's the first descent that takes us almost down to sea level as we go from 1100 meters down to below 200. At this point we no longer have tarmac or concrete, it's a steep, rocky descent, like many we've had before. And it's dark, but my front light is still doing a good job. After a while the surface improves a little, and can almost be called gravel.

At the bottom I cross a road and head straight into another critical section of the race, the long mule track hike-a-bike. I say hello to somebody who's having a break at the side of the track (either Petr or George). Then I come to a creek that I ride over. We've already crossed hundreds of these, or so it seems, but this one actually has water in it! My shoes and socks get soaked, and will stay slightly damp until the end of the race. Then I need to find my way on an invisible track through bushes and riverbed stones in the dark. Petr Kohoutek is catching up to me here, and we navigate our way through this together. From the tracker I see that he's gone off route for a couple km into a nearby village to resupply. Probably not a bad move, as the next villages may be all closed for the night as we get there.

We are going along some river or pond that is not dry, and seems full of croaking frogs (although it might have been just two). It gets increasingly muddy, and also increasingly impassable. I can see that the GPS track is a little further to the right, and I realise that we're probably supposed to be on the other side of the pond. We try to light up the area and get a good look, and it does seem like there is a path there. We backtrace a little, and find wheel tracks crossing the mud somewhere. My feet are already wet, so that's no problem, but my bike is soaking up a shocking amount of mud. I can actually feel that the bike becomes much heavier.

When we have completed the muddy section, we both stop to scrape as much as we can off our bikes. This is where the steep mule hike-a-bike starts. We're supposed to climb from 200 to 650 meters, so I'm prepared for a long slog. It's immediately very steep and demanding. Petr sets off ahead of me, and quickly disappears. George is close behind. Sometimes I see their lights ahead and behind me.

The 5 km up to 550 meters takes an hour and 15 minutes. Petr has missed a turn, and I overtake him. At that point the climb becomes rideable, and I actually feel pretty good here, and get some distance on the other two. Incredibly, the drive train still works after all that mud. 40 minutes later I make it up to a tarmac road, with less than 5 km to go to the resupply at Sidi Abdallah. I would love a hot meal there, but unfortunately nothing is open. In fact, I only see two people in the whole of the village. All I can do is continue on to the bigger town of Ait Baha, and hope that something will be open there. If I'm lucky, there is a cafe that is open all night just for us, like in Ait Saoun at the start of day 3. I only have 22 km to go.

Nelson always avoids tarmac roads when possible, and the first 13 km is a gravel detour. Actually, it's on some road that is being rebuilt, and the surface is full of rocks, very similar to all the riverbeds we've come to love. But the road shoulders seem to have firmer gravel which is easier to ride.

The air is definitely more humid here, and my dry bag at the front of the bike collects some moisture.

When I get to Ait Baha, it's clear that it is indeed a bigger town. But it's past midnight, and this place seems to be sleeping too. I check the tracker to see if there are other riders here. Kasper & Bart are here, but they're probably asleep in a hotel. They later tell me they only found a butcher's shop, but he had helped calling a hotel to let them in.

I coast through the whole main road without finding anything, except right at the end, where there is a cafe with lights on. Nobody is there, but there are some people chatting on the other side of the road. Just as I go to ask them, one of them is heading over to the cafe. It seems to be the host, and when I ask for omelettes, he gestures me over. Fantastic! That's quite a relief.

I ask for two omelettes, and I also get bread, pineapple juice, water, and mint tea. And I get to charge my stuff. The host asks where I'm from. I say Norway and he says Håland 😄

I expected Petr to stop as well, as he was close behind me, but he just continued on. That's understandable, as he resupplied before the mud section. George seems to have stopped to bivy on the mule track. Harry, which I ate with in Issafn after the Old Colonial Road, has stopped on the road works section. There are some other people nearby as well.

I can feel my head spinning again, just like at CP2, and it's clear that I need a place to bivy as soon as I'm out of town.

6 km later I find just that, on a desert-like plains, at the side of the track. I can see that Petr has also stopped somewhere nearby. I think I set my alarm to 3,5 hours. This has been another productive day. In fact, I have been on the road for 21 hours, which became my longest day of the race. And like yesterday, I managed about 220 km.

But tomorrow is another tough day, as I'll be making my way back over the High Atlas again.

[torhovland]

Day 6 - Another go over the High Atlas

Once again, I am woken up by my alarm after sleeping very well, and I get the 3 hours of sleep I intended. Actually, almost 3 and a half. But as I start riding, I am a little confused about this. I stopped at 2:00, so if I slept for 3 hours, it should be about 5:00 now, right? But it is 06:40. Now, faffing is a well-known issue in long distance events. You tend to spend a lot of time at food stops and such. In my experience, I tend to know if I'm faffing or being efficient. But this bivying business is different. I seem to spend 60-90 minutes faffing with setting up and clearing camp, even though it should be possible to do it in 15-20 minutes. Sure, I brush my teeth and check my phone and such, but 60-90 minutes? I have no idea where all that time goes. Surely, this would be an important area for improvement if I wanted to do races like this faster.

The riding into Ait Baha had been damp, and the night was too. This was the first night that I experienced any condensation in my bivy. It was damp inside as well as outside. The sleeping bag was a little wet as well, but not very.

As I've mentioned before, the race doesn't have stages, but as the official route on Komoot is divided into 10 parts, it's easy to think of them as stages. The final one is easy, but this stage number 9 is anything but. With 217 km and 4110 meters of elevation, it would have made a demanding race all by itself. It will take me over 24 hours to complete it.

I ride into the darkness. This part of the route is easy, with mostly just a gentle descent on the way to the long sand crossing, except for one climb of 100 meters.

My derailleur no longer shifts properly. I try lubing the chain, but it doesn't help. That's when I notice that the adjustment bolt on the shifter has come loose. I assume it has somehow unscrewed itself due to the rubbing from the sleeping bag. I try to screw the bolt back in, but the threads won't attach. I think the threads are stripped, and decide to leave things as they are, as shifting is still 75% fine. I just hope it will stay like this until the end of the ride. As it happens, it does. It's a bit annoying on steep climbs, as the derailleur doesn't necessarily stay in the gear I want it to. But it is rideable. Later, when I get home and reassemble the bike, it takes me all of 2 minutes to screw the adjustment bolt back into place and fix the problem. Oh well.

Just as we are about to start a rocky descent, I get slightly lost. My Garmin immediately tells me I am off course, but as I try to correct it, I make it worse. I go around a cluster of houses, and when I try to get onto the track again, I need to hike down a steep incline. Eventually, I find the correct track and can enjoy a somewhat technical descent for a little while.

I get down to a road, and now it's become very foggy. My merino jersey is getting wet from the damp air, and my camera lens is also collecting drops of water. Before long, I am at where the sandy section starts. I now have to follow a straight line through a desert for 18 km. This is arguably the most dreaded section of the whole race. In the first edition, as the participants thought they were just about to cross the finish line in Agadir, they got this instead. In various YouTube videos you can see people hiking for hours, as the sand is unrideable.

At the race meeting, Nelson assured us the sand is indeed rideable as long as you stay on the firmer path, and that the fast ones do it in about 40 minutes.

I had bought 2.35" tires specifically because of this section. I wanted as wide tires as I could fit on the bike.

In the beginning, it does feel a bit loose, and I decide to stop and let air out of my tires. This helps, and it really isn't particularly difficult to ride. Maybe the humidity has helped making the sand more rideable. It feels quite a bit like the snowy fatbiking I do at home, and at about 10 kph the speed is comparable as well. It's nice to have 100 bicycle tracks to follow here. It lets me see where the track is soft, and where it may be a better idea to go around. It is indeed sometimes better to ride by the side of the main track rather than in it.

My timing has been perfect. I just got daylight, which is a great help here. But it's early enough that the sun isn't baking me. In fact, I enjoy a pleasant 12-15 degrees.

Towards the end of the section, the track becomes increasingly rideable. I pass some people who are doing some kind of construction work. I also get to see goats climbing trees, which I have been looking forward to.

Next is a flat tarmac section into the resupply village of Jerf. There is a small shop here. I buy the usual assortment of cakes, cookies, and drinks. I spend some time outside to rest, eat, reinflate my tires, repack my tool bag, change from my merino jersey to the UV shirt and sun-covering hat, etc. Kasper & Bart arrive shortly after me and stop for breakfast as well. They tell me about the butcher who helped them call a hotel in Ait Baha. Another rider does a quick stop here as well.

As I am reattaching my downtube tool bag, my bike falls over in a way that makes my 360 camera with its two protruding lenses scrape along the concrete wall. Oh great, I think. But somehow only the side of the camera touched the wall, not the front or rear side with the lenses. Phew!

The next section is a 20 km stretch mostly along a major road with traffic in and out of Agadir. The road is good, and it's no problem. I'm looking forward to the next resupply at Amskroud. Although I just stopped at a shop, I didn't get any real food there. And this next resupply will be the last one for most of the day, so it will be important to fill up. As I approach the village, I can see the first big climb of the day to the left of me. According to my research notes, this is the last hike-a-bike of the race. I am basing that on this quote from the race manual, where it mentions the toughest sections:

Quote

Piste after km 1067: One of the last, if not the last time you’ll have to push your bike. The ascent is quite short but it'll certainly involve some hiking.

In retrospect, I suspect this was supposed to refer to the mule track after the muddy river yesterday. But that was around km 954.

Anyway, as I enter Amskroud, I see petrol stations and a couple cafes, clearly living on all the traffic passing through. The cafes are butchering meat which is put directly on a grill and also put into a large number of tagines. Somebody is tending them, moving them closer to the counter as the ones that have finished cooking get picked up by customers. 

I ask for one and sit down at a table. I quickly get my tagine. I even get some potato fries on top. Kasper & Bart are once again close behind me. Apparently, they're happy with the breakfast at the shop, as they just do a quick resupply before they head out to begin the big climb.

The food really hit the spot. I am feeling quite tired as well, but this place is too busy for a power nap. I just cross the street to pick up some Coke, then I start the long climb.

I still have this idea that the climb is supposed to be hike-a-bike, so I am pleasantly surprised to find that there is a nice tarmac road instead, albeit steep. I gather that the climb probably starts out smooth and turns into a hike-a-bike later.

The climb is long, and it's tough going while the sun is frying my back. We are going from below 300 meters to above 900 meters, with some short descents and flat sections along the way. Some of it is steep and hot enough that I decide to get off and walk. It's not a lot slower than cycling anyway.

Near the top, I feel the need for a particular bodily function that reminds me about the toilet paper I bought at CP3. I find a spot in the slope at the side of the road. The road is very quiet with only the occasional car or moped, so I feel private enough.

At the top of the climb the road turns into a rocky track. All the way up I have been waiting for a hike-a-bike, and this is finally close, but still rideable.

It has taken me over 2 hours to get up this climb, but it's OK, because there is now only one major climb left in this race. And I only have 40 km until the start of it. But two such climbs alone does not make 4000 meters of elevation, and as I am about to find out, there is not a flat meter on this stretch. Amazingly, it will take me another 5 hours until I am at the foot of that big climb.

I have not studied this part of the race as well as the earlier stages. Partly because it isn't as well documented, as it has only featured in the race once before. And partly because I figured that this long into the race my mental state would make me feel ready for anything. I would just take things as they come. And what came now certainly made it abundantly clear that the race isn't over yet. I get a panoramic view over a big forest, very different from the first days of the race. And in the near distance, I see a gravel road winding its way up a big hill.

"I'm not going up there, am I? Well, there doesn't seem to be any other way out of here."

Sure enough, first I get to go down a similar set of switchbacks on a very rocky and eroded track, then I begin the climb up on the other side. The road is actually not as daunting as it looked from a distance. I can ride it easily enough in half an hour. Up here on 900 meters there is a nice, winding track with some excellent views.

Suddenly, as I turn around a corner, I see somebody who's come all the way up here on a moped with water and soft drinks that he's placed on a blanket. I'm so surprised at this that before I have time to react, I have already passed him and moved on. If I was him, I would have found a less surprising spot.

As I ride on, the sunlight makes it very hard to see the map on my computer. I can just barely see a line in the center of the screen. While I do get warnings when I go off course, it's also crying wolf a lot as the GPS track doesn't always match the winding road exactly. So it's easy to ignore the warnings, but that's not a good idea. At some point I realise that the computer has been saying "off course" longer than it usually does. I have to stop and check, which is hard when there's no shade to be found. And sure enough, I have taken a wrong turn. Luckily, I have only been off course for 5 minutes. My wife calls me as well, wondering what's going on. I tell her I'm not allowed to receive help like that, but she was just worried I was having some sort of problem.

I can see a long descent that I assume to be the correct way. I go over there and start heading down. But the off course warning doesn't go away. I stop and check again, and frustratingly have to accept that I'm still not going the right way. Good thing I checked this before riding all the way down!

Finally I am on track again and soon I start the correct descent, which is heading north rather than west. It is incredibly steep. The surface is a mix of concrete blocks and a rocky track. Often it is concrete with lots of loose rocks on top.

I descend back down to 350 meters, and at the bottom I immediately turn on to another steep climb. It feels like torture.

At least I am now on a nice tarmac road. This climb goes up to 600 meters. I am quite exhausted, and the saddle sores are screaming at me. I alternate between cycling and walking.

There's another descent down to 300 meters, and another immediate steep climb, this time up to 500 meters. I walk most of this one, and it's slow going.

The sun is setting, and it's about to get dark.

At this point, I sense signs of civilisation in the valley below me. I wonder if we're going down there. Sure enough, we soon turn right in a junction and descend down to the village of Tamzergoute. The flat road at the bottom is lined by palm trees, and then the expected resupply appears. There are two cafes side by side as well as a small shop. The cafes are operated by an old man and a young man. Only the young one speaks English. I order two omelettes, and they arrange it so that they make me one each. There is a wide variety of fresh juice, so I get one of those, as well as mint tea and bread.

Soon Harry turns up. I haven't seen him since we ate together at Issafn at the end of day 4. Now we have another omelette meal together. We discuss the race finale. I talk about doing the upcoming Moroccan "Stelvio", sleep for about an hour, and then supplement with a power nap or two during the push to the finish. Harry seems to consider doing something similar.

Petr Kohoutek, who I had nearby yesterday, arrives as well. But he doesn't stop for food, he just quickly goes on to start the big climb that will take us from 200 to 1200 meters through 28 switchbacks. Amazing!

After a visit to the shop I am ready to go an as well. It is now pitch black. The road is sloping gently uphill at first, but after half an hour, at 300 meters, the actual "Stelvio" starts. I know I have a big job in front of me, and decide to put on the AMR podcast as company. At 500 meters I am off course for a minute, because I miss a left turn in a junction. Harry had started shortly after me, and he passes me during my slight misnavigation.

This is one of those sections that I wish I could do in daylight. It's a stunning switchback road, but I couldn't see any of it.

This climb was a peculiar experience for me, because I was in a special mental state. I wasn't horribly sleep deprived, and I wasn't hallucinating, but I certainly wasn't wide awake and alert either. The concept of time felt different. You know the feeling when you're bored and time seems to progress very slowly. That can absolutely happen when cycling, but it seems to happen when your mind is alert and doesn't get enough entertainment. This was different. Time seemed to move much faster. The whole climb took me two and a half hours, and should have felt endless. Instead, it felt like it took about 45 minutes. The podcast episodes were generally an hour long, but they felt much shorter.

After a while I have to get off and walk, mostly because the saddle is too uncomfortable, but also because the climb is pretty steep at times, up to 13%. I have a recollection that I walked most of the climb, which I am a little ashamed of, but looking at my recorded activity, it seems it wasn't quite that bad. Apparently, I walked from 600 up to 700 meters, and then again from 930 up to 1050 meters.

On my way up I am contemplating my need for sleep. Should I sleep for a full hour, or maybe just 30 minutes? Perhaps 45 minutes? Or would it be better to take two hours?

I am determined to pass the summit and get out of the cold before I stop (although it turns out to be 18 degrees even on the top). Cynthia Carson, the fastest woman, said she panicked on this climb, because she was falling asleep and there was no place to lie down. There was just a rock wall on one side of the road and a cliff on the other.

Near the top, there are also some huge rocks in the middle of the road!

(Photo by Gavin Kaps, @ospreyimagery)

We're not getting a long, nice tarmac descent on the other side. Instead, the course takes off from the main road and onto a narrow dirt track. So narrow that I don't even see it in the dark. I just see another road in a junction and assume we're going there. After a few hundred meters I am getting the familiar off course warning. Now I see that I'm supposed to be on a track slightly to the right of me. I turn back to look for it, but then it just looks like I am on the right track. Eventually, I head into the woods, and after looking around for a bit I find it.

This is a rocky track with some ups and downs while generally sloping down, sometimes very steeply, to 550 meters. At that point we reach a slightly better road, and we now have a couple of small hills to conquer. This is where I decide it is time for that sleep stop, and I find a suitable flat area next to the road.

Should I bother with my sleeping mat and bivy for such a short sleep stop? Yes, I should. It would be stupid to carry all this gear and not use it. I have decided to sleep for an hour, and I set my alarm to 75 minutes to allow for some time falling asleep. Which wasn't necessary, because I fall asleep right away.

I actually did more climbing yesterday, but today was the steepest day of the race, with 3400 meters over the course of 153 km. And now there's less than 24 hours to the finish line!

Endret 2. april av torhovland

[torhovland]

 

[torhovland]

Day 7 - The Finale

As I wake up from my quick sleep stop, I immediately sense that something is not right. Why isn't the alarm on my phone ringing? I look at my watch. It's 5:30!! I was supposed to sleep for an hour. Instead I've slept for almost 5!

I hadn't actually set an alarm, but a countdown timer. I suppose that one doesn't have a snooze function, so if you stop it in your sleep, all bets are off.

I'm actually of two minds about this. On one hand I'm of course disappointed about missing my wake up call. This will definitely have ruined any chance of getting into the top 100. Will it also have compromised my 7 day goal? Only time will tell. On the other hand, oversleeping in my bivy is another achievement unlocked for me. I am somewhat pleased to know that I am capable of sleeping so well in the wild. It's certainly a very different experience from when I tested my bivy outside my house earlier this winter. And, of course, the extra sleep will make this final day much more manageable.

This night I only spend 35 minutes faffing before and after sleep. That would still be a lot for somebody racing to win, but it is a lot less than the 60-90 minutes I have spent before.

Not surprisingly, both Harry and Petr are now several hours ahead of me. We were together before the "Stelvio", but they mostly rode through the night, while I didn't. Kasper & Bart, on the other hand, had a sleep stop similar to mine, which meant I would see them a lot today. Same with an Italian called Corrao. And during the night, Sky Crosby and George Everiss had caught me and passed me. That's the complete list of characters on this final episode of the Atlas Mountain Race.

Anyway, it is high time to get going. Although we have completed all the big climbs of the route, there are still plenty of ups and downs on the way to Imsouane on the coast. This is not like a typical bike race anymore (if it ever was). My saddle sores are too painful and my legs too weak for that. Today will just be a matter of somehow making it to the finish.

First I need to get over the short tarmac climb where I stopped to sleep, and then comes a rocky descent, and after that another tarmac climb of 150 meters. On the descent following that I can see a pair of lights some distance behind me, which should mean that Kasper & Bart are close behind.

In the darkness it's not always easy to follow the track, and it doesn't help that the GPS track and the real world aren't always agreeing with each other. I have to stop and get back on the correct track a couple of times. In a small village I turn left a few meters too early, and I'm forced to retrace back so I don't have to climb down a steep slope with trees.

Obviously, Kasper & Bart must be having some stops as well, because they don't pass me until after all of this, as daylight is finally appearing. I'm impressed by their pace. Even if I try to hang on, they still disappear in front of me.

We are passing the lake Oued Ougar. It's an unusual sight. In fact, it's the first body of water I see in Morocco, I think. On the south west side of the lake we ride over a big dam. It looks like a hydropower dam, but this is the Prince Moulay Abdellah Dam, which serves drinking water to Agadir.

I now have a relatively flat tarmac section for 24 km before the descent to Imsouane on the coast. It's daylight, but still below 20 degrees, so it's perfect, really. It is getting windy, though. And the wind seems to be coming from the north, which is not good news with regard to the rest of the ride.

Just before the big descent, I catch George. We coast down to Imsouane together, doing 50 kph for 3 minutes, and start looking for a place to eat. Imsouane is a popular place for surfers, very different from any other place we have visited on this ride. Unfortunately, it was hit hard by the earthquake last September, and most of the cafes have been demolished. We were warned by Nelson during the race briefing that there might not be any resupply here, but somebody else confirmed that there is at least one cafe still operating. George and I ride around for a while trying to find it. We make it all the way out to the pier until we find what we are looking for.

I go inside and order two omelettes for myself, and George does the same. Somehow, the cafe owner thinks we meant two omelettes in total, but we eat one each while we order the next pair. No problem. In Morocco, you really get omelettes everywhere, but somehow they are all unique. On these ones we get avocados. Yummy. And we get caffè latte, another welcome surprise.

Before starting the final stage, I cross the street to check out the small shop. And I can hardly believe my eyes when I come across a large selection of Haribos. Excitedly I tell George about this, and we both buy 5 bags. I plan to snack exclusively on these until I cross the finish line. Well, plus a couple yoghurt drinks. And water, of course.

As we pack our bikes, George is chatting with some other cafe guests, and when they hear we are going to Essaouira, they say "you'll need a hearty breakfast if you're going to deal with that wind" while laughing. Apparently the wind is brutal all the way. We are already experiencing it. I put down an empty bottle of water, and it just flies away.

I am ready to go before George, so I say "see you later" and get started. Corrao is also here now, and seems to be getting ready to leave as well.

On the way back out of town, I see Kasper & Bart in a junction, with their noses in their phones. I assume they are looking for a cafe, but they have just received news about fellow Belgian Matijs Raeymaekers, who I also met at that infamous salad dinner the day before the race. Unfortunately, he has had a crash somewhere in the hills after CP3, broken his hand, and got it plastered at a local hospital.

I head off into the wind, and immediately get started on a tarmac climb out of town that will take us up to 300 meters. I have 93 km to go and about 7 hours left of my 7 day goal, so I calculate that all I need to do is to keep an average speed of at least 13,5 kph. Sounds easy enough, but up this climb I already fall behind the target. I feel motivated, though, and ride reasonably well. The road is following the coast closely, and there is a grand view of the Atlantic Ocean. And I enjoy my Haribos.

I ride at 300 meters for a while, but 20 km into the stage I start the descent, so I can relax while I see the average speed climbs up to where it needs to be, and even up to a massive 15 kph! At a junction the road turns into a gravel road.

Back at sea level it has become clear that this is going to be another hot day. I've been drinking my water rapidly, and at this rate I will run out long before the finish. There is another beach town 20 km before the finish, but that's still 40 km away. And right now I have to tackle the final significant hill of the race, a climb up to 370 meters.

Kasper & Bart passed me on the tarmac road earlier, but they're having a break here, and I pass them again. Already at the beginning of the climb, a combination of heat, headwind, and a steep gradient forces me off the bike. But not for long, I am cycling again soon enough, as the road becomes tarmac again.

Halfway up we leave the tarmac road, and head left on to more gravel. It's steep at first, and I have to walk again. This is where I pass Sky while we are both walking. According to his Strava report, he's been riding through the night, save for a couple short naps, and he's really paying for it now. Kasper & Bart are approaching as well, and they're not walking. They soon pass both of us.

The gradient eases off, and I get back on the bike. Near the top of the climb, I pass Kasper & Bart again, as they have stopped. But on the gravel descent that follows, they pass me again, even though it feels like I'm going pretty fast myself. My average speed had fallen to 12,5 kph at the top of the climb, but it increases to 13,5 again now. I'm not worried about it, as we now have quite easy terrain remaining.

Except we still have one more of what my Garmin computer considers a climb, and it begins now. It is only 75 meters in elevation. It is very hot, and I am well and truly out of water now. I still have 17 km to that beach town. Imagine my joy when I see Kasper & Bart having stopped at a shop on top of the climb! It's quite a shop. I have to climb a wooden ladder to get up to the foundation of the buildings. But they have a refrigerator with cold water. That is absolutely amazing!

Now there's really no more challenges. I just have to cruise to the finish line. We even have tarmac for most of the remaining 33 km. I pass the time by talking to my camera about how great the bike has been.

The big climb took us away from the coast, but I'm now once again getting panoramic views of the ocean.

When I get to that beach town called Sidi Kaouki, it is very clear that we are in a touristy area, even more so than in Imsouane. Since I already got the water I needed, I have no reason to stop. There's only 20 km left, a piece of cake. But as soon as we are out of town, the road is dead straight for 10 km, except for one slight bend and one left turn in a junction. With the headwind it becomes a bit of a slog. I feel the urge to stop for a break, but with this little distance left that is out of the question.

Somewhere along here, I think I see a turtle, but I don't register it until I have passed (insert joke about a turtle's velocity here). Normally I would have turned around and taken a photo, but as I'm so close to the finish, I have other priorities.

For the final time I am sent out on a gravel road. It's a shortcut, so that makes sense. Then I'm out on a trafficked road again, descending down to about sea level, over a bridge with insane headwind, into Essaouira, through a couple of roundabouts, and finally, I'm there, at the finish hotel.

The finish itself is a bit of an anti-climax, but that's typical of ultra events. There is no grand horde of spectators waiting for me with cheers, fanfare, and confetti. For the podium finishers there will be a little bit of that, but not for everyone else. Instead, there are a couple of guys coming back from a shop when I finish, and they take the role of welcoming me and offering to take a finish photo.

I go inside the hotel to get the final stamp and to hand in my tracker. Kasper & Bart are queuing to check in at the hotel. They got an impressive 23 minute gap on me, according to the results. But that can't be right. Actually, I see they finished 8 minutes ahead of me, which is still a solid gap. The remaining 15 minutes was probably me faffing before getting my stamp.

More importantly, I finish at 17:07, with almost exactly one hour to spare with regard to my 7 day goal. And one hour to the finisher party. Except I learn that the party isn't until 19:00. There isn't enough time for a nap, but at least I have time to shower and start disassembling my bike. And get a beer, as this is a tourist hotel with license for that sort of thing. I see George has made it safely to the finish as well. 

Harry and Petr both made it into the top 100. There was even one spot behind them for me. If I had finished two hours earlier, I would have taken it. A tiny part of me is annoyed at myself for oversleeping and missing this. But overall, I don't think much about that. My goals were to finish the ride, and to make it to the party. I achieved both of them, and I am extremely pleased about it. Many of the people I met in Marrakech did not complete the ride, and I could easily have been one of them.

And looking at the official results, where solo and pair riders are listed separately, I am in 94th place. So I guess I made the top 100 anyway 🎉

[torhovland]

The final chapter of my video diary:

 

[Vemod Zachariassen]

Takk! Dette var inspirerande lesing.

[Sun Flyer]

Fantastisk bra rapport inkludert videoene. Hva tenker du nå om veien videre? Blir det mer av dette, eller er det snøsykling i alaska som frister mest?

Endret 10. april av Sun Flyer

[torhovland]

Midt under løpet sendte eg melding heim og sa at Sverigetempot i sommar blir min siste langtur.

Men det tok som vanleg ikkje lang tid før eg kom på betre tankar. Problemet no er at neste naturlege steg ville ha vore noko i retning av Silk Road eller TCR, og dei tek eigentleg meir tid enn eg har lyst til å vere borte frå familien.

Kanskje det heller får bli fleire middels lange turar, kanskje meir solo, kortreist bikepacking. Bright Midnight er ein naturleg kandidat for 2025. Fat Midnight likeså. Badlands er også høgt på lista.

Vi får sjå kva idear som dukkar opp i løpet av året.

Endret 10. april av torhovland

[torhovland]

Packing for the Atlas Mountain Race

The tricky thing about planning for a bikepacking race like this is that the conditions can change a lot from one year to another, and you need to be prepared for anything. What has worked for people in the past may not work for you.

Of course, the weather forecast should give a decent indication of what to expect. You may want to bring some alternatives to the start location, and then decide what to actually pack on your bike shortly before the race.

The following is what I brought, and how well my choices worked out in the end. When I haven't commented otherwise, I was happy with these choices.

Clothes

• High quality bib shorts.
• A light, mesh base layer shirt, as the nights can get cold.
• Long sleeve merino jersey for the cold nights.
• White UV shirt for day riding. I chose long sleeves, so I didn't need as much sun screen.
• Long tights. This was a mistake, and I threw it away in Afra on day 2. It would have been useful in winter temperatures, but the lowest coldest riding I did was 2 degrees C. I should have taken leg or knee warmers instead.
• Hat with some white fabric sewn on to shield the neck from the sun.
• Wool socks, because they keep warm at night, and also when wet.
• Shoes that work well for hiking. My Shimano ME5 were great.
• Cycling gloves if you use that.
• Winter gloves. My GripGrab Ride Waterproof Winter Gloves were fine, but with the temperatures we had, I could honestly have taken a thinner pair.
• Warm jacket. Most people bring a down jacket that packs down small. It's a good idea, because you can sleep in it, and take a lighter sleeping bag. I took my Vaude Minaki PrimaLoft jacket. It was honestly overkill in the temperatures we had. I only used it during the first night, plus for warm up on some of the mornings. And my sleeping bag was also more than warm enough.
• Rain jacket. My shakedry jacket is so thin and light that it doesn't cost much to bring it, but I never used it.
• Hat and buff. I can't remember ever using these.
• Shoe covers. I was worried about winter conditions in the mountains, and brought winter shoe covers, but I ended up never using them.
• Sun glasses. My photochromatic optical glasses are excellent, and stayed on night and day.
• Helmet, of course. It didn't occur to me that our caps had visors, and that I didn't need an MTB helmet with a visor that couldn't be taken off 😄
• A spare pair of bib shorts. Hygiene is important to fight off saddle sores. One pair that gets washed would also work.
• Dust mask. I never needed it, but many people would have. I don't regret bringing it, but now I know I won't need it again.
• Chemical foot/hand warmers. I brought a few of these in case, but never needed them.
• If the start hadn't been delayed and we had started in rain, I would have used a worn set of wool base layer and socks, and thrown that away at CP1, or whenever the rain stopped. I would also have brought neoprene gloves.

(Photos by Gavin Kaps, @ospreyimagery)

Sleep system

• Sleeping bag. My Marmot Hydrogen with a comfort limit of 2 C was more than warm enough for the temperatures we had. I could have taken a more compact bag, which would have enabled me to fit my entire sleep system into the dry bag at the front of my bike.
• Sleeping pad. Most people go for the Therm-a-Rest XLite. I chose the XTherm, as it is only a little heavier. I slept fantastically on it, so I guess it worked well.
• Bivy. Some people didn't bring a bivy, and that was probably an OK choice this time. But a bivy will protect you from rain and bugs. Not that I saw a lot of bugs, but I did see a scorpion once! My OR Helium was overkill, though. Any rescue bivy would have been fine.
• Inflatable pillow. Some people consider this an unnecessary luxury. I felt it was worth bringing.
• Ear plugs. Only needed if you're going to sleep in a restaurant or at a checkpoint. Those that did complained about noise. Sleeping outside in a bivy is much nicer. But it was also nice to get a bed in a quiet double room at CP2.
• Sleeping mask. Might have been useful for daytime power naps, but I never needed it.

Hydration and food

I didn't want to use a backpack, so I had four bottle cages. Two of them were mounted on my Tailfin AeroPack, and carried 950 ml bottles. Unfortunately, the aluminium cages on the rear did not handle the beating well at all, and eventually disintegrated. I lost one of the bottles, but I saved the other cage with Gorilla tape. So for the final third of the race I only had 2,5 liter capacity. This was mostly enough, but on the hot final stage from Imsouane to Essaouira, I should have had more water. On the long stretch from Imassine to Afra on day 2, I had 3,4 liters, which was just enough, but only since I did a fair bit of that before the sun started grilling me.

I brought water purification tablets, which I will absolutely recommend, because they don't take any space, and they can save your race from disaster. Water is available to buy at all shops, cafes, and checkpoints, but in Ait Saoun on the morning of day 3, they were out of water. I asked for tap water instead, and used a tablet. But I ended up not needing to drink that.

I had quite a lot of energy bars with me. These are often not the most enjoyable to eat, and my food poisoning at the start did not help my appetite. I ended up throwing away most of them in Afra, where I also disposed of my tights. It's still a good idea to bring some, but make sure you really like them. Also, you should bring candy. You can get that at the big supermarkets in Marrakech. You won't easily find them later.

During the ride, you will be able to buy omelettes, sometimes tagines, and occasionally chicken and fries. At CP3 you can get burgers and pizza. In the shops you will find cookies, wrapped muffins and cakes, and drinks, including small bottles of delicious yoghurt drinks. Sometimes bread as well. Not much candy.

I brought a spork that I never needed.

I had High5 Zero electrolyte tablets with me. Only 3 per day is needed, so a pack of 20 is good for a week.

I also had PowerBar Caffeine Boost. They do take some space, so next time I'll rather take caffeine pills.

Personal items

• Toothbrush
• Toothpaste
• Sun screen
• Lip balm with sun screen (This is absolutely essential, even if you never use it at home. Start using it on day 1.)
• Chamois creme
• Wet wipes
• Some toilet paper
• Cotton pads and a small bottle of acne cleaner (No, not for the face. It's for protecting against saddle sores.)
• Foam dressings (Again, for protecting against saddle sores.)
• Imodium. I actually needed these.
• Ibuprofen pain killers. I used them.
• Paracetamol pain killers. I used them as well.
• Voltarol Forte pain relieving gel. Used it.
• Chafing patches. Used once on my small toe.
• Bandages and band aids.
• A pack of laundry powder. Didn't use.
• Passport
• Brevet card
• Ziplock bags for things that need to stay dry, and for organizing.
• Cash. I withdrew 4000 dirhams in Morocco, and I used almost all of that. Prices varied wildly. At some shops I paid less than 20 dirhams for breakfast and resupplies. At CP2 I paid 300 for bed, food, shower, and resupplies. It's easy to exchange back at the airport, so better take too much rather than too little. But I did see cash machines along the route too.
• Cafe lock. Never used, except once when exploring Marrakech.

Electronics

• Dynamo wheel
• Forumslader Pro. I was going to use the smaller Aheadlader for the steerer tube, but I didn't get it in time. But the long nights meant I really needed the larger batteries in the Forumslader. My light was drawing about 4 watts. My dynamo delivered a little less on average, so I slowly discharged the Forumslader through the nights, and recharged it during the days.
• Busch & Müller IQ-X. An excellent lamp. With custom hardware so it can run on DC from the Forumslader.
• Dynamo-powered rear lamp bolted on to my Tailfin AeroPack.
• Sofirn SC31T helmet light. Better than the Exposure Zenith I bought for 10 times the price. I rarely used it other than as a camp light. But a backup light is important.
• Nitecore NB10000 power bank
• Anker 735 65W charger that can charge my power bank, helmet light, and bike computer at the same time.
• Garmin Edge 1030. A big map screen is essential for these kinds of events.
• Insta360 X3 camera
• Extra SD card
• Microphone
• Charging cables
• A dry bag for keeping things that aren't waterproof

Tools

I brought everything I could realistically take with me that could keep me from scratching with a mechanical issue.

• Multi-tool with hex keys, torx key for brake rotors, chain breaker, valve core tool, spoke wrench, brake rotor truing, and brake pad spreading.
• Tire levers
• Tubeless plugs
• Tire boots
• Piece of tire sidewall
• Tube patches
• Sleeping mat patches
• Pump (I used this to inflate tires after crossing the desert)
• CO2 cartridge and inflator, in case I needed to re-seat a tubeless tire.
• Air adapter for petrol stations
• Curved needle and dental floss for sewing a ripped tire sidewall
• Zip ties
• Safety pins
• Gorilla tape (Used for saving my bottle cage)
• Some Fixplus straps
• Super glue
• Knife (Used to cut down a chafing patch for my small toe)
• Small pliers
• Latex gloves

Spares

• Wet lube. Because wax needs time to harden, and dry lube is no good. This was the only item here that I actually needed.
• 3 butyl tubes. I wanted to be confident I could handle any number of punctures, including one complete tube failure. I didn't have a single puncture, but that doesn't mean these were unnecessary. But they took a lot of space. Next time I would use TPU tubes. Not the superlight ones, but the more chunkier ones. And maybe just 2.
• Sealant. I had 125 ml. Next time I would only take half that.
• Spokes and nipples
• Gear cable
• Brake pads
• Cleats
• Derailleur hanger
• Some chain links
• Chain quick links
• Valves
• M5 bolts
• Spare for a bolt on my suspension seatpost that can fail
• Spare rear lamp
• Garmin Edge 830 with tracks uploaded
• Spare straps for the Garmin mount. Takes no space, so why not.

For assembling/disassembling the bike

• Proper hex keys are useful
• Tubeless booster if you have to deflate your tires
• Sealant if you have to deflate your tires
• Pressure gauge
• Chain quick link splitter tool
• Plastic bag for dirty chain
• Rag for wiping off sealant

Other items for the trip

• Headphones with noise canceling
• Non-cycling clothes and shoes
• Shorts and jersey for a pre-race ride
• Tool for changing SIM cards

Comments

I have packed defensively, while still being mindful of keeping weight and volume to a minimum. What this means is that I needed to be sure I could be completely self-supported, and not have to scratch for some silly reason. This was my first bikepacking race, and my number one goal was to complete it. It wouldn't matter if I did it with one kg more weight than strictly necessary. If I was doing it again, it would be fun to try a less defensive setup, hence a lighter bike. I could certainly feel the weight of my bike on some of the hike-a-bikes, and I wasn't as fast as most of the others on steep climbs (I never am anyway).

Having said that, the focus on weight is mostly overrated. James Hayden says he doesn't even think about the weight, just the packing volume. And when I spoke to Maarten Vanhaverbeke after the race, he said he likes a defensive setup, like me. And he is one of the fast guys.

So yes, if I had known for sure that we were going to have a dry and relatively warm race, I could have chosen a lighter sleeping system and clothes. But I didn't know that when I was doing the shopping earlier this winter.

Apart from that, I was pretty happy with my setup.

Endret 11. april av torhovland

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