Shortly after as dawn was breaking I made it to the border. I was starting to flag a bit, but there was a certain euphoria at having made it through the night and into Greece. This started to catch up with me and in the early morning sun, and I began to nod off. I decided enough was enough and pulled into a field to sit down for a short snooze to shake the fatigue.
A dog barking in the distance snapped me back into waking, realising that it could be a TCR rider approaching. Time to hop on and push on.
The short cat nap did little to lull the fatigue, but I was handling it for the most part. I’m not sure when my beloved Sportful no rain long sleeve jersey fell off the back of my saddle bag, but I only realised shortly before Seres. I back tracked for about 6 or 7km and found nothing. The frustration of losing my best jacket which had my last good inner tube, large chocolate 7 Days croissant, and my l’Etape du tour 2014 snood; it was quite a low point, losing the time in the search, riding through large puddles from the previous nights rain multiple times in a vain search for my jacket.
After giving up, I resigned myself to making sure I was refueled and covering all the things that I could in order to keep myself moving. I stopped in Serres at a cafe and stuffed myself with a large baguette, washed down with a couple of cokes. Checking the tracker, it was getting close with a number of riders closing in. Again, time to get moving.
I stopped briefly outside of town only to see Daniel Fisher motoring past in an aero tuck. I jumped back on, and proceeded to do my best to chase him down. I mean, I had to have a go, right? We leapfrogged each other a couple of times on the road to Xanthi, and in conversation on one passing, it turned out that Daniel had picked up my lost Sportful knee warmers having found them on the gravel road in Macedonia. Result! Apart from that, it was a bit of an unspoken battle and felt good to be in a bit of a race.
The heat of the day was building with a steady headwind. It was wearing me down, and after a bit of a battering on the cobbled streets of Kavala both my bike & I needed a little TLC. I had to make a hasty repair with cable ties to my seat tube bottle cage that cracked on the cobbles. I also noticed my dynamo light connector had broken while switching to charge devices, so that would need some fixing before a final push overnight to the finish, but could wait for now.
One thing had been building all day – sore feet. All the cycling through muddy puddles had taken their toll on my shoes, socks and feet which were all still wet despite the 30 deg C + temperatures. After seeing Dan & my route split at Xanthi on trackleaders, I took some time out to tend to them while eating ice cream and drinking a double espresso. Trench foot is what it turned out to be, and it was very painful. I aired my feet, socks and shoes for as long as I could, but was itching to get moving.
I took a southerly coastal route to Komotini, so was fairly exposed to the headwind. It was tough going, and although I felt I was losing lots of time, I really wasn’t that far behind Daniel. Even so, by Komotini I was bonking so pulled into a garage to get water, coke and food. I was greeted by some incredible hospitality. The owner could see I was suffering and after a short conversation about where I was going and where I had come from, invited me to sit down and have a coffee and water with him. He refused to take any money for it, and was a really nice moment discussing Greek, Macedonian and Turkish politics.
It was time to push on, and the dogs that had been sat at my feet while chatting away were now chasing me down the road. Little buggers! Before long I was through Komotini and on the road south towards Alexandroupoli. There was a small set of to hills to navigate as it was getting dark, and yet again some distant flashes hinted at an encroaching storm. The darkness set off the fatigue again. With the added heat, I was really flagging and it got a bit dangerous as I was nodding off at times on the descent. I eventually gave into fatigue and made camp in a bus stop for about an hour to recover enough to push through the night.
After about an hour I felt OK again, more driven by hunger than anything. I stopped in Alexandroupoli and ate crisps, coke and chocolate at a cafe and topped up my water bottles. I figured with about 200km to go, this could well be the last stop, so made the most of it.
Pushing up to the Turkish border was really tough. There was a steady cool headwind pushing down the hill towards me, and I was literally crawling. It was quite a low point – I had energy, but no motivation to use any of it. I kept on looking to the distance thinking that the lights ahead was the border, but it just never seem to come.
That’s when Sylvain #223 pulled up along side. His company helped me get through that short eternal road to the border. We rode side by side chatting all the way, sharing concerns about the route to take to Çanakkale. We finally made the border and the 5 or so checkpoints at about 2am. I lost Sylvian for a bit – he dropped something them met again a little further down the road. This was it now, the final stretch.
We road together for a bit, but being on the motorway it became necessary to separate. I really found my rhythm here, and before long I couldn’t see Sylvains dynamo light behind me.
The rest of the night was a bit of a blur. I had some really strange deja vu with some bizarre feeling that I’d done all this before. I had of course completely forgotten about the last hill on the motorway before heading down towards the Gallipoli peninsular, and it seemed to go on for an age as well. The sheer number of buses that past fairly close and at seemingly enormous speeds was a little hairy at times. I couldn’t quite fathom where all these coaches were headed at 3 or 4 am.
My left Achilles tendon decided to give up about here. I’d been pushing quite hard through the night, so must have just pushed it beyond its limit. For a large part of the hill I was pedaling with one leg.
The fatigue really set in too. Theres something about long straight descents at night-time that really send me to sleep. It was getting sketchy at times, but for now it was OK. My tendons were thankful for the rest.
It was about 5 or 6 am, and I was starting to really feel the fatigue. I had been glancing over my shoulder looking for the tell-tale dynamo light creeping up, when I turned back to look where I was going it was off the edge of the road, just as a bus sailed past. Before I could correct the course the front wheel was over the side of the tarmac and I was down. The small 2-3 inch drop was more than enough to stop me in my tracks.
I got up quickly, dusted myself down and basically jumped straight back on. From near sleep to buzzing with adrenaline in one spill. I’d managed to graze my arm and leg, but was largely feeling OK. I kept going for another hour before the inevitable adrenaline crash – I was double tired now. A quick stop in a service station for coffee led to some really friendly staff cleaning me up. There was a fair bit of dirt and blood on my arm and it looked bad, worse than it actually was. They kindly cleaned me up and gave me a free coffee before I jumped back on and headed on my way.
Dawn was breaking now, but the fatigue was still trying to put me to sleep. I didn’t want to stop for the fear of someone overtaking me. If I had mobile data in Turkey, I would have been able to see that I had a good hour or more on the next rider. I didn’t, so I pushed on, keeping the legs turning.
This is where I started talking to things. Partly because I was going crazy and partly to try to stay awake and alert. I would greet road signs and have very one-sided conversations. This carried on for a while, then I tried to mix it up a bit with putting in some efforts. Once I saw the 50km to go sign, I thought I’d pick up the pace.
I tried, really hard. There was nothing I could do to maintain any kind of effort. My heart rate just wouldn’t get about 110. This was annoying! I just wanted to push on and be done, but it wasn’t going to happen in a hurry. This was a grind.
I had a nice burst of pace shortly before the final town of Escabat, and the ferry. Out of nowhere, while slightly drifting off again, two angry dogs came barreling out from the side of the road intent on savaging me. That really woke me up. They had no chance of catching me though – adrenaline really does the job.
I arrived in Escabat, found a cash machine and bought my ferry ticket – the next one having just arrived. I’d done it. This felt really odd, probably as I was so tired, but it was hard to fathom any of it. I was a bit gutted I had no power in my phone and no way of taking pictures or letting anyone know, but I was sure people back home were all following the dot.
I boarded the ferry and purchased a coke, crisps and chocolate feeling utterly elated. I sat down, and slowly drank and ate. I fell asleep then, waking just as the boat was docking in Çanakkale. A sketchy walk down the stairs to collect my bike and walked off the ferry.
A short pedal around the corner to the clock tower, and that was it – finished! The race crew and volunteers were there to check me into the finish, stamp my card and congratulate me. I was asked how I felt at that point, and honestly nearly burst into tears there and then. I didn’t feel I had the energy for that though. I felt relief, euphoria, happy, sad, all sorts of emotions that are hard to describe. I’d had the time of my life and a big part of me didn’t want it to end.
I was asked how I felt at that point, and honestly nearly burst into tears there and then. I didn’t feel I had the energy for that though. I felt relief, euphoria, happy, sad, all sorts of emotions that are hard to describe. I’d had the time of my life and a big part of me didn’t want it to end.
It would take a while to source the hotel, food, clothes, flip-flops, ice-cream, kebabs and new iPhone cable before I could start taking photos and get in touch with everyone back home. But that was all OK.
I finished in 12th place, after 11 days, 9 hours and 26 minutes
I finished in 12th place, after 11 days, 9 hours and 26 minutes. My main goal had been to complete the race in less than 12 days, giving me a good few days to unwind in Çanakkale ahead of the finishers party and heading home.
It took me a while for all of this to sink in, and as a rookie in the TCR I kind of felt like I didn’t belong there so close to the top riders. Chatting to everyone in the days after helped reconcile this, but until I have another go I’m not sure it’ll be fully resolved. I’m definitely going to try to have another go at this!
This has been a truly life changing journey for me, and wouldn’t have been possible without everyone involved with the Transcontinental Race. It’s a huge community, that almost seems like a (slightly crazy) family.
To Anna & Mike for organising such an incredible event, to everyone behind the scenes that helped bring it together. To Tom for sorting out my new tracker. To everyone who watched over my little blue dot for two weeks, everyone at the start, each of the checkpoints and the finish, many of whom are volunteers.
To all the riders I met along the way, to the dot watchers that came out and said hello, to everyone on social media who wished me luck.
I feel really quite privileged to have been part of this incredible event, and hope to come back and have many more goes at it in the future.
Photos from Çanakkale
- Distance: 1,096.6KM
- Ride Time: 42H 44M
- Elevation: 6,160 m
- Calories: 23,471
- Bags of Haribo: 7